About face
Warning: Boomer alert.
I don’t know that the following is a rant…it’s certainly not scorn or cynicism. I think perhaps it is incredulity, with an egg wash of despair. Yes, okay, I hear you. I’ll get to the point:
Warning: Boomer alert.
I don’t know that the following is a rant…it’s certainly not scorn or cynicism. I think perhaps it is incredulity, with an egg wash of despair. Yes, okay, I hear you. I’ll get to the point:
They said it couldn’t be done.
They said our best efforts would end in tears.
They even called us deluded rookies.
But we showed ‘em. At least so far….
If there’s one thing that drives me crazy it’s the seemingly daily posts on social media and news paper offerings that blurt,
“You’re loading your dishwasher wrong!”
“You’re showering wrong!” (Read that yesterday.)
I write this on what is celebrated as the feast of Saint Nicholas of Myra in most western Christian countries, and it was the life of this generous man who inspired the character of Santa Claus.
Psychologists refer to it as a ‘psychological blind spot:’ a persistent lack of awareness concerning an aspect of one’s personality or behavior.
"The lovely thing about later today,” I said to Diane, the masseuse, “is that I hardly have any barn chores to do when I get home. For once, my body gets a chance to stay relaxed the rest of the day.”
“That’s great,” she replied.
Unspeakable brutality in the Middle East…more in Ukraine…volcanic ruptures in Iceland…senseless violence in America…
Besides heartfelt prayers for peace, I can do but one thing:
Watch granny TV.
And watch it unabashedly without shame for the same emotional comfort of a canine thunder shirt.
It’s not uncommon when one, whether watching television or doing something as banal as munching cereal at the kitchen counter, catches sight of something from the corner of the eye.
It began as an inside joke and transitioned into a (somewhat) irrational fear that every time Paul leaves the country leading one of his garden tours, all hell breaks loose at the farm. Coincidences, I’m sure, but did that tall, gangly pine tree have to crash across the riding arena less than 24 hours of him departing for England?
Yocheved Lifshitz is, and how gratifying it is to describe her in present tense, 85 years of age and has, by one small gesture, given the rest of the world the assurance of Hope.
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