Postcards from a back injury…

It is, if nothing else, a great excuse to lie down and read; what else can you do while lying down? With an injured back, I mean.

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Postcards from a back injury……..

Never mind that the back brace causes a little roll of something that might be body fat both to peek out both above and below the brace, so that the mere act of sitting fills me with an intense urge to exercise – which I cannot do, today it was actually easier for me to wash the dishes by hand than unload the dishwasher so I could load the dirty ones. It was so much nicer: I didn’t have to bend over, and I could look out the window. Do I need a dishwasher? Hmmm.

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Mnemonic Devices

Lately, I’ve been trying different techniques to help myself remember things. Some “aides-de-memoir” if you will.

Today, in the shower, I was trying to remember three things that I needed to take care of when I got out. I came up with the acronym S-W-A and congratulated myself. But by the time I got out of the shower, I couldn’t remember what the letters S-W-A were supposed to tell me.

All I could think of  was Southwest Airlines, so I sat down at my computer and went to their website.

By the time I remembered that S-W-A was Shampoo, Write letter and Auto club,  it was too late – I already had airline tickets to Vegas.

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Inspiration strikes? (IV)

Can Inspiration pass a multiple choice test? I think not. I offered it the following challenge this morning:

With which would I like you to help me most, Inspiration?






I suppose I should be grateful that I won my solitaire game, but I was rather hoping I’d write something funny.


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Inspirations strikes? (III)

Still waiting for inspiration…. Maybe it’s not coming today because I’ve offended it with my recent writings. I guess I should have realized that inspiration has a fragile ego.

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Inspiration strikes? (II)

Perhaps it’s that my own inspiration has misinterpreted the use of the action verb “strike” as the noun for  “labor stoppage,” which would explain why I can’t get much done. This is so not my fault. I mean, I can hardly be held responsible for how inspiration is interpreting things, now can I?

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Inspiration strikes?

Sitting here, waiting for inspiration to strike…wondering what kind of blow it will be. A slap to the head? A punch in the gut? Some other body blow? Ok, enough of that. I was just wondering why inspiration has to strike? Couldn’t it waft in on a balmy breeze? Or maybe just walk over to the computer and start typing? Wouldn’t that be simpler?

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Ye Olde Ears Are Goingeth

I swear my son said one of the basketball players had “mad Skittles.” I was confused, but trying to participate in the conversation, so I asked if he also had “ticked-off M&Ms.”

The entire family looked at me as if I were nuts, and I explained that in my view, ticked off M&Ms were just as likely as mad Skittles, if not more so  – certainly one of the M&Ms in a recent TV commercial had demonstrated some level of being annoyed at least, whereas I had never seen any anthropomorphized Skittles display emotion in any setting…

Finally, my son figured out where the confusion lay, and  he gently – but patronizingly – clarified for me that he’d said “mad skills,” not “mad Skittles.”


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Surviving the Great Depression

My grandparents lived through the Great Depression, and the rest of us have yet to recover. It’s not just that I save all the twist ties from produce bags, as well as those ridiculous little plastic thingies that close packages of bread – I have an entire drawer full of those, in spite of having absolutely NO idea what I’d ever use them for. It’s more that I sometimes find myself unreasonably upset by wasting anything.

I’m not talking about food; it’s perfectly normal to sob hysterically when a tomato goes bad. But I might be taking it a little far with my word-processing…

As I was typing away at my soon-to-be bestseller this morning, I decided to change the word “embedded” to “included” in one sentence, so I painstakingly highlighted only the letters “e-m-b-e-d-d” for replacement, saving the “e-d” to be reused with “i-n-c-l-u-d.” As I made the change, I belatedly realized I could also have saved a “d” for reuse as well, and would only have had to type “i-n-c-l-u.” And I was UPSET.

Now, even for me, this is a little much. I mean, if I’d been using an actual typewriter, this might have been understandable, but I was on a computer, for crying out loud. I’m mostly over it now, but still, I think of that little “d” floating around in cyberspace – unwanted, unused, wasted….

It’s just sad. What would my grandparents have said? Well, probably something like, “What the hell is cyberspace?” and then maybe “Do they need any bread ties there?”

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Inspiration from the oddest places…

…like junk mail.
The dealership that sold me my FULLY ELECTRIC vehicle sent me (yes, addressed to me by name) a coupon for an oil and filter change. If I had time, I’d take my car in to the service department and hand them my coupon – just to see what they’d do.
I assume since they have my name and address in their database, they also have some record of the type of car I purchased. Why do they bother keeping a database if they aren’t going to use it properly? On the other hand, I was struggling for a blog topic today, so it’s not all bad.
What’s in YOUR junk mail?

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