Memorial Day

sketch by Alexis Kelsch                   

As Memorial Day approaches I always think of it as the end of the school year and the beginning of the summer season.  We find ourselves barbecuing in our back yards and picnicking with our families and friends enjoying the warm weather.  
Do we really remember what Memorial Day is all about? Unfortunately, many of us fail to remember what an important day this is.

Memorial Day, which was originally called Decoration Day, is a day to remember those who have died in service of our country. 

Do we spare a second to say a silent prayer of thank you for all those people who are fighting to make our lives better in our country today and to all those veterans who have fought in the past to preserve our freedom?  

I think it is important to remember Memorial Day and what it stands for and means.  It is about coming together to honor those who gave it their all.

It is held on the last Monday in May and it is celebrated with parades, flag waving, speeches and handing out memorials.

Do you know where the poppies originated?  It was 1915, Ms. Moina Michael inspired by the original poem “In Flanders Fields” wrote her own poem:                                         

“We cherish too, the Poppy red                   

  that grows on fields where valor led,                    

  It seems to signal to the skies                    

  that blood of heroes never dies.”

Ms Michaels conceived the idea to wear red poppies on Memorial Day in honor of those who died serving the nation during the war. She was the first one to wear one, and began selling poppies to her friends and co-workers with the money benefiting the men in need.  


Madam Guein from France was visiting the United States and learned of this new custom started by Ms. Michaels and when she returned to France, made artificial red poppies to raise money for war-orphaned children and widowed women.  


I believe the story goes that the VFW became the first veteran’s organization to nationally sell the poppies.  In 1948, the US Post Office honored Ms. Michael for her role in founding the National Poppy movement by issuing a red three cent stamp with her likeness on it.

Now when I see the red poppies I do buy one and remember the wonderful woman who made Memorial Day for remembering because not only does a country lose one of it’s own but a woman may lose her child or husband.

Let us not forget all the Men and Women serving our country. 

Here is a fitting quote for Memorial Day by Elizabeth Barrett Browning ~

"And each man stand with his face in the light of his own drawn sword.  Ready to do what a hero can."

Spring has Sprung ~ Wordless Wednesday

To Dream Per Chance

Do you ever remember someone saying to you before you went to sleep, “Pleasant dreams”? I always wondered why we used that term?

When I go to sleep and wake up, I have often dreamed the night before.  I envy my children who can get up from sleeping and remember their whole dream.  I find that amazing because there are times I do not even remember dreaming at all. It depends on how exhausted I am if I can even remember dreaming.

Have you ever been sleeping and if you have a radio on that wakes, you up it's now incorporated in your dream.  I find that strange.

I have always wondered why we dream. Is it our subconscious mind telling us something?  Is it to un-clutter our mind so we can distress our selves?  If this is our subconscious mind is it our fears that we dream about?  I know when I was pregnant I had all sorts of strange dreams and the doctor said it was normal and very common. When I eat real late at night I sometimes wake up with nightmares that are so real and they are frightening.   I keep asking myself how come we dream.  Am I dreaming an image, or some emotion that I experienced during the day?

I do know that I can get really creative and daring in my dreams too. I am so brave in my dreams and I say things I might not say otherwise.  It is frustrating when we dream and it is a great dream and as soon as you wake up the dream goes out of our head.  They say to keep a pad of paper near you bed and as soon as you are awake write the dream down.

How about when you dream of people who have died?  That is sometimes spooky or sometimes very peaceful? Is that because that is in our subconscious or what? I often wonder when we see people who have died are they coming for us.

What about when you have those dreams that you are falling? You end up waking up before you hit bottom? 

I have a friend who has dreamed she died and I find that disturbing.

How many dreams do you think we will dream in a lifetime?

I know there are so many books on the subject about dreams and what they mean. Sigmund Freud's theory of dreams suggest we dream of unconscious desires, thoughts, and sometime motivations.  He also stated that dreams are somehow our fulfillment's of our repressed desires or wishes.  According to Freud, our dreams always mean something. Personally, I do not know if I want to get that analytical with my dreams and think there is a motivation to my dreams.

