Why do a lot of 20- and 30-somethings tend to treat older adults like children? Or puppy dogs? It's so disconcerting to go to the hairdresser or doctor's office or a store and have some young Pop-Tart call you sweetie or honey or dear. I'm not in my dotage. I'm not incapacitated, mentally or physically. I'm not in in need of any type of assistance. I can walk and talk at the same time. I have offered no hint whatsoever that I am impaired in any way.

So, why do they persist in speaking in such a condescending manner to people a few decades older than they? Talking down to people is patronizing and, frankly, insulting. I am not their child, or their pet. It's too bad they're not my child. I'd yank out their earbuds, smack their hands, and send them to time out.

I will grant you that some older people can try one's patience. We all know them. They're the ones who are judgmental about the way anyone 50 years younger than them looks. The ones who'll ask impertinent questions of total strangers. The ones who'll tell you in a New York minute that your hair is too long or your skirt is too short. The ones who lament frequently that this, that, or the other simply "was not done in my day." It's annoying. Still, they're our elders. They know stuff. They've already experienced what we have yet to experience. Respect them. Call them by their surname with the appropriate Ms., Mrs., or Mr., or their first name if given permission to do so. Not ... honey, sweetie, or dear.

 

Civil Civics?

Politics are on my mind these days. A lot. I would think they're on most thinking peoples' minds. In these times of divisiveness, civil unrest, and alternate reality, it had darn well better be.

I know it's a naïve thought and will never happen in my lifetime, but shouldn't the 2-party political system be done away with? Seriously. Get rid of PACs and lobbyists and special interests and big money, candidates trashing each other, candidates creating public spectacles, yada yada. Parties can be fraught with special interests, personal agendas, self-importance, in-fighting, self-aggrandizing, and so on and so on. Pit two sides, each with a collective agenda, against each other and there is going to be fighting. Duh. It's Playground 101. That does the people and the country no good.

Why don't we just run people? Completely independent candidates who are considered the cream of the crop in their home districts -- calm, rational, reasonable, intelligent people of integrity and good character. Dilettantes, degenerates, too young, too old, thugs, narcissists in it for the power and glory, slaves to party power, charlatans, sleazeballs, zealots, criminals, whack jobs, and zombies need not apply. Just elect the best people for the job, party be damned.

Of course, it's a pipe dream. But maybe, one of these days...

"May" Be Almost Summer

It's almost May, which usually feels like the beginning of Summer. This year, who knows? The weather, everywhere, is just ... wonky. Here in my neck of the woods lately, it can be 90 degrees one day and 50 or 60 the next. It can be sunny and pleasant in the morning and heavy rain and high winds by dusk. It's crazy to have the AC on one day and heat the next. At least we've been spared tornados, wildfires, superstorms, and blizzards. We had no snow at all this past Winter. Also unusual. But I did almost miss Christmas. The day before Christmas Eve, the temperature dropped to 1 degree and the wind was howling at 60 mph. The power went out around 9:00 AM and stayed out for 27 hours. The temperature in my apartment steadily dropped throughout the day and into the night. I think that may have been the most miserable night I've ever spent in my life. I had plenty of battery powered lights and candles, but it was so COLD. Christmas Eve morning, I was preparing to head out to a hotel, assuming I could find one with both power and a vacancy, when the power came back around noon. I never want to do that again!

Flowers are up now, the trees are green, and birds are singing and chit-chatting and gossiping all day long. I love to hear the songbirds, but the crows... They sound like they're mad at the world and revving up to do something about it. Squirrels are chattering and all kinds of little creatures are out running around, but I don't think they're plotting anything. Big creatures are out, too, like bears and coyotes. I myself haven't seen a coyote but I hear about sightings all the time. The bears are always making guerilla raids on peoples' trash but, likewise, I haven't seen one. I'd probably need some dry pants if I did.

May is my birth month, and that of a number of my friends, relatives, and neighbors. Lots of Geminis running around. If you know us, you either embrace us and our many moods or you run the other way. Memorial Day at the end of May used to signal the first beach trip of the Summer, though I don't do that much any more. It's the beginning of barbecue and outdoor activities season. This year, it could snow in July. Nothing would surprise me, not any more. Any time I think I've seen it all, I'm just kidding myself. I'm pretty sure there's much more weirdness to come.

