Rude

If you like to see people being rude? You’ve come to the right place. Forms of rudeness include behaving in ways that are inconsiderate, insensitive, deliberately offensive, impolite, obscene, or that violate taboos.

Just an observation but we, as a species, do like this foolishness. We must by all the rude videos posted on social media. We set off fireworks, raise the volume, observe from a far, avoid contact, butt-in-line and otherwise be disruptive to a quiet, normal day.

For whatever reason, from privilege to mentally challenge, some of us ‘say’ and ‘do’ things that can be disturbing or in some cases threatening to life and limb. If the behavior is fuel by some alternating substance or mob mentality, it can go off the deep end. When an event occurs, we avoid getting involved (but we will now take videos of the action with no narrative). The rudeness will be the laughter observations at the next gathering, unless it personally included YOU.

We’ve all said or have done something we later regret. Sometimes there are takebacks to eliminate your guilt. Sometimes memory might fade (unless provided as social media entertainment). If dwelling on them, you’ll be dragged down on the time you were uncouth without forgiveness or remorse.

Like Pavlov’s dog, we will learn from continuous viewing of rude behavior that it is acceptable to blow up and have a tantrum over the loss of the penny. Monkey see, monkey do.

With the holidays approaching and the planning for family gatherings, there will be rude statements and behavior. Intentional or just a word from people you have not seen in years, what is now acceptable was once considered inappropriate. One can mind-their-manners or just keep your mouth closed. Silence is golden. Speech is silver.

Please use “Beg your pardon” if you do something rude.

 

Guidance Counselor

 

As I recall, these were the individuals who were to guide you through your public schooling. A guidance counselor is a professional who helps students with academic planning, career exploration, and social-emotional support in schools and colleges. They assist students with choosing classes, applying to college, and developing future goals, while also providing support for personal challenges and ensuring students have the resources they need to succeed.

The parent/teacher conference was to give observations of their child(ren) in a class of 20 kids who sat quietly all day with being instructed by one woman on various subjects of history, science, arithmetic, reading and writing with a dabbling in art and music until the days break for lunch or recess were taken as we all lined up following instructions. Discipline issues usually meant pointing out the offender to shame in front of the other classmates or in extreme disruption sent to the principal office for punishment.

The teacher would go over the report cards sent out quarterly for the parents to review and sign (unless you knew how to duplicate a signature with artistic skills) and suggest the home assist in homework. They judge the child on attendance, behavior, social interaction, health and psychology (though not trained in either). How well do you know your kid?

The public school system is based on scores. If you earn enough passing on grades from the teacher, you moved onto the next grade. If not, you were held back to repeat until you learned your lessons. Most think that elementary, middle school and high school were the criteria for gaining a diploma, but college or institutions of higher learning were also based on numbers.

After elementary school, the system assumed a student could read and write and understand basic theories and expanded the lessons to more complex reading and changing rooms for each subject. This is when the guidance counselor took a role instead of the teacher.

At this point in life, unless declared to follow a family business or follow the family plan to attend a specific university as a legacy, the counselor reviewed the grades and any comments on the student in a one-on-one interview. Similar to sitting with a priest or a doctor, the kids are asked,

“What do you want to do when you grow up?”

 

This is where the ‘guidance’ comes in.

With all the data accumulated through the years in the public educational system and all the opinions, thoughts and observations by a continuous list of instructors, the counselor will choose classes and recommend additional school activities leading the child’s interest while still covering the basic requirements to achieve a piece of paper at the end of term.

Here is where your future career is decided.

 

Some may be directed toward more prominent private schools for the prestige. Some may take advance classes for college prep while others just want a graduation and get out of the mundane boredom of classwork. Some may be forwarded to trade schools that requires more physical than mental knowledge.

The guidance counselor may also point outside activities, clubs, teams and any other social interaction will be appropriate in groups. Networking to the extreme of not ‘what’ you know, it is ‘who’ you know becomes much more prominent in your evaluation. This is the time when ‘puberty’ hits. There is no idea of ‘what you want to do for the rest of your life, when all you want is that girl’s phone number’.

If you make it through the potholes and detours and flash cards and reading ‘Les Misérables’ and regurgitation of the national anthem. There was detention, fire drills, lunch lines, gym (where you can see all the other boys naked and learn popping towels for harassment), assemblies in the auditorium, pep rally on the basketball court and the prom.