I do not know if I want my dreams interpreted. I know it could be very therapeutic. 

It  might mean I may need some serious couch time…

Falling In Love

I came across an article a few days ago about how to find love in 27 days.  All I have to say is Yikes!  I guess you could fall in love with anything in about a month.  Look when you see a child’s face when they get a new puppy. They are in love! I mean head over heels in love.


I think it is a funny concept because I do not need to find love and believe me I am not looking for love but my idea would be how to stay in love after 27 days. That would be key, don’t you think?


Remember when your palms were clammy, you were nervous, your heart had that extra irregular beating in your chest and your tongue was dry and you lost weight without trying. I know it sounds like heart attack symptoms but those are also symptoms of falling in love and it is the most fantastic feeling in the world.
 
Everyone remembers the first time they fell in love or at least thought it was love.  It was exhilarating and you were humming and happy. It was like a walking on clouds. That feeling when you fall in love with the man you will share your life with is the most blissful time in your life and it is something you do not forget. You also have that feeling again, when you see your first child born and you see that sweet face looking up at you.  It is an indescribable feeling. It is such pleasure that I would love to bottle it and breathe it in every day.


I went out to dinner with my husband not too long ago and we were sitting there when a couple obviously very much in love were sitting down a table across from us and I said to my husband,  “I would love to feel like that again and he said,  “we are like that.” I said,  “No, we don’t blatantly flirt with one another anymore like we use to and our conversations are not about us anymore.” I thought then that our conversations are usually about our children and school and all the other normal stuff married people talk about. Seeing that couple made me ask myself why after you have that feeling of falling in love do we forget how that feels like after years of marriage?  Do we get so comfortable with each other or do we just take each other for granted?


Is it that our lives get so busy with our children, work, school and everyday stuff that we forget what got us here in the first place?  I want to know where does that feeling of falling in love that elation, that joy, that happiness, where our feet do not touch the floor. Where does it all go?  


Do we only bring that feeling back out when our children do something to make us proud or when it is a special occasion?  Why can’t we feel like that for days. months or every year.


It reminds me of the song by the Righteous Brothers, “Lost That Loving Feeling”


Let me know what you think and where does that loving feeling go?

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The Perfect or the Perfectionist Man

When I think of the word perfectionist, I do not have to go to Webster I just look to my husband and he exemplifies perfectionist to a tee.  Is he the perfect man, hardly but he is a perfectionist in every way and if you have eve known a perfectionist or lived with one it is like a never-ending challenge and frankly it drives me crazy! 

I figured he should have married Mary Poppins because she was practically perfect in every way and would suit him.

My husband impressed me when we were dating because I think I confused being a perfectionist with being organized.  Not even close. Being a perfectionist by definition is “A disposition to regard anything short of perfection as unacceptable”

I do not mean he is a freak about being a perfectionist where he has to line stuff up or makes the towels straight he isn’t that nutty but he does have his quirks.  For example, if I lose something I look where the last place I was such as the car or maybe that junk drawer we all have in our house.  Then I figure either it will show up or it won’t.

That’s me very laid back and no big deal, right? 

Not my husband he will go on the hunt until he finds whatever is missing and this will consume him.  He is like a dog with a bone.  This behavior gets me more aggravating as I watch him thoroughly wreck the house like a bulldozer trying to find my missing item.  At this point you can imagine I am not the cheery person I usually am and could care less whatever that item was that I wanted found.  He is like a hound dog and can smell out every crook and crevice to mankind. I like that he is tenacious but could he be more tenacious when it counts like when I want the house painted or when I want the windows washed.

I keep kidding him that maybe he should be this diligent in our marriage and take a stab at that.  He just gives me that look…you know the look.

We use to go shopping together but it is not fun anymore because he has a system when he shops.  Who has a system?  I go in the store, pick up what ever I need, and am finished.  He has to shop the outer aisles first then the inside.  He also cannot just go to one store no he has to go to several.