Apartment House Telephone Game

 Do you remember the old "telephone" game? They play that a lot in my apartment building. Here's how a typical round might play out.

Loretta to Prudence: Going to the doctor tomorrow to get this cyst on the back of my neck removed, but don't tell anybody. I don't want people worrying about me and making a big to-do about it.

Prudence to Nora: Don't tell anybody but Loretta's got a lump on her neck!

Nora to Crystal: My Lord, did you hear about Loretta? She's got a tumor on the back of her head.

Crystal to Minnie Sue: We need to get a prayer chain going for Loretta. She's having brain surgery today and they say she might not make it!

Minnie Sue to Margot: Honey, call your preacher and get him over here to pray over Loretta. She has a brain tumor. But tell him not to bring the snakes. Remember how everybody ran screaming over that little ol' green snake on the sidewalk last summer? Like to have given everybody a stroke!

Margot to Otto: Loretta done had a stroke when a snake bit her and now she's got the brain cancer.

Otto to Darwin: Good God, this place is a death trap. Now poor old Loretta's dying. I hear she's got cancer and now she's had a stroke or an aneurysm or something. It don't look good.

Darwin to Lana: Have you heard about Loretta? She's eaten up with cancer and now it's in her brain. And if that wasn't bad enough, she had a heart attack. Or maybe it was a stroke. Either way, looks like she doesn't have much time left.

Lana to Larry: Better say your goodbyes to Loretta, she's probably dying. Who knows if she'll even make it back home today.

Larry, the Village Idiot of the Complex: Loretta is dead! Oh, my God! Oh, this is awful! But don't worry, I'll get to the bottom of it. I knew somebody was after her and I've been investigating. I'm on the case and I'll find out who killed her! Oh, and I get her big screen TV.

About that time, Loretta walks through the door with a Band-Aid on the back of her neck and cannot comprehend the sudden gasps and shrieks, some folks rushing forward to hug her, others backing away in horror from Loretta the walking dead.

Ribbit!

I like frogs. I used to collect them. Not live ones, of course. Now my collection is down to 2, one crystal and one green glass. I love to hear the little things yacking away in their little froggie language. Some people find the noise annoying, but I like it.

They're strange little creatures, aren't they? Vaguely prehistoric looking. But so cute. They come in all manner of sizes and colors. I'm partial to the small green ones, anything but toads.

Frogs do NOT turn into princes, trust me. If that were true, we'd all be out kissing frogs all day long. Although, I can't prove that. I've never kissed one. I'll talk to them, but kissing is off the table. Besides, who needs a prince? History regales us with tales of the misdeeds and mayhem of princes. Princes and presidents, kings and emperors, dictators and ayatollahs, pontiffs and pretenders have led nations to ruin. The U.S. has never had a monarch, not for lack of trying by various and sundry power hungry wannabes. We've never coronated any of them. Yet.

If we're ever going to crown a king or queen, I nominate a nice plump green frog. They're way less trouble. And cheap to maintain. Give a frog a pond, a lily pad, and all the bugs he can eat and he's perfectly content. Leave a frog alone and he'll leave you alone. How many leaders can you say that about? It'll be a Ribbit Rebellion.

Easy State of Being

 Just chillin' on a Thursday. Don't have to be anywhere, don't have to do anything, don't have to see anybody if I don't want to. I love retirement! I can stay in my PJs til noon if I want to, though I rarely do. I can get up as early or as late as I wish and never be late for anything. I can take the time to fix a real breakfast any day of the week. I can plop down, put my feet up, and read any time the urge strikes. Schedules are a thing of the past, and good riddance.

I do  have an alarming number of sleepless nights, though; nights when my brain just won't shut up and leave me alone. I don't know why it thinks it matters whether I made a wrong choice or should have done something differently decades ago. Or why I'm suddenly thinking about people I went to school with back in the Stone Age. Does that happen to you?

Us v. Them

"Everyone Who Isn't Us Is An Enemy."