Being an alumnus of the ‘US Education System’, I guess I learned something. The guidance counsel did notice the interest in doodling to add artsy stuff to my class listings. Civics, philosophy, calculus, linear algebra were not on the card that would have produced an F, but neither were monetary management, family expense, Big Ticket items, investments and (the most important that no one else will discuss) sex education.

Most of life are our own decisions to solve a conflict or find a new path. Some say that is growing up?

Then the next generation expects you to become their guidance counselor? Being a provider is to say you will be the mentor, instructor, nurse, bank and some old geezer who sleeps in the rocker and tells tales that might inform the children of the possibilities experienced and the mystery to come.

No one can predict the future, just try to guide you into the right direction.

Nirvana from Nevada

 

One wonders the ease of delivery.

Where do I begin?

I know a guy who knows a guy and some how wound up on the other side of life (again).

Add to cart, scan ID required, too much info on the credit card(?), and wait for delivery.

And wait delivery….

And wait delivery….

After a reminder through the reoccurring e-mails of offers, a bag was thrown in the front yard with an obsolete text of delivery.

But what about the smell?

 

·     Note to those who do not know what I’m discussing here, may have well turn the page.

 

There was the conventional sealed packaging for small loads. This is the overwrap for address and scan codes. You know them. They fill your recycling bins every week.

A bundle of two packages (samples of different products) and some promotional verbiage disqualifying from any legal questionable of those accepted by the general public.

Planning a time to sample each separately to diagnosis the results. Should probably check the credit card site to see if they paid in advance?

Edibles are not familiar to me. Candy I never enjoyed as a youth, but I’ll let it dissolve and see what happens. Life is an adventure; enjoy the ride.

Gummies #1 was not impressive. Tasted fine going down, but after a couple of hours, no seemed different from the hydration of the silver bullets? I’ve got some more to test another day.

Today, I decided to puff one of their pre-rolled refreshment inducers, and in the mist of smoke….

 

OH YEAH!

MOTHER MARY AND JOSEPH!

 

Coughing through the forgotten technique, the cloud cleared and just required more hydration. And then…

The lighting is changing. The sound on the radio is louder.

Another puff or two and put the ashtray away. How strong is this? It’s a test run.

Standing, walking, turning is much slower and awkward. Like stumbling along like Grampa on the “Real McCoy’s”. Move gingerly to a mechanical task of opening a can of peanuts as repeated more than one wants to count.

Once accepting this new environment, I turn back to 2025 technology that brought me here.

Do the screens look brighter? Does that arrow thing move when I push this thing on a cord around? Can I maintain hand/eye coordination?

Scrolling becomes boring quicker. Thus, I’m back writing this.

Yes, this IS the expected reaction to an ancient ritual. Through the ancient years, there were the $5 bags passed by friends or strangers. The usage became a habit after a stressful day of designing a space on a printed page, to influence you to buy it.

Unfortunately, the sources became rarer and pure product was being contaminated by foreign substances that promised outrageous experiences while enticing more frequent use. While others moved on more powerful adjustment to life, I depended on my opportunity will present a possible promise of Nirvana.

Fully aware, our beings, after finding and devouring nutrition productions to shove in our face and hope it comes out the other end. Amazingly, I did not crave for munchies. Still, in an adventurous spirit, I strove back into the ‘food’ room. This room isn’t rarely frequented, but a pass-through to the outdoors. I am to face fire.

Bricking off a slab of frozen deceased bovine. I slammed what was going to be the meal of the day of hot steaming grease left over from another meal. Keeping a lid on so the splatters wouldn’t catch the place on fire, I put away my days adventures until it continues. Nothing real tasty, but is necessary to fuel the system, it is pleasant to not feel bloated or gaseous.

After an evening of clensing the palate, the decision is made to try again? Opening the door to the studio smells like the crash pad on Virginal Ave in Williamsburg. The smoke doesn’t dissipate, it clings to you.

Not as startling as yesterday, but the dazed and confused returns.

Tomorrow is a rain day. A good day to group and reassess what has just happened. The Colorado waters will still keep me hydrated but the smoke will clear.