I fear when I ask him to go run out and pick something up at the store because when he leaves the house he goes on the missing list for half the day. It is not as if he brings home other surprises and goodies no he brings home the one item I have asked for and I have to wonder what took him so long.

He is also a perfectionist with his car, which drives me crazy too.  The windows have to be clean even on the inside.  Vacuumed so well that you see the vacuum lines.

I hate to admit this but his car is probably cleaner than my kitchen.  You could probably eat off the floor of his car.

I love it when my son is in my husband’s car after a soccer game.  My son is grimy and dirty. You can see my husband at that point almost having a meltdown with his facial looks as he is cringing.  He then reminds my son to kick off his dirt before he enters the vehicle and I have to suppress a giggle.  When we get home, we come in the house and my husband stays back to clean up the car and works meticulously at getting rid of any evidence that my son or I have ever been in the car.  It is like watching an episode of CSI when they are reenacting the crime scene.

At Christmas time, he is a crazy man with the lights inside and out.  He puts Macy’s to shame.  He complains and whines every year about doing the lights and the tree. Last year, I decided to do the job myself and with the help of my children but no sooner had I begun, my husband takes over.  I know he does not do this willfully.  He just can’t help himself.  I must admit he does an excellent job.  So, why does he whine and complains in the first place.

What bothers me is that he tells me that he will not do any projects around the house because he is not sure they will be perfect enough.  Does he really think I am that gullible after all these years?  May I ask what wife would believe that statement?  That is when I give him one of my looks and you know that look too.

I told him he needs a 12 step program for this affliction and we are waiting for a call back.

So, unless you are talking fiction there is no perfect man….

Dancing With Myself

Does something happen to you when you hear music? Do you begin tapping your foot or maybe tapping your fingers?  Does it make you want to get up and dance or sway your body to the melody? 

When driving, do you sometimes find yourself tapping on the steering wheel to a familiar tune? If it happens to be a great song, you have to turn it up and then we all want to begin singing the song or maybe humming along.

That’s me I love music and love dancing. I have to admit sometimes I love dancing by myself. Sometimes I can dance or flitter around my house and just love listening to music I turn music on and turn it up loud and begin dancing.  It makes me feel exhilarated and I feel energized.  

I love all kinds of music from Sinatra to Anka to Four Seasons, any kind of Motown, Black eyes Peas and even Timbaland.  The music takes me away and relaxes me. I love all types of music but what I think really got me started and stirred my sensations was to listen to the voice of Billie Holiday and the singing makes me sway to that kind of bluesy music. It is torchy. It mellows me.

When I was a kid, I would watch American Bandstand with Dick Clark. I loved to watch all the couples dancing and would dance away with them or watch Soul Train and see the couples dance their way down alone or with a partner with their outrageous dance moves. Motown was by far the greatest dancing music. 

I love watching dancing movies too such as Dirty Dancing, Step Up, Footloose, Flashdance, Saturday Night Fever, and Shall we dance, to name just a few.

I loved watching dance movies since I was a kid like the old black and white movies of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers too. They danced divine together. Somehow, Fred did not have that sex appeal that maybe John Travolta playing Tony Manero did in Saturday Night Fever or Patrick Swayze as Johnny Castle did in Dirty Dancing.

I went to a wedding a few weeks ago and was taken back at some of the dirty dancing they do today and it is that age between 17 and 30.  This kind of dancing makes you just a little uncomfortable to watch. I began watching a couple get down and dirty and it made me feel like being a voyeur watching two people in a lewd act, it was not fun to watch and to me that is not dancing. 

I love to watch the artistry of dancing. You get a sense of watching two people immerse themselves in each other and dance together with such finesse.

It brightens my day to listen to music and changes my mood from good to fabulous in seconds.

I know it sounds wacky to dance by your self and when I sometimes dance with my children they look at me wonder what the heck I am doing.  I am sure in their minds I may look like I am having a seizure when I am dancing, but I tell them when I dance, it makes me smile.

 Really dancing by myself makes me ecstatic….

