I don’t play Wordle, the new game that has gained enough popularity that it was just purchased by The New York Times, but I sure see that my friends do. Honestly, I don’t care about your Wordle score, so do you have to post it every day? I hope the originator runs out of 5-letter words!
I realized on February 2 that this month has a 2/2/22 and also a 2/22/22. Maybe I should play the lottery with those numbers – not that I know how to play the lottery!
I have been watching the sumptuous “The Gilded Age” on TV and I’m here to say that bustles do no one any favors. The hats, however, are superb.
Just wondering: Does anyone ever actually put gloves in the glove compartment of their car?
The Super Bowl, the one day all year when everybody uses Roman numerals.
It’s not so much the cooking I mind, it’s the clean-up. On second thought, I mind the cooking, too.
Of all the knives I have in my kitchen – some expensive and many professionally sharpened – my go-to knife is one I bought from a TV infomercial decades ago. It is serrated, never needs sharpening, and has dissected many a bagel in its time. It was worth the sleepless night that led me to watch the infomercial in the first place.
Hotdogs are the only food I prefer well done. My mother always overcooked everything and once even burned the soup – which she denied, saying that you can’t burn soup (I beg to differ). When she would overcook or burn dinner, her standard reply was, “Everybody eats it like that.” And if I went further in my objection, she would say, “Maybe your next mother will be better.” I miss those clever retorts!
I wish you could have seen me yesterday. I had such a good hair day. Too bad no one got to witness it but me!
I threw caution and Lipitor to the wind this week when I ate a grapefruit. Because I’m on Lipitor for my cholesterol, I’m supposed to avoid eating grapefruit because of an interaction with the drug, but once a year I indulge myself. The young folks might call this YOLO – You Only Live Once – but young folks don’t care about grapefruit and probably aren’t taking Lipitor.
Snow days seemed like such a gift when I was growing up. My sister and I would huddle around the radio, waiting for Jack Ellery on WCTC to announce the name of our school in the list of school closings: Sayreville, Somerville! South Amboy! We would hear the town fire whistle blow at exactly 7 AM (or was it 7:30?), letting us know that school was closed for the day (it was a small town with a really LOUD fire whistle). Back then, it had to be a REAL snowstorm, not some mamby-pamby little dusting that makes schools declare closings the night before, only to have virtually no snow, or at least none worth closing school. Those were the days, my friends.
I truly don’t understand the issue with children consuming Tide Pods. I can’t even get the package open, and, when I do, I can’t get it closed. Just store them up high, folks, where even I can’t reach them.
And speaking of packaging, is it just me or are things getting harder to open? I’m not talking about the blister packs that protect batteries from God-knows-what and practically require the jaws of life to pry apart. Even the package of my Panera brand chicken dish required me to stab it with a knife like a murderer just to pop it into the microwave. I know we all have problems opening those flimsy produce bags in the supermarket, but I am talking about packaging that we find on so many everyday things that could survive a nuclear holocaust. Remember how exhausting it was to unwrap a CD? Things have only gotten worse. I used three utensils, including a screwdriver, to try to pry the top off of my fruit salad container. In five more minutes, I was going to call for the jaws of life.
I keep seeing Sonic ads for patty melts. Aren’t these nothing more than a cheeseburger on toasted bread instead of a bun, or a grilled cheese with a hamburger?
Anyone who is an expert in technology should be called a techspert. I guess that means if you are really good at sex, you should be called a sexpert.
It is impossible to wear a sweater with long, flared sleeves and not get it wet – unless you don’t wash your hands all day. Yuck!
Remember when you couldn’t use deodorant after you shaved your underarms because it would sting too much? Remember shaving your underarms? Now I have to remember NOT to wear deodorant on the day I go for a mammogram. I literally HIDE the deodorant so I don’t inadvertently use it.
I know we all have a million decisions to make, some lifechanging and others as simple as choosing a color in the nail salon. But that is not a simple decision. I know this choice shouldn’t seem so hard, but there are a zillion colors. There’s the actual color – which could look vastly different in the salon vs. outside in the natural light – and then the option of colors that sparkle and shine or having “nail art” done on your finger, and whether your fingers should match your toes if you’re also getting a pedicure. A friend of mine told me about one occasion where she had her nails done and drove down the street to a different salon to have the polish removed and just have a “color change,” not a full manicure. (She was too embarrassed to ask the original salon to do it.) All of this just proves my motto: “Nothing is easy.”
What is the proper etiquette for sneezing these days? I’m still wearing a mask everywhere I go, and if I am with other people and have to sneeze, I feel like a criminal. Plus, sneezing with the mask on is really unpleasant. Should I remove it and sneeze into my elbow? Or keep it on and have to contend with a wet mask?
I’m ending this month on a serious note, saluting my old friend Sally Lapelosa, who passed away at age 89 on January 31. I knew of Sally from J&J, where she was one of the few women in charge of anything when she ran administrative services. She had a reputation as a tough but fair lady, and one who got the job done right. Legions of people who started in the mailroom worked under Sally and could tell you she was a formidable force. I got to be friends with her via Rutgers Women’s Basketball, where she was a long-time season ticket holder and ardent fan. When she spotted me alone at a tournament, surrounded by UConn fans and in hostile territory, she made me switch my seat and come and sit with the official fan club, the Cagers Club, an army of scarlet-clad adults who followed the team. Sally, our late friend Rose and I often hit the road together, going to Georgetown or Villanova, to Oklahoma, Puerto Rico, St. Thomas and El Paso. Sally was with me when Rutgers won the WNIT Championship in 2014, and she was sitting so close to the team she might have been mistaken for a coach. She knew enough about basketball to be one. She stopped traveling in recent years, but we stayed in touch, met for lunch at Fresco’s in East Brunswick, near her home, and often talked on the phone about basketball, business and life. It will take me a while to get adjusted to not picking up the phone to discuss the team’s latest game or a news story about J&J. Sally, it was a great ride, and now you are with a special team watching over the Rutgers Scarlet Knights from the best seat in the house. I miss my friend.
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