Queen Mediocretia of Suburbia

Someone Invent This

Do people still take Antabuse? It was prescibed to alcoholics and make them very sick if they drank. It didn't work for technical father Jerry, he took it and drank anyway, but I still like the theory. Immediate negative reinforcement.

I need Antabuse for food. Now that I've had this experience with caffeine provoking an hour-long cough-fest four hours after I drink it, I find it was very easy to give up caffeine.

Deep-fried food affects me they same way caffeine does; I cough violently four hours after. Gary brought home fried chicken tonight. I wasn’t even tempted.

A few years ago I charted my caloric intake and any corresponding weight loss, and I found that there was a week-long delay between the binges and the weight gain, the restraint and the weight loss.

So that’s what they need to invent, something that makes me cough four hours after if I eat anything fattening.

Strangely, the unpleasant visit to the toilet I must schedule four hours after a hot dog is no deterrent at all.

And then there are those days God flips you off in the parking lot

Chinese Lantern Festival at the Botanical Garden

We had tickets to the Chinese Lantern Festival thanks to the Wonderfuls, and the temperatures were down to a mere 90 degrees this evening, so we went. And so did everyone else in Saint Louis.

And they all wanted to take photos. I don't blame them. The lanterns were indeed lovely at night. I could have tied up the traffic by taking photos too, but instead I send you here and here.

Or look at this:

There are over 20 different towering illuminated lanterns, scattered through the botanical gardens. All the photos I pointed you to show one lantern per photo, but in reality there are three or four lanterns in your field of vision at any time. And the gardens weren't designed to be used at night, so all the light is thrown by the lanterns. Oh, and you had some wine. And it is still pretty hot. And you get in to that shuffling mob mentality and you can't see the path and there are giant Buddhas to your right and giant pandas to your left and every dragon is moving and it is just like a legal acid trip.

I found it very disorienting.

Busy Saturday

In no particular order, these things happened Saturday.

1. We saw an electronic sign warning us that there is a drought and we should conserve water. We know there's a drought, the river that runs by us has more sandbars than not now, and everyone else on our block has given up on watering. Our lawn does look like an oasis. Gary is torn between Grass Pride and Non-Conformity.

2. Speaking of the drought, there is some strange fluid falling out of the sky right now.

3. Speaking of droughts, I might have a bladder infection right now.

4. Back to Saturday - I watched half of The Prestige before I gave up. It took me two hours to watch half because I had to keep backing up to work out what on earth they were saying. I thought my ears would adjust but they never did. "Wammbo yerda?"  (rewind) "Waddabowt yer dot?" (rewind) "What about your daughter?"

5. We watched a bit of the Olympics. I remembered hearing that Saint Louis had hosted the third Olympics in 1904, the same year they held the World's Fair. What a coup, right? I looked it up. Not so much. The reason I didn't know about the Olympics instead of the World's Fair is that we evidently screwed up the Olympics to a massive degree. The first winner of the marathon cheated, the real winner was doping with rat poison, some guy took a nap in the middle, and one guy from Africa was chased off course by dogs. For the full story read here.

The Shower Scam Lives On

On Friday I went to happy hour. It was like having lunch, only with alcohol, which means the conversation was even more coarse.

So of course it was a menstruation conversation.

I thought I might shock young Miss "I Don't Know What a Brassiere Is" by telling her stories of menstruation back in the day.

I mock-whispered, "Back when I was in school, if you didn't want to participate in gym that day, you just had to tell the gym teacher you were having your period and you got to sit out."

She said, "Well, yeah, sure, but I loved P.E. so I never used that excuse."

"Wait," I said, "You mean you even know about it? It still comes up?"

"Oh yes," added a woman who might be thirty, "I hated P.E.. I used that as an excuse all the time."

"Did you say 'No shower' during roll call? Because that was the code."

She laughed and said, yes that is still the code, and she got out of gym all the time because her male gym teacher was to embarrassed to call her on her perpetual period.

I pulled the shower scam every other week myself, only my gym teachers were all women. None of them called me on it. At some point in the 70s Title IX was put in place and I found myself in co-ed gym classes, but roll call was still segregated so the boys wouldn't know why we were sitting out.

Gary, who finished high school in '72, claims I lie and would never have had a gym class with a boy. He also is skeptical about the shower excuse. "Why couldn't you play sports during your period? No one would make up such a stupid rule."