Who Likes Oprah

Okay, who likes Oprah? What I want to know is who really cares?  I hear there is this new book about Oprah that Kitty Kelly has written and it is a tell all about Oprah. Let’s be honest did we really need Kitty Kelly to tell us about Oprah and Gayle. If you have ever watched those two in action you might have suspected something has been going on for years.  I mean they are inseparable.

Kitty Kelly has also written that Oprah’s memories of her being a poor little girl from the south are not true but you have to admit that stuff sells and it has made Oprah who she is today.

What about Steadman where has he been?  Is he in the Montecito Mansion in California or is he down on the farm in Indiana in the cellar.  Has Oprah locked him away? Have you ever seen the guy with Oprah or does she even talk about this guy anymore.  When she began her show years ago, she sported him around like eye candy. Isn’t it funny that they have never gotten married?  Kitty Kelly says that he is the fill in to make the picture of Oprah ideal.  It doesn’t matter about Steadman he isn’t that exciting to care about.

I think if I hear one more story how hard Oprah’s life has been I think I’ll be nauseous. Enough with the Horatio Alger stories! There is no way that any one except maybe Tom Joad from the Grapes of Wrath had it as bad as Oprah.  She goes on and on what a rough childhood she had and how poor she was and they could not afford anything.

She must have had some sort of schooling because Oprah speaks eloquently and she did not get that from being uneducated.  Oprah on occasion does try to talk like a gang banger but it really doesn’t come off but I guess the poor girl from the south does sell and it has made her a very wealthy woman.

How bad could her life be when she is asking her driver if he can drive her to the Ocean from her Montecito Manson? Maybe she can take the scenic route on her private jet.

I use to enjoy watching Oprah but then she seemed to become a little arrogant.  You do have to admit she has the Midas touch everything or anyone she has ever endorsed has become a household name or even President of the United States.

I have to laugh that on every cover of O magazine she is on the cover as if the whole world does not know whom O and Oprah are.  

I guess what is funny to me about Oprah is that she sometimes compares herself to having problems like you and me. Oprah and I do not even have the same zip code and with her billions, I probably will never be in her zip code in my lifetime.

Kitty Kelly is whining now that nobody is talking to her about her book and all I have to say is when you come up against Oprah that is a force to be reckoned with and Oprah will probably win.

Nevertheless, when it is all said and done who cares…

The Way We Are

Have you ever wondered why we are the way we are?  It is kind of a strange question but really, what makes us tick?  I am not getting all scientific here but sharing my family tree with you to maybe get some insight to why I am as I am. Maybe, this will enlighten me too!

When I became a mom, I was thrilled.  I can now see how different I was then my mom was such as in my house growing up with my mom we kind of were like the Cleavers. My Dad was the King of the house kind of like an Italian Ward Clever and he had two volumes loud and louder.  My Mom was like a WASP June Cleaver.  We never ate in the dining room in fact nobody ever saw our living room or dining room unless it was Christmas and that was once a year.  We did have a couch that had the plastic wrap sealing it because my mother was saving it forever. I wonder what ever happened to that couch because it was sealed for life. It was too good for us kids to sit on. By the way, my mother never wore pearls, but I knew she wanted to while she vacuumed. She was the June Cleaver of the neighborhood. By the way, my brother’s did not call me the beav either.

My mother knew how to deflect that her dinner plan was Pizza or McDonald’s by starting to tell my Dad, before he barely opened the door all her problems and how rotten us kids were. Then the fun began. Now I know why my dad traveled 3 weeks out of the month.

My grandmother lived with us, she was all Irish, and she was June’s Mom (my mom’s Mom) she was known as the ref in our house.  She broke up more fights between my brothers and me.  When we did fight, she would separate us and then she would tell us “to pretend we were on a bus.”  I am not sure of the significance of that statement however, we did stop fighting immediately.  To this day, I do shake my head at that and wonder am I swimming in that same gene pool and I keep watching my own kids for any signs.  So far so good, they are not babbling about being on a bus.

