“We Love”

Did anyone see the New York Post today?

I was working the EZ Scan station this morning when a man buying multiple newspapers complained he couldn’t scan the Post, because there was no scan bar on it. Okay, that’s weird, but I can put it in by price, so, no problem there. I did think he seemed a little more upset than merited, but… who knew, he might have been having a bad morning.  I also notify my supervisor, figuring this wasn’t an isolated incident.

Actually, it was. I had to go to the rack, and there on the ground was the actual first and last pages of the Post. The front page had “We Love” in eleven different languages. Besides English, I recognized French, Spanish, Arabic, Japanese, Chinese, and Russian, and I think one was Cyrillic. Apparently, from what we pieced together, this guy found it offensive and removed it from the copy he was purchasing. The scan bar he bitched wasn’t there, was … right on the back page, were it belonged.

Honestly, dude? Are you so insecure you can’t handle seeing other languages in print?

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I think I Quit Adulting Now

I am tired and depressed and I have had enough.

I scrubbed the stove top this past weekend. Even when I don’t actually use it, I end up cleaning it, or it didn’t get done. I had it shiny and white and clean…. which it no longer is, and I HAVE NOT COOKED ON IT THIS WEEK.

I planned to come home, have lunch, then prep supper. I was planning on home-made baked macaroni and cheese. Only there are so many dirty dishes, I can’t really do a damn thing out there. I started the dishes (which is supposed to be Meriah’s job)… and lost it. Between the mac and cheese she burnt into a pot today, the remnants of yorkshire in what was once one of my cake pans, and the rows of dirty glasses…. HOW do you end up with every damn glass we own dirty when there are only three people here?

I have no nicotine to help me cope. I have no soda to help me cope, and it looks like I am going to have to drop the soda, regardless. According to my last blood work, I am diabetic. Just one more thing to deal with.

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Am I just getting old?

Today is beautifully clear. I should be getting the hedges trimmed, the lawn cut and trimmed, the bushes tamed….and I am having enough trouble finding the energy to get the laundry done. I did manage to get the breakfast dishes done this morning. Made some iced tea. Mom invited me out for a drive, and I said I needed to get things done. But I’m not getting much done

My get-up-and-go has got up and gone.

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“Christopher Robin”; A Trip Back Into Childhood

Don’t worry about spoilers; I don’t plan on any. But I do want to share a little on this rainy Friday that is sort of an Eeyore Day. Mom, Meriah, and I went to see the new live-action/CGI movie “Christopher Robin”.

In October of 1926, Methuen Publishing in London, England, introduced to the world ‘a silly ol’ bear’ by the name of Winnie the Pooh. A.A. Milne created the denizens of the 100 Acre Wood (Ashdown Forest) based on his son’s stuffed toys. The stories were originally for Christopher Robin Milne. Those early editions were delightfully illustrated by E.H. Shepard, who had worked on “Punch” with Milne. In doing so, they gave a magical gift to generations of children around the world.

It is a bit tragic that in doing so, they caused themselves a great deal of grief and disappointment, since none of the three could ever distance themselves from those four volumes. Work Milne and Shepard had done in the past was eclipsed, and they were type cast against in later years.

Now we have “Christopher Robin”. This is not a biographical work. If you’re interested in the story behind the stories, check out “Good Bye Christopher Robin” (2017, Fox Searchlight Pictures & Pinewood Films). This, without going into spoilers, is the character of Christopher Robin from the Pooh stories, not the real man. It is a return to the magic of childhood; a bit tarnished by adult cares, but still accessible.

It wasn’t a packed theater, but the ages ranged from children as young as 3 or 4 to adults in their 70s. Five or six generations of Pooh Bear’s fans, eager for one more new story about our friends from the 100 Acre Wood. And I don’t think any of us were disappointed.


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A Licence to ‘Adult’.

It used to be, by the time most of us managed to get a high school and/or college diploma, it was a fairly good bet we wouldn’t screw up being adults too badly. I have been seriously wondering what changed between those of us now in our late 40s and up, and a large number of those currently 20 to 45.

For example….when I was little, my dad had his ‘club night’ with the guys, and my mother took a variety of evening classes (never more than twice a week). They occasionally went out as a  couple on a weekend, but NOT EVERY weekend. We spent more time  as a family than individuals. Fast forward to the Kidling’s early school years, and most of the talk among parents waiting to pick up their children seemed to be about plans to ditch the kids with the grandparents or sitter, and go get blasted. That’s high school/college shit; not parental stuff.

Move up to now. We have a very nice bike/pedestrian pathway around here. So why did I just nearly hit two females, dressed for the gym in lycra and spandex,  riding their bikes down the middle of the damn road? And what was with the twit this afternoon who got in a left-turn only lane, just to try to get a jump on the CDTA bus at the light?

We need licences to drive (although I wonder how some people passed the test), licences to get married, to practice certain professions, to hunt, to own a legal fire arm….. Sometimes I think we need to start testing and licencing people to Adult, as well.

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Hard Decisions

Today is a beautiful day, but I am sitting here crying. Tomorrow will be worse.

16 years ago, when my daughter was 3 years old, she picked a female beagle pup from a litter for my parents, and named her “Freckles”. She (the pup) was supposed to be my dad’s new hunting partner. We lost Dad later that year, and Freckles became Mom’s Best Friend. We’d had beagles before. Joi died at the age of 7 due to pneumonia. We had to let Tippy go at the age of 12 due to cancer.

Freckles is 16. That is the equivalent to an 87-year-old human. She has trouble with her hips and her eyesight. She has fallen down the stairs many times these past few months.  She has fallen walking around the yard, and walked into things. She recently stopped showing interest in her bubbles, her treats, and company.

It is time to let her go with comfort and grace. There are now veterinarians who will come to your home, so the last sight the pet will have is their beloved humans in a familiar setting. It is still going to be so hard to let her go to the Rainbow Bridge, but her love and devotion to this family deserves, no DEMANDS nothing less. Kidling is sure Poppy (my Dad) will be waiting for Freckles at the Bridge, along with Tippy and Joi, and she’ll be able to chase the bubbles once again.

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The Eagle is Dying.

I have never been so disgusted and heartbroken over this country I grew up loving. The Administration is lying to everyone, and trying to blame former administrations. Trump pulled us out of the efforts to protect the world environment. Now, he is pulling us out of the UN Human Rights Council. He is turning this country into something I don’t recognize, don’t like, and am afraid of. His enablers, his “Pussy-Grabbing Posse”, don’t see the problem. They are part of the problem. The increase of tensions between races and religions getting so far out of hand, it’s frightening. We have a “president” who thinks its’ alright to break families apart; that it’s ‘provocative’ to hold military training exercises; who thinks if you have the money, you can get away with anything.

What happened to my country? We have never been perfect: slavery, Jim Crow laws, Japanese Interment camps during WWII…. but we should have learned by now. We have gone from point to point…supposedly improving. This past year and a half, I see no improvements. I see dangerous trends. What kind of world will my daughter, my grandchildren, end up with?

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