I won’t be like others and say Joe Biden isn’t my president, if he wins.
It won’t matter. He won’t know himself whose president he is.
I won’t be like others and say Joe Biden isn’t my president, if he wins.
It won’t matter. He won’t know himself whose president he is.
WordPress Blog has lost its mind. They have a new, more complicated way of blogging, and I am looking for a different blog site because, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. I have no interest in learning their new complicated way of writing blogs on their messed up site. If anyone else has a blog elsewhere, please let me know where, and I will try there. WordPress blog is no longer worth the technical trouble it has caused with its new horrible updated site. And I HAVE contacted them and they suggested I continue to teach myself their new format. I am not willing to do that when the old way worked better.
Possibly history in the making as Hurricane Marco plays Marco Polo with Hurricane Laura and Laura finds him.
Not sure if this is where I should post this, but here it is, regardless . . . I have worked on Level 1210 of Candy Crush for three days. I refuse to buy their cartoon boosters, which I think they sometimes are trying to get me to do by not letting me win. I’m doing everything right, right?
Obviously not. In Candy Crush Level 1210, I spent three days trying to get all the keys so I could unlock the locks and then have the items (acorns and cherries) drop down and move out. Guess what! I got so frustrated this morning that I decided to just clear out all the licorice blocks under the locked section and ignore the keys. If I got the items out, good, and if not, who cared? I was almost out of lives anyway. I had one booster but had decided to wait until I got all three. I don’t buy them. I spin a wheel and win them. But I only can do that once or twice a day and often the booster I win is not the one I need.
But I won! I just won! So if you are stuck on Candy Crush Level 1210, ignore the keys. You will eventually get them all as you try to move all the licorice out of the way of the fallng items. I finished by having a dotted candy and I know that’s not what it’s called, but I call it what it looks like to me. (Can you believe when I was teaching Kindergarten and the children would use dice to play games in the math center that I was told NOT to call the dice “dice”, but to call them “dotted cubes” because some of the parents would be upset and complain if they knew the children were playing with dice.) So the candy that helped me finish winning was a dotted circular candy. If you play Candy Crush, you know what I’m talking about.
But try ignoring the keys and clearing the bottom, and if this was obvious to everyone else, Good For YOU! (another phrase learned while teaching Kindergarten) Praise your child when s/he does what you want and s/he’ll be more likely to exhibit the same behavior next time. Immediate praise, said with a smile and a cheery voice!
I hope this helps someone. If someone had told me three days ago, I would have appreciated it. Now onward and upward with my Candy Crush quest.
I’m a senior citizen now, and my staying home daily with my dog wasn’t a big change to her routine. My constant nervous chatter was.
I have a friend who lives in China, and she emailed me in February to tell me the virus was worse than Americans seemed to think it was and that I should do everything I could to avoid it. I asked, “like what?”.
She told me that I needed to self-isolate as soon as possible and begin wearing a mask when I went anywhere.
I spent the rest of February doing necessary things, like getting the oil in the car changed and the car inspected, so I could stay home after the first week in March. It’s been a lonely five months.
I was the first person to wear a mask to the grocery store and was met with the kind of looks and smirks we seniors become accustomed to as we age. I had gotten outright laughter in Walmart in late February when I asked where the masks and gloves were, or had they sold out?
I’ve sat here for weeks with no one to talk to. The other Seniors at Senior hour at the grocery store do not want to chit chat. They push their carts slowly up and down the aisle, being careful to go in the exact direction the aisle says is correct for that aisle. If they see someone coming towards them who appears not to plan to stop, they quickly move to the next aisle. Thank goodness the six foot distancing marks are green and large and can be seen from any location in the store to keep us all apart.
So I come back home to my dog after having little to no conversation with anyone else. I talk to her. I must say her vocabulary has greatly improved during the Pandemic.