My grandmother thought she was Julia Childs.  The only resemblance to Julia was that she was old, wore an apron and talked funny.  I only wear blue jeans because of seeing her dressed in those aprons with all the pockets. Those aprons she wore over her dresses were unsightly. She wore an apron from the time she woke up until she went to bed. She had so many pockets in those aprons she was like Ray Rayner. Those pockets must have been filled with treasures because they were always bulging

I have to tell you I wished she cooked like Julia Childs but if you know anybody who is Irish they only cook two ways, well done or burn it. She never used any seasoning so everything we ate had no taste.  It was amazing that I was in my twenties before I realized you could actually buy fresh vegetables and they did not grow in a can. My grandmother’s version of Italian spaghetti was pasta with tomato soup poured over it and then she fried it. I had no idea you could boil pasta and what that tasted like. No wonder, I have the worst eating habits in North America. 

Now my grandmother who was my dad’s mom was Italian and she bragged how great it was to be Italian. I do not think she was keen on me being Irish at all.  She would tell me the best parts of me were Italian to this day I am not sure what those parts are.  She was about 4 feet tall and about 4 feet wide. When she walked, she moved like R2D2.  She had a dark mustache and that was a good thing because it hid that she hardly had any teeth.  She had more hair on her face than my father did when he had a five o’clock shadow.  Watching her eat was an education in oral hygiene.  She would brag that she was the best cook and had all the old world cooking skills I think she learned how to cook from the galley cook on the boat she came over on where I believe she might have been a stowaway. 

She married an English man who was my grandfather and I am not sure if she just got bored with cooking or lost her art of cooking but her cooking skills went down hill quickly.  I am not sure how the Brits eat but if this was any indication, I will not be going to England for any gourmet meals.

It was always fun to see my Irish grandmother and my Italian grandmother get together because they could not be in the same room with each other without them arguing on how to cook something.  Neither one of them had a clue! 

My grandmother who was Italian loved her wine and said it was good for the heart and this was way before Dr. Oz said it was heart healthy.  She must have had the best working heart going she could put away a bottle of wine before dinner was over. 

The more I have been thinking about that whole family tree I wish I had been adopted.

Take My Pic! "Click, Click"

What do they say; a Picture is worth a thousand words? I tend to agree. When you look at a picture, you see that image where time stood still. That single snapshot brings you back to that moment, that memory, where you were smiling, maybe laughing, or maybe shedding some happy tears. It is a window into some memory you want to keep. The Chinese say, “One Picture is Worth Ten Thousand Words” which makes sense because with pictures there is always a story to tell or place you have been.

I love having my picture taken.  I love laughing, posing, and sometimes just being silly.

How about when you are taking pictures with your children, that is an ordeal in itself and you want them to be smiling at the same time, and not to fidget too much. Then inevitably, you burst out laughing. Those are the best pictures those spontaneous ones that you love. 

Do you get pictures of yourself and hate the way you look? I have always disliked the way I look in pictures. I am wondering why. Does this stem from childhood the way we were raised or just in the genes? I know my grandmother did not like her picture taken because she said that your spirit was taken from you. Then she said it was only a superstition.

I asked my husband about this and he said he doesn’t like his picture taken and he dislikes the way he looks in pictures too. I have to wonder why some people feel this way about seeing themselves in pictures. 

I know I cannot be the only one who does not like their picture taken. It is not that I do not like how I look, or whether there is a particularly good side. I just don’t think that in my head that is what I look like. I have been told as I am getting older, that I look like my mother, which would be a wonderful compliment, as she was a beautiful woman, but I don’t see any likeliness to her in pictures.

Then I wondered if this had anything to do with vanity because I am getting older.

I have never been vain, and even as a child I never liked myself in pictures.

My children love having their pictures taken and they love every one that is taken of them. I do not like the pictures of myself with my children, so maybe this is a lack of self-image. If it is something like that, then mine must be shot. I dislike pictures of myself and really abhor close-ups. Have you had someone surprise you by taking your picture when you are just getting up from bed? Yikes!

