Thursday, February 09, 2017

Something Doesn't Feel Right

In the past few weeks, I've mistakenly worn my underwear inside out two times. I feel like I should be embarrassed about this, yet I've simply accepted it as the next phase of my life.

Both times, I realized this at the end of the day while getting ready for bed. And both times I shared this fact with my daughter...who mocked me, both relentlessly and justifiably.

Yesterday was a first, however, when I realized at the end of the day that my underwear was not inside out (yay, me!) Rather, I had put it on backwards and worn it that way for the entire day.

A simple mistake, right?

Except that it was a thong.


I Need A Stiff One

In my daughter's 11 years, she has (unfortunately) learned to cope with death.

We've lost beloved family members, friends, neighbors, and pets.

And it breaks my heart.

For the loss of life, of course, and also because she loses a little more of her innocence as she realizes that nothing is guaranteed and that life is not always fair.

I was discussing this with a friend, who relayed a story about her pet cat, Alice, who died when her son was young. She learned about the pet's passing when her son came upstairs from the basement with the cat in his arms and said, "Mommy, I think there's something  wrong with Alice."

And in fact, there was -- the cat was in full rigor mortis.

Perhaps they stay innocent a little longer than we realize,
Brutalism

I Also Hear Tito Has A Nice Vodka

Recently, I was editing a document at work.

The writer had described something as "being germaine [sic]" to some of the findings on our program.

I'm still trying to determine how a founding member of the Jackson 5 is relevant to our government contract.

A B C is not as easy as 1, 2, 3,
Brutalism

Tuesday, February 07, 2017

Qu'est-ce que c'est?

A while back, I was in my home office watching a TED talk by Sally Kohn where she described herself as a "talking head."

My daughter, who was on the other side of the desk and could not see the screen, ran over to my side of the desk and asked incredulously, "She's a head?"

Knowing my daughter's thought process (and having a sad flashback to the mini/Minnie hot dogs debacle at Disney World when she was younger), I patiently explained that a talking head is someone who expresses their opinion on television, not someone who is actually a disembodied head.

Crestfallen, she shrugged and said, "well, that's a letdown" and returned to her side of the desk.

Although frankly, that's a TED talk I would like to see.