This was just an experiment to see if it would work. Now I know.

Sweet Dreams

Repeat

Listened to a book club discussion this morning. These were professional authors and reviewers judging several books for an award. Each has been assigned a book to read and give their thoughts of the work. Each said they had read and reread the book several times.

That got me thinking.

I’ve purchased, been gifted or otherwise collected thousands of books on various subjects. The text books were quickly out of date and became ancient history. The instructional books were read and tried and placed on the shelf to gather dust. Artistic reference books were occasionally checked for techniques, but soon forgotten on the shelves. Holiday and travel location books were brought out on special occasions to remind the reader of previous adventures and spark fond memories. The classics were read once and put on the shelf never to be read again.

To make a long story longer, I looked at all these books and decided to free the space and donate for others to enjoy.

Some I passed onto people I knew who might appreciate the subject and cherish the reading. Some were blindly donated to libraries around the neighborhood and to my old employer the city Public Library. Many were boxed up and given to the Goodwill with an estimated value of each that could be taken off taxes for my generous philanthropy. My only request was for the recipient to appreciate the gift or pass it on to another who might enjoy a new read.

Listening to the book reviewers talk about rereading a book started making sense. The first read presents the authors editing process hoping the reader will understand the point of the book. The second read, with the familiarly of the first read, can delve into details and conversations between characters first glossed over to get to the next page. A third read can find the philosophical meaning of why a person is compelled to convey a time and place and image to others. As a species we produced language to share our thoughts and lessons by word of mouth. With the invention of type, these ideas could be spread further than the sound will carry. Interesting enough, each reader, with their particular background, and interpret the words in a variety of ways and understanding. Bible study groups comes to mind.

Back to the point of ‘Repeat’ makes me think of things we enjoy repeating. Being a lazy visual species, we enjoy re-watching a favorite movie, not so much to learn something new or catch an easter egg, but to remember the first time watching it and who you were with in a dark theater. What would Christmas be without “Home Alone” or “DieHard” or “It’s A Wonderful Life”?

We repeat looking at photos, each time embellishing the story of when it was taken trying to remember the names of the people in it. Now, with video and sound, the snapshot of time becomes an elaborate production that could capture the moment or be interpretated by software?

Music. We replay our soundtrack of tunes we grew up with. No matter the sound quality and how hard new technology tries to refresh the sound coming out of a 3” speaker in a metal dashboard, the notes spark a time in life when dancing and drinking and the party of youth collected around the jukebox. Songs have been covered and manipulated for years and converted into other genres but the original is still the best. No matter how the song is taken apart and examined, it cannot replicate the intention of the artist at that particular time and how those words and notes related to your life. What I find interesting in re-playing a long-forgotten song is hearing it with the years of listening to other methods and versions. An old song becomes new again.

To take ‘repeat’ one step further, think about our friends.

We interact with lots of people, sharing language and ideas and experiences. Some pass by for a brief moment, but others with want to spend more time with. For whatever reason, we wish to ‘repeat’ the experience. If enough boxes are check, we have ceremonies to make the connection a public declaration. The daily repetitive adventure can become a vista of sharing the experience of life with new and interesting conversations or becomes a drag.

To meet another inhabitant of this planet that had cross paths before is an interesting occasion. The appearance has changed and each have their own separate lives, but the conversations turn to what was remembered and ‘repeat’ foggy recollections.

There is one certainty. The person in the mirror will repeat every day. The face may age, but it sleeps in the same bed, eats the same food, goes to the same stores, wears the same clothes and follows the same routine day-after-day.

Rinse, and repeat.

Purge

To “purge" primarily means to cleanse or purify, either by removing something harmful, like sin or idolatry, or by expelling a wicked person from a community.

The body is an amazing machine. If it doesn’t like what is put in it, it purges. What is not going to be used (or is disagreeable with the inner lining), will be purged (one way  or another). 

In my ongoing discovery of aging, I find myself with aches and pains never suffered before. I get pains in my stomach, so I  measure what I’ve eaten and how much I consumed then wait to see if my body asked for some more fuel or I was just bored. I spend more time on the porcelain throne than I ever remembered in efforts not to get stuffed up. I eat smaller portions of better produce, beans and breakfast burritos and wait to see if the results are stimulating or just bloating. Some chalky Tum tablets help control the overpowering belching (blamed on carbonated water or just the body expelling gas). 