"No, you could have played the sports but you couldn't shower afterward, so that's why you couldn't play, you'd be all sweaty." I really don't know the logic after that. You'd catch a chill in your delicates? You'd bleed on the shower floor? No place to dispose of your pad? Of course, I'd gone from pads to tampons in eighth grade, but I wasn't telling anyone that.

Here's what I really want to know, since the shower scam evidently still goes on, does it continue into college? Anyone take  college P.E.?

Hoarding

I only wish they were magazines I could be proud of.

R.I.P., Chad Everett

Early 70's: Chad Everett catches my pre-teen eye in the 70's medical drama Medical Center, which ran from when I was 7 to when I was 14.

That's an awful photo of Chad. Very dated TV Guide, though. Complete GOP Convention coverage! Blacks in Broadcasting!

Here's my Chad:

80's: I forget about Chad. I marry. I move on.

90's: Chad goes grey and his appearance improves dramatically.

2000:

2010's: The mother on The Kardashians is named Kris Jenner, who I confuse with Chris Evert (Why else would she be famous?)  I think: that's so odd. Why wouldn't she change her name so she isn't confused with Chris Everett, who was on that Medical Center show I liked so much?

Chad, we had grown so far apart.

B Team

Julie is my Twitter friend. About six months ago I was invited to Julie's birthday party, entirely because all of Julie's "real" friends went to Belize without her. So, Julie was forced to call in the B-Team: five or so tangential friends. I was delighted to be there and meet Elaine, her partner, of whom I heard much on Twitter.

And then, I was invited back for a barbeque. Still B-Team, I sat with the children and the relatives and other B-Teamers. The A-Team was there; I just didn't have much truck with them.

And THEN I was invited to her Bastille Day tea and I even spoke to some of the A-Teamers. I might prefer being on the B-Team: there's no real responsibility, at least for a while. It's kind of like being an aunt.

Mom had an A-Team who all suddenly died or squabbled within four years. I was surprised one day when she brought a new A-Team of friends to breakfast. I had never heard of them before. They stepped right up and had delightful parties with her in which they did all the work.

Well, since Julie and Elaine had invited me to three parties, and I'd had them to none, I threw a party Saturday. I did invite the entire Internet, but the only one who showed besides Julie and Elaine was Caroline, Friend #4 (A-Team from way back).

Actually it was a bit of a surprise party. I didn't tell Gary about it until three hours before people were to come over. I wouldn't have mentioned it at all, but he noticed I cleaned the bathroom. "WHAT IS THIS?ARE YOU HAVING A PARTY?" Well, what could I say? Yeah, I'm having a party, I just didn't want to hear you gripe about it for a week.

He was perturbed, but almost immediately he sucked it up and went out and bought nine boxes of frozen hors d'oeuvres which he kept pushing on people. Naturally, he loves Caroline, and he found J & E to be delightful as well.

I need to widen my circle of friends, I think that's what I'm saying. Julie and Elaine could fill the Friend #69 spot I've been saving.

Utopia

A few months ago, one of Gary's aunts was diagnosed at the Mayo Clinic with a peculiar ailment: small-cell lung cancer. Evidently this form of cancer mimics neurological ailments: deafness, muscle weakness, trembling, and so on. Gary's aunt went through numerous doctors for years before she went to the Mayo Clinic. They gave her months to live: a few monre with chemo and radiation.

Then, she went to the Utopia MediSpa and Wellness Institute in Clearwater Florida, Purveyors of Holistic Bullshit. The diagnosed her with "a virus in her immune system," and they recommended hypobaric chamber treatments and lymph node massages.

Gary was maddened by this and stomped about and called them charlatans. That's probably why when his aunt called today with good news from Clearwater, he didn't come in and Wilma took the phone off speaker.

However, she was so enthusiastic about her diagnosis and her weight gain and all the encouragement she's been getting from the staff that Wilma put her back on the speaker phone. Soon I had to leave the room. Otherwise I would have demanded, "Who says they have a 90% cure rate? Oh, the staff at Utopia." "Who says you can still smoke when you have 'an immune system virus?' Oh, those nice nurses at Utopia?" "Who says you're gaining weight? Oh, the scales at Utopia."

I swear, I would be less crazed were there a brochure for the families of the terminal patients that said, "Utopia, deluding your loved ones until they die happy." Fine by me.

I know myself that having a good attitude can increase your health. I see why she thinks having chemotherapy will decrease your health. I see her point of view, and it isn't even any of my business. I know how my family treats end-of-life scenarios. "Three months to live? Off me now already." (That was a dramatization.)

