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Showing posts from March 27, 2011

Breaking up is hard to do. Make a date. Play a part.

I haven't been through the process of 'breaking up' with anybody for a really long time.  It seems like forever.  To me breaking up means something was probably pretty good for some amount of time and then one of the couple finds somebody else.  I guess it's a rule of substitution. 

Then there's the breaking up of a marriage.  Never done that.  But that's got to be terrible, even when it's good.  And if kids are involved -blech!

Last year I found myself in the position of breaking up....my folks.  I say my folks because I now consider my step-mom a 'folk'.  It wasn't that way for a really long time.  Like a jealous woman, I rather resented my dad taking a new wife so quickly after my mom passed on.  #2 is a very nice lady and the marriage between her and my dad was perfect.  It was at least when it took place.

Debbie, my step-sister (who is an awesome person and a wonderful side-benefit of our parent's union), and I have become quite close …

Donut holes....yum or yuck?

I really like donuts.  A lot.  Too much.  And that includes donut holes.  That's been about all I know about donut holes.  They taste good.

And then I was told my dad was in the donut hole.  Whaat up with that? How did he get into a donut hole?  How does anybody get into a donut hole?  That means it came from a really big donut.

Background - I'm a continuing student in the "school of hard knocks", the "school of learning by doing", and the "school of now-you-gotta-learn-it-even-if-ya-don't-wanna."  I have not graduated from any of those schools.  I just get promoted each year, despite not necessarily meeting some minimum standard that will ultimately lead me to some type of graduation.  There is no end in sight.  Kind of like what many of us, and our kids, and now their kids, may have experienced in schools.  Gratuitous promotion.  These classes are not  electives.  I have no choice. 

I'm now enrolled in a particular and peculiar class ca…

Join the club...or not.

The other day a young girl looked at me and said I had hair like her grandmother's.  So I said the only thing that made sense to me.  "Thanks!"  I have no idea what it was she saw.  Was it the length?  The style?  The color (or lack thereof)?  All of the above?  I'll never know.

That observation lead me back to a day probably 15 years ago.  Carl and I had dropped into a local Jack in the Box to grab a bite for lunch.  The good news is the open-campus high school crowd was gone and not too many people were there.  That may have been the bad news, too.  Without so many distractions, the counter person had more time to observe fewer customers.

I glanced at our receipt while waiting for the order number to be shouted out.  Something was wrong.  I approached the counter and said I didn't think the amount charged was correct.  It was too low.

"Oh no, ma'am!"  Ma'am...that might have been a first.  Anyway she went on to say that I got a discount!  Carl…