This June the 19th, one of my (step)granddaughters turned 19. I never forget the date, because when she was little, she always reminded me of the date, beginning about a month before its arrival. It was cute; she wanted us old folks to remember, so we wouldn’t forget to celebrate it with her and buy her something, I’m sure. My wife fondly remembers the days when she used to pick her up from school due to a slightly inconvenient schedule of the parents. Sadly, her mother turned to drugs and alcohol and my stepson was forced out of the relationship. Gradually, she fell into her mother’s lifestyle and has spent the last few years in and out of trouble with the law. For the past few years, we haven’t even had an address where we could send a card and let her know that she was remembered and loved. But remember we do, especially every June 19th.
Yesterday, we dropped off some papers at my stepson’s house and I stayed in the truck, since the idea was just to drop them off and not intrude. She stayed a good while, though, so my youngest granddaughter (half-sister to the one above) came out to the truck to see me. She’s 11 and has a tendency to flitter around like a butterfly. We had a surprisingly long talk on sundry subjects before she was finally compelled to flit back to the house to see what her dad and grandma were up to. We told one another we loved each other and it left me with a pleasant feeling to know that at least one “descendant” thinks of me. I only wish we could have that same conversation with her sister.
On a less serious note, it came to my attention again today just how easily that shiny pennies can disappear into a mottled brown carpet, UNTIL you get just the right angle to the light.
Also, last night I started watching a “short” video about the Germans having found a cure for cancer during WW II, but that our own government had covered up the fact. They kept insinuating that they were going to tell what it was and that it was simple. It felt like I was five minutes into it (I probably wasn’t) and they were STILL telling how they were going to tell, so I stopped watching. Invariably, such videos are trying to SELL you something, not TELL you anything.
And then, I have to wonder, why do some school lights continue to blink at the appointed times a week after school has let out for the summer. Is no-one at the Board of Education responsible for seeing to such things? I ignored them as we came through the school zone today, ready to go to court if some overzealous cop got carried away. Luckily, no copper chose to debate the phrase “when blinking” as opposed to the old “when children present.” Some have tried in the past.
Today, I walked through the room where the idiot box is located and some “chef” was putting tiny bits of food on a plate and using different colors and designs to make it a “beautiful presentation.” Now call me crude, but food is basically just to fuel the body and “fill the hole.” The fact that some folks can make it taste good is a wonderful thing. (I’ve tasted bad food, and it’s no fun.) Still, when a guy takes about the right amount of food for a pissant and turns it into “art” (for which he’ll charge enough to make his house payment), he’s no longer a chef, he’s an artist in the loosest sense of the word. He’s also a “con” artist. He should get out of the kitchen, buy some oils and try to pay his bills doing REAL art. And THAT is what I think about THAT! Copyright 2018