I stayed away until the "Praise Jesus" sounds died down and they were off the phone.

Not my family, not my way, not my business. Grr.

Batman 24/7

Thursday night, Gary said, "I think the only movie I would ever leave the house to see would be the new Batman movie on an IMAX screen."

Friday morning at 5 the dog woke me up. He didn't want to pee, eat, or play, and in these situations I assume there's been a tsunami, earthquake, or tornado. I turned on CNN and it seems the dog's nose for news has moved past natural disasters to crazed shootings.

I worked from home on Friday, and when I work at home CNN is muted in the background. Usually I turn up the sound for the Breaking News logo, but that was on all day, so I only jumped at the Just In logo.

Gary came home and we watched a bit of news, just long enough to hear they planned to blow up the kid's apartment, and that he called himself "The Joker."

This is where it gets weird. Gary picked the primary and secondary shows to watch. We switched all night between "Batman Begins" on TNT and "The Dark Knight."

I complained. He countered that it was still the premeire of the new Batman movie and these movies should be on. Or the terrorists win, I guess?

Two Points in Search of a Bullet

Downton Abbey

Do the kids of today know they are watching Upstairs Downstairs? I never followed that show too closely back in the day, but I saw the episode when Prince Edward visited and the one with the servant showing up at the back door pregnant. Today I got far enough in Downton Abbey to see a servant show up at the back door pregnant.

Ravens

Speaking of the nobility, I have ravens in my backyard the size of the Other Queen's Ravens at the Tower of London. Ravens the size of cats. The size of ponies. The size of Mini-Coopers. They are particularly terrifying when they come in for a landing. For a moment before they land they hover with a few extra flaps. It's just hang time. No reason. They just do it to intimidate the other animals.

 

UPDATED:Wag the Dog

UPDATE: This was planned because his physical was scheduled for this month. I am not conniving to off my dog because he is blocking vacation.

My poor boy, Mac, is an old old dog. Sixteen? Seventeen? Today, I took him in to test his kidney function.

The kidney numbers are worse than ever before. In addition, his liver numbers are bad as well. Finally, he has arthritis. But his most important organ, his tail, is still wagging. I have determined he will carry on until that organ fails.

I told Gary tonight that since the tail still wags, we should take him in to the vet to have his kidney fluid treatment. This will be the second time he's had it. If it doesn't work, or if his low liver numbers become more of a concern, we'll just keep him in doggie hospice until his tail stops wagging.

Gary said, "Well, I'll wag the dog's tail myself, then."

Ingrid Michaelson Concert 7-16-2012

This is what I was expecting from the Ingrid Michaelson concert: A girl and her ukulele, warbling away with a plinky accompaniment that shows off her voice. Like this.

However, the first third of the concert was this:

See all those other people on stage? They are loud. I have no idea what the first four songs were about, because I couldn't hear the lyrics. I still heard Ingrid warbling something, and I got the impression she was very injured by Love yet still resilient. Other than that, I don't know what was going on.

Gary was delighted, because the first song had every person on stage playing a drum. When he plays the drums in the basement with Ingrid he does not let her show off her voice either.

If the new noisy band is there to act out Gary's fantasy, the new arrangement of The Way I Am is my fantasy out there for everyone to see. Who among us has not sung that song and hammed up every trill? I sing it in the car with great significance and pathos. The new arrangement made me think Ingrid had heard me and wanted to show me how it's done. She pared down everything but her, the ukulele, and she didn't lean on the uke except to throw in a plink to punctuate the phrasing.

Here's a clip someone else got earlier this year. I like how the audience is singing the glib old version and she's singing the new version with the great depth of feeling.

I like that new arrangement. I like that she's experimenting with new sounds. I just want to hear the words. And you darn kids get off my lawn, and in my day we called them brassieres.

TV Bottleneck

I don't know when the cable companies came up with this scheme. Every show I watch (or watched during the season) is on Sunday night.

True Blood

Mad Men

The Killing

The Newsroom

Weeds

Breaking Bad

Dr. Who

And then on top of all that I have thrown in the towel (sponge: UK) for Downton Abbey on Amazon. I am sure that premieres every Sunday night. (And when did Masterpiece Theater become just "Masterpiece?" Next it'll have an exclamation point at the end.

And finally, Sophie's Choice is haunting my TiVo Suggestions.

I don't understand why Sunday is the night to release the good programs. I imagine tiVos and DVRs have made Nielson ratings irrelevant, since you don't have to choose what to watch. Someday soon, we'll have just one day for new programming, Sunday, and after that just a week of repeats till the next Sunday.

