So, Heather Locklear and "the son" don't think that this is a big deal, but for some reason I find it kinda strange. Let me explain...last night me and "the son" were talking/bonding/sharing information (gotta make sure to keep the lines of communication open with the young people) and I said something about a slip (no clue where that came from). And he had absolutely no idea what a slip is. HUH? So, I tried my best to explain it to him, finally having to go into my "secret things" drawer and pull out my silky, white slip. Never forget that there are always special moments when we can share the little gems of life with the younglings. So, now "the son" knows what a slip looks like and what pupose it serves.
I immediately began to wonder if the slip has become an artifact, much like the record album, rotary phone or television with knobs. There are so many things that we grew up with that our children will never know. It just makes me feel old. I mean really what use does the slip hold for "the son's" female peers? They wear skirts that barely cover their butt cheeks - I don't think they make slips that short. And when they wear longer skirts, I don't think the same level of modesty exists - what do they care if someone sees the outline of their thighs or undergarments? It's almost a badge of honor to have their thongs exposed.
Weird? Am I overeacting? What do you think?
Juice
The other day while perusing the juice aisle, I happened upon something that stopped me in my tracks. I did a double take because surely my eyes were playing tricks on me. Positioned between the Grape Juice for $3.29 and Cranberry Juice for $2.99 was a 32 ounce bottle of Cherry Juice Concentrate for $19.99.
Um, right. Sure, I've seen pomegranate juice for about 1/3 of that price, but even that is too much. I almost want to buy it just so I can partake in what must surely be sweet nectar from Heaven. Because short of Heavenly nectar or maybe a magical elixir, I can't see why any juice would cost so much. That's .62 cents an ounce for the Cherry juice. I'm used to drinking juice that cost about .05 cents an ounce. I just can't see how it cost more to squeeze the juice out of cherries then cranberries or grapes. Maybe it's the seeds.
Check it out!
http://www.amazon.com/Seaquist-Orchards-Cherry-Juice-Concentrate/dp/B0000DG6ZQ
Wipe Your Nose
For the past few days, we have been at "Old Man Winter's" mercy yet again with frigid temperatures ( that equates to about 40 degrees below zero with the wind chill). Most people in Minnesota seem to have this winter thing under control and dress appropriately, etc. However, there are those few that still dress like it's 50 whole degrees or warmer; like the lady I saw with no socks and ballet slippers. WTH! I could just imagine what her body was going through simply by the expression on her face. Crinkling of the forehead = baby toe lost feeling. Squinting of the eye = big toe frozen. You get the message. Anyways, what I really want to discuss is people's inability to feel snot running out of their noses when the temperature plummets. I just don't get it, when the temperature gets below 15 all the sudden people can't feel the viscous mucus draining from their olfactory orifice ("The son" just asked why I didn't just say snot running outta your nose. Thanks "son", but I think my word choice sounds much nicer and besides I already said that a couple lines up) I have never been so cold that I didn't feel the offending fluid trying to sneak out. And because I know other people don't feel it, that makes me overly conscious so when it's cold I'm always doing a "nose swipe" with my mitten. So all I'm asking people, is that you please start doing nostril checks, when outside for any period of time. It's really not fair for other people to have to view your bodily fluids - they belong on the inside or in a tissue.
Just couldn't do the people "snotty-nose" picture. Besides, I've had a enough visuals to plague me for a lifetime. The thought turns my stomach. (Not that this animal nose - can't tell if it's a kangeroo or a rabbit or what - is much better because every freakin' time I look at it, I get kinda nauseaous. I watched Cujo this past weekend - the 1983 movie based on the Stephen King novel about a rabid dog terrorizing a woman and her child "Breathe Tad breathe!"- and really had a difficult time watching it, not only for the fear factor (I was 12 years old all over again) but mainly because by the time Cujo was thoroughly taken over with the rabies virus, he looked like he had been dipped in snot. EEEWWWW)
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