If the body doesn’t process correctly, I get a pain in my back. Standing and walking become stiff and being horizontal sometimes relieves the problem. 

Yesterday was one of those days. Wake up from a few naps. My back feels like I've stretched it too far and stumbled like Frankenstein to heat up water for coffee. I’ll not be getting any chores done in this condition, so I return to bed. I list in my mind the food I’ve eaten in the past couple of days (coconut chocolate cake, coffee ice cream, pecan coffee cake) and consider being clogged. The loo is a no-go so I slowly venture outside to get some fresh air and sunshine. 

I decided to accomplish something, so I set up an account on Instacart to order blueberries, p-nuts and beer (just to see how it works). Within two hours, my request is delivered and after a scan of my ID and a scribble on a screen, I have plenty of hydration and treats for the critter crewe. While enjoying the antics at the buffet I eat a handful of potato chips just to fill the belly. The body seems to be relaxing.

Then it happens.

The body decided it didn’t like the chips and beer, so projectile vomit purged the last entry. The interior tiled walls welcomed me to the potty to purge everything further down the line. Clean as a whistle.

Today, my back is better, my stomach seemed to survive the coffee and walking is back to a normal cadience. 

I’m not a doctor or play one on television, but maybe it was the sugar rush that I usually don’t eat (except on birthdays) or a buildup of something else, so I wait to see how today goes. Hydration seems to be holding steady, but I’m cautious in the amount of swallowing. I avoid the chips. 

Feeling adventurous (and knowing that I need some fuel even though there is no desire for hunger) I fry up a ham steak and heat up some black-eyed peas. Don’t eat too fast and then wait. A few chalky tablets and everything seems in sync. Phew!

Finally I climb into the bed and don’t feel stiff or bloated. No bleaching or hiccups or regurgitation. Then, what I believe will be a fart, comes with an unexpected blast of extra remnants of the black-eyed peas. The next hour was spent sitting down and dumping the rest of the purge. Changing to new sleeping apparel (for tomorrow is washing day), I tentatively  hope to rest again. 

Though all this description of aging may sound unhealthy or cause a feeling of disgust, this process of maintaining our plumbing to process our intake of nutrition to pump our fuel throughout to reach the next birthday. Aging also rationalizes the function of caretaking when you are physically unable to. How old or feeble will it be until someone else has to change your bedsheets and mop up behind you? Are you children ready for that responsibility? If not, what is the cost?

Today, the meal for the day was french style green beans and whole potatoes. Let’s see what happens. 

PS: For a high point of the day, Al came by to visit. He caused a fuss with Sheryl, Russell and Counting but he kept coming back to the sanctuary of Puppywoods. Good to see you again my friend.

Another Anniversary of becoming a Human Being on this planet Earth

 

One of our annual celebrations has come around again. Flip a page on the calendar to acknowledge the body has another day.

Wake to a cold sunshine, but the replacement of AAA batteries in the thermostat warmed up the old bones. A couple cups of java and some pecan coffee cake, the day turns to catch up the news of the world. Instead of inspiring wisdom of the day, I’m presented with videos of people doing foolishness, uniformed authorities spraying crowds of screamers, fires, destruction and administrative pardons of everyone under the sun. The good news is after 40+ days; the government might be making up with each other and playing nice to do what they were elected for.

Being the day of the 250^th anniversary of the Marine Corp, the remembrance of the 1898 Wilmington coup, the sinking of the Edmund Fitzgerald and the debut of Sesame Street I’ll ponder every breath and wonder why I’ve survived so long when so many others I’ve known haven’t? According to those who study the numbers of cultural timelines for mortality, I’ve got another decade before the grime reaper comes to visit.

Being chilly out, I’ll stay in (except for a brief feeding chore for the yard critters) and wait for the snow. I’ll appreciate the names that wished me an electronic ‘Happy Birthday’ but there are no cards or presents. I’ll call the last laptop I purchased my gift to myself. There will be no balloons or raised glasses or singing or candles. There will be no wrapping paper to tear into or silly gifts that will be long forgotten or broken. There will be no gathering of friends or selfies to refer to later.

For today, there is no pain or suffering or anxiety or stress. These are gifts enough.

