Last night one of those “Piracy is NOT a victimless crime!” notices popped up before the start of a (legally purchased) movie I was about to watch with L’s Mother.
“Not if you do it right!” I observed.
Laughing, she replied, “That’s awful!”
“Hey!” I protested. “Even if you’re the most gentle and genteel pirate on the seas, by definition, somebody is getting robbed!”
While I deeply appreciate the convenience of online grocery ordering and delivery, sometimes their “would you like to add something to your order to treat yourself” algorithm suffers from the fact that L’s mother and I place very different orders.
And that’s how I ended up with a treat suggestion of “coconut water” with my order of two kinds of tea cakes, one cake, one ice cream, one pizza, and one order of mac and cheese.
This morning L’s Mother greeted me with a cheery, “Good morning!” before noticing the mug in my hand, the mug I only use with the coffee maker.
“Oh,” she said. “That’s not your ‘good morning’ mug!”
While it’s okay advice to “grab with both hands what life gives you,” as a caveat, if what life is giving you is straight out of the oven, put on oven mitts first.
I remain perpetually astonished by some people’s dedication to leading their country, even our very world, boldly into the nineteenth century.
To follow-up on what I said yesterday, to be fair to those who said they loved me, but their actions didn’t match their words, I don’t believe they were trying to manipulate me. It’s just no matter what they said with their words, their actions said things like, “I’m ready to move on, but I’m not ready to admit that even to myself quite yet.”
It’s absolutely true that I prefer to express love via deeds so that when I do say, “I love you,” my words match my actions.
I do this with the fanactism of someone who spent too many years hearing “I love you” from people whose actions were saying something vastly different.
Yesterday I had to call an office to “confirm” something before it could be processed, so I called and asked how I needed to confirm that I wanted this to happen.
I was told I just had.
So . . . essentially, this “confirmation” process required nothing more than someone pretending to me over the phone to say, “Do it.”
Sometimes you can do everything right and still lose.
My grandfather used to say (for real, this time) that he’d “take that car to California” to express his faith in the reliability of a vehicle. (And given that the distance involved from where he lived was around 1500 miles, this was no small expression of confidence.)
I still say this for the same reason.
Candles & Curses 