                  - Game of Thrones

Once upon a time in America, friends and relatives and co-workers could have differing opinions on any number of topics -- and remain friends. Philosophies and viewpoints could be discussed, analyzed, even debated, at dinner tables, civic meetings, sporting events -- whatever. People shook hands, and maybe an occasional head, and went on about their business. When did polite society devolve into a battlefield where one side might view the other as uninformed and misguided but still good people, while the other side believes those people who don't believe exactly what they do are Satan incarnate and should be reviled, even verbally and physically assaulted? "If you don't agree with me, you're the enemy." How ridiculous is that? Manners and civility have in many quarters taken a back seat to antipathy and aggression.

What is that? How did it start? How and why did it spread? The bigger question may be: how will it end? Who, precisely, is Us and who is Them? Aren't all of us part Us and part Them? All of us have surely thought positively on one subject and negatively on another. Where is it written that we must all think uniformly about any and everything? Now, if all of our thoughts and opinions don't conform to what some behind the scenes wizards think they should be, we become a Them? That is chilling in its implications.

Am I an Us or a Them? "Neither" is the correct answer. Making a choice wouldn't even be natural. Human beings are much more complex creatures than a mere either/or, always grappling with conflict and dichotomies and what ifs. We used to be able to nod and smile about our differences of opinion and move on. We need to get back there.

 

Who Knows?

Well, hell's belles, I'm bored with Facebook, etc., so here I am, making a new blog post. I think I might just get back into the habit of it. Who knows? Alas, there aren't many of my old buddies still blogging. I miss y'all! I hope to see some of my old friends, and perhaps make some new ones.

So, here's what's been going on in my life these past few years, other than getting older than dirt.

* I lived through the pandemic. If you're reading this, so did you, so we're good.

* My precious little Pixie passed in November '21. It was sudden and unexpected from an undiagnosed brain tumor, and it broke my heart into about a million pieces. I miss her terribly every single day.

* I never thought TEOTWAWKI would come in my lifetime. I might have been wrong; I have been, once or twice. Fact is, things just don't look particularly sanguine. Anywhere. I'm taking a wait and see attitude. I hope I wait longer than I see.

* I'm not doing Twisted Linguistics or word blasfomys any more. I see way too much eviscerated and butchered language these days. Everywhere, from the Internet to alleged business correspondence. It's apparently the new official language of the brave new world. an i want teacher's to learn me it becuz i am to excited about the possibility's are you!!!

* The apartment complex in which I live -- Good Lord! Some of us call it the Twilight Zone. It's weird and unpredictable, but also damn funny in a warped sort of way. We'll be talking about that, and some of The Neighbors, management, cliques & clans... Oh, yeah.

* Lastly, for now, I think I can get rich quick making tinfoil hats. So much need! 

Strange!

 I got a notice from Blogger today informing me that a post of mine had been flagged and placed behind a warning sticker for potential readers because of "offensive content." I knew I hadn't posted anything in ages and was afraid I'd been hacked and someone had posted something awful. After I looked up my password and got to my dashboard, I see that the post is from 2006! It was about a site for people to "confess" and, yes, I remarked on the need -- or absurdity -- of it. There wasn't anything I considered offensive about it, so go figure. If some poor delicate flower looked up a 17-year-old post and got offended... Well, I don't even know what to say. 

Wipe-out

Why is there no toilet paper!? By the time I realized I'd better buy a little more than usual, there was none to be had in the stores. Or the online stores. I don't think the manufacturers have stopped making it, or the trucks stopped delivering it. Apparently, some people -- and they know who they are -- keep grabbing all they can get their hands on and leave none for anyone else. And apparently, many of them moved their hoards to eBay and Amazon to sell at outrageous prices. I ultimately had to give in to those sources and was staggered and appalled at the price gouging. Some jerks were selling one roll for $10 and up. By biting my tongue and maintaining unusual patience in scrolling through scores of listings, I was able to get enough at quasi-reasonable prices to last a month or two. Hopefully, things will have returned to normal in the stores by the time I run out. I never used to buy those gigantic multi-roll packages. In the future, I will, just to be on the safe side. I guess in the face of disaster, peoples' instinct is to hoard. But geez, folks, take what you need and leave some for other people. You're not winning any Brownie points by moving your stash online and price gouging. Your customers -- former customers now -- won't forget what you did. Who on earth would pay $100-plus for a 4-pack?! I'd pick leaves first.

