Thursday Thoughts

It’s Like a Carnival
Yesterday I took Mylee and a friend of hers to Elitches to fulfill a birthday present promise. I told her I would take her and a friend on any adventure she chooses. She chose the amusement park. I’m not one for amusement parks, I’m afraid. There is very little, however, that I wouldn’t do to make my grands happy. Her friend was a bit apprehensive about some of the rides, but Mylee talked her into going on the swings about five times. They also rode on something called The Spider. It made me nauseous just to watch, but they did fine. I will admit, however, as they took off towards the swings once again, I saw a girl lose her lunch on The Spider. It involved a lot of people wearing orange vests and some cat litter and bleach to clean up the mess. Poor little thing. As an aside, Cole was also supposed to go. However, the night before, he started showing signs of a bad cold. He was disappointed that he could not go with us, but frankly, he had to be somewhat relieved. He was white as a ghost when I came to pick up Mylee and her friend. However, when we returned around 4, I could see him jumping on the sofa through the window, and figured he felt better. He did, indeed. He had color in his face and a smile on his lips.

Whatever, It Holds Money
After several days of being around Addie pretty much nonstop, she finally admitted to me that she was amused as heck every time I referred to my billfold as, well, a billfold. “What do you call it?” I asked her. “A wallet, Nana,” she said. “It’s a wallet.” Well, I grew up calling it a billfold, and I’m too old the change now. But I was curious, so the other night I asked Jll what she calls the thing in her purse that holds credit cards and money. “A wallet,” she said. I explained why I was asking. “Men carry wallets and women carry billfolds,” I insisted. She figures it’s a regional thing because her mother — who grew up in Iowa — also calls it a billfold. “And I’ll bet Grandma Wilma called it a billfold too,” she added. Perhaps. They probably call fizzy soft drinks sodas instead of pop.

And Speaking of Old School….
Yesterday, while at Elitch Gardens with the two girls, I did what my mother always did if we were somewhere in a crowd. “Girls,” I said. “If we should get separated, make your way to the ferris wheel and we will meet there.” Mylee looked at me with a crooked smile. “Or, Nana, we could just, uh, text each other.” Oh yeah. Texting. It never occurred to me to make that most excellent suggestion. I’m pretty sure the grands think I was born during the dinosaur age.

Yesterday was exceedingly hot outside, making our amusement park experience somewhat unpleasant. We drank lots of water, and the girls cooled off with Dipping Dots. After dropping them off at Mylee’s house, I was driving home, trying to think about what to make for dinner. I was so exceedingly hot that I couldn’t imagine sitting down in front of a hot meal. So I stopped at the Safeway I was passing by at that moment, and bought fixings for a cobb salad. It gave me a chance to use up a tomato from my garden, and some leftover chicken. I fried some bacon, loaded on the bleu cheese, and we had a cooling feast. Bill didn’t even blink an eye at the absence of meat and potatoes.


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