More of My Meandering Mind

Oprah, stop talking about eating that damn bread.  I’m on Weight Watchers, too, and you’re making me hungry!

No matter which button I press on the refrigerator, I always get crushed ice – unless those are supposed to be mini-cubes.

I don’t know why I bother to watch the Food Network.  It is filled with things I either can’t or won’t eat and that I would never be able to cook anyway.

I don’t mind meal prep and cooking, but clean-up?  I’m sick of it.  I know I can use paper plates, but I really need disposable pots and pans.

If Facebook eliminated posts showing cute animals and babies, or stopped people from political rants, there wouldn’t be much left.  That would be fine with me.

What is “same difference” supposed to mean?  Things are either the same or they are different.  And “I could care less” must mean you actually DO care, since you could lower the care level.  Strange language, this English.

Why do people just assume that you are interested in whatever they are interested in?  And why do people assume you know what they are talking about?  She says: “You know, my brother's job in the circus…”  Me, thinking to myself:  “She has a brother?”  “What circus?”  I once had an entire conversation with someone about paint, a subject about which my entire knowledge includes a roller or a brush.  I try never to assume anything, including the fact that someone I seldom see or only met once even knows my name.

Can someone explain why the local Spanish Restaurant, named “Spain 92” (I get that it is a Spanish restaurant, but I’m not sure of the 92 part; it must be the year it started) is featuring an “Irish Fiesta?” I’m so confused.

There is a local restaurant that has been out of business for about two years.  Yet the sign on the marquee says, “Thanks for your support.”  Is that supposed to be sarcastic?  Because if enough people supported the business, wouldn’t the restaurant still be open?  Just wondering.

I still use the word “Yikes.”  Is it just me?

You know you are sick when you stick a thermometer in your mouth to take your temperature and it feels refreshingly cool.

Why do they make the blister packs with pills so hard to open (I know, I know, TYLENOL poisonings and all that)?  Seriously, I need a hacksaw to pop some pills.  And when you feel as sick as I did recently, everything is too tough to handle. 

Sometimes I think of stop signs as just suggestions.  I doubt that explanation would fly with a cop.

I really don’t understand why UFC fighting is considered a sport.  Isn’t it just two people beating the crap out of each other?  Why is that a sport?  And why (money aside) would anyone want to do this?

This getting old is not easy.  I’ll be walking along and suddenly, for no apparent reason, my ankle will start to hurt.  Or I get out of bed in the morning and some random body part hurts for no specific reason.  That’s when I reach for the Motrin and think that getting old is a bitch.

My fingers have been so dry and cracked this winter that if I got arrested, I doubt that the authorities would be able to get a good fingerprint.

I find it ironic that when people drive to the gym, they fight to park as close as possible to the entrance.  Isn’t the whole point of going to get exercise?  So walk a little more!

There is an ice cream stand on Hamilton Street in Somerset that I passed every day on my way to work for years when I first lived in town.  To me, winter officially began when the windows would be boarded up, and the harbinger of spring was always when the place opened up again. So I was horrified when I drove past it recently and saw a large “For Sale” sign in front.  Now the place is open, but will it stay that way?  How will I define the seasons if it goes out of business?  Such problems!

Have you ever had a manicure and while your nails are being polished, you already know you hate the color you picked?  But then you feel badly saying something.  A friend of mine once left the salon, drove down the street, entered another salon and asked for just a “color change.”  I didn’t really like the color I selected the last time (that’s the bad news), but it was probably the worst manicure I have ever had, because it was chipped by the next day (the good news?) and less than a week later, I’m taking what little remains off my hands – so to speak. 

Oreo cookies now come in mega stuff, double stuff, thin, minis, vanilla, chocolate, mint, peanut butter, lemon, red velvet and even root beer (I hear).  These are NOT my mother's Oreos.  My mother wrote to Nabisco to suggest using a box instead of the old cellophane wrapper and she always took credit for the idea when Oreos showed up in a box.  I wonder what she would think of today's wide variety.

I have lived in this house for 6 months now and I still turn the wrong way when I reach for the light switches when entering a room. 

I’m going to end this month’s edition on a serious note.  Recently I lost a very dear friend, John Graf, who was a well-known character and friend to so many people in this area.  John’s death was sudden and unexpected, which makes his loss even harder to accept.  A former President of both the United Way of Somerset County and of the Cagers Club (the fan club for Rutgers Women’s Basketball), John was a loyal and enthusiastic basketball fan who attended home and away games.  He recruited me to join the Cagers Club, and I relished becoming part of that special family.  Our trip around the country in 2014 for the Women’s National Invitational Tournament – won by Rutgers – was a great experience.  John was also a gifted singer who often performed the National Anthem before Rutgers games, and I remember him performing at Madison Square Garden at a New York Liberty game.  He had legions of friends in politics, philanthropy (where he raised enormous amounts of money for countless charities) and within the local theater community.  As a non-denominational minister, he performed thousands of weddings, baptisms and funerals.  He was there at so many significant moments for the people he loved and he made such a difference in their lives.  Now he is cheering from the best seats in the house.  I picture my late friend and fellow fan Rose spotting John entering the pearly gates and saying to him, “What are YOU doing here?”  He is gone way too soon, and the RAC in particular and life in general will be an emptier place without him.  Goodbye, my friend.