Those of us of a certain age can remember when plane travel was considered glamorous. Only the rich could do it. You were served like royalty, even in coach. Your bags went along for free. No one strip searched you behind a screen that wouldn’t hide a birth mark from the public gawking on the other side as they pray they are not the next to be pulled out.
Sigh…. those terrorists have a heckuva lot to answer for.
To put it bluntly
I think any parents who put out a baby with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome Disorder should have their reproductive organs removed by court order.
Ah, old age
I don’t know about you, but I have a routine at bedtime. I put my glass of water next to my bed. I check to make sure all the doors are locked. I put the dogs out for one last time. I make sure the lights are out and the stove is cold. I make sure the thermostat is turned down to 65… though that’s really unnecessary unless I have company because otherwise it’s always at 65 all winter. Then I climb in bed and read until forced to go to sleep because of the late hour and how unlikely
Homeless camps
(This piece also appears in Dispatch Alaska)
There seems to be a generally held belief that some of those who choose to live “homeless” are deliberately living off the grid because they don’t want the strictures of society impinging on their right to live however they want, whenever they want. Kind of an urban wilderness man idea.
I find that concept belied by a recent news story. According to newspaper and police reports, a man and woman were arguing. When they wouldn’t quiet down, another homeless man went into their tent and beat the man up. The woman left. Then
Anchorites are easily pleased
Every once in a while before the snow falls and between the constant rain storms, Anchorage gets some beautiful fall days… leaves gorgeous, sun shinning, cold enough to not have bugs but warm enough to not have ice… and we are so pathetically grateful. I walked the dogs last week on a couple of those days and kept passing other people who had completely idiotic grins on their faces who kept saying to me in voices of awed wonder, “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” I think they had to keep saying it out loud because otherwise they wouldn’t be
Milk
As I sit here in agony I must confess I can no longer absorb fresh milk or spoon sized Shredded Wheat. It’s one or the other.
As I sit quietly sobbing
I find myself wondering how I can have a checking account less than a year old on which all of ten checks have been written and yet I am still $300 out of sync with what the bank says the total is. And even after trying my best to add and subtract, divide and multiply, parse and diagram, I still can’t figure it out. So I accept the bank’s total as true and also accept that I am a math idiot.
As we age, we learn to accept these limitations more gracefully so I will now stop sobbing and go
Moose
Driving down the road in the rain. Truck in front of me starts breaking for no discernible reason. Out of the brush on the other side of the road a moose emerges and starts sauntering across the road. Behind the first moose comes another, this a big buck with an impressive rack. He too saunters casually across the road. Traffic now stopped for at least a block in both directions. Moose reach other side of the road and slowly amble along the shoulder, grazing as they move. Cars start cautiously moving again. Everyone with a cell phone has it out