Going on 87...Savoring and Surviving the Senior Years
Friday, February 24, 2006
I'm still thinking...
Many thanks to all of you who have sent encouraging comments and letters. (For those of you who have quit trying to find something worthwhile in this life---and you know who you are---I'm sorry. I plan to live until I die.) But for now fellow bloggers, Lucy has her "Let's Straighten Out This Government" hat on.
I simply can't believe the current administration. I'm pretty apolitical (6 of one, half dozen of another) but I'm aghast at what I hear and read on the news. I was already upset---and I realize this is old news--- I was still fretting about John Gibson, one of my favorite news commentators, reminding me that FEMA has a truly outstanding record of mismanaging donations and government funds---i.e. unwrapped new furniture being auctioned off for private profit and new, unused trailers sinking in the LA mud.
But the more recent news tops it all. UAE? Port control? 6.3+ billion to an Arab company? Are we nuts? I realize I'm simplifying, However, my fears are based on a substantial violent faction of Islam that knows no borders. Can we really believe this UAE company won't (even unwittingly) grant work visas to potential terrorists? Please. It sounds like more equivocating to me.
The good news---and there's plenty of that, will come tomorrow. Have a great week and keep in touch, Lucy D
It was the blind leading the blind. Carole and I were trying to figure out how to put more photos and start posting the "links I love" on my blog. We couldn't even find the tutorial Jack left on the desktop to assist us while he's out of town. We were sure it was there the last time we looked, but suddenly it wasn't. I said I thought it must have gotten up and snuck off to the odd sock and sharp scissor dimension. I said that we should give up and have some Girl Scout cookies. Carole didn't appear to find my suggestions particularly helpful---or amusing.
She just kept fiddling around with the computer, insisting that if her 9 year old nephew could figure it out what to do she could too. I guess I'm just not that proud anymore; I voted to wait until Jack comes home. I also reminded Carole that it was my blog and that if I didn't get it jazzed up for months it would be fine with me. "Anyway," I said, "I like writing on other folks' blogs just as well." Ah, but there's the rub. The kids are getting proprietory.
When Jack and Carole encouraged me to write a blog and offered to assist I was very anxious for their help. However, now that I can handle most posts without a problem I get irked when they offer unsolicited advice. It usually has to do with my writing. For example, Carole will often ask "Is this really what you meant to say?" Remarks like that are neither encouraging nor helpful to me. I call them a pain-in-the-tuches.
"Get your own blog if you don't like it, " I reply testily. She insists she doesn't have the time to devote to doing a well-written blog. Even so, she says she has a title for one if she ever decides to make the commitment. Do I like "Am I my Mother's Keeper?" (Heck no! She's the one always losing her keys and missing appointments.)
I correctly intuit an impasse.
Carole believes I can't be trusted to relate my stories in an objective manner. She is so right. But until she 's willing to put herself out there you'll hear things my way. The way I like it.
Why is it that when I check out at the supermarket I find it necessary to watch the cashier like a hawk as he rings up the prices? Expecting, even hoping there will a mistake for me to correct. Today it seemed to me the checker didn't credit me for a 2 for 1 bag-o-salad. However, when I got ready to leave the store I realized I didn't have a final cash register receipt to prove it. I asked the cashier where it was. He couldn't find it. I persisted. "Maybe you threw it in the trash," I suggested. He rolled his eyes.
My daughter-in-law Carole wanted me to forget it. (She's a MinneDak farm girl who will go to almost any length to avoid offending anyone---or holding up the check-out line.) "Ma!" she hissed. "Do you have to be so obvious?" Yes, as a matter of fact I did---it was my money.
I could see there was going to be a conflict. I told Carole to sit down by the door and wait for me. I trotted to the Service Desk and told my story to the 3 clerks behind the counter. I was very careful to repeat my story word-for-word. At the end of my story the clerks looked at each other like I'd been speaking a foreign language. They told me to wait and went to get the manager.
The manager came out and listened to my story---which I was once again careful to repeat with complete accuracy. His eyes glazed over and he disappeared muttering, "I'll have to look it up." He wasn't gone for more than a moment and when he came back he handed me my money. I smiled and turned to leave the store---$3.76 richer.
Carole got up and walked over to me. Shaking her head she leaned down and whispered, "Nice going, Mom. I'll meet you in the parking lot."