Maybe it is that pictures tend to make you look heavier. Maybe, it is that pictures show every flaw you have. Is it like looking in the mirror? When you look in a mirror, you do not see yourself as you do in a picture. The image of you shows you at that moment how you were feeling and I am thinking that maybe it is what I do not like. I think it is because pictures stop time and when I look back at that picture it is part of my past and that is eerie to me.

I do not know what it is about me not liking myself in pictures, but it is “food for thought.” Maybe my grandmother was right and your spirit is taken away with every picture. As I get older, I do not know if I am going to be in any more pictures and I do not know if I agree with my grandmother’s superstitious thinking. 

Twitter Tatter Tweety Bird

I am not really into birds and not a bird watcher.  I know birds are an intricate part of nature and when I hear the birds, I know that spring has arrived

Birds make me a little nervous I think ever since I watched the movie “The Birds” by Hitchcock I have been a little freaked out by them.  That movie was scary!

Imagine it is about 4:30 am and you are lying in bed and you look at the alarm clock and think, “great I have another two hours before I have to get up”

Then it starts, a faint peeping sound, chirp, chirp, cheap, cheap, then it becomes louder Chirp, Chirp, and Cheap, Cheap….what is that noise?  Birds talking to one another?  Which one is it the robin or the sparrow maybe the blackbird?  Now instead of counting sheep I am counting birds.  

Then you hear tweeting and more tweeting and the same cheeping and some chirping over and over again.  Now you are turning and tossing putting the pillow over your head an still, you hear that incessant sound.  It will not go away and it becomes louder and louder. You do not want to open your eyes because you will never get back to sleep. How could sleep take over when you have the tweeting that never ends?  It reminds me of some wind up toy and the jabbering is driving me insane.  You just lie there thinking will it ever stop?

I guess what I want to know is this one particular bird outside my window or is it thousands of birds tweeting simultaneously with the same tweet.  Where did all these birds come from and why are they so annoying before dawn and why have they moved into my neighborhood?

I do not need an alarm clock because I have my own personal tweet wake up call.  It is like reveille at the aviary.   

I want to open my window and begin tweeting too. All I can hear is one chirping and tweeting after another. I cannot believe that one bird can be so loud.  I figure maybe that this bird will knock it off soon; there has been enough chirping and tweeting going on for this guy to have gotten his messages by now. 

At this point, I want to be Simon and tell this bird he cannot sing and that his singing is annoying and to go back and get some shuteye.  I can understand why no other birds are singing back to this bird because this bird is obnoxious. This bird doesn’t wait for a response from any other birds but just keeps tweeting. He acts like he is the bird dog of all birds.  Watch out girlie birds!  Does he know all the other birds are trying to sleep too?

I have a feeling if I went to the window this bird would be gazing at me along with all his fellow aviators.  They know I am annoyed and now the tweets and chirps get louder in that same irritating monotone.  This twittering has to stop!

Of course, now I am ready to scream my head off.  What is up with these birds?  There is no shortage of birds in my neighborhood and they are all working overtime to annoy me. The infernal twittering continues until my feet hit the floor and I get up.  The birds know this because once I am up the tweeting and chirping and singing stops!

Now you probably hear them all through the day but not like in the morning. What is amazing to me is you hear them begin at dusk with the same litany of that tweeting. I think it is the same bird or birds with their melodious shrieking unless my ear for tweeting is just getting better.  I recognize that tweet!

What I want to know is where do all the birds go at night?  You are brought to life at 4:30 am with that annoying continuous tweeting and loud ruckus of singing and then at night right before it gets dark you hear that infernal sound again and then it’s quiet. I wonder where all the birds go.  Are they just hiding out in the bushes and trees and we just do not see them.  

I do not want to sound paranoid but they can see me and I know they are there too just waiting for dawn to appear.  Talk about internal clocks.  They know right before dawn they are to begin again with that continuous twittering and chirping that drives me nuts.

