Tergiversate

As some of you may know, tergiversate was the 2011 Word of the Year.  For those who didn't know, it was – at least according to Dictionary.com, anyway.  Not familiar with the word that won the top spot, I had to look it up.  It's a verb.  Ter-JIV-er-sate: to repeatedly change one's attitude or opinions (i.e. flip-flopping).  Given what's going on in the political world today, it seems apropos.  I believe one of the runners-up in this annual word contest was austerity, by the way.  See what I mean?  Apropos. 

 

Politicians are always accused of saying one thing and doing another, changing their positions – flip-flopping, as it were – or, dare I say, tergiversating.  There, I said it.  (You know, I never thought I'd actually use this word.)  Are they really flip-flopping, though? Or, is it more likely that over time their positions naturally change?  If you believe in a candidate and support their views – which may be different from those previously held – then they've evolved; but if you don't, they're spineless flip-floppers with no convictions.  Personally, I tend to support the former half of this statement.

 

Let's look at some issues.  How about Global Warming.  Even the die-hard Global Warming enthusiasts have softened somewhat on this issue – don't they call it Climate Change now?  That aside, when this first came up, you could see the potential merit.  We'd been polluting the land and water, jets have been contaminating the skies and we've been to outer space where we've left behind debris (yes, we've littered on the moon!).  None of this is good – common sense would tell you that.  So you can see how someone could quickly get on board the go-green-and-take-care-of-the-environment train.  And while good stewardship of the planet and recycling materials just makes sense, I still don't totally buy the whole Green initiative.  Take electric cars.  (Chevy Volt anyone?)  As one comedian once said, "Where do you think electricity comes from, jelly beans?"  There's a bigger agenda behind Green Technology.  If this were a crime-themed plot (and I'm not saying it's not), the detectives would be following the money trail.  Maybe we should worry less about those who've changed their position on the severity of this issue and look to see who's actually driving this train.

 

How about this dicey topic. Roe vs. Wade.  (Gasp)  This is a big one, I know. I will tell you when I was younger, I considered myself Pro Choice – which is not to say that I was pro abortion.  I just felt that a woman should have the right to make that decision for herself and the federal government shouldn't have a say.  For me, it was about taking away a right we currently had – it's always hard to take back – and I bought into the brainwashing or… the glossing over of the real issue.  See, when this is discussed, it's often spoken of as a condition.  The condition, of course, is pregnancy.  Should a woman have the right to terminate her present condition, pregnancy?  I don't know how much support this issue would have if the question was, "Should a woman have the right to kill a baby?"  This is the point Pro Lifers have been trying to make for years.  I know this raises all sorts of questions on when is it actually a baby, and I don't have the answer to that; what I do know is that since abortion is legal and, therefore, a viable option to those who find themselves with an unwanted pregnancy (see, condition again – no mention of baby), it's been completely abused.  Do you know that according to Planned Parenthood statistics (parenthood - anyone see the irony here?) they typically abort over 300,000 babies a year?  This figure does not include abortions done at private institutions.  And what's worse (as if it could get any worse) is that the tax-payers (you and me) help pay for it.  Yeah, Planned Parenthood is subsidized with our tax money and that is just wrong.  Why should the federal government be involved in this otherwise personal situation?  The fact of the matter is this program makes it too easy for irresponsible people to have irresponsible sex and act irresponsibly thereafter.  Abortion is not a quick fix.  If it were illegal, would we have women wildly horseback riding and jumping out of trees hoping to induce miscarriages?  Maybe, but the one sure thing is that the number of terminated pregnancies would drop dramatically if abortion wasn't so readily available.  So what's my position now that I'm a little older?  I can't really be Pro Choice anymore since that is, in essence, pro abortion, so I'm Pro Life.  If that makes me a flip-flopper, so be it.