Now is the time to cut the cake.

Delivery Reviewed

The recent ventures to the Tummy Temple have been exhausting. A leftover from the steamy summer, what was an easy ride to pick up a few items and enjoy the fresh air is starting to become work. Blame it on the hills getting higher or the wind pushing back or checking the tires, but with age comes struggles to motion. The legs and arms still seem to work, but sucking in and breathing out oxygen is abnormal and can be a reason to stop and catch my wind. The stops are becoming more frequent and once home a sit down is required to eliminate the huffing and puffing. Maybe there is a doctor visit with a prescription for refurbished youth or a diagnosis of life ending disease or the ticker wearing out. Time marches on.

I’ve cut back on the weight I carry in my saddlebags, but the whole process is becoming a chore rather than a pleasure. I’ve already done the adventures of pushing a bike through the snow to bring home dinner or riding many a mile ending with my gathering in the temple for the air conditioning, talking to my peeps and refreshing hydration until walking outside to the blast of heat. I’ve ridden in the rain day and night and avoided potholes and lightning bolts. My ponies have been faithful, supplying me with dependability and durability over the years. Little maintenance they await for the next ride faithfully getting me from point A to point B and back again. 

So, I waste some time on social media looking for alternatives to provide substances from consumption to stay hydrated and fed. Many years ago, the kitchen was turned off and all meals were delivered. Pre-popped popcorn was delivered in giant tin cans. Double cheez pizza from Julian’s came in hot and greasy. Salads didn’t require any chopping and lots of sides of mozzarella sticks and sundry to keep our faces full while we watched movies on rented video tapes. 

There were still daily trips to the Tummy Temple to retrieve litter, pet food, feminine products and adult hydration. I do not miss the repeated trips of bungee cording the 10 lb. tubs of litter for the critters. There were still the weekend trips to PetSmart, Barnes and Noble, Lowes and Target with frequent stops at local dining establishments to refresh and regroup. If that didn’t satisfy, breakfast was picked up from Hardees, lunch was prepared at Stuffy’s and brought home and dinner was delivered. 

I paid by check (remember those) until one bounced and I had to find an office in a strip mall and pay off my bill with interest. After a while it became too expensive for someone else to prepare our food. 

I’ve tried most recipes for plates I thought I’d enjoy, but cooking for one leaves more leftovers than appetizing and there are too many dishes to wash. Now this is the conundrum. 

It seems, according to my research, groceries can be delivered to the door at similar prices to the Tummy Temple. My shopping list has shrunk and there are very few instances to squeeze the grapefruit or smell the fish. There are no familiar faces for aisle blockage conversations and the weather will be turning rude.

I’ve gotten used to ‘adding to my cart’ and having everything delivered from yard tools to personal undergarments. At this time in life, there is no desire to window shop for something I don’t need or will use. 

I also notice that alcoholic beverages can be chosen and delivered. I’ve noticed this on several sites and may try it soon. That would lighten my load if I do ride. There are also sites who promise they will deliver some herbal refreshment, not used for eons. Imagine getting whacky weed delivered with all the munchies available without leaving your underpants. I’ll give them a try and let you know the results. 

I’ve also delved into researching electric bikes. Perhaps a boost will make my travels easier? I don’t think this will produce wheelies, but some assistance getting up that hill may be worth the expense. The prices I’ve seen are not cheap, but next week I’ll go into my pedal professionals to get a new saddle for one pony and check out some questions and perhaps take a test ride. How much do they weigh? How do you recharge/replace the battery? Kickstand? Mirror? Lights? Rack? Lock? Water bottle? Trade Ins? 

At this time, I can still coast most of the way to the destinations avoiding hills and shift down when the inclines become a struggle, but I am thinking about the future.

Affordable

 

As the season is here when people are expected to spend more on food, fashion, travel, hotels, dining out, entertainment, toys, health care, gifts, adult beverages than expected; the price tags is being double checked. If you are a governmental worker who is not being paid, can you credit card afford it?

No matter how we pinch pennies (they are gone now) at the holiday season we splurge at the end of the year to make others happy with frivolous gifts and stroke our ego with philanthropy without caring of the budget until the next year. Does anyone save a Christmas Fund to prepare for our grand display of emotional gratitude?

