What's a handshake? What kind of unsaid agreement is made when we shake hands with each other? Why do some men still find it odd to shake women's hands? And, is it just older men?
Last Saturday, The Husband and I met up with good friends Missus and Mister H at the two-buck senior brunch hosted by the local hospital volunteer group. As the brunch was winding down, a bunch of handshaking was going on.
At our table, the first person to shake hands with The Husband and Mister H was a city mayoral candidate. After he shook the guys' hands, I held mine up for a shake which startled him. He quickly hid it and shook my hand. I was surprised that he was momentarily stunned at the thought of shaking a woman's hand. After all, he has been working in the community for over 40 years, including being on boards with women.
A few minutes after that T, whom The Husband and I are getting to know more each time we see him at community functions, said his good-byes. He shook hands with …
Two prized finds among the Mama's stuff were the Daddy's eyeglasses and my middle school eyeglasses, which I hung on the hallway wall with a couple of old sunglasses. Because I lost a screw on my red Hollywood sunglasses, I was checking those on the wall. They didn't work. Oh, well. For the fun of it, I tried on my middle school eyeglasses.
What do you know? I can read with them! Waaaaay better than the reading part of my new progressive lenses. I haven't tried my middle school eyeglasses with reading paperback tiny print, but they are so far so good with magazines and newspapers, as well as with books that have 12-point type or the illusion of 12-point type.
The Mama held onto things because, she said, you never know when you may need them. With these certain eyeglasses, it only took 52 years, more or less.
A police officer knocked at our door over an hour ago. Through our black steel security door, he asked the Husband questions about recent events on our street.
Ten minutes before the officer's knock, the Husband came upstairs to
tell me that he hadn't notice the heavy traffic on our street before.
(He had been sitting in the kitchen doing the bills.) I shrugged and
said, "Sounds normal."
The Husband told the officer about the traffic and a police cruiser going by, but there weren't any sirens. The Husband didn't realize he was talking to a law enforcement officer until he asked, "Do you live nearby?" That's when the officer mentioned the police was pursuing a suspect in the area. And, that's when the Husband noticed the officer's badge.
When I heard about the pursuit (the Husband didn't mention any police cars to me), I knew then that the Husband was most likely seeing a lot more than the normal number of cars zipping by. I'…
Back in March I thought this volunteer plant in the front yard was a celery plant. As it grew and developed, it no longer seemed to be celery. The one stalk remained solo.
When the flowers bloomed, dill came to mind, but there was no dill aroma. Hmmm.
The Husband thought it was hemlock. I thought hemlocks were trees. Was I curious to look it up? Of course not.
Last week, friends came over and concurred with the Husband. Hemlock. Yup, that's the stuff Socrates drank as punishment for being found guilty by 280 out of 500 peers of not believing in the government's gods and for teaching his students to question authority. Interesting. It got me wondering if people could be put on trial for doing something similar today.
For a poisonous plant, hemlock certainly is pretty. I suppose I ought to pull it out soon.
Update: Thanks to Colleen of Loose Leaf Notes commenting that the plant reminds her of Queen Anne's Lace, I did more research. The plant does look like it, but it's …
That's the foot of our new acquaintance Steve, a storyteller of a guy, who we met at yesterday's two-buck senior citizen buffet hosted by the local hospital's volunteer group. Steve was wearing python-skin cowboy boots, and was kind enough to let me take a photo of them. Both the Husband and I wondered if he called his boots Monty, but neither of us asked him. We just thought it.
Ever heard a python snake?
Good old friend Google coughed up a video sound bite of a python.
Its hiss brought to mind of a flushing toilet. The Husband remarked that would be an awful quiet toilet. He thought the python's hiss is more like the sound of spraying water on leaves. Maybe. My second thought was that the python's hiss almost, almost, sounds like ocean waves. Click here if you want to hear a python's hiss. What does it sound like to you?
It's time for All Seasons, a weekly meme hosted by Jesh at Artworks from Jesh St.G. Click here to check out Jesh. For the …
We've been hanging around downtown a lot lately because Eliza the Car has been needing repair work. Last week she got a tune up, this week, a new brake master cylinder. Next week, she'll have her timing belt and accompanying parts replaced. She's worth it. For being 25 years old and way over the 100K milestone, Eliza continues to be a sturdy, steady, and reliable gal. She may not be as fuel efficient as the electric and hybrid cars, but she still gets better mileage than some SUVs, minivans, and pickups.
When Eliza's in the shop, we treat ourselves to breakfast, after which we walk around town, entertaining ourselves with the little things such as the business signs that we see. The Husband and I got a kick out of the above sign. Who doesn't want positive vibes?