Vacation? NoWaycation.

I have pinned Gary down about vacation plans. No vacation until the dog dies. No vacation for both of us, that is. I can go some place on my own, if I "must." I'm afraid I must. Actually, Gary should go on vacation for his health, but the dog's health is paramount.

First off, in some ways that makes everything much more economical. No dog boarding fee. No Gary airline fee. B&Bs are an option. Cold weather is an option. Renting an apartment for a few days is an option. Taking taxis. Gentleman Hosts.

I think any trip alone would need to be shorter. I wouldn't want to be gone a week. But Maine in August sounds very fine.

What? Seriously Mitt?

This seems impossible. I just heard this on the Rachel Maddow Show.

" ... Earlier today, you may have heard that Mitt Romney appeared at the annual convention of the NAACP in Houston, Texas, and he was booed loudly during his speech when he said he would end ObamaCare when he was president. ... We just had word that Mr. Romney has now responded to that booing ... [At a later event] Mr. Romney said this about the reception at the NAACP today: he said, 'Remind them of this. If they want more stuff from the government, tell them to go vote for the other guy, more free stuff. But don't forget, nothing is really free.'"

I've been looking for a second source for this, and I can't find one.

It might, MIGHT have been acceptable if he'd dropped the word "more." It might have been acceptable if he were speaking to the National Association of Just People.

I do take his point. Nothing is free. I'll be paying for it, for example, as will all the CPs I know.

I kind of hope he visits us WPs and makes the same remark if I boo. "Sure, vote for the other guy if you want more free stuff." Well, yes please Mr. Romney, only clarify what you mean by "more," and where I go to pick it up.

I don't know. I kind of think that by saying his comment is insensitive I'm exposing myself as a racist. The people who complain need to be the ones who booed. And, oh, I hope they do. That's a political ad I'd like to see.

Spunky, Like Madonna, Re-invents Herself

Well, when last seen, Spunky Labia International Toe Porn Superstar had a gloriously matchy-matchy teal blue gel job to match the Pakistani ensemble.

So fabulous that at least two Friends are now sporting the blue toenails.

And of course, once a trend is set, a trend-setter must go against the trend.

Spunky's new look: Toenail-colored toenail polish. I paid way too much money to have my toenails semi-permanently gelled that color of flesh pink.

The lesser toes look kind of dazed, don't they. Blinking in the sun after seven weeks of the exotic teal party. Little toe is the distracted drummer on the CD cover not looking at the camera. Only he's pink.

Gary Buys a Birdbath: The Director's Cut

Gary came home today and complained about my previous post. I left out part of the story. It was edited for time and content. Gary wants me to include the edited content.

==============================================================

When Gary decided we would be getting the granite bird bath and the sandstone bird bath, he went out to get the car, and the people manning the store (a man and a woman) began to shift the chosen bird baths toward the door. The man picked up the sand stone dish and put it down on a waist-high pile of birdseed bags.

Then he hefted the obviously heavy sandstone pedestal on his shoulder, staggered a bit under its weight, and bent over till it fell off his shoulder on the seed bags.

"Wait wait wait," I said, "That looks heavy. Gary can't carry that. His back is bad. He's got a back brace on right now."

"Oh this one isn't heavy," the man said, "That one is heavy." He pointed at the granite bird bath. "That one weighs 80 pounds."

"Wait wait wait," I said, again, "We have to see if Gary can move that."

"We can get it in to your car. No problem," they said, and I thought, yeah, no problem for you, that just means Gary's back won't go out in your store.

By then Gary have driven up and was reconfiguring the Fit into pickup truck mode. I waved him into the store.

"Gary, prove to me you can pick up this bird bath." I pointed at the sandstone pedestal.

He hefted it with ease.

"Now this one," and I pointed to the granite bird bath.

"Wait, let me buy them first," and he headed up to the counter because he wanted to get that cumbersome money out of his pocket.

"No! No! Don't buy it if you can't move it!"

So, Gary went over and shifted the piece of granite on the ground and said, "Oh, no problem." Then he settled up, and of course he had no idea what the prices were, and still didn't bat an eye when he heard the total of ###.## dollars. "Separate bank accounts," I said to the woman, as I always do when Gary buys recklessly.

Then the man and the woman both put on rubber gloves (the better to gain purchase) and in unison hefted the 80 pounds of granite out to our car. They assured Gary he could just slide the hunk of granite out of the car; he wouldn't have to lift anything.

