I am guilty of making assumptions about people. I’m such a hypocrite!
That’s probably the worst part of being in my situation. Strangers have come up to me and talked S-L-O-W-L-Y A-N-D D-E-L-I-B-E-R-A-T-E-L-Y, assuming that just because I’m in a wheelchair and need an iPad to speak, that I’m slow or incapable of thinking for myself. It takes a while for me to type, so I can’t express what I’m thinking quickly, which, in hindsight, is probably for the best. My parents or one of my sisters will come to my defense.
As I said, I feel like a huge hypocrite when I’ve thought how it’s what you have insidethat counts, but spend $200 or $300 at Anthropologie, or comment on someone’s lack of fashion sense. When someone is wearing horrible clothes (or at least, what I would consider horrible clothes), I assume lots of things: maybe they lost their job or maybe they have just given up. But then later I remind myself of the old saying, When you assume, you make an a** out of you and me! So actually, I’m now doing what so bugs me when other people do it to me.
I remember learning to tell time. It was kindergarten, on a huge wooden clock, primary colored. Mrs. Gibson would move the hands and the class had to guess which time she was showing. I hated times like 9:23 and 2:14. Even today, I round; 1:56 becomes 2.
Learning to tell time is almost a right of passage. Only “grownups” know how to tell time.
You might have seen this on Facebook, how British schools are doing away with analog clocks in because the kids couldn’t read them. It will be all digital. ren’t kids at school to learn!?!
I bet American schools are next. One of my Facebook friends is a teacher and said her kids can’t read an analog clock either. I’m sure my sister’s students are the same, too.
As for England, what’s next? Will Big Ben become digital?
I know for a fact I’m not alone in my disdain for the dentist. For me, it’s everything: The stale smell of the waiting room, the People magazines from two years ago, and entering the room, the chair of torture. Attached are scary instruments that you have seen as the latest machines-taking-over-the-Earth movie. The best is the spit sucker. Why do dentists insist on keeping it in one place, while the rest of your mouth fills up with saliva? Sorry, I just had to vent.
As bad as the dentist is, the whole practice of orthodontics is worse. Using sharp wires to straighten sharp things in your mouth whose sole job is to chew your food? It’s medieval! They use rubber bands to do this, varying the strength. Your mouth literally has to develop callouses to have a comfortable mouth. You get used to it, but next appointment the orthodontist decides to tighten them again! For probably two years.
I probably got mine off 15 or 17 years ago and still need a retainer! A nice smile is a lot of work, pain and EXPENSE.
Apple has done a sufficient job of making an emoji for everything possible. How they come up with them, I have no idea. I say I’m random! Do a boardroom full of Apple employees say the first thing that comes to their mind?
I saw on Facebook that for the new iPhone they thought of yet even more. At least proposed even more.
And drum roll: There will be emojis for people with disabilities! Some of them include a hearing aid, a cane, and two wheelchairs, manual and power. There will be an assistance dog and vest and prosthetic limbs.
The emojis were created in collaboration with such organizations as the National Foundation for the Blind, National Foundation for the Deaf, and The Multiple Sclerosis Society.
All I can say is, good job Apple. There are probably a million (if not millions) disabled iPhone users. I can speak from experience when I say these emojis are a tiny way of including a segment of the population who isn’t always included.
When Barbara Streisand talked about cloning her dog for $50,000, I thought she was joking. I know we love pets, but come on… Unfortunately Sarah got wind. She has a sick relationship with our family dog. She actually called Pippa her spirit animal and wants us all to contribute to cloning her. For $50,000.
Just because it fit in with the prompt, I looked into it.
The whole thing gives me the creeps, but is quite interesting—in a please-make-it-stop kind of way. Reading about Wolfie and Bubble, the first dogs this company cloned and their poster dogs (more like scruffy rats), I felt like I was getting a philosophy lecture, if not a theology lecture. What I got is they think it’s the first pet’s soul in the new pet. How far back can I roll my eyes?
What’s a gyp is that the company can’t guarantee the two animals will be exact copies. I thought of some questions. If they’re not identical, what if you like the clone better than the original dog? Will you spend ten-plus years feeling guilty? What happens when the clone dies? Do you get a clone of the clone and so on? See what I mean? Philosophy mixed with bioethics.
It all gives me the willies. Like thinking of infinity or space. At the rate science and technology are advancing, I can’t imagine what my ancestors will see. Cloned people? Okay, pets checked off the creepy list–at least compared to cloning people.
As a kid I used to love The Little House storybook. I loved the illustrations best because, although it has a happy ending, the story made me sad. I now realize my hometown of Corona, California, is exactly like The Little House. The homes from the 1900s, when Corona’s main business was citrus, now have gas stations or yoga studios as neighbors.
I know business is progress, I just think a Craftsman house from 1910 is too good to have a mini mart across the street.
