Hate conjures up too many images of ugliness and brutality. But I hate pop-up advertisements that not only assault my senses but freeze my lap top.
Here I am, minding my own business trying to get on with my morning of Internet surfing when Walmart splashes a huge back to school ad across my computer screen. Where it came from is a great question. After some investigation I noticed a small itty bitty square with hover here written in font a magnifying glass and a microscope wouldn't see.
I guess from now on I'll need to be more careful where I wave my cursor.
I was raised by an African-American woman named Viola.
Viola is more than a few blogs worth of story and has appeared in here a time or two. She lived with us for years. She would stay months then take a so called vacation. She would leave and always return refreshed. Where she went and what she did was always a mystery. During these breaks she would disappear for weeks on end with no communication. Occasionally my Grandma Sophie would come to watch over me.
When my grandmother came to visit she would give me certain tasks. If she had letters of correspondence it was my responsibility to inform her of the contents. She didn't read English so I was at liberty to make things up. An innocent letter from her sister-in-law Ida could suddenly turn into a dramatic event.
"We are so happy I entered the Helps You Sleep Sanka Contest I won a new perk-o-later and a washing machine. Henry sends his love and is anxiously looking forward to his release date."
I also took dictation and wrote her letters in the tense and tone of her speech. "My health is good tanks GOD. How's by you?"
I never had to cut her toenails (TANKS GOD) that was the job of her oldest son Harry but I did thread her needles. I wore glasses at a young age but even so I was a terrific needle threader.
Sophie would push her glasses on her forehead and hold the needle so close to her eye I expected her to puncture it. After inspecting the needles she would selected thread colors, gave me length instructions and I would loop the thin material through the eye and secure them for her future use.
I was 8 or maybe 10-years-old.
I wondered why she couldn't do this herself. Then I really thought about it and came to a very simple conclusion. She is old and her eyesight isn't very good. Tanks GOD I didn't realize then that eventually something similar would happen to me.
I do what I can to make life easier. I have a special can opener an ergonomic melon baller and a sure grip for new mayonnaise containers. I always get easy opening medicine viles. I keep my Kindle font at seven. I have bifocals and computer glasses and a Folding Helping Hand Long-Reach Pick-Up Gripper.
Now I have a big fucking problem with string cheese.
I don't understand why I even care about string cheese.
One piece is just 28 grams, less than an official ounce. It would be great to have an ounce of gold but this is cheese. Although just 80 calories string cheese has 3.5g of saturated fat and 210mg of sodium.
And look at the packaging.
I admit I haven't done an exhaustive study of string cheese packaging but the majority I've seen is all individually wrapped. So we have packages in a package. String cheese is a snack food designed to pop in a lunch bag or eat at a desk.
Who doesn't enjoy a little Sodium Citrate, Sodium Phosphate, Calcium Phosphate, Lactic Acid, Sorbic Acid, Sodium Alginate, Apocarotenal, Annatto, Cheese Culture and a lot of Enzymes for their afternoon nibble?
Even with the uncertain healthy aspects of eating string cheese and its excess carbon footprint I would probably continue to eat it, if I could get the damn stuff exposed.
I can see it now. Some day, if I'm not eating through a tube, I'll call one of my grandchildren to come over to open my sardine cans (sardines I've recently discovered are less expensive than all but the lowest quality cat food) and unwrap the string cheese.
I know I've been guilty of bitching about these two in the past. SockMonkey and his friend BFF have formed an attachment to Wanda and are no longer content to sit around the house. It's not so much BFF but the monkey pouts whines and gets surly when left out of vacations and family gatherings. And where Sock goes BFF follows.
Last weekend we went to a party at Older Daughter Jennifer and Son-in-Law Eric's and of course the animals tagged along.
Wanda said some people were looking at us as if we were nuts but I don't care. In this day and age with many blended families no one should think having these two with us is strange.
I'm not really keen on gambling but SockMonkey turned out to be a very good pool player. He made enough to cover travel expenses for the foreseeable future.
We can use the extra money.
No comments:
Post a Comment