July 11, 2012 Musings

O.k., the heck with humble! I just got 71 points in Words with Friends for the word “trivet.”  Woo hoo!  So why is it that I can get these great scores and still lose? Sheesh, some of my friends are playing two games at a time with me.  I can hear them in their air conditioned homes (while I sweat and stick to my chair in front of an anemic window fan), “We got a live one here! She’s going down in flames, flames, I tell ya!!”  Oh, well, it keeps me out of bars.

You might have guessed that it’s a tad warm here (83 F. in my kitchen).  So tonight I called Phyllis to see if she wanted to eat at the air conditioned diner.  She did.  We had a great time gossiping about everyone we know and since Phyllis knows everyone in town, it was a lot to talk about!  I had moussaka and she had Philly cheese steak. That’s what I love about diners – there’s something there for everyone.

So the diner’s décor got me to thinking of the 50’s and while I was on vacation, someone made what I thought must have been a 50’s hors d’ouevres.  On a cracker, she put a slice of pepperoni topped with cream cheese. On that, she put a blob of mint (I kid you not) pepper jelly. 

Which got me to thinking that we thought we were so fancy when we put a hunk of ham followed by a pineapple chunk on a toothpick.  Phyllis said she thought she was fancy when she squirted Cheez Whiz out of a can onto cracker; she also really liked the mini wiener pigs in a blanket.

Enough of that. So when the skunk lets his perfume fly at 1 in the morning in front of my house – and it’s deadly quiet – what is making him do that? If I can find out why, maybe I can stop it. The goal is to be able to leave my front door open without dousing my living room in eau du skunk.  Phyllis thought that maybe he was looking for a date.  If that’s the case, I’m glad I’m not a skunk. Come to think of it, I’m glad I’m not a skunk anyway.

Today, I was sitting at my desk working (I do that occasionally) and the nice volunteer who teaches ESL students asked for the room key. I got up – and walked into a metal hanging file folder that has been in the same place on the floor for years.  I had hit my shin. You know when the pain is so bad that you can’t move and you can’t speak? This was one of those times. I was finally able to give her the key (from the other desk in the other room) and when she left, I pulled up my pants leg to see blood from a gash and a rapidly swelling shin. So I got the cold can of seltzer out of my lunch and put it on top of a tissue. (I really didn’t want a blood spot on the front of my slacks.) The swelling went down considerably, but this little gash must be the shin equivalent of a paper cut because it hurts like a sumbitch.

When Sharon (my boss) got back from her meeting, I requested sympathy, which I got after I showed her my leg.  Chris came down from upstairs and I showed her my leg. (She offered alcohol to sterilize it, but I thought I had had enough pain.  Did I tell you I had started the day with a mega headache?)  So by the time Glen, the letter carrier, arrived Sharon and I were really laughing about the whole thing.  Sharon said, ‘She’s showing her leg to everybody.’ After I told Glen how it had happened, he said, “You want sympathy after you did something stupid?!”  That got me to really laughing! Only your friends will tell you when you’ve done something stupid.

It must have dawned on Glen how that sounded because he said, ‘Look at this scar,’ (he’s wearing the summer shorts uniform).  He went on to say that he had been playing golf, missed the shot, got mad and slammed his club down – into his leg.  Now THAT’S stupid!

Nothing much else is new here.  Except that a fox ate a miniature poodle.  Oh, did I mention that the owners had previously shooed the fox away? And then they must have put the dog out in the yard again.  Helllooo … predator here.  Some people are too stupid to own dogs.

Speaking of stupid, and we were.  A naked man has popped up in at least three places in Town. Nobody seems to know if all of the incidents were the same man.  Doesn’t anyone think to put a can of spray paint in their purse? Just whip it out and mark that sucker!  (I did but the cap fell off and I’m still drying out the inside of my purse. It’s now neon hot pink.)  If the sprayer were really creative, s/he could make a smiley face using the nipples as eyes and … oh, never mind.

So I’m ending my first week back to work after vacation. It seems like but a vague memory of doing nothing. Absolutely nothing!  But I feel very privileged to have had a vacation, so I can’t gripe too much.  Have I shown you my leg?