Aahh, the magic words, “Well, if you ask me, she’s way too thin!”
I’ve never heard those words. It seems from the time I was born, I’ve been on a diet. Nowadays, I just blame these hips on heredity. As if I don’t already have enough to think about (calories, carbs, good fats, bad fats), now I have to keep an eye on my cell phone.
I just watched a commercial about the latest THIN cell phone! Super thin. All but fits in your wallet. Oh, just great. Not only am I walking around with fashion-unacceptable hips, my cell phone is too fat! Now what do I do? Get it a new cover in slimming black? Or should I go for vertical stripes? Do I have to give up making calls from the mall because it will be embarrassed and feel unattractive if others are using “slim” phones?
Is there a weight-watchers program for cell phones or is it just doomed to obsolescence, only to be cast aside for the tiny little skinny model? And what if the battery has to be replaced? If it, too, is super slim and accidentally slips out of the package and lands sideways, will it become invisible? Is it safe to plop a super-slim phone on an outdoor table during a windy day?
One manufacturer has a flip phone that not only is “slim,” but includes voice, data, multimedia and Bluetooth, and is about the width of a credit card. Okay. I understand “voice” and credit card (“Yes, put that on my credit card.”), but I have no clue what the other features are. I like it that way. I don’t want to know what the other stuff is or what it does; my life is complicated enough already.
I’m keeping my fat phone (I hope I haven’t offended any phones out there.) until some company comes out with a wrist model. Then I’ll change my name to Dixie Tracy and go in pursuit of dastardly villains. If you don’t understand that last line, then you are way too young to be reading this. Until then, I’ll just forego all the snappy features of the new phones and continue to try to figure out how to retrieve voice messages on good ol’ chubby.
© Copyright 2006 Suzzwords
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Elevator Mania
If you want to have some fun, just stand back and watch people trying to get on and off crowded elevators. There is something about elevator doors opening on the ground floor that sucks those waiting directly to the entrance so that those trying to get off have to bob and weave their way through the eager beavers.
There must be some sort of electronic connection between the elevator and the human brain – doors open, brain disconnects. Normal men and women suddenly go numb to the fact that the people inside must first come OUT before they can get IN.
Have you ever seen someone actually swept backwards and imprisoned by the eager beavers in their zest to be the first on? Some of those “first ons” are only riding up one floor and then have to squeeze their way past the fifth and eleventh floor folks.
Could it be that every time an elevator reaches the ground floor and doors open, a new prize of some sort appears on the back wall and the first one in wins? It must be a great prize from the way people lunge through the doors. Or maybe the rule is first one on gets to push all the buttons for everyone else. It’s a control thing.
The weird part about this elevator mania is that the same people who go up will also later come down and have to dodge and weave their way through forward-pressing bodies to escape. Apparently that experience has no effect on their next "up" elevator ride as they leap forward to gain their favorite spot – back wall, left or right wall, right in front.
Maybe the mad dash is because no one likes to stand in the middle; there is no where to lean or a rail to grasp. “Middle” people also have to bump right or left letting the wall people out. Have you also noticed that when an elevator is comfortably filled, there’s always at least one more person who has to push and wedge their way in to create the sardine effect?
Personally, I’ll just stand back and wait for the next elevator, or the next, or take the stairs. I’m just not in that much of a hurry to rub elbows and other body parts with strangers. Some of those riders I’ve seen leaping forward to be “first in” are really strange!
The next time you go to a building with busy elevators, arrive a little early and enjoy the show. If you are an eager beaver and just miss one as you dash up to the doors, take a deep breath and slow down and remember that old saying, “What goes up …,” well, you know the rest.
© Copyright 2006 Suzzwords
There must be some sort of electronic connection between the elevator and the human brain – doors open, brain disconnects. Normal men and women suddenly go numb to the fact that the people inside must first come OUT before they can get IN.
Have you ever seen someone actually swept backwards and imprisoned by the eager beavers in their zest to be the first on? Some of those “first ons” are only riding up one floor and then have to squeeze their way past the fifth and eleventh floor folks.
Could it be that every time an elevator reaches the ground floor and doors open, a new prize of some sort appears on the back wall and the first one in wins? It must be a great prize from the way people lunge through the doors. Or maybe the rule is first one on gets to push all the buttons for everyone else. It’s a control thing.
The weird part about this elevator mania is that the same people who go up will also later come down and have to dodge and weave their way through forward-pressing bodies to escape. Apparently that experience has no effect on their next "up" elevator ride as they leap forward to gain their favorite spot – back wall, left or right wall, right in front.
Maybe the mad dash is because no one likes to stand in the middle; there is no where to lean or a rail to grasp. “Middle” people also have to bump right or left letting the wall people out. Have you also noticed that when an elevator is comfortably filled, there’s always at least one more person who has to push and wedge their way in to create the sardine effect?