I didn’t like math or science in school. You have X and Y, but if you do everything right, Z tends to happen. I guess I didn’t think like that. Still don’t. But at least there is a right and a wrong answer. Most things aren’t that cut and dry.
Take politics. Just because I’m a registered Republican doesn’t mean I have to like everything they do. Or even the president (no comment) for that matter.
I’m so sick of watching the news. More and more it’s like you vs. me, with neither side willing to consider the other.
Like I said, most things aren’t black and white. We should leave that to scientists and mathematicians.
A warning: due to descriptions that might make you want to lose your lunch, proceed with caution when reading this post.
I’m kidding, but by the way it looks, I would never be brave enough to try it either. Friday nights are our “wing-it nights” for dinner. “What do you feel like?” Mom or Dad asks at about 3:30 or 3:45 (no joke). I was on a Mexican pizza from Taco Bell kick for a while. With a Lean Cuisine night from time to time (to offset the Taco Bell—I felt guilty).
Two words changed all of that: GLUTEN FREE! Friday nights are still wing-it nights. But instead of Taco Bell it’s Pieology. On the gluten-free crust. Pineapple pizza. No Canadian bacon. Just pineapple. More than one time the kid at the register has tried to get Canadian bacon too, afraid that one of my parents forgot to mention it.
Back home I enjoy my only-pineapple pizza, the juice mixing with the pizza sauce, making a liquid mess. Oh, yeah, by this time my pizza is room temperature. Mmmm!
Another wing-it favorite is pancakes. Gluten-free pancakes. Bisquick makes a mix that tastes exactly like regular pancakes. Even the texture, with most gluten-free foods having a mushy texture (I guess it’s the gluten that binds everything together). If you blindfolded me I couldn’t tell the two pancakes apart.
And what goes best with pancakes? Okay, two things. Syrup, yes, but I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m talking about scrambled eggs! I’m particular about them. Eggs must be runny, or at least runnyish. Now comes the syrup. It’s pure maple syrup; who knew even Aunt Jemima had gluten? Therefore pure maple syrup is the other option. It’s almost liquid, with a maple flavor.
First, the syrup doesn’t just go on my pancakes. Eggs, too. I’m sorry if some people have urpy stomachs. I eat, Mom or Dad refilling the syrup pitcher at least once (the pancakes sure sop up syrup!).
Then, I’m pretty much done, except for a few pancake crumbs and some stray eggs. By now, they are literally bathing in syrup! That’s how they are best, ingredients in what I refer to as “sludge.” They are all scooped together in one bite. If I’m lucky, two. It’s my favorite part of pancakes!
It’s true that a lot of gluten-free things are less than appetizing, but if all I could be served was lukewarm pineapple pizza and soggy sludge, I’d be fine.
I wouldn’t say I’m a full Republican. But not Democrat either. I guess you could call me Republicanish. The issues that bother me are abortion and stem cells. For abortion, I hate the idea of it, but why should the government tell a woman what to do with her body? As for stem cells, they are the best hope for a cure for me. And not just me; probably millions of people around the country. How could anyone be against that?
But it doesn’t matter how I vote when I live in California, one of the most liberal states, because it’s as if my vote doesn’t count. Oh well, I do vote, and that’s all I can do.
But on Facebook I saw an article about a law Governor Jerry Brown, a true liberal, signed that I actually wholeheartedly agree with. I absolutely hate the ASPCA commercials around Christmas of the cats (although I’m not a cat fan) and dogs in puppy mills and, I guess, “kitty” mills.
According to KTLA news, all pets sold in pet stores need to come from some sort of rescue shelter in a law that takes effect in 2019. There will be a $500 fine per pet sold for stores who haven’t succumbed to the law. The new law will solve two problems: it won’t give puppy mills any more business, and it will give pets who need homes a loving family.
California is the first state with this law, but I truly hope others will follow suit. As an animal lover, I have to say GOOD JOB GOVERNER BROWN!! Even if he is a democrat!
What to write? Okay, check my email while I think. Then, my inspiration!
On the sidebar of my email was a place to donate to Feed the Children.
I haven’t donated to Feed the Children, but I do sponsor a child through World Vision, a probably 12-year-old boy named Freedom in Zambia. I forget how much the sponsorship is, probably $40 a month.
Imagine living in utter poverty. My sister taught in Zambia as part of her master’s program. She said when people talk about poverty here, they have no idea what true poverty is. Even a family friend who is also a retired priest says that if you were born here, you have already won the lottery.
I guess I live in blissful ignorance. That is, until Christmas. Then the World Vision gift catalog comes. There goes my denial! In it are gifts for clean water, food, and education.
Here, we obviously have absolutely everything in that catalog. I love America, but it seems like for us, it’s never enough. I think we should take a deep breath and count our blessings.