 

On a lighter note, let's look at the issue of spending.  My father always told me to put away some of my paycheck each week into a savings account.  "Make paying yourself the same as paying a creditor," he'd say.  I didn't listen.  Youth, as they say, is wasted on the young.  When you're in your 20s and the money is flowing (or in Congress with a surplus) and there's not only clothes, but shoes to be had, who puts money away for a rainy day?  Back in the 80s no one paid heed to the term fiscal responsibility.  Again, with a little age comes wisdom.  I am not irresponsible with money now.  I do not spend it frivolously.  I live well within my means – in fact, I may actually be living below my means.  I wish I had been more responsible with my money sooner.  What's important, though, is that I am responsible now.  I recognized the error of my ways and made the necessary changes for my future.  Did I cut back on some things?  Yes, of course.  Am I better off today because of it? Absolutely.  Does that mean my attitude regarding spending has changed?  Hey, if the shoe fits…

 

Changes of opinions are not necessarily flip-flops.  Many of them are based on continuing education, maturity and growth.  Years ago, one of my favorite bands began to change their style.  Sometime around Abacab or shortly thereafter, Genesis went down more of a 'pop' path than they had been known for.  When asked about this, Phil Collins said, and I'm paraphrasing here, "As you grow, you don't read the same types of books, do you?  See the same types of movies?  Or even eat the same foods?  So why should we play the same type of music?"  Their change in style saddened me at the time, but he has a point, doesn't he?  Why shouldn't we change our minds, attitudes and opinions on things as we grow?  It's natural.  Think about this, if we didn't, we'd all still be playing with LEGOs and eating Pez.

 

Ever-evolving,

~ M.

 

 

Traditions

I had a sixth grade teacher who once asked our class why we had traditions.  At 11 years of age, I think many of us asked her what she even meant by traditions.  She was talking about holidays, rituals and customs, of course.  Mrs. Dickerson posed that question long ago and here I am, 36 years later, still contemplating it.    

 

I suppose in December it's not surprising to think about Christmas – in terms of holiday traditions that is.  For most of us, there's a routine we typically follow this time of year:  cards are written, we make (and eat) lots of tasty treats, homes get decorated.  We write our lists – and check them twice – ensuring we don't miss a single thing. 

 

I've mentioned before that I'm an organized, list making person and – if I may digress for a moment – as many know, I've long employed the use of Post-It notes to aid me in my organizational strategy (see www.otga.blogspot.com 5-23-10 Craig Wilson).  I rely on those little yellow squares to keep my mind calm and clutter free.  With everything that Christmas entails aside, these past few weeks have been busy ones for me and, as such, I had Post-It notes coming out my ears.  I had mini lists organizing what I needed for: my Dad's birthday party, my sister-in-law's birthday party, my impending house guests, my Thanksgiving contributions, and last, but certainly not least, the snack bag for our upcoming trip to Disney.  I'm already a single woman with two cats; did I really need to be that lady, too?  You know, the one with Post-It notes tacked all over the place?  What would be next, hoarding?  No, I'm not a hoarder.  I'm too neat and tidy to be in jeopardy of that, but the lists… (insert eye roll, add Oy vey).  To gain control over a burgeoning compulsive behavior problem, I pulled them all off the front of my fridge and stacked them in their chronological order of importance and placed them discreetly along side my grocery list.  Okay, disorder averted, back to traditions.

 

I mail Christmas cards out right after Thanksgiving.  In many of the cards I receive back, "Yours was the first one I got this year," is written in as a P.S. For these folks, that kicks off their holidays – "Oh, her card is here, 'tis the season!" 

 

I make peanut brittle each year for a few people who tell me Christmas wouldn't be Christmas without it – and, naturally, that's why I do it.  I'd rather be a contributing part of their experience than one who diminishes it somehow by not having the crunchy confection for them. 

 

And, of course, the biggie – I decorate my house the very same day I put away the autumn decorations.  No better example for the passing of time than to box up what's past and prep for what's coming.  I set up the village and put all the knick-knacks in their designated places. 

