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Archive for April, 2017

Cheap Sunglasses

I usually purchase at least one pair of sunglasses every year. Nothing fancy or expensive, because I almost always manage to misplace, lose, or break them. This year was no different. I had two pair of cheap sunglasses, one for my purse and one for the car which I kept in that special little compartment above the rear view mirror made just for sunglasses. Kind of like a sunglass garage of sorts. Out of habit, I always park mine on top of my head and therefore, they never make it into the garage.  They never seem to make it back into my purse, either, which is why I was down to not having any.  As a side note I’ll have to admit that I probably can’t find them because my house is in disarray at the moment, since I have emptied out all the closets and cupboards in preparation for a garage sale and there are both trash and treasures spread all over the table and countertops. HE is getting more than little crabby over this, too. Sheesh, you would think he would be happy that there is finally some room in the closet! Anyhow, my attention finally moved to the garage, (the one for cars, not sunglasses ) and I was about halfway finished and on a roll before HE came home, and I had to play 20 questions: “Why did you move your tools to my side of the garage?” “What is in this box?” “Can you move this stuff out of the way so I can powerwash the floor?” Etcetera, etcetera, ETCETERA!  Those of you married for four to forty years will understand. I was quite surprised as I cleaned the shelf on “my” side of the garage to find a cache of sunglasses. Seven pair, to be exact, and I recognized them all. I know that I didn’t put them there. Either I am going crazy, or the squirrels that sometimes get in there are squirreling them away. It is probably the former rather than the latter, because as I was muttering to myself about the mystery, the ZZ Top song about cheap sunglasses kept going though my head over and over. Some of you might be a little older or a little younger than I am and don’t have any idea what I’m talking about. The rest of you will understand why I played a little air guitar and hummed an old song of my youth and made a dirty, dusty, squirrely day go by a little more quickly.  Thankfully, I won’t have to buy any cheap sunglasses for a long, long, time!

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Apocalypse

The next time our local hospital volunteers have their annual book sale, would someone please distract me so I stay far, far away?  It is bad enough that I have to be there on the first day, digging through the stacks for old books, first editions, and best sellers for a mere dollar each. On the last day of the sale, they have the “fill a bag for a buck” special to move the inventory out. One dollar for A WHOLE BAG of books. Last year, I spent three dollars on the last day, and believe me, there wasn’t an inch of space left in the bags, either. I won’t even tell you how much I spent the first day, but it was for a good cause, after all. This year, they decided to make it a semiannual event, so the date came around sooner than I had expected.  I was nowhere near finishing the  books from the year before.  I tried not to go, but found myself hovering around the sale area, especially during the “bag for a buck” day.  I only spent a dollar…the first time through. I managed to fill another bag during my lunch hour and one more after work. I also brake for garage sales, and always find myself heading over to the book box or table…almost everyone has one.  I simply can’t resist all those hours of reading pleasure for the simple price of one quarter. If they ask more than that, the book has to be a special one, because I am pretty cheap. I have a small problem, however. I mean, besides obvious problem of being a cheap hoarder.  I simply don’t read as many books as I used to. As technology advances, even an old Farm Woman can keep up, at least a little bit. I can no longer say “there is nothing good on TV” because I record all of my favorite programs and movies, and the list is long, and a fact that was a surprise to me, I can watch it on my smart phone.  There’s also Pinterest and social media, both of which are literally at my fingertips on my phone. I think that perhaps that is part of the problem in our world these days. Everyone is constantly staring at their phones in restaurants, while walking, while travelling, and sadly, even at their jobs. Nobody looks up and smiles anymore, not to mention carrying on a conversation with an acquaintenance, stranger, or even a friend. The constant sensory overload of computer games,  breaking news alerts, and texting is changing the way we think and act toward each other. Perhaps the Zombie Apocalypse that we all worried about is finally here and we are it. There is a new word do describe these people already: Smombie. A Smombie is a person who walks slowly while focused on their smart phone. I read it on the internet, so it must be true.  I think as a Zombie (or Smombie) preventative measure, tonight I will choose from one of the many books on the shelf and get lost for a little while. 

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No Wire Hangers!

One of my daughter’s favorite movies as a young teen was the campy movie classic “Mommy Dearest”. I have seen it so many times that I could probably recite the dialogue without a script. I even dressed up one Halloween as Mommy Dearest (Joan Crawford) as  played by Faye Dunaway, complete with bathrobe, red lipstick, a headband in my hair and wielding a wire hanger. I was delightfully scary, even though my face was red and stinging because I had no cold cream to rub on my face and used HIS shaving cream instead, which melted in a stingy, itchy stream down my neck, which made me look even scarier.  When we moved to our present home about ten years ago, I had decided that I would no longer have wire hangers in the closets, so got rid of them all. It had nothing to do with Mommy Dearest and everything to do with the fact that I had read in a magazine that one’s closet would look neater if all the hangers matched. This was probably the same magazine that told me in a bold headline that I could lose ten pounds in ten days by eating only hard boiled eggs and pineapple on one page and giving a recipe for The World’s Best Chocolate Cake on the next. Determined to have a  neat and well-organized look to our closets,  I decided that our clothes would be hung on white plastic hangers only. (Side note to those who don’t know me personally:  I am neither neat nor well-organized, nor have I ever lost ten pounds in ten days no matter how much pineapple I ate.)  Over the years, I have weeded out a few navy blue, brown, or black plastic hangers. My collection of vintage wooden advertising hangers are put to good use in the front closet, since plastic doesn’t always hold up to a heavy winter coat. The other day, I decided to clean out the bedroom closet from top to bottom. I noticed that HIS one and only suit looked sad and saggy, and as I straightened the shoulders and brushed it off,  I noticed it was on a WIRE HANGER.  What? Then I noticed more. Seven to be exact. I have no idea how they got there, since we rarely bring home any dry cleaning.  I confess that it has kind of been driving me crazy, trying to figure it out. That reminded me of another old campy movie classic called “Gaslight”. The husband is doing things to make the wife think she is going crazy. Uh, oh. It could be HIM, or it could be me. If I start wearing red lipstick and shaving cream on my face while I throw the wire hangers out the front door, watch out!

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