A stray pregnant cat began to come by, and for distraction I began to buy cat food and fed her. One night after 4 to 5 days of rain, I came in the living room to the sound of screeching. I had fixed a birthing box in my storage room that is off the patio and had a flower pot propping the door open so she could go in there to have her babies. I noticed one day that she’d had them, but they were not in there. The morning of the screeching, she was moving those wet, half-drowned creatures into that storage room, but not to the box, She preferred to dump them behind the box on the concrete floor. I looked in the room to see what all the noise was about. My dog was in distress as she lay on the couch with her ears back listening to all the racket. “It’s the cat,” I told her. “She’s putting her babies in the storage room.” After she had them all in there and I looked again, the cat was sitting on the box and hissing at me. “You’re welcome,” I told her and went to get some cat food out of the kitchen.
The dog learned the word cat, cat food, Miss Kitty (cat’s name that I gave her) and who knows what other words from that adventure?
The most telling thing about my dog and her vocabulary is that now she is learning to spell. My son came by and asked if my dog needed to go out? He walks her when he’s here. She became so excited at the word “out”, that we began to spell it. Now the dog can spell as well . . . O U T is met with frantic tail wagging and jumping around.
When I walk her, she must walk more slowly and wait for me to put on my mask and she has learned the words “Behave Yourself”. That means whatever she is doing she needs to stop it right then.
I was trying to think of all the words my dog knows, but it would be easier to list the ones she doesn’t.
I don’t know how she learned what “Silly” means, but she takes it as a high insult and gets upset when I tell her she’s being silly. One way she is silly is by barking at the mailman every day when she sees him dropping off the mail. I’ve told her she’s being silly to bark at someone she’s seen before, but she’s finally answered that she’s just saying “hello”. She knows who he is.
One of my favorite things to do as a child was to sit on the front porch. We had both a swing and rocking chairs, and I could entertain myself just by sitting down and watching the people and cars go by. We lived close to the downtown area, and there was a lot of foot traffic in front of our house.
Our next door neighbors also happened to be our landlord and his wife. She owned the house they lived in, and he owned the house we rented. It was a big old house and had just a small plot of grass out in front of the porch.
I was sitting out there one day and the landlord’s wife came over. She was an interesting person in my opinion. She often talked to me and would even come into the house without knocking. Back then, in our small town, folks often slept at night without locking the front door. My mother usually locked the door to the living room, but the upstairs was filled with rooms she rented out, and she left the main front door unlocked.
It was nothing unusual for Mrs. Leggett to come over and lean on the porch rail and talk to me when I was sitting on the porch. She came over that day and said a few words. Then she asked me if I had any idea when we planned to mow the grass? I looked at the little patch of grass behind her and wondered what the problem was. It wasn’t even tall enough to hide Easter eggs in. Mow the grass? I had no idea.
I don’t know what made me tell her what I did, but it got quite an uproar, when the words got back to my grandmother, who lived with us. My mother worked every day and my grandmother was in charge of me, which was not a small task. I was a tomboy and found all sorts of interesting things to do which either got me in trouble with her or caused her to have to get out the iodine and bandaids and fix me up . . .
But that day I had no idea when my grandmother planned to find someone to mow the grass. I knew we didn’t have a lawnmower, so I had no idea what to tell Mrs. Leggett. I thought about it and then the words just slipped out of my mouth. “We’re going to get a goat,” I told her.
Mrs. Leggett’s eyes got big and she said, “WHAT?”
“Yeah, I heard Nanny (my grandmother) say last night that she’d be glad when the goat came because then she’d have something to eat that grass out front.
Mrs. Leggett stood there for a few seconds staring at me. Then she stomped up the steps to the porch, yanked the front door open and I could hear her shoes clicking away as she yelled, “EFFIE!”, which was my grandmother’s name.
A few minutes later Mrs. Leggett came back through the front door. She didn’t even glance at me as she went back home. Then my grandmother appeared, and she asked me why I’d told Mrs. Leggett we were getting a goat when I knew we were not!
I told her Mrs. Leggett had asked me when we were going to cut the grass. I didn’t think we were going to cut the grass, so I thought if I told her we had plans to take care of the grass, she’d be happy, go back home and everything would be fine.