 

When my family comes over, it's always my nephew who marvels at all the decorations.  "I turned the lights on in the village," he says with glee.  "They were waiting for you," I say in reply.  Already knowing the answer, he lightheartedly asks, "Are there Nestle Crunch jingle bells in the snowman jar?"  Amused, I just respond with a simple, "Yes."  After all, that's why they're there – I know he's going to ask.  "Oh, I love this guy," he says as he tumbles the small Santa shaker that's enthralled him for years.  Taking it all in, I smile and say, "I know you do." 

 

His joy has become part of my tradition and even when he's older, when he may no longer light the town, or want a chocolate jingle bell (although this isn't likely) or shake the little Santa snow globe, I'll remember his childhood enthusiasm and cherish the memories attached to those things. 

 

Griffin's nearing the age I was when Mrs. Dickerson posed that question: Why do we have traditions?  The answer is too deep for a child to really understand.  We have them because they anchor us to who we are, our past and what's important to us.  It's why nostalgia tugs at our heart strings – traditions are the ties that bind.

 

Merry Christmas,

~ M.   

 

 

The New Dating Game

Have I been out of the dating field so long that they've completely altered the whole arena without me even knowing?  I'm talking about 'style' dates.  Are you familiar with these things, you know, dates with a theme… dates du jour, if you will? 

 

Here's one type:  Prankster dates.  Example:  Pretend to be a couple looking to buy a new car, maybe.  Doesn't that sound like fun - totally yanking the chain of someone else trying to earn a living?  Or why stop there? Why not pretend to be a married couple who needs to put an aging parent in a home?  Together you can tour assisted living facilities and giggle behind the backs of those showing you around.  Oh, what fun!  They say prankster dates do bring out your playful side.  

 

Another one is the 'Best Of' dates.  Examples may include trying to find the best ice cream parlor in town or, say, the best microbrewery.  In these instances, while getting to know not only each other, but a particular town, couples can eat themselves into oblivion or drink themselves into oblivion – the best of both worlds – either way, I think chances are good each will end up vomiting – and, really, what better way to get to know someone than when they're at their worst?

 

Or how about this: Scavenger Hunt dates.  This is apparently the adult version of that childhood classic I Spy with my Little Eye.  Example:  "Would you like to go to the boardwalk and see how many people we can spot wearing hats?"  I don't think I need to add any additional commentary on this one, do you?  Seriously, could you imagine being asked out on a date like this?  I mean if you're already in a relationship and happen to be out taking a walk and decide to throw in something like… like… nope, not even then, forget it.  What would follow a date like this, you know, assuming the relationship progressed?  "Say, honey, how about a road trip?  Let's see which of us can find a license plate from Alaska first."  Unless you're dating a seven-year-old, I'd say this indicates your search for Mr. Right (or Mrs.) is far from over.    

 

I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the Errand Date.  Pretty much self-explanatory, and again, picture you're not in a relationship with this person, you're being asked out on a date.  "Say, if you're not doing anything this weekend, the hull of my boat needs refinishing…"  It's not a euphemism.  The theory behind this one is that tedious chores become fun dates.  Could you imagine?  Think about it, yard work, grocery shopping, house cleaning, ooh, laundry – you know, with this line of thinking the fun is nearly limitless – and why not get to know someone by sorting through their dirty laundry?  This is what seems to interest people nowadays, anyway. 

 

I don't know.  It's probably just me (it usually is), but does anyone ever just do dinner and a movie anymore?  Maybe this sort of date could regain its popularity if it had a trendy name?  What do you think about The Retro Date?  Call me old-fashioned, but I kind of like the sound of that.

 

~ M.

 

 

Creepy-Crawlies

October is the perfect month for Halloween – the days are shorter, the air is crisp and there's a slight howling to the sound of the nighttime wind.  Leaves blow around and trees look dead.  Throw a full moon in there and you have all the makings for a full-on creep fest. 

