I see London, I see France

I know, it's a little confusing. We are in the process of the cruise both in London and France but I am writing about underwear. With the ballgames on this week end I only have half a brain. The cruise log blog will continue on Monday. I hope you will stick around.

I see London, I see France, I see someones underpants.

Remember that little ditty from your childhood?

Yesterday Wanda and I were at one of our local grocery stores doing a little grocery shopping. We turned into a new isle and she said, "look at that." I am sorry I did since the image is now permanently burned on my retina, both my retina (or, is it retinas?). When did it become fashionable to leave the house in a pair of pajama pants? I realize 9:00AM may be early for some folks but please, wear a pair of pants. If you just can't muster the energy to slip a pair of pants on, then please, put on a pair of underpants.

Honestly, one of the last things I want to see is someones ass crack. This was a young women who was wearing pj's with the waist down around her hips. Maybe she needed someplace to keep her pen? I don't mean to insult workmen but you know what I mean, she looked like a plumber.

This is Bill Zabins hat. Maybe fifteen years ago I was visiting my Aunt Lee, in Detroit. A number of cousins were there over the week end (most of them happen to be pictured in one the the early blog entries). My cousin Neal was loading his trunk when I spotted this hat.. Turns out he had been helping clean out the house of a man who recently passed away, Bill.

I pictured this hat on the head of a little old Jewish man who wore it to Friday night service. I asked Neal if I could have the hat thinking it would be a nice remembrance of Bill. I never met the man but I did like his hat.

Over the years I wear the hat from time to time. I always mention Bill when I put the hat on my head. Yesterday when we were getting ready to leave for the store I grabbed the hat off the closet shelf.

On the way back from Starbucks I noticed something on the floor of the car. I bent over, picked it up, saw it was a piece of micro fiber cloth and said, "Oh, I thought this was a schemata." A SCHEMATA? In case you don't know, this is a Yiddish word for rag. I bet I haven't said, or thought of this word in twenty years.

It was the hat. I have no doubt this was Bill's hat talking. I'm thinking the next time we go out to dinner I'm going to wear Bill's hat. If it can talk for me, it can pick up the dinner check.

I'm watching the early game and heard the announcer use the word, "factoid." Is factoid a real word? What about using the expression, "a buck twenty-five" when describing time left in a game. Is it that difficult to say one minute and twenty-five seconds?

I admit I am one terrible speller. I never made it past the first round in any of the grade school spelling bee's. I am consistently asking Wanda how words are spelled correctly. When we play Scrabble I am allowed to use the dictionary. I have been using one spell check or other since my first word processor in 1990. I may stink spelling words but I am one heck of a textter......is that a word? Text messaging, the new math of the written word.

When watching the movie "West Side Story" about Natalie Wood, she said, "She wasn't Hispanic." (guess it should be Puerto Rican) He heard, "She wasn't a ginger snap."