So, as soon as the staff of the bird store went inside, Gary began to laugh and said, "Are you insane? I'll never get that thing out of the car. It must weigh 100 pounds. We'll have a ###.## dollar dead weight in the back of our car."

"What? What? You just - I just made you - why didn't you "

"No, it's okay, we'll just park the car on the front lawn and lift the hatch, then we'll just fill up the bird bath and then the birds will get their water."

Of course, when we got home I offered to help him lift, but Gary determined that would be too dangerous because I would get in the way. Instead, he felt I would be more useful opening doors and listening to shouting.

He was able to maneuver the sandstone dish and pedestal to the back yard without help, but the granite bird bath required more effort. I hid. That's what I did. I knew there'd be exponentially more yelling.

Then, Gary went in to the garage, got two 2X4s, and positioned them to make a ramp from the hatchback down to the lawn.

The neighbor across the street was on the way to the grocery and asked, "Hey man, can I help you out?" (I wasn't there, I'm reconstructing this from Gary's reports.)

Gary said, "No,man, the wife bought this god-awful heavy bird bath, and now I have to get it out of my car somehow."

Guy across the street said, "Here, let me help you," and hopped out of his truck.

Gary said, "Careful, man, this thing weighs 200 pounds."

Somehow, they were able to lift the bird bath on to the ramp of 2X4s and then slide it down the ramp "like butter." Gary said it was "surprisingly easy."

From there, they two of them were able to heft the bird bath onto a planter's wagon.

At that point, I came out of hiding and found to my delight the deed was done entirely without my attention. "Look at you," I told Gary admiringly, "You big strong man."

The guy across the street laughed a bit loudly at that.

Gary Buys a Birdbath

Last Tuesday afternoon, Gary called from the bird store. "How am I supposed to pick out a bird bath without you here?"

We've lived quite happily without a bird crap collector bird bath for over 20 years, but last Tuesday Gary decided that this must stop, it's hot and our birds are smelly.

So, I hopped in the car and drove to the bird store so I could weigh in on the Histplasmosis dispenser bird bath. I don't much like the tall pedestal baths because they look so unnatural and you can never get them truly level. At least he called so I could pick out the most organic of the unnatural bird baths.

I did pick out five out of the thirty or so that were at the bird store, mostly stone ones that would still look attractive covered in Cryptococcosis. I assumed Gary would pick the one he liked best.

"Which two do you want, then," he asked.

"Two? No, I don't want two." I don't even want one.

"Well, you can't have all five."

"I don't - augh. That one." A sandstone rough-hewn bowl on a low slab pedestal.

"Don't you want that one?" he asked, pointing to the most expensive bath, a dark granite faux "pond" swimming with carved Koi fish.

"Uh... Okay." What the hell. "But you know I really don't want the yard cluttered up with too much stuff."

"Right! This way, we can have a bird bath in the back yard and one in the front yard."

 "Oh, hell no we won't. You can have total control over where they go in the back, as long as they stay out of the front yard. And as long as they look level."

"Well then they have to go on the patio, right next to each other."

As it turned out, it isn't that bad. One is in a garden to the left of the patio, and one is to the right, not right next to each other, so it doesn't look like we have segregated-water-cooler birdbaths. (One is white and one is black, even.)

Lunch With Girls

The lunch crowd included two new people yesterday. By "new people" I mean a) people unfamiliar with our coarse lunch conversation and b) people who were actually new to being people - they were both in their early 20's. (I initially wrote "We had two new people for lunch yesterday" until I realized that might be confusing. I had a hot dog for lunch yesterday.)

The lunch conversation began elegantly enough, then turned to my dog and all our dogs and the sentience of dogs and how they know more than they let on. I began to tell the story of how I get dressed and my dog knows I'll be leaving the house and he'll be alone.

I'd just started, and since we were all female I said, "He usually gets sad as soon as I pull on my brassiere."

"I'm sorry?" said Girl 1.

"I put on my brassiere and he gets sad."

"You put on ... what?"

I just looked at her.

Girl 2 said, "Yeah. What's that?"

I looked at their boobs. Girl 1 had enough boobage to require support. I must have been talking too fast.

I said, slooowly, "Brrraaaasss -"

"Oh! BRA!" Girls 1 and 2 looked at each other like they'd cracked the Enigma code. "Of course, bra!"

Girl 2 said, "I've never hear it called that."