 

Halloween, as it's become, is a far cry from its Festival of the Dead origins.  I don't believe that spirits rise and wreak havoc on this day, as some do; no, for me, I think of Halloween as a day for kids to dress up in costumes and amass a lot of candy.  Still, with that said – and even though it's just one day – I think all the associated autumn decorations can add a certain degree of spookiness to the entire month of October.  A spookiness that could make someone a little jumpy, maybe… especially if that someone is me – someone who gets creeped out by little things like those fake spider rings that kids like to leave lying around.  And, if I don't care for fake spiders, you can bet I'm not that fond of the real ones.  Now listen, spiders outside – even tarantulas – don't really bother me, but in my house, that's a different story.

 

My blood ran cold and my heart skipped a beat as my breath caught in my throat one night when I came in late and found a spider the size of a plum clinging to my kitchen wall up where it meets the ceiling.  As I stood there, frozen in fear, I couldn't imagine what I was going to do.  My ceilings are 12'-0' high.  I knew I couldn't leave it there.  What if it wandered off?  Where might it go?  Where might it lay eggs?  These are just a few of the things that went through my mind as my heartbeat picked up speed and I began to perspire.  I mulled over my options:  call my brother for help, no; spray with Raid thereby saturating my wall and ceiling, no; could I leave it there, no – definitely not.  I knew what had to be done and I was the one who was going to have to do it.

 

I steeled my resolve and got the necessary supplies – namely, a telescoping duster and what I call my scorpion killer, which is really just a Swiffer sweeper wrapped in paper towel.  (That's a story for a different day.)  The plan was to stand on a stool and using the fully extended duster fling the eight-legged wonder to the floor after which I'd hop down and exterminate this poor in-the-wrong-place-at-the-wrong-time creature with the use of my previously prepared squisher Swiffer. 

 

Here's where my plan went awry.  Standing on the stool, I had to stretch over my hutch to reach this thing and as the duster grazed one or two of the legs, it didn't fling him – as I had hoped – but merely knocked him off his perch.  I nearly fell off my own perch as the spider wafted down the wall and fell behind the hutch.  I quickly grabbed the Swiffer and got on my knees to locate the fallen threat on the floor beneath the hutch.  The problem was he wasn't there.  Oh my. 

 

I was in a full body sweat at this point.  Where did it go?  Placing my cheek to the wall, I strained to look into the ½" space behind the hutch.  Ugh, there he was, clinging to the back of the hutch, hanging on like… like… well, like Spiderman.  Now what was I going to do?  That hutch weighs a ton and it was too close to the wall to get anything behind it.  It's amazing what a little adrenaline can do.  I managed to move it about an inch and half, and still, my adversary held fast.  This was becoming a battle of the wills. 

 

I once again grabbed the extended duster.  I swooshed it along the back of the hutch.  I missed.  I swooshed again.  Success!  He dropped to the floor.  I grabbed the Swiffer and pushed it back and forth under the hutch until the paper towel revealed the tell-tale wet spot of a spider that once was.  With legs loosely strewn about, I had squished him into oblivion.  It was horrible, but I did what I had to do.  Many of our spiders are poisonous and I couldn't just leave it there. 

 

I don't advocate killing

It's certainly not thrilling

But when the fear is bone-chilling

You've got to be willing

 

They'll creep and they'll crawl

And they'll cling to your wall

With eight legs in all

They're not likely to fall

 

Some are tan, some are brown, some are black

All will send chills up your back

You cannot cut any slack

You must give them a whack

 

You simply can't risk being bitten

These are lethal spiders, not kittens

For 'kill or be killed,' it is written

So, adios, Spidey – good riddens

 

 ~ M (the exterminator) 

 

 

Unplug and Get Connected

I subscribe to Real Simple.  For those not familiar with this magazine, it often contains bits of wisdom, useful advice and general suggestions to make your life easier – in fact, that's its tag line: Real Simple ~ life made easier.  It typically features product comparisons, frugal repurposing ideas and organizational strategies, not to mention quick-and-easy dinner recipes – all things designed to help you manage your life.  But one of the other things it has that I enjoy is 'the simple list' – a monthly dose of entertaining trivia tidbits, as it were.