Throughout the year the talking heads have been fussing about the administration’s fluctuating tariffs on everything from aluminum to soya beans and watching the prices rise at the Tummy Temple. Some manufacturers, distributors and retailers have tried to swallow the increase, but sooner or later the tariff or tax or fee will be passed onto the customer. I don’t keep the numbers, but from what I hear the milk from those burping/farting cows who are causing all the climate change is soaring with the price of their slaughter by 30%. No more 25¢ hamburgers.

Since I don’t drive, I don’t note the numbers at the pump, but from whatever price increase there is will affect everyone from delivery to family visits to pick up the shoes or groceries or that trip to take the kids to their soccer game practice. I hear on the news that our nation makes more oil and gas, so I’d assume the prices are going down? I can only guess that the price of automobiles has gone down (or to be purchased before the price hike with the steel tariffs, no matter where they are manufactured) for it seems everyone in the neighborhood bought a new car.

The pricing for housing seemed (for a while) to be reasonable and affordable. Back in college, my two-room apartment was $100 a month that was affordable for two college students to pay with part-time jobs. Now that you’ve picked you jaw up off the floor, that was in the late half of the last century. My house was in a neighborhood of middle-class single families with similar plots of land and reasonable prices. As the population grew, the sprawl of housing went into the counties and each new subdivision raised the prices. Commuting became a pain-in-the-arse and couples started moving back into town, but the decades old facades did not suite their new century lifestyle, so old houses were torn down and new ‘mega-monster mansions’ were constructed (with the additional cost of tariffed building materials and high wages for builders who show up or not due to deportation). The few of us old timers living in the shadows of these three-rise reconstructions (renovations) watch the property tax soar with the realtor law… “Location, location, location”. Is it affordable to continue to live in the same building that is still structurally sound and secure, even though selling it would increase the income by 10x (except from taxes), but would have to move somewhere else. Can’t afford to live here, but can’t afford to move.

I can’t relate to the cost of children, but I know they are expensive. Perhaps you have an income where procreating more than you and your partner replacement the joy of more little people is affordable. If not, if you have to find employment to earn a salary to pay for the shelter, transportation, clothing (our society frowns on nudity) and someone has to take care of the offspring while you are away at work. If family members volunteer to become a daycare center with home schooling, but these little tikes require so much attention and medical care and without a proper education, limited opportunity for a career and they will never move out. It all comes with a cost.

What’s ‘affordable’ to you may not be ‘affordable’ to me and what is ‘affordable’ to me at this time, may not be ‘affordable’ to me tomorrow. I was lucky enough to have a steady salary for years that somehow covered the cost of life for two people and a critter crewe and all the projects and adventures some of the time scraping by and other times juggling the dollars.

As the sun comes up, I have a firm grip on what is affordable. I don’t impulse shop unless there are dollars in the bank to pay for it. I’ve satisfied most of my dopamine desires so few items attract my attention or the want to add to my collection.

My celebration of the seasons will be slim-pickens. There will be no Christmas Hallmark card mailings (does anyone do that anymore?) or even send personal emails for most are now gone. There are no decorations of lighting or music or wrapping paper or tree. There will be a Thanksgiving meal-for-one but it will be limited to a slice of turkey w/ gravy on rice and cranberry sauce. No baked goods or leftovers. I’ve already got a slice of cake and some ice cream for a birthday meal. There will be the purchase of an apple pie to be delivered to the fire station on Christmas and an extra load of good treats for my critter crewe neighbors. Perhaps a bottle of pop for the end of the year? Perhaps a gift to myself but it has to fit in the budget that will hopefully reach the goal of $50k by the beginning of next year.

Affordability is all about the economy stupid.

This Ain’t No Joke…VOTE!

 

It should be a brief walk down the street to my elementary school to climb a few steps and walk into a decades old past. The tiled walls are the same. The tiny furniture is the same. The sound of footsteps on the floor brings back memories of lining up and walking down the hall to lunch like obedient children. 

