Author: Rene

Yes, I knew about this word game app, and I kept myself from trying it as I’m already a puzzle aficionado. (addict) However, I was encouraged to try it and share my results with two other gamers I roomed with on my Tucson excursion.

Every morning for the past two weeks we individually text the other roomies with our number of guesses. There is no ”wordle shaming,” but you do get to brag a bit if you guess the word with two attempts. I haven’t done that yet. My new problem? I stayed awake until midnight last night just so I could play this once-a-day-word game.

Puzzleholics Anonymous is calling.

My husband says I should blog about curling. He thinks we should give the sport a try.

In honor of his wishes, I am suggesting he get a broom and practice the sweeping on our floor, while I head upstairs and plug in the hot rollers. That’s how we’re going to participate in this Olympic sport.

End-of-the-week humor.

Years ago, when computers were entering the elementary school, I took my kids to an evening event at the library. The task was to plan a vacation. You could use reference books or the computer. Well, I chose books, mostly because I love them, especially travel books and atlases. You can flip back and forth, feel the texture of the page and see how worn it is. Did someone else like the Greek Isle destination photos? Remember, a book is what got my young mind set on Egypt, flipping through those pages in awe time and time again.

When I’m researching anything on the computer, it’s just clicking. Reading homework is harder, as flipping back and forth seems to be a normal thing for me, and my eyes do not appreciate that ”flickering.” A book is more restful.

Oh, it might be faster to find exactly what you’re seeking with technology. My kids chose the computer that evening and definitely ”beat me” in gleaning the information we needed. However, I often feel I’m missing part of the journey that way. Is speed the most important thing?

This came to mind as I was cleaning my desk yesterday, flipping through papers and letters, touching life. I loved those card files!

Remember Mitch Albom’s book, ”Tuesdays With Morrie?” I have ”Wednesdays With Avila.”

Yesterday began with an early auto drop-off for an oil change. Returning home, my pumpkin arrived and the day took off from there! I assumed I would have time to finish my puzzles and scribble something, but the napping was quick and all I finished was breakfast and an afternoon phone call.

I did get some good knee action in as I crawled around with my little one. I should put Swiffer sweepers on and get some work done! After the floor exercises we did some heavy lifting and toting. We have our own mini-Olympics.

It’s always a joyful day and I count my accomplishments in blessings received from her little smiles and giggles. There’s always another day to clean closets.

This was a cute memory jolt in the paper. Did you do this in school? Work on your homework at lunch, recess, in the next class, study hall, just so you wouldn’t have to do it at home? We didn’t have buses taking us away from the school in my little town, or I might have saved some work for the trip.

Sometimes I’d be listening to a lecture while solving a theorem just presented in the previous class, lest I forget. Is there even study hall any more? Do students get homework?

I’ll have to ask the next student I see hanging out at Starbucks.

This is my next Pinterest project. I shall be creating placards to be placed strategically around the television for the Super Bowl viewing audience. Thank you, Ponna and Patherine, for sharing this inspiring post.

Yesterday I had the opportunity to subject myself to torture, pain, and beauty, all in one hour. I accepted that invitation because my friends invited me to do so and I hadn’t prepared an excuse.

I had a pedicure. I hate them. I mostly hate them for the inevitable comments I receive from the technicians. Okay – I know my feet are awful. I walk outside without shoes, winter, spring, summer and fall. I use the sidewalk as a pumice. I only put lotion on my feet when the cracks are so bad I hobble. So, I know a pedicure will be a personal raking over the coals by a callous technician. (cough) Also, I am horrendously ticklish on my feet. I have unintentionally kicked two foot magicians in the past. Yes, pedicures are not my favorite thing.

Well, I may have Pretty Toes For Nothing, because I am not going to any beaches or warm climes. I am sure my husband will appreciate the effort though and think I spiffed up for our Valentine’s Day celebration.

Are we having a Valentine’s Day celebration?

The memory bank is loaded, but one last comment on the grocery business. Yes, we did occasionally find ”open” bags of candy. We just couldn’t sell them, so they had to go to the table in the break room. Lost sales. Sometimes the same fate awaited the Hostess products, destined to be restocked or eaten by a hungry crew.

Fruit was never in danger of making it to the break room, just as it probably will not make an appearance at the Super Bowl party.

Get your fruit and veggies in before Sunday!

Because businesses remained open on Thursday evenings in my thriving childhood metropolis, it provided the smaller communities a chance to come ”in town” and do their retail therapy. Usually it was a quiet evening at the grocery, and aside from Mrs. H, was always fun.

Believe it or not, my manager left myself and ”Terry” mostly in charge. Terry was one year older than I. It must have been slow. And really, someone else had to have been there, but I can’t recall that detail. Who? I don’t know. Why? I don’t know, because every Thursday evening, one of us locked the door at closing, and I took the drawer to the office and balanced it, wrote out the deposit with the cash and checks, and then walked the drop down the half-block to our bank’s night deposit slot. By the time I returned, Terry had swept up the main area and tidied up whatever he had to do. And then I walked home, an entire two blocks.

Leaving a 17 and 18-year old in charge was definitely an indicator of another era. It also gave me a great deal of confidence.

I suppose that’s another note of thanks I owe to my manager.

There was a woman who shopped every week on Thursday evening, our open “retail night” in our village. Her weekly grocery excursion from a neighboring town had me shaking in my boots.

Another duty of a checker was to memorize the ad. The sale prices were published on Thursday, so I had about an hour between school and work to memorize the new sale prices before reporting for duty. Without fail, Mrs. H arrived after the supper hour.

This shopper was not a friendly sort and commanded a rather domineering presence. ”Those are 37 cents, not 38,” would be a typical comment. “Check the ad.” Well, if I made a mistake, I had to call the manager to come and correct it. It took me many months to realize this was her little game and she enjoyed humiliating me. My manager laughed and told me not to worry about her, she corrected him, too. However, I did eventually come to play my own game; get every price right and NOT have to rely on a managerial correction!

I guess I owe Mrs. H some gratitude. Learning to deal with curmudgeons early and striving for excellence were probably not what she was aiming to teach, but she did! Tomorrow – Thursday evening protocol.