I heard that an actor who had a part on a well-known TV show was moving into the neighborhood. I was curious. It was close enough that I could actually see the move-in but as it turned out it was the day the man I knew killed himself so I no longer cared or paid any attention. I had other problems to deal with as well last year and trying to get the scoop on a neighbor-on-TV was a low priority.
Time passed. He instead became “the guy who habitually runs stop signs.”
I don’t think it’s so bad to be “stuck in your ways” if those ways are pleasurable, inoffensive, harmless, and so on. However, that is not usually the case.
Maybe I go to Dollar Tree too much a lot.
I was in a Ross Dress store this week when a random woman in the kitchen gadgets aisle said that she was looking for plastic fruit and thought she’d seen it previously in Ross. Well, I didn’t know about any plastic fruit in Ross but I could tell her Dollar Tree had plastic fruit like limes and lemons. Not only could I tell her that Dollar Tree had them but I knew what aisle she could find them in (the one with the bags of rocks for sale).
For the record I have never purchased the plastic fruit at Dollar Tree. I merely admire them.
Without any particular probing on my part, the first time we talked he revealed a lot of personal things about himself, more than you’d normally expect, the sort of things you’d tell if you were building trust and confidence with a new acquaintance. Yet he didn’t seem interested in talking again.
When that happens I think either a) the person is rather forthcoming with lots of people (so there’s nothing special about it) or b) they feel they have over shared and need to back away. In any case what I know for sure is I let it go, I don’t pursue it. It wasn’t always that way but I learned.
I look at what other people wear, men and women alike. There’s an older woman I don’t know but saw occasionally. She was spirited and in great shape but I thought to myself that she dressed “too young” for her age. Then I learned her actual age. It was decidedly older than I’d have guessed, one that by the books is undeniably senior citizen territory. My judgment evaporated. If she looks like that at that age, I thought, she has earned the right to wear pink tutus and Hello Kitty barrettes or purple glitter nail polish and beanies with spinner propellers if that’s what she wants to do.
Most of the time I cook healthy meals for myself. On those sporadic occasions I’m tired or otherwise uninspired I have a quick, alternative go-to dinner: a big bowl of stove-popped popcorn, accompanied by a side bowl of cooked frozen okra with a dash of olive oil and a little coarse sea salt. Right there I’ve got my carbs, whole grain, a vegetable, and healthy fat plus if I’m feeling frisky I add shredded cheese to the popcorn and bam – there’s protein and dairy. Now, if I end this repast with a piece of fruit like an apple, I’m pretty much covered.
She’s a get-over girl who taught her son to be a get-over boy. She knows how to spin, my god, can she spin. Her talent is convincing people that things are not as bad as they seem and that there’s an alternative way to look at them (one that suits her purposes). It buys her time, it gets people off her back. She’s done it so long it’s like a second language, maybe even a first. He’s watched and learned. He can throw a few phrases around but it all starts to fall apart after that. Because unlike her, he doesn’t see, or more importantly care, how things look to other people, and why one might need to commit to convincing them things are not as crappy as they appear. Her way, sadly, works in the world. His does not.