Personally, I’ll just stand back and wait for the next elevator, or the next, or take the stairs. I’m just not in that much of a hurry to rub elbows and other body parts with strangers. Some of those riders I’ve seen leaping forward to be “first in” are really strange!
The next time you go to a building with busy elevators, arrive a little early and enjoy the show. If you are an eager beaver and just miss one as you dash up to the doors, take a deep breath and slow down and remember that old saying, “What goes up …,” well, you know the rest.
© Copyright 2006 Suzzwords
Thursday, June 15, 2006
Good Feelings
Down Memory Lane
Feelings. No, not emotional feelings like angry or sad. I ‘m talking about those warm fuzzy feelings when something unexpected triggers a pleasant memory from childhood.
There is a line or two in Sue Monk Kidd’s “The Secret Life of Bees” when the heroine walks through dew dampened grass, then past a crepe myrtle tree. She has to brush away the fallen crepe myrtle flowers sticking to her feet before entering the house. The scene stuck with me and I thought, who has grown up in the South and not walked barefoot through crepe myrtle blossoms?
Then I began to think of other things that were parts of our childhood. For my Southern friends – did you ever pull honey suckle blooms and taste the nectar or pop a just-plucked wild blackberry in your mouth while trying to avoid the thorny bush entangled around your sandal-clad feet?
What about sticking your face in a pile of sun-dried linens to enjoy the clean out-door smell? No matter how they try, detergent manufacturers can never replicate that fragrance. Did you ever catch lightening bugs in a mayonnaise jar or have your mom tell you to wash off the “toe jam” before going to bed?
During childhood, a summer day outside seldom ended without the tell-tale rings of sweat-enhanced dirt around our necks or anything from twigs to Bazooka bubble gum stuck in our hair. A really good day ended with at least one of us sporting a new bruise or cut from having left part of an elbow on the street from roller skating or being the target of a green pinecone.
We cooled off with ice-cold Cokes from greenish glass bottles, then carefully placed the empties back in the wooden crates so they could be returned for the deposit or replaced with full bottles. As teens, we baked and ate brownies (ahh, that fresh-from-the-oven smell!) by the thousands and never gained a pound.
The weekly meeting of every kid under the age of 13 took place on Saturday mornings at the local movie house to watch Roy Rogers or Hopalong Cassidy triumph over the bad guys (they wore the black hats), then catch up on the latest serial of Buck Rogers.
Ah, memories. Too bad the kids of today have to miss out on the fun we had. But, who knows, perhaps in sixty years one of them will be transmitting their memories in holographic images.
Happy trails to you, 'till we meet again.
http://www.royrogers.com/
http://www.hopalong.com/home.asp
© Copyright 2006 Suzzwords
Feelings. No, not emotional feelings like angry or sad. I ‘m talking about those warm fuzzy feelings when something unexpected triggers a pleasant memory from childhood.
There is a line or two in Sue Monk Kidd’s “The Secret Life of Bees” when the heroine walks through dew dampened grass, then past a crepe myrtle tree. She has to brush away the fallen crepe myrtle flowers sticking to her feet before entering the house. The scene stuck with me and I thought, who has grown up in the South and not walked barefoot through crepe myrtle blossoms?
Then I began to think of other things that were parts of our childhood. For my Southern friends – did you ever pull honey suckle blooms and taste the nectar or pop a just-plucked wild blackberry in your mouth while trying to avoid the thorny bush entangled around your sandal-clad feet?
What about sticking your face in a pile of sun-dried linens to enjoy the clean out-door smell? No matter how they try, detergent manufacturers can never replicate that fragrance. Did you ever catch lightening bugs in a mayonnaise jar or have your mom tell you to wash off the “toe jam” before going to bed?
During childhood, a summer day outside seldom ended without the tell-tale rings of sweat-enhanced dirt around our necks or anything from twigs to Bazooka bubble gum stuck in our hair. A really good day ended with at least one of us sporting a new bruise or cut from having left part of an elbow on the street from roller skating or being the target of a green pinecone.
We cooled off with ice-cold Cokes from greenish glass bottles, then carefully placed the empties back in the wooden crates so they could be returned for the deposit or replaced with full bottles. As teens, we baked and ate brownies (ahh, that fresh-from-the-oven smell!) by the thousands and never gained a pound.
The weekly meeting of every kid under the age of 13 took place on Saturday mornings at the local movie house to watch Roy Rogers or Hopalong Cassidy triumph over the bad guys (they wore the black hats), then catch up on the latest serial of Buck Rogers.
Ah, memories. Too bad the kids of today have to miss out on the fun we had. But, who knows, perhaps in sixty years one of them will be transmitting their memories in holographic images.
Happy trails to you, 'till we meet again.
http://www.royrogers.com/
http://www.hopalong.com/home.asp
© Copyright 2006 Suzzwords
Monday, June 12, 2006
Happy Birthday
This is a notable birthday week in my diary. (Okay, I don’t actually keep a diary, I just thought that would make a good opening line.)