Anyhow, my pup and I are maintaining, staying in, staying careful, staying informed, and just waiting it out. Y'all take care of yourselves, guard your toilet paper, stay safe, and be well.

Currency of the Apocalypse

No, it's not the Apocalypse. Not yet, anyway. Let's hope it stays that way. I'm not even sure you can have an Apocalypse without zombies.

But ... Lysol. Or any brand of disinfecting spray or wipes. Who knew ordinary household cleaning products would ever become such a hot commodity? You cannot get disinfectant products anywhere. Not for love, not for money, not even for your firstborn. I didn't even think about buying this stuff until early March when the threat of Coronavirus suddenly became real. By that time, the store shelves were already empty of these kinds of items. I had on hand exactly half a can of Lysol spray, and that was it. I eventually found a can of disinfecting wipes at a dollar store and one at the grocery store. I figured no big deal, you can get these things online any day of the week. Wrong! Not one major retailer had anything left in stock. Neither did vendors I'd never heard of. I did finally manage to get some supplies from eBay and Amazon -- hand sanitizer, alcohol wipes, a can of off-brand disinfectant spray (which feels about half full), antibacterial hand soap, and a small bottle of disinfectant spray which is supposed to smell like orange blossoms but smells more like industrial (or outhouse) disinfectant. Before getting these items, I had to wade through a slew of listings to weed out the blatant price gougers. $75+ for a can of Lysol? I don't think so! Why do I need this stuff? I live in a building with a lot of people (who have a lot of visitors), a mail room, laundry room, and common areas, and you just don't know who has what or touched what. I'm not punching elevator buttons without a wipe in my hand while this virus is running rampant.

We know this disease will peak and then ebb at some point. That is not to say there won't be a resurgence in the future. I'm pretty sure it's highly likely. I plan to have enough supplies on hand if and when that time comes, whether I need them or not, and avoid a repeat of this craziness. If you'd told me a few months ago that I'd move heaven and hell to get some cleaning supplies, I'd have said you were crazy. You just never know, do you?

COVID Watch

I haven't blogged in ages. I didn't realize it had been so long. But dang, there's a global pandemic going on. It's as good a day as any to try it again. I may just be blogging to myself since I don't know who's left in blog land, but that's okay. Gives me something to do.

The photo is my darling Shelter in Place partner, watching Animal Planet. She won't watch those daily White House political rallies -- excuse me, briefings. Neither will I. I was getting ready to go out on a supply run, so I had to get her set up. We've lived in this apartment for 17 months and she still doesn't like it. She'll cry and carry on if I leave her, so I have to set her up on my bed with her blankets, snacks, the TV tuned to AP, and close her in.

We in Virginia are under a Stay at Home order until June. One does get a bit bored. You can't go shopping; only "essential" stores are open. You can't eat out; all the restaurants are closed except for takeout and delivery. Pretty much everything is closed. Gas is down to $1.83 a gallon and there's nowhere to go except the grocery store, Walmart, or a dollar store. I read, watch TV, listen to music. I walk the dog. I make myself do household chores. And I paint my toenails. A lot.

I had a good supply of non-perishable food, extra water pitcher filters (and a backup case of water), batteries, toothpaste and soap and stuff on hand before all this started. I haven't watched years of The Walking Dead and learned nothing. I did not know it would be next to impossible to buy toilet paper and Lysol spray/wipes, and I waited too long. Luckily, I've been able to scrounge up those items online, so I'm good. Today, I scored 2 bottles of hand sanitizer at Dollar General. Felt like I'd won the lottery!

COVID-19 is scary. Not panic inducing, but enough to instill a healthy sense of caution. I've seen flu epidemics before but, thankfully, never got sick. Coronavirus is, of course, different, but I'm hoping my luck holds. There's no way to predict just how bad this will get. I don't think it'll reach "Captain Trips" proportions, but we don't know.

Whoever happens to stop by here, tell me how you're riding it out, how you're doing, what you've been up to. And how bored you are. Above all, practice physical distancing, stay safe, and be well.