I know now that if I do not hear the birds tweeting and peeping at dawn that it must be winter or for that matter maybe I have died… 

Is It Just Me or What

Do you go through the whole day and see some wild stuff, you know strange where you just have to shake your head?  I am not sure if it annoys me or is it just stupid things you see or hear and you just say to yourself, is it just me.

Let’s take joggers, why do joggers jog on the street and not on the wide sidewalk?  How about bicyclists why do they ride their bikes on the sidewalk and not on the street?

How about all these people texting and on their cell phones when they drive? Don’t you just wonder what is so important that they just cannot concentrate on driving?

How about when you are at a red light and somebody pulls up along side of you and the music is blaring and the bass is turned up and you car begins to rock.

Have you ever been backing out of a parking space, there is a person who is facing you and trying to park in the next open space and doesn’t give you any room to drive forward so you can exit.  Are they afraid you are going to take this parking space? Do they not realize you are exiting?

How about people who drive through red lights?  Now you know they saw the yellow light and they do know that the yellow light means slow down and prepare to stop. So, may I ask why they run the red light? Do they really think that they are going to out run it?

What is when you are driving to work, dropping off the kids or just doing an errand and you come to a red light? You look over and you see a man or woman and they stare at you and you smile not a smile like a laughing hyena but a smile nevertheless and they look at you as if you have two heads and then they look away.

Have you noticed the same reaction when you go in to a Starbucks, people are sitting there, you walk in, and everybody looks up to see who has entered the shop? When I see somebody look up at me, I usually smile or say hello.  People will either just put there head back down or they just give me a look. You know that look as if you have just been reprimanded.  What is with people don’t they realize it doesn’t cost anything to be nice?  It is not as if I want to engage in any conversation with them just trying to be friendly.

How about when you are shopping at the grocery store, you are in the lane that has 10 items or less, and you see the person in front of you have 25 items.  Does this person think that the person at the register does not know how to count?  The cashier has a computerized register that prints how many items you have.  Do they really think they are going to pull a fast one over on the cashier?

Again, when you are at the grocery store, you are in the cash only line, and the person in front on you has a credit card and now is trying to argue with the cashier.

How about when you have a manicure done and the people do not speak or understand English until you talk money.  When they talk and laugh, you know they are talking about you as they are looking right in your eye while they are laughing.

How about when you are in a restaurant when there are free refills, the waiter takes your glass, and you have not even finished the one you were drinking.  Maybe, I don’t want another soda. 

How about if you are at McDonalds and all soda’s are $1.00 and they ask you what size?  Why would people buy a small when they can buy a large for the same price?

How about when people us the word “like” in every sentence and have that affected valley girl twang. 

How about when you give someone a compliment and they respond with “Oh, I know isn’t this cute?” instead of Thank you.

Have you ever had this happen to you?  You are in the middle of a conversation with someone and right before your eyes, they take out their phone and begin texting while you are talking to them?  Isn’t that like talking when I am talking or does that not count because their lips are not moving?

How about when you are talking to someone and they begin to interrupt you and begin a new conversation about themselves or even better yet they want to top your story

How about you have a gazillion cable stations and there is nothing on to watch. Also, in my house there are only five stations I really only watch.

How about when you call the cable company when one of the cable stations is not working and you have to love this they have to send a tech out and you know they can fix it right from the office because they have in the past.

This is classic in my house when there are wet towels on the floor and cups all over the place and dishes in the sink not washed.  You would think I had guests, right?  No, it is just my kids who think they are living in a hotel and the maid is coming in any second to clean up after them.

This is another thing I have to shake my head and ask, “Is it me?” it is when my birthday is approaching my husband will ask me either a day before or sometimes on my birthday “What did you want to do for your birthday?” or “What can I buy you?”  Now, I find this maddening! It isn’t like he doesn’t know the day of my birthday or have a year to prepare if needed. He would even have plenty of time a month ahead if he cared to give it some thought.

I am sure there are so many silly things that you have to shake your head at.

What do they say we should not sweat the small stuff but why does it seem that life is getting stranger and crazier with what people do.  I have a new remedy instead of shaking my head I just smile and laugh…