First of all, one of my best friends and I are celebrating our birthdays. It takes a Gemini to know a Gemini and even though there are several years between us, we struck up an immediate friendship upon meeting several years ago.
Not only are our birthdays two days apart, we share the same first name. We have also been in corporate public relations and honed our writing skills while keeping our senses of humor. Through the years, we have come up with all sorts of ideas to express our creativity and my friend has now found a way to not only stretch her web design wings, but also express her patriotism and love for our beautiful United States of America.
My friend’s website, American Travel Sampler, is officially “born” on Flag Day, June 14, 2006.
Please take a minute to visit www.americantravelsampler.com/index.html
and wish them both a red, white and blue “Happy Birthday!”
© Copyright 2006 Suzzwords
First of all, one of my best friends and I are celebrating our birthdays. It takes a Gemini to know a Gemini and even though there are several years between us, we struck up an immediate friendship upon meeting several years ago.
Not only are our birthdays two days apart, we share the same first name. We have also been in corporate public relations and honed our writing skills while keeping our senses of humor. Through the years, we have come up with all sorts of ideas to express our creativity and my friend has now found a way to not only stretch her web design wings, but also express her patriotism and love for our beautiful United States of America.
My friend’s website, American Travel Sampler, is officially “born” on Flag Day, June 14, 2006.
Please take a minute to visit www.americantravelsampler.com/index.html
and wish them both a red, white and blue “Happy Birthday!”
© Copyright 2006 Suzzwords
Saturday, June 03, 2006
Weekends
If it weren’t for weekends, working people would go crazy. They also would not have any clean clothes and their cars would never get washed. God invented weekends so working people could catch up on real life.
God also invented retirement because after only having a real life two out of seven days for years and years, working people can then sleep in as much as they want. Retirement is the reward for spending most of your life doing what someone else wants.
Retired people pretty much do what they want, when they want, and in their pajamas if they want. Most of the retired people I know get everything done by Friday so they can spend the next two days watching the working people zip around like crazy trying to get done what we retired folks have spread out over the past five.
Hey, there, you working people, haven’t you noticed those older folks on the benches and in the food court at the malls on Saturdays and Sundays? They are the ones savoring a cup of specialty coffee or lingering over a giant pretzel. They are also not surrounded by shopping bags or small children demanding to “go potty.”
They are thoroughly enjoying the weekend, made even sweeter by watching you zing in and out of all the stores in their view. If they frequently glance at their watches, it’s a good bet (yes, it was a pun intended) they have a buck or two riding on how fast you can buy Junior a complete outfit, including shoes, in less time than the lady in the blue blouse just outfitted her princess for a day at the beach.
And here’s some insider info. Some stores give discounts to retired people who shop during the week. That’s because we can shop at two in the afternoon without having to fake illness to get off work. Uh, huh. Makes you working people jealous, doesn’t it?
Before we retired, we once worried that we wouldn’t have anything to do on the weekends. Now we wonder how we got it all done and still had time to play on the weekends. Well, it's not all fun and games. This retirement is hard work, but (sigh) someone has to do it. I don’t mind helping out whenever I can with the sleeping in, shopping in the middle of the week and catching the Friday matinee at the new multi-plex.
Oh, and for all you working people who are slaves to the alarm clock, “Have a nice week!”
© Copyright 2006 Suzzwords
God also invented retirement because after only having a real life two out of seven days for years and years, working people can then sleep in as much as they want. Retirement is the reward for spending most of your life doing what someone else wants.
Retired people pretty much do what they want, when they want, and in their pajamas if they want. Most of the retired people I know get everything done by Friday so they can spend the next two days watching the working people zip around like crazy trying to get done what we retired folks have spread out over the past five.
Hey, there, you working people, haven’t you noticed those older folks on the benches and in the food court at the malls on Saturdays and Sundays? They are the ones savoring a cup of specialty coffee or lingering over a giant pretzel. They are also not surrounded by shopping bags or small children demanding to “go potty.”
They are thoroughly enjoying the weekend, made even sweeter by watching you zing in and out of all the stores in their view. If they frequently glance at their watches, it’s a good bet (yes, it was a pun intended) they have a buck or two riding on how fast you can buy Junior a complete outfit, including shoes, in less time than the lady in the blue blouse just outfitted her princess for a day at the beach.
And here’s some insider info. Some stores give discounts to retired people who shop during the week. That’s because we can shop at two in the afternoon without having to fake illness to get off work. Uh, huh. Makes you working people jealous, doesn’t it?
Before we retired, we once worried that we wouldn’t have anything to do on the weekends. Now we wonder how we got it all done and still had time to play on the weekends. Well, it's not all fun and games. This retirement is hard work, but (sigh) someone has to do it. I don’t mind helping out whenever I can with the sleeping in, shopping in the middle of the week and catching the Friday matinee at the new multi-plex.
Oh, and for all you working people who are slaves to the alarm clock, “Have a nice week!”
© Copyright 2006 Suzzwords
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