Canine Accostations

Both my kids have pests—I mean pets.  One has four dogs, two old and small, and two new and tall.  The other has two dogs, one as big as a Shetland pony that doesn’t know when it’s pooping, the other not much bigger than a gopher and barks all the time when I’m there, and three cats, one afraid of everything, one sometimes curious, and an elderly feline, a rescue, that I recognize as an old soul that needs some nip every day.

Don’t Move!

  I remember dropping a glass on the kitchen floor circa 1964 and reaching down to pick up the broken pieces.  Dad was off doing military things, and mom was working at a nursery.  I don’t know where my sister and brother were—probably ignoring the sound of something shattering.  It was either a weekend or a day of summer vacation, but it was late afternoon and I was getting a drink of water after watching something on TV in the small room Dad called the den.  I watched a lot of late-night monster movies there.  I now have a vague recollection of some PBS

Truth is not the goal

Gone are the days of journalistic integrity and honesty.  Truth is no longer considered the most important goal by national media. What they report is what they wish the story to be or the story that will lead to the change they would like to see in the world. Stories are promoted or hidden depending on how they will affect politics.

Filling the Fridge Slowly

For quite a while we had to put towels on the floor in front of the refrigerator because it was leaking.  It was a slow leak and didn’t happen all the time.  I thought the drain pan (what I call the evaporation tray) that sits on the floor under the fridge was cracked, and so during every defrosting the water escaped.  But the fridge kept tricking me.  Sometimes I thought it was somehow the ice crusher, so I stopped using that.  But the next day it leaked.  Then I was certain it was the ice maker, so I shut it off.  It still leaked.  I kept thinking I cou

News Yoga

 Lately and for months now I’ve noticed a change in the news.  It used to be, female anchors often sat on couches with shortish skirts, and by necessity they kept their legs crossed.  When they were required to stand in the middle of a set, they stood cross-legged because the floor was highly polished.  I first started noticing this on HLN, when often a guest would sit next to the anchor and mirror mimic her knotty posture.  It was like they were attempting some sort of couch yoga.