 

In the September issue, the list included this little gem: "53% of 16 to 22-year-olds around the world would rather give up their sense of smell than their favorite personal technology device."  Did you catch that?  53%.  This statistic was derived from research culled by McCann Worldgroup.  Could that really be true?  53%?  That's over half.  Sadly, I guess it is.  Don't these people realize that without a sense of smell, there isn't a sense of taste? 

 

Hey, if I could digress for a moment – and I can – perhaps this could be an answer to the burgeoning obesity problem, you know, if there was actually a way to cut off one's sense of smell… I mean, why eat if you can't taste anything, other than for fuel, of course, and let's face it, people pushing high triple digits aren't eating just for fuel so… I think I could be on to something here.      

 

Anyway, back to my point (yes, I have a point).  People shouldn't be that attached to electronic devices that they'd be willing to compromise a basic bodily function.  I think attached is the key word, and it reminds me of something I read once from The USA Today's Craig Wilson.

 

In one of his columns he talked about sitting on his porch watching people pass by.  All were occupied with one device or another – Bluetooth, iPod, Blackberry – people just strolling along talking, toe-tapping, texting and tweeting, with unseen entities, not engaged in the immediate world around them. He said it was a while before he spotted one "sad sack" walking by with only his own thoughts for amusement.  I can't remember now for sure, but I think he, like me, identified with the sad sack. 

 

I think there's something disengaging about being plugged in all the time.  It's not real living – not really. 

 

I had a conversation recently with a fellow hiker about a similar topic:  Is texting real communication?  My opinion is no.  Our discussion got a little heated as she ardently defended that it was.  She's obviously a big texter – and texting is fine, it certainly has its place – but I held fast to my opinion.   Think about it.  You get a long-awaited promotion, achieve a life-long goal, get engaged, have a baby, whatever the case may be, do you text this news?  Got it! Did it! Gonna do it! Done it!  Maybe it's just me, but that seems a little dry.  Or, how about the flipside, when the news is not so good?  Say you lose your job, or your health, or worse, a loved one.  What do you do then? Send out an email blast?  Got fired.  It's cancer.  They died.  No, I say in these moments, you need to reach out, if not face-to-face, at least voice-to-voice, and connect with another human being.

 

It's like I told my niece, who has hundreds, if not thousands, of Facebook friends, this type of communication is simply not real – and I couldn't resist pointing out that her Facebook friends aren't real either.  She disagreed, of course.  She's only 11, and I didn't want to scare her, but that didn't stop me from pointing out that 'Katey' in Boise was not only not a real friend but could potentially be a 47-year-old deranged man sitting in some basement somewhere.  When she asked why a grown man would pretend to be a young girl I told her to ask her father.  The point I was trying to make was that she doesn't truly know who these people are.  It is not real! 

 

Attention all Facebookers, Ben Johnson once said, "True happiness consists not in the multitude of friends, but in the worth and choice."  I don't know who Ben Johnson is – I got that quote from a daily inspirational calendar – but he seems pretty wise to me.

 

We shouldn't go through life with glazed-over computer eyes, with a residual ringing hum in our ears and cramped fingers.  We should be engaged in living in the real world with real people making true connections – so, turn off the computer, pull out the earbuds and put down the device.  Hey, here's an idea, why not go out and take a walk with friend, and who knows, maybe stop along the way and smell the roses – while you still can!

 

~ M.

 

Hmm? I wonder...

