Month: March 2019

On a typical morning, my legions of faithful readers will open this blog and expect to read all about the foibles of the people and the world in general around me – things that have happened on the national stage, things that are on television, or inanimate objects that have set out to thwart my best efforts.  Not today, my friends, not today.  Today we set our sights on the simple bits of life that give me pleasure and inspire joy. Continue reading “Things That Make Me Smile.”

Do you remember when “super” meant the Man of Steel, who could fly, see through buildings, and break through concrete walls?  Yes, that was truly super.  Anything super was truly spectacular – so high above us regular people that it was, well, just imaginary. Superheroes wore body suits and capes with their initials boldly splashed across their incredible physiques.  Of course, they had masks to cleverly conceal their everyday identities.  Clark Kent had those black rimmed glasses so that none of us ever suspected who he really was.  Ok, a couple of us really perceptive viewers suspected, but Lois and Jimmy never caught on. Continue reading “Have a Super Day!”

Ok, here’s our award winner for this week.  A woman visiting a zoo in Arizona was tempted to take perhaps the ultimate selfie when she reached into an enclosure housing a jaguar.  The big cat attacked her, holding her hostage until a thoughtful bystander hit the jaguar with, of all things, a water bottle.  This apparently sufficiently startled the cat that it let go of the photographer.  Perhaps the jaguar wanted to see if it was good likeness. Continue reading “Torn (literally) from the Headlines II”

I got thinking the other day, as I was watching a sitcom, about paperboys of the past.  Maybe in some areas, they still ply their trade – sacks of newspapers over their shoulders or tucked into baskets on bikes, riding down the street and casually tossing the papers onto the front porch, or onto the roof, into the rosebushes, under the sprinkler.  We don’t have that any more, at least not in our area.  Mine is a surly young man in a vehicle about the size of a smart car.  The transmission and exhaust system have done their duty and are trying to retire gracefully. He arrives sometime before dawn, because he obviously can’t see where to drop the paper. So he’ll leave it conveniently in the middle of the roadway I share with the neighbors in our condo complex, where they’ll be sure to drive over it. Continue reading “The Paperboy”

Checked my Powerball ticket this morning before posting this.  I had one number – that’s just under the threshold of winning anything.  Even two dollars would be a moment of delight. Almost a year ago, I informed my faithful readers that I felt really, really close to a big windfall.  Several possibilities loomed large.  Hourly updates were coming in from Publishers Clearing House – in fact a number from the president himself, who I presume doesn’t send to just anybody.  Last Friday was the day my big check should have arrived, but didn’t.  Once again, I practiced my happy smile (which almost inordinately stretched some muscles) and a passable squeal of delight, which they tell me looks good on camera.  Those that quietly acknowledge their winnings are not ratings makers.  This is a major disappointment as I’m now sneaking my purchases, which should not “increase my chances of winning”, surreptitiously into the house under veil of darkness.  I know what you’re thinking, but those big, bold, “YOU HAVEN’T ORDERED ANYTHING – YOU SCHMUCK.  HOW ARE WE SUPPOSED TO STAY IN BUSINESS AT THIS RATE?” announcements come across my computer screen ominously.  I feel badly – the person putting balloons all over the website might not get paid this month. How am I supposed to believe that they’re going to deposit a bundle in my bank account every week if I haven’t bought the floral canister set or the new miracle lug wrench that practically changes the tire itself?  It’s all a big mystery that they haven’t come because I know they have a map to my house.  It pops up on each announcement, surrounded by the entire PCH staff clutching fistfuls of cash.  I’ve even written to them offering to shoot the bat-signal into the sky on the morning of delivery.  Nothing. Continue reading “The Big Win – An Update”