Posted tagged ‘plague’

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“Last, but not least, avoid cliches like the plague.”

May 5, 2017

The morning sky is dark and the air is chilly. Rain’s coming, heavy rain. It should be here by early afternoon. I have to go out, but I hope to get home before the rain starts. Given the ominous sky, I’m not optimistic.

I’m watching The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms. The beast is a prehistoric creature awakened by an atomic blast at the North Pole. The film was made in 1953. One line made me chuckle. The radio news reported about a ship sunk by what one survivor described as a giant monster. The radio announcer wanted to know what the guy had been smoking. I’d like to know what the token female scientist was smoking when she went clothes shopping. Her wardrobe is ugly from the hat down. In one scene, people start running. A couple of guys by the river had seen the monster, and they were the first runners. Most of the people running have no idea why. They even knock a blind guy down. A policeman foolishly tried to shoot down the creature with his handgun. He got eaten for his efforts. A woman screamed.

Of late, my world has been small. I’ve mostly stayed home with Gracie. I don’t mind. The house is cozy and warm. I have movies to watch, books to read and plenty of crackers and cheese. The only chore left is that blasted laundry.

I have a pair of black and white saddle shoes. I bought them to go with a 50’s costume which included a poodle skirt. When I was in high school, I wore saddle shoes, lots of us did. Now I’m thinking maybe I ought to wear them again. Maybe I’ll be a trend setter. Now that is funny.

I was always a horrible bowler. Here we play candlepin with the small bowling balls, three to a frame. My mother belonged to a bowling league. The alley where she played is now a shoe store. Every Saturday she and my dad watched Bowling for Dollars. I would have needed to be tied and gagged before I’d watch bowling on TV or anywhere for that matter.

I’m not sure which plague it is, but I am in the midst of one. Moths are all over the house.  I kill them on walls and catch them with my hand. Maddie does her bit but they are quicker than she. The last few cold nights have helped as the moths are logy and easy to grab even in the air. There seem to be fewer. It may be the end.

Categories: Musings
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“If there is no God, who pops up the next Kleenex?”

October 20, 2015

The mystery has been solved. My wheezing sounds like Dr. Who’s TARDIS when it lands. Tomorrow will be the one week anniversary of my having caught the plague. I’m thinking maybe cake. I’m prone to chocolate with a nice ganache filling and frosting.

The worst part of being sick is not seeing people. I called three this morning just to have a bit of human interaction but none of them were home. Poor Gracie had to fill in. I swear she was listening with her head cocked while trying to understand my conversation. She, of course, never replied. It is an exciting day for her with activity outside each door. In the front she gets to watch the roofers across the street and in the back she gets to watch my neighbor put up a concrete wall. I’m getting desperate enough that I might just watch the roofers. I’ll pop some corn, pull up a chair and enjoy the show.

Today is supposed to be in the 60’s. I may venture on to the deck just for some fresh air. I get the papers every morning and that’s about it for the world outside my windows.

Being kids and being sick were easy. Nothing slowed us down. Runny noses and coughs didn’t keep us from playing outside after school, but I do remember how gross those runny noses were on little kids. It was as if Kleenex had never been invented. Sleeves were the substitute. I remember being with my mother and needing a Kleenex. She always had a couple in her pocketbook and would rummage through it to find them. Usually they were at the bottom and crumbled. Some had lipstick stains and loose tobacco stuck to them. I didn’t care. I had grown beyond my sleeves so I took the Kleenex lipstick and all. She never wanted it back so I’d stick it in my pocket and generally forget about it.

I keep Kleenex with me in one of those little packages. The one I have now was in my Christmas stocking and has snowmen decorations. It’s crumbled and at the bottom.

Categories: Musings
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“Tomatoes and oregano make it Italian; wine and tarragon make it French. Sour cream makes it Russian; lemon and cinnamon make it Greek. Soy sauce makes it Chinese; garlic makes it good.”

October 19, 2015

Today is cold, in the mid 40’s. The sun is back to playing peek-a-boo. Outside isn’t all that inviting so I guess I’ll hunker down for another day or two. I’m not completely rid of the plague as I still have a voice better suited for an obscene phone call than a regular conversation. My cough didn’t wake me up last night, but it is still hanging in there. My friend is bringing me bread, cookies and a lemon donut from Dunkin’ Donuts. I’m a happy woman, albeit sick but still happy.

When I was a kid, I don’t remember missing much school. I don’t think I was really sick enough all that often. A cold was nothing. It meant bundling a bit better with a new layer or two. We walked to school on even the coldest days. I remember my cheeks turned red and raw from the wind. We’d walk backwards away from the wind when it was the strongest and the coldest. School was a refuge where we could defrost and de-layer. I don’t think we really ever complained much. That was just the way it was. We all walked to school back then despite the weather.

I used to like soup on a cold day. My mother would fill the thermos from my lunch box, add some saltines, and maybe a half of a sandwich and some dessert. Usually it was tomato soup because I could drink it instead of needing a spoon. Bologna was the most popular meat for sandwiches. We always had tuna fish on Fridays when we couldn’t eat meat. My mother added mayonnaise, chopped celery and lettuce so the tuna fish wasn’t half bad. It was always on white bread. We never had any other kind of bread. I think I was a teenager before I found out bread came in many colors and flavors.

Back when we were kids our dinners were meat, potatoes, usually mashed, and a vegetable. We had bland palates. We were seldom introduced to any foreign foods though we did count spaghetti as Italian. My friends and I now eat all sorts of foods from a variety of countries. I know it was Ghana which first introduced me to really foreign foods like African, Indian and Middle Eastern. They opened the flood gates. Now I’m willing to try almost anything though I balk at insects, household pets and rodents.

Categories: Musings
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