Throughout life you'll often come upon points to ponder.  Sometimes they're profound existential type things and other times it's inconsequential stuff; either way, from time to time, we find ourselves musing, "Hmm, I wonder why…" or, "Hmm, I wonder what…"  Sometimes it's even where – as in, "Hmm, I wonder where I left my keys."  You can always recognize a contemplative soul-searching thought by the way we momentarily freeze while our eyes dart round as if they're looking for the answer in the back of our heads.  Perhaps, though, as we age, the answers aren't to be found there.

 

As Bill Cosby opined years ago, the brain may actually be located in the behind.  The way he told it was something to the effect of you find yourself getting up for something, but then you stop in your tracks because you don't know why you're up or where you were even headed, so you sit back down.  Just as your cheeks hit the seat, you remember.  "Oh, yeah," you proclaim as you jump up again to resume the task at hand.  I don't know if this has ever been scientifically – or anatomically – proven, but I think he may have been on to something.

 

I've often remarked about the effects of aging, and really, all the comments have had to do with what happens to us physically, I've yet to discuss the mental side of things (could be denial).  I'm beginning to think that along with flapping triceps, cleavage wrinkles and muffin tops, a slight decline in mental acuity may be part of the inevitable process of aging.  I shudder to think that, but I think it just the same – and I'm not the only one.  The folks at Shoebox, you know, that tiny little division of Hallmark, they think so too. 

 

A card I purchased recently for a friend's birthday read: "Is this the birthday when you start asking yourself life's big questions?"  The inside message continued, "Like, why did I come into this room?  I knew a minute ago."  My friend and I are both in our… mid-to-upper 40s and we can easily relate to this.  The fact that the card exists is proof to me that we are not alone.  Maybe reaching this point in life – when we experience little mental lapses – is a mid-life rite of passage.  Who knows? 

 

Speaking of age and birthdays, here's something that's plagued me for the past few years now – it actually started in my late 30s.  I'm never quite sure how old I am anymore.  Should I be worried?  I don't think so.  It's not like I think I'm 14, I just always seem to make myself one year older than I actually am.  See, I'm the baby of my peer group, so my friends are always turning the next year older before I do.  One can get conditioned to hearing a particular number, you know.  And the other thing that stumps me is when I try to rely on math to calculate my age.  This never works.  I was born in October so subtracting the year of my birth from the current year doesn't help at all because I won't be that age until the 10^th month.  What this really means for me is that birthdays have become a little anti-climatic.   

 

In a few years I'll be 50 (ooh, I got chills), but I can just see it now.  When I turn 49, I'm going to think it's my 50^th, then I'll spend much of that year thinking I am 50, and when I actually do turn 50 the following year, I'll be thinking, "Wasn't I 50 last year?"  See?  Anti-climatic.  I've digressed.  Shocker?  No?  I know. 

 

To be frank, I'm not so sure I really believe these mental lapses are truly due to an aging brain.  I just think as we get older we have a lot more going on up there.  We're juggling schedules, taking care of homes and family matters, dealing with work responsibilities, fulfilling commitments to organizations, etc… We're processing a lot of data, and as women, we are processing much of it all at once. 

 

So for me, I'll try not to worry if I find myself in a room without immediately knowing why I'm in there, or if I age myself prematurely, or if I find Pledge in my refrigerator (didn't actually happen, almost happened – as I stood in front of the open fridge, with can in hand, I caught myself and asked, "What the hell are you doing?").  None of these things are that tragic. 

 

What is beginning to worry me, though, is forgetting my train of thought while in the middle of an actual conversation.  Forgive the pun, but this one gives me pause.  Has this happened to you yet?  You're clipping along, "Blah, blah, blah…" when all of a sudden you have no idea what it was you were talking about and so you're forced to ask your listener, "What was I saying?"  They respond, "You were telling me a story."  "Oh," you say, "was it any good?"  That's when you have to wonder.

 

~ M. 

     

Murphy!

