Normally I don’t notice things like this. But winter, even after you’ve had five dozen of them and more, is full of surprises.
Archive for Ventually
Implausible as it may seem, once in a while the pessimist is wrong. And no one is more surprised by this phenomenon than I am.
The following program is brought to you by Vera, Chuck and Dave. Or maybe not. It might be too soon to tell.
Just to let you know, this has nothing whatever to do with earthquakes.
The weird thing about it is, I don’t think it happened while I was sleeping.
And certainly the dialogue — my half of the dialogue, anyway — rings true.
With all the attention being focused on sexual harassment committed by show-biz types, we’re not hearing so much about Congressmen In Trouble these days. There is, of course, a good reason for that.
Alphabet, you may remember, owns Google, and Google, at least as far as Google is concerned, owns all of us who own a Web site. I may have to obey, but I don’t have to like it.
Oh, yeah? Give me one good reason why I should upgrade to some Newer Products and Services.
There are kids who get on the bus to go to school, and then get on the bus to come back home.
She set her computer on her lap and crossed her legs. For a moment I wondered how she was going to type like that.
“So how do you feel right this minute?” she asked.
Couples tend to be about the same age. Sometimes one is much older than the other; sometimes this is okay, sometimes it isn’t. I’m not entirely sure I understand the fine points of the situation.
You remember Dr Crusher, don’t you? Once upon a time, she found herself alone on the Enterprise, while the universe seemed literally to shrink around her. (If you’re keeping score, and of course you are, this was “Remember Me,” season 4. episode 5, of Star Trek: The Next Generation.)
While my own perhaps-stupidly-expensive car sits in the shop, I’ve been tooling about in a newer perhaps-stupidly-expensive car. And it’s not easy making the adjustment, either.
Uncle Buddy, bless his pea-pickin’ heart, used to say that at least ten months out of the year. And by rights, this ought to be my favorite season of the year. It isn’t, and I don’t know why.
With not much else going on at the moment, I’m offering different, if not necessarily fresh, takes on some recent occurrences, since I don’t have much to say about either Joe Arpaio or Hurricane Harvey. It’s not like I’ve never done this before.
Actually, this particular rhythm has been building in the streets since the 1960s, though not everyone heard the call. Still, if you can’t forget the Motor City, there’s a very good reason why.
Now that I have my own vehicle back, I’m trying to make the adjustments I need to make to avoid running into another wall. Not sure how well this will work, but I should probably consider myself fortunate for figuring some of this stuff out.
In which I press my luck by announcing that for the moment, the worst of my ongoing insomnia seems to have subsided a bit, though I still need all the help I can get.
It’s okay to be scared if you’re three, or if you’re six. If you’re sixty-three, perhaps not so much.
Almost anyone else I know, faced with a totaled automobile, will start shopping for a new one.
One year after “ambulatory” was stricken from my vocabulary, I mourn for a moment; and then I contemplate the fate of someone far worse off than I am.
Californians will not be getting single-payer health care this year. Some of them are quite upset about that.
He would have been 90 this month, which seems incredible to me. Then again, I never imagined being as old as I am now. And I suspect sometimes that maybe his job isn’t finished so long as I’m still around.
What do you do when you’re approaching a busy intersection and suddenly the lower half of your body seems to be disconnected from the upper?
This is not a question I’d been spending much time on, until suddenly I had to.
Sounds simple enough, doesn’t it? It isn’t. And had I my druthers, it never will be.
Exactly one factor keeps this from being a proper nightmare: the fact that it began in broad daylight.
Please note that this unhappy experience was experienced without benefit of Ambien.
There’s nothing at all — well, hardly anything — wrong with Twitter than a nominal service charge can’t fix. (Hint: Think thousands of anonymous bots.)
Of all the girls I’ve ever seen, she was the only one I occasionally couldn’t see.
Or something like that. This far along, it’s hard to be sure.
You just saw me waxing semi-lyrical about a woman about my age who is forever out of my reach. The age varies from week to week; the reach does not. What’s going through my head at those times? Damned if I know.
I never was one for calculating, or guesstimating, quality-of-life indices. I concede that my own is on the downside of late; however, this does not excuse me from the labors of the day.