Obviously I’m Missing Something

I just read on Facebook that Sears and Kmart are the latest in a long list of retailers that are dropping Trump products.

Let’s see… Neiman Marcus, Nordstrom, and now Kmart and Sears don’t want to be associated with our president or his family. Come on! The article said they sold Trump housewares. How is not selling a Trump lamp “telling him”? Even more ridiculous are Neiman Marcus and Nordstrom, who have discontinued Ivanka’s line of merchandise. It would be like if Hillary had won the election, and nobody wanted to “play” with Chelsea. Ivanka is Trump’s daughter! She won’t make the laws. She doesn’t even have his last name!

In my opinion, this is going to backfire. America will get sick of stores acting like whiny babies.

Spring has come early to Southern California. No lie, I was going to go on Land’s End website and see if there is something I couldn’t live without but on second thought, Sears is their parent company. I think I’m good. Two can play this game.

Heard Mentality

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The word “heard” did nothing for me. Because of that, I went to myriumwebster.com, expecting to use their word of the day. But something caught my eye. It was an article on how the dictionary needs to be constantly changed (I know I’m a nerd when things like that fascinate me).

It said more than a thousand words have been added, in all categories. Sports to science. Slang to music.

Some 2017 editions include urgent care, air-ball, and Epi-pen. In slang, you have whack, boo-hoo, and yowzah. I see that spell check hasn’t caught up!

I wonder what people 50 years ago (heck, 10 years ago!) would have thought about not just recent dictionary additions but our language today in general.

This post was another post about nothing, but what words would you add?

The Right Direction

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Probably twenty years ago (oh my gosh) I read about random acts of kindness. The book pointed out that the good deeds didn’t have to be big, just knowing that you made somebody’s day. I found this story on Liftable.com.

It’s sometimes hard to push our needs away. But if we did once in a while. Wouldn’t this be a more loving world?

Ten, In No Particular Order

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I told you that I’m extremely quirky. Add random, too. I looked at the songs in my iPod today (I usually just put it on shuffle and don’t pay attention). The poor thing probably thinks I have multiple personalities! To make the point, I will choose ten songs at random.

  1. “Maggie Mae,” by The Beatles (who doesn’t like The Beatles?).
  1. “The Christmas Song,” By Nat King Cole (I am too lazy to make a Christmas playlist, so I end up listening to it in July).
  1. “Dancing Queen,” by ABBA (it’s just happy).
  1. “Quit Playin’ Games With My Heart,” by Backstreet Boys (please don’t judge).
  1. “Rocket Man,” by Elton John (my parents liked him in the 70s, maybe it’s hereditary).
  1. “Stay With Me,” by Sam Smith (it’s just pretty).
  1. “Amazing Grace,” by Charlotte Church (my favorite religious song. Who knows, maybe a post inspiration someday).
  1. The “Apollo 13” theme (one of my favorite movies, with a pretty soundtrack).
  1. “MMMbop,” by Hanson (again, please don’t judge).
  1. “Beautiful Day,” by U2 (puts me in a good mood).

See what I said about random? I have no idea how the Genius in iTunes does it, and I’m afraid to see what it would choose for me. I would have thrown in the towel long ago!

An American Hero

Thank you so much, Sarah (who is now a blogger at Pizza and Peonies.wordpress.com), for bringing this to my attention. My sister tagged me in a post on Facebook that obviously has great meaning to me. But what she said is so true. In our society we have too many groups that say they are the “forgotten ones” to count. People demand change by loudly organizing marches and protests.

I may be biased, but I think there is a forgotten group: the physically disabled.

slide21-ed-at-demonstration_thmSarah posted a link from Time about Ed Roberts, a polio victim, whose work for the physically disabled is truly inspiring.   He passed away the year I was born, but I wish I could hug him and say thanks for his work.

If you want to read the article, click here.

A Walk To Remember

Since the black runt (Pippa, this name for you is used only in love), Maggie’s life has changed dramatically. Although I was only three when Sarah was born, and don’t remember it well, and I felt the same way. Kind of left out.

My aide (who comes four hours morning) and I have been taking Maggi for walks. So she can have some Pippa-free time. The walks have gotten shorter. Maggie is eleven.

This is our usual route: down Garretson, our street, to the elementary school, probably a quarter mile, and back. Although the runt has aged her, Maggie still enjoys sniffing every bush and tree.

This picture was taken Friday. The air was crisp and it was probably 65 degrees. It had rained the previous night, and as you can see, things are extremely pretty afterward. You can’t see Big Bear Mountain, but it’s now covered with snow.

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I complain about California, but I guess it beats blizzards in January!

 

Me, The 33-Year-Old Old Woman

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Sarah claims that I need to watch more “age appropriate” shows. To her, that is anything on Bravo. I have absolutely no interest in any of the “Housewives” shows. She signed me up for a contest in which you watch “The Bachelor” and follow brackets. Her boyfriend was in first place last time I talked to her. In all fairness, Sarah doesn’t actually buy into any of those shows–she finds them purely entertaining.

I think the whole premise of the show is nauseating, but I was keeping an open mind. Sort of. When I watched on Wednesday (what did we do without DVRs) I couldn’t believe it. These seemingly intelligent women throwing themselves at basically a stranger. Claiming they were “soulmates.”

The episode was two hours long. Needless to say, the second hour was left unseen. Give me my “Code Black,” “Pure Genius,” or “This is Us” any day.

If I’m an old lady, so be it. I’m a happy old lady.

 

Here Comes, Umm, Santa Claus

WARNING: This post contains mature themes, so if you are a child, you MUST stop reading now!!!

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As a kid of course I was like every other child on Christmas Eve. I got maybe two hours of sleep. I was imagining the bounty Santa would bring.

I think I figured out the truth about the fat, bearded man at about age nine. Of course I played along for my sisters, age five and six (and they say I was a mean big sister!).

The 33-year-old Erin finds the whole Santa thing quite ironic. When you’re a child your parents tells you to always tell the truth. It’s one of the Ten Commandments. Even God tells you not to lie.

Yet every single adult is in on the ruse. There are mall Santas and airplanes that track his whereabouts. I even heard on the news he was spotted over Saskatchewan.

I guess to adults, Santa is more of a fib than a lie. A fiblet, perhaps. A fiblet I plan to tell my future nieces and nephews.