So Surreal

Sometimes I think I’ve seen it all, and then something happens that tops everything I’ve seen yet. That happened early this morning, when a local TV (WDBJ-7 [CBS], Roanoke) reporter and her photographer were gunned down on-air.  I had the TV on listening to the news, but I didn't immediately grasp what was happening.  Who would?!  I have since seen the video - with sound - of the shooting, and it's just horrible. The TV team, 24-year-old Alison Parker, and the photographer, 27-year-old Adam Ward, died at the scene. They weren’t in a war zone, or covering a riot. This shouldn’t have been dangerous. They were at beautiful Smith Mountain Lake to interview a Chamber of Commerce lady, Vicky Gardner, for a feature piece on tourism at the lake. Thankfully, it looks like Ms. Gardner, who was shot in the back, is going to survive.

As he went down, Adam’s camera recorded an image of the gunman, and that was instrumental in identifying the piece of crap. Turns out he was 41-year-old Vester Flanagan, who had worked at WDBJ as a reporter under the name “Bryce Williams.” Flanagan was fired for being always angry, confrontational, and disgruntled – always looking for some remark from someone that he could take the wrong way – and ultimately had to be escorted off the premises by the police. This was over a year ago, and one wonders if he’s been planning an ambush like this ever since. This ignorant, worthless fool filmed the shooting himself and posted it to Twitter, this after sending a 23-page faxed “manifesto” to ABC News last night. These are the two young people who so senselessly lost their lives:

The cowardly piece of crap Flanagan fled the scene in his 2009 Mustang, which he abandoned at the airport in Roanoke. He then drove a previously rented Chevy to Northern Virginia. He shot himself when police tried to stop him, and died later at a Fairfax hospital. I say good riddance.

Photo of when he was masquerading as "Bryce Williams"

Monster in shooting stance

News people murdered on the air. Local reporters in small-town southern Virginia. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so shocking. My God, what next?

And ... I would appreciate it if the local sheriffs would stop referring to this low-down piece of crap as a "gentleman."  

Cool Beans

There was a little nip of Fall in the air this morning. It’s so refreshing to wake up to an open window and 58 degrees outside.  Cool!  I’ve just about had it with it being 80 degrees at 11:00 P.M. That’s just not right, and I hope there won’t be any more of it between now and next Summer. The cold front that came through knocked out the ungodly humidity we’ve been dealing with, so it’s shaping up to be a fabulous weekend.

I wish I could go to the beach. I love the ocean and often times find myself simply longing for the sound of the surf and the tangy smell of salt air. Unfortunately, it’s a long trip and I have no one any more to go with me. Of course, my pup has never seen the ocean, and who even knows whether she’d like it, so I guess we’ll just stay home.  For now.

I have errands to run and shopping to do, so I’d best get to it. Have a great weekend!

Free Fruitcake(s)

 It’s only Wednesday but it feels like it should be Saturday, maybe even Sunday. Why does this week seem so long? Maybe because we’ve been crazy busy at work – and seemingly running in circles because so many of our clients have suddenly gone crazy. I’ve never seen such a spate of whiny, ill informed, passive-aggressive neediness. One even fired us – because we did exactly what she asked us to. The boss has had me draft snarky letters to some of them this week. He doesn’t send them, though. I think it makes us both feel better to just vent and get it off our chests.  And we managed to unload two of them on other lawyers.  We're not expecting thank-you notes.

Meanwhile, I’m thinking of taking French lessons. I’ll need to know more than yes, no, thank you, and … merde, if I have to move to Canada. Donald Trump is ahead in the political polls. Seriously?! What is wrong with people? I’d rather wear long johns and commune with moose (mooses?) than try to say “President Trump” with a straight face.