Once passing through the platoon of bored national guard, then facial recognition by ICE and a quick patdown from RVA’s finest, I’m directed to the cafeteria to perform my civic duty. My ID passes the test of being a legal citizen. I'm verified to get a pen and a folder and a one-sided piece of paper with fill-in bubbles to select my preferences. Still surprised some uncontested names are on the ballot? I handed in my folder, name verification and pen and slid my ballot into the scanner. It is faster this year but don’t know why it sheds the results? I proudly slap on my ‘I voted’ sticker and walk down the old hallowed halls of my youth passing the portrait of Mary Munford and the fish tank Heather donated. I had a nice conversation with one of the greeters about the changes in the neighborhood from my time in this school when it was a small community of single family affordable houses to the mega-multi-million  monsters replacing them now.  Enjoying the sunshine and the cool fall day, I stroll down the sidewalk only to meet my backyard neighbor I’d not seen all summer. It is surprising how you don’t recognize someone outside their familiar surroundings. A brief chat and she goes into the process and I wander up the street. With no hurry and somewhat out of breath, I rocked on the porch enjoying the quiet and the fall leaves and my mission for today was done. 

A slow paced ride to the Tummy Temple to resupply for the week and make my way back to my routine at Puppywoods. The yard boss greets me ready for a lunch of blueberries. I post a picture of my acknowledged proof of voting on social media then wait for the numbers to be calculated and the results to be announced. If the numbers do not go the way of the commander in chief (I predict it won’t) he can rant and rave about the election being rigged or should be redone until the results please him.

Tomorrow I’ll awake to some other crisis or disaster but the day will be, as the weather people predict, PERFECT.

OH SNAP!

 

Remember when, during the last pandemic when we were told to shelter in place until the scientist could verify where the plague was coming from and figure out a vaccine given free from the government to prevent the suffering and dying? Like a snow alert, all the milk and eggs and bread were scoffed up and the shelves were bare. What was surprising was that ALL the toilet paper disappeared.

It seems those folks who stood on the soap box and touted they would lower taxes, reduce inflation, increase wages, insure security and getting rid of ‘those’ people were elected to represent our values and concerns and were sent to Washington D.C. to write the rules and laws that will provide us with their promises for six figure salaries and all the perks of the position. These are the folks you probably can’t name who wander the hallowed halls yapping to reporters blaming the ‘other side’ of defeating their dreams. These are the folks you see sitting in the back of a convertible in parades or using giant scissors to cut ribbons at grown breaking construction or provide extravagant dinners for those who will reciprocate donating to their reelection campaign. Seems these folks can’t get along recently so the yank vs the rebs or the reds vs the blues squabble like three-year-olds until they walk away and the government shuts down.

As if our elected officials don’t have enough holidays, they leave the Capitol to coast until we constituents tell them to get back to work and spend our taxes. Unfortunately, when the government ‘shuts-down’, not only do our congress folks go home but many governmental agencies close. Some departmental workers are told to go home and wait (without pay) until they are called back and hopefully receive back pay. Others are fired as a Doge excuse to reduce government waste.

When the government is shut-down, money doesn’t flow. A few ‘essential’ workers must attend and perform their duties (without pay) to keep planes flying, entitled benefit checks going out and a few are protecting cities by blowing boats up in South America.

While we wait, the five-year-old is tearing up the White House to make the ‘People’s House’ into the gilded ‘People’s Palace’ and we all watch astonished. Between being treated like a king overseas to his constant trips to Florida to play a multi-million dollar round of golf, he says fodder that only late night television can interpret.

I went to the Tummy Temple today and the parking area was packed, but there were no lines at the customer service desk. Being the first of the month there are usually long queues of large people carts full of soda pops and sweet treats, but they do not have their SNAP (Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program) debit cards, formerly known as Food Stamps (not to be confused with the S&K Green Stamps from previous days that were an incentive to attend a certain grocery and collected and saved until there were enough to get a toaster or mixer).

As this shut-down drags on, the administration and the justice system battle over humanity and budget while families start to look like Jamaican hurricane survivors or Gaza refugees scrounging for food scraps while waiting for aid.

The good in us will donate to community food banks and soup kitchens, but inflation, higher premiums for auto insurance, medical insurance, child care will limit our best intentions. When the shelves are bare, there are no other choices.

Halloween just ended. The tradition of children going house-to-house dressed in colorful costumes and begging for candy may become the new normal. Will you close the curtains and lock the door when a family comes by knocking hoping for a donation of a can of beans or wonton soup?