My grandmother suggested I get off the porch, go play and try to stay out of trouble.
I’m much, much older now. I was just sitting on my patio at this apartment we’ve rented and was eating a popsicle and thinking how my chair reminded me of the rocking chair on the porch we had when I was a child. I was wishing Mrs. Leggett would come by and talk to me. Then I remembered the goat conversation and had a little chuckle.
Did I mention I moved in with one of my adult children a few months ago? It’s not as wonderful as it sounds. She works and when she’s home she’s often tired from working and not in the best mood. (Sometimes, oftentimes, she is in the best mood!)
I’ve told her brothers how hard it is to live with her. I hoped one of them would rescue me and move me in with them. No. They think we can work this out. Keep trying.
So this morning, when I triggered my princess because I mentioned Donald Trump, she tried to go on her usual rant about him and the country, and blah, blah, blah. I told her it wasn’t just him. The career politicians have caused a lot of our problems. Look at 86 year old Pelosi, who I’m sure thinks we’ll have to pry her power from her cold dead hand. Not if someone runs against her that can win. Not if Americans open their eyes to the plight of every average American and decides enough is enough.
We cry about politicians not limiting their terms in office. They’re getting rich off being in office. Yes, they’ll agree with us, but not one of them plans to follow through.
Now with Coronavirus and all the lies we’ve been told as a country (did I mention one of my adult children lives in China and stayed there through their Coronavirus outbreak and told me many helpful things that our government tells me the opposite of). Who do you think I’m going to believe? My government who won’t even make test kits available when other countries are testing their citizens right and left ? Or my son who said In China, all you needed was a fever and they’d be glad to test you. Here? Tests are for the elite and basketball players who entertain the elite. Like the poor old rabbit with his Trix, Tests aren’t for us.
But I have digressed.
I have honestly tried and tried to get along and be pleasant and be a good roommate, but this morning when my adult child who started ranting about Donald Trump started up again for the millionth time since I moved in, I noticed the tennis ball in the floor by my chair and I picked it up and threw it after her as she went down the hall. I don’t think I hit her, but I was on the woman’s softball team when I worked at Hamilton Beach. I was the catcher and I can throw a damn ball. Joy has about a thousand balls around here and every month when I get my money, I buy her another container of three. I’m going to “take matters into my own hands” so to speak and tennis ball this problem away. I may be old, but by God, I am still her mother and I’m tired of being talked to like I’m not.
I went to Walmart today and while I was in there, I got a can of tennis balls for my dog, Joy. She somehow knows what Walmart bags smell like, and when I walk in with those Walmart bags, she will search through them looking for tennis balls. She knows that’s the smell that brings new ones in the house. I felt so bad the few times I didn’t get her any that now I put TENNIS BALLS at the top of my shopping list, if I’m going to Walmart.
I got some balls today while I was shopping there.
Joy has enjoyed her new tennis balls! I’ve thrown them for her a few times. She chases them mostly. Some she catches in the air. She knows the difference between “Bounce Ball!” and “Ground Ball!” and goes after them in different ways. Some roll under my bed and she can’t reach them. Her favorite thing for me to do is for me to get my cane and get in the floor and use my cane to slide out all the tennis balls that have rolled under my bed! Oh, how she wags her tail and loves to chase them around the bedroom and down the hall as they roll back out.
I teach her tricks and she teaches me some! Ha, ha. One day she went to the side of my bed and stuck her head and neck under the bottom of the bed and wagged her tail and pulled her head out and looked at me. The second or third time she did it, I peeked under there. I saw all those balls that had rolled under the bed during different games of fetch, and I got my cane and got them all out! Oh, I was a hero that day! Now I do it when I think of it, or when she sticks her head under the bed and wags her tail and looks at me. Like I said, I teach her some tricks and she teaches me some.
All worn out?
Is there still a need
To twist and shout?
Know what I talk about,
The younger ones,
Other lyrics, no doubt.
January is almost through.
All know what we want to do.
Go forward, and don’t be blue,
Spread love in February too.
by Constance Barr Corbett