Hot, It's Not

Apparently, either I’m giving off the vibes of a homely, lonely little old man – or I’m too sexy for my own good. Lately, I’ve been bombarded with emails – sometimes half a dozen a day – from what purport to be blazing hot women just panting to commit obscene acts with me. And I thought all those ads I used to get for "male enhancement" were bad.  What is this?!  It's definitely not hot.  It just makes you want to shower right away. I get this stuff at all of my email addresses, with the exception of my work email. All of my user names are clearly feminine, so I’ll be darned if I can figure out why these (maybe) women are begging to do stuff to me (or vice versa) that are completely anatomically impossible. I mean, I don’t read the emails – I send them straight to spam; the sales pitch is right there in the subject line. And I suppose it must be a sales pitch of some sort. Surely, there aren’t really hordes of women out there so desperate for some deviant sex that they’ll proposition strange women, so there must be some kind of money angle to it. Either that, or I’m giving off such hot, sexy vibes that I really need to rein it in. God, I hope it’s not “hairy lonely guy” vibes I’m emanating. I truly would have no explanation for that, not to mention that I'd be so mortified that I'd have to go into hiding.

Catching Up

I know, I haven’t updated my blog in ages.  I didn’t even realize until yesterday, when my friend and fellow blogger Marion, a/k/a the esteemed Princess Dragonfly, nudged me, how long it had been.  Honest to God, I don’t know where time goes.  I could have sworn I had updated since February, but apparently not.  I “meant” to, but stuff happens, you know what I mean?  Today’s a good day to update, I guess.

You all know about the loss I suffered in December.  Life is very different now.  I’m not saying it’s awful, but it’s certainly different.  I still miss my best friend every day, but … you go on.

I’ve been dealing with a spinal compression fracture since 4^th of July weekend.  I spent that entire weekend lying down, in the worst pain I’ve ever felt in my life.  On the following Monday, I said “uncle” (because I hate going to doctors) and went to the Urgent Care.  After a series of X-rays, they told me that the pain was a result of osteoporosis, possibly combined with some arthritis.  They gave me a prescription for an anti-inflammatory and, basically, told me that it was something I’m just going to have to live with.  Then, they called me the next day and said further study of the X-rays showed a compression fracture and wanted to refer me to an orthopaedist.  I spent a couple of days figuring out a course of treatment that would allow me to get the pain under control.  I tried Icy Hot (works), Dr. Shepard’s Pain Therapy cream (works), Myoflex (works, but not as well), Salon Pas patches (works), and Tiger Balm (really works).  The heating pad also works wonders and, in conjunction with some Ibuprofen once or twice a day and one of the wide array of lineaments I now have on hand, and always sitting with something firm behind my back, I think I have it licked.  I haven’t missed any work (other than a few vacation days), and I politely passed on the orthopaedist since the standard treatment appears to be heat, rest, and pain meds – which is what I’m doing.  I'm taking mega doses of Calcium and Vitamin D, too.

It’s been a hot, hot summer.  Forget everything you’ve ever heard about cool mountain air.  It ain’t happening in these mountains, not this year.  Thank God for AC.  My little Señorita Chihuahua, on the other hand, loves basking in the sun right in front of the patio door, no matter how hot it is.  She’s a sweetheart, I love her, and I’m sure she’s extremely bright, but I just don’t get that.

I read Harper Lee’s “Go Set a Watchman.”  I didn’t love it.  I don’t think I’ve become a Philistine.  It simply didn’t move me.

I never post about politics.  I’ve seen too many sites devolve into real nastiness when politics are involved.  In light of the political circus taking shape now, though, I just may have to break my own rule.

Poor Cecil the Lion.  Why would anyone torture a magnificent animal like that, drag out his death for 2 days, and then mutilate his body in such a horrifying way?  Where I come from, you hunt for food; you don’t kill just for some kind of warped thrill.  What happened to him just makes me sick.  And sad.    RIP, Cecil.

There's a Blue Moon tonight.  I love full moons, and it's not true that they make me crazy.  Not too much, anyway.

2/14

Big Scary Monster

To you and me, this is a household appliance, a benign machine most of us drag out every blue moon to suck up the dog hair and other detritus accumulated on the floor since the last blue moon.

To my dog, however, it’s huge and vile and scary … evil incarnate.  The very sight of it, the instant I pull it out of the closet, sends her into a panic and she runs for the hills.  Or, more accurately, her bed and its pile of baby blankets.

When I turn it on, all hell breaks loose.  She goes absolutely berserk, alternately running around in circles and charging at it, barking the whole time.  It’s kind of hard to vacuum with this tiny warrior princess trying to kill it and me about to wet my pants laughing.  This is why I vacuum only every blue moon.