"Yeah, that sounded familiar. I knew 'brassiere' was something I should know, I just didn't know what it was," said Girl 1.

In answer to my pained look, Girl 2 said, "I mean, I know what a bra is. I wear a bra. Some of the time. Sometimes I don't really need it though, like if my shirt isn't clingy, then -"

"Oh shut up," all the older women said.

So I sighed and continued, "He usually gets sad as soon as I pull on my foundation garment."

All this and fireworks

Hot

TeddyJ perk

Another perk

My city

Objectifying the opposition

The Birth of An Earworm

Andy Griffith is dead. (Or, as my brother says, "DEAD. Andy Griffith. DEAD.")  

Raise your hands if you've had the Andy Griffith Show theme song stuck in your head all day. 

Did you know there are WORDS to that theme song?

Everybody! Sing along! Well, now, take down your fishin' pole and meet me at The Fishin' Hole,
We may not get a bite all day, but don't you rush away.

What a great place to rest your bones and mighty fine for skippin' stones,
You'll feel fresh as a lemonade, a-settin' in the shade.

Whether it's hot, whether it's cool, oh what a spot for whistlin' like a fool.

What a fine day to take a stroll and wander by The Fishin' Hole,
I can't think of a better way to pass the time o' day.

We'll have no need to call the roll when we get to The Fishin' Hole,
There'll be you, me, and Old Dog Trey, to doodle time away.

If we don't hook a perch or bass, we'll cool our toes in dewy grass,
Or else pull up a weed to chaw, and maybe set and jaw.

Hangin' around, takin' our ease, watchin' that hound a-scratchin' at his fleas.

Come on, take down your fishin' pole and meet me at The Fishin' Hole,
I can't think of a better way to pass the time o' day.

source: http://www.lyricsondemand.com/tvthemes/theandygriffithshowlyrics.html

That's an delightful site, by the way. Look at it alone, because you'll be singing.

I knew there were words to the Star Trek Theme. Someone sings it in one of the episodes (The Cage, I think.)

I think Ricki sang the words in the earliest episodes of I Love Lucy.

The Odd Couple has lyrics! Who knew?

And I never watched Bonanza. They didn't sing this, did they?

Now, Bewitched was a popular song on its own, but did anyone else ever hear the words to any of these songs anywhere else? Is it possible some poor writer had to write not only songs but secret lyrics, just in case anyone needed to sing it at an awards ceremony?

Lady Bountiful Tries and Fails

On the way home from work last week I noticed a large box by the office door, marked, "Food Drive."

Happily, over the weekend I remembered to purge my pantry so I could donate some useless cans to the food drive.

It made a heavy package, and this morning I wondered if perhaps I should see how hot it was outside before I lugged in twenty pounds of canned food. But I gutted it out. I toted it inside. To the box. The box marked "School Supplies."

I toted it twenty more feet to the bathroom. I considered just leaving the cans on the counter or in a stall. Suddenly one of the toilets flushed and I jumped. I decided that was a bad omen and I should take the cans to my desk.

This is why I can offer you Chunky Chicken Noodle Soup if you stop by for lunch. Or, perhaps, a can floridly labelled "KRAUT."

I am sure TeddyJ will have a canned food drive at some point, and the poor families pining for canned Blueberry Pie Filling will have a happy Christmas. Or, I could throw cans of food over the cube wall at Steve when he gets mouthy.

Perhaps I could work out a tune. They are different sizes. I could line them up and hit them with pencils.

Putting the Silent in Silent Auction and Happier Notes

So, a few weeks ago I bid on three items at a silent auction, and I paid 30 bucks for each. It was for a worthy cause.

I contacted the two people from whom I'd purchased the three items. One person returned my email, set a date, backed off on the date, set a new date which was the wrong date, and when I pointed that out said he would check his calendar and come back with a real date. That was over a month ago.

The other person has never checked his email.

So, now I know. If you are at a silent auction and the item is in front of you, bid on it. If that item involves someone else donating time in exchange for your donated money, do not expect any "value" for your donation.  It's all for charity.

===================================

On a happier note, I woke up to someone on NPR discussing watercolors. I remembered I once could paint watercolors. It has been at least twenty years, though, and I think I've unlearned everything. I could start over from scratch, and I still have all the supplies.

 ==================================

On an even happier note, Gary awoke to me cleaning the floor with my Scooba. He sang out happily "Oh! You're playing with your robot," and I realized he truly believes the reason I wash the floor once a week is because I like to use the robot "toy."