~~ She approaches and points at the yoga studio mirror. “You think this a fat mirror?” She sighs when I say I think it unlikely the owner would hang a deliberately unflattering mirror. “I know, I was thinking that, too. But I always look the worst in this mirror.” I shared my foolproof tip to avoid being shattered by the mirror: don’t look! I place my mat on the other side of the room so that when I do a downward facing dog I never come face-to-face with my reflected ass.
~~ Overheard: “She honked and honked at me and I got really pissed, so I flipped her off. I figured out about 10 minutes later she was [kid’s name] teacher from last year, probably trying to say hello.”
~~ The man in the store is irate that plastic bags now cost five cents each in our county. The sign by the register explains the environmental goal, and the clerk tries to be patient, but the shopper wasn’t having any of this. On the warpath, he used “un-American” and “rip-off” repeatedly. Finally, he branded himself as a member of the Howdumbarewe tribe when he exclaimed, “Why the hell don’t they just raise the price of everything in the store by a nickel apiece and forget charging for the bags?” You could see the checkout guy was just about to explain how much more expensive that would be… but then he shrugged, smiled, and said, “I’ll pass that along to my boss, sir.”
~~ He yells across the intersection, “Don’t forget the pizza!” She yells back, “Whaaaaat?” He screams, “Don’t forget the pizza!” and she puts up her hands as if she still doesn’t know what he wants. Suddenly, a guy with a thunderous voice and a kid who may have been his son both yell, “Don’t forget the pizza!” along with the first hungry dude. The woman across the street gives the OK sign. See, we can all get along.
~~ The Olympics are here! I can finally watch curling and dissect it with others who also have no idea what the hell is going on.
~~ When one aide leaves Dementia-ville and another arrives, transport is provided by a cabbie or Uber driver. Except for some occasional accosting in the driveway, I am usually able to steer clear of these switcheroos. However, the other day a driver came into my home, shouting for one of the aides to get out of the bathroom so he could give her change and berating the other one to move it along or call sometime in the future for a ride to a later train. Seriously, dude? Your voice is booming, your manner is coarse, and there’s an elderly woman in a wheelchair listening to you bellow. But what can I do? I didn’t answer the door or let him in.
~~ Coincidentally, a few people have recently remarked that they “admire” me or give me “credit” for living adjacent to Dementia-ville. I’ve tried to explain that I am one of the gloomiest people they will meet. I cry often, I overeat, and I have (more than) occasionally vented my misery towards my spouse. We’re in this situation because of him, but as I live a life made so much better because of him, I have grudgingly accepted the distress and disruption of my life and home. I don’t deserve praise, although a laugh and/or a hug are always welcome.
~~ The sheer ridiculousness (and insidiousness) of tRump’s desire for a military parade for his amusement puts me in mind of Stripes, a favorite Bill Murray movie (that may be redundant).
~~ Speaking of “That’s the fact, Jack!” we sure have ourselves a Constitutional crisis, a kakistocracy, and a farce in this country. But how about Nancy Pelosi, Adam Schiff, and the Eagles?
Dasvidaniya. Have a good weekend!
LET’S GO RANGERS!
GO, NY KNICKS, GO!
GO, NY KNICKS, GO!