Murphy's Law ~ a universal rule, standard or regulation that dictates a customary course of conduct for forces which conspire against you in a manner that contradicts all expectations: i.e. what you don't want to happen will and, conversely, what you'd like to happen won't.

 

Articles of Annoyance

 

i.                     Business and Commerce

a.       Cram to complete a project on time and the minute it's finished the deadline is postponed.  Murphy!

b.      Wait months for responses to work inquiries and they all come in the day before you leave on vacation.  Murphy!

c.       If you stand and watch a multiple page fax get pulled through the machine every page will go, but look away for a minute and pages get pulled through together – and the recipient never tells you, "I see you were trying to send seven pages, but I only got six."  Double Murphy!

d.      Throw away some old files and you will need one of them the very next week.  Murphy!

e.       You finally make a purchase after much deliberating and it goes on sale the next day.  Murphy!

f.        You book a non-refundable airline ticket and the following day you're notified of an on-line super-saver special.  Murphy!

g.       Discard a coupon declaring that you'll never use it only to find yourself in the issuing store shortly thereafter.  Murphy!

h.       Unable to locate an item in a store you finally ask for help only to have said item pointed out right in front of you.  Murphy!

 

ii.                   Automotive and Technology

a.       When you're already late, you get every light red.  Murphy!

b.      When you're in no rush at all, you sail through every light green.  Murphy!

c.       Your car makes a funny noise so you bring it in for service; of course, now it purrs like a kitten.  Murphy!

d.      You finally get around that jerk on the road only to have him sit right behind you at the next red light.  Murphy!

e.       You're running late to the airport so, of course, your flight is on time; but arrive a little extra early and your flight is delayed giving you even more time to hang out at the gate.  Murphy!

f.        You're waiting for an important phone call, but you have to go to the bathroom.  The minute you sit down the phone rings.  Murphy!

g.       Just as you're making a phone call, Call Waiting beeps in.  Murphy!

h.       Bring your phone to the couch while watching TV and it will not ring, but leave it in the kitchen and it rings every time.  Murphy!

i.         Lie down to take a nap and the phone will ring.  Murphy!

 

iii.                  Leisure and Entertainment

a.       You play Solitaire to kill time and win the first hand.  Murphy!

b.      You get up early every day – whether you have to or not – but on the day you must be up early, you oversleep.  Murphy! 

c.       You struggle to get your kids up for school, but on a Saturday, they're up at 6:00 am raring to go.  Murphy!

d.      You almost always have an umbrella with you, but the one day you don't, naturally, it rains.  Murphy!

e.       Routine weekends come and go but then you get invited to two events on the same day.  Murphy!

f.        Dinner's on time and your guests are late; guests are on time, dinner isn't ready.  Murphy!

g.       You'd like the refrigerator door to stay open while putting groceries away but it closes constantly; yet, reach in for one thing, expecting it to close behind you and it stays wide open.  Murphy!

h.       When doing a Word Search, if you start at the top, the word you're looking for will be at the bottom and vice versa – start at the bottom and that word is hiding at the top.  Murphy!

i.         Ideas come to you when you're without any means to record them and when you do get the opportunity to write them down you can't remember a single thing.  Murphy!

j.        Tell someone repeatedly about a funny show they just have to watch and when they finally do the episode they see is a clunker.  Murphy!

 

ODE TO MURPHY – that cosmic mo-fo

 

What would we do without you?

You're reliable, dependable, steadfast and true

 

We count on you, time after time

To annoy us as you mess with our minds

 

We expect one thing and another will happen

That's just how it is and always has been

 

I don't like to grumble, I don't want to complain

But it gets on my nerves and drives me insane

 

I'd like to turn the tide, if only I could

If it were possible, believe me, I would

 

I'd like to get you – just once – for a change

I know this vendetta may sound kind of strange

 

And, of course, I'm aware that it simply can't be

So I'll just grit my teeth and blurt out "Murphy!"

 

Constantly vexed…

 ~ M.