All About That Bass And There's Going To Be Trouble

After threatening for days via dark skies and hyperactive meteorologists, rain has finally arrived, bringing some cooler temperatures. Windows are open where covered and protected from the showers, and it's a wonderful and welcome change from the summer tradition of The Running of the Air Conditioners.

Someone nearby has been running their car, blasting their woofers and tweeters for well over an hour. My house and nerves are shaking from the constant "thump thump" rumbling. When I was able to drive I blasted my music like the teenager I once was but never parked in a residential neighborhood for over 60 minutes, volume cranked to maximum power.

I have thought about going out on my porch and glaring at the offender, but the fact is I couldn't see the vehicle no matter how much it was vibrating, and I wouldn't want to unknowingly give sweet Mr. Johnson the stink eye while he has a cigarette-induced coughing fit. Seriously, Mr. J, give 'em up already!

The even bigger reason preventing me from marching out front? Fear of being branded as the block's resident curmudgeon. All that's missing are rollers in my hair, an ancient bathrobe, a hairnet or curlers and gnarled pointed fingers. I do admit to the cup of coffee in my hand and slippers on my feet.

All hope is not lost for me though. As I distracted myself from the rocking and rolling, tidying up the house and getting laundry started, I began to sing the Meghan Trainor song used in the title of this post. I may be only a few years from a replacement, but I'm still hip.

A Normal Story

On a TV show we were watching, someone asked others to tell one story about themselves that would provide insight into who they are as a person. So I asked my husband what his story would be.

There was dead silence and since I am unable to see his facial features unless we are very close, I told him that I couldn't see his face but I was guessing there was a vacant look in his eyes. In his defense, the poor guy was just trying to watch a reality competition program. He didn't realize he'd be asked to participate.

Finally, after I said nothing more but stared him down, at least I think I was looking at his face but I could have been locked on his left shoulder, he said "normal?"  Yes, there was a question mark after that one lone word.

I pointed out that that was a word and not a story and then I realized and said, "That's your story."  My husband is a man of moderate words (opposites attract, Raindrops), a good man who loves me enough to indulge me in such ridiculous questions I sometimes ask when I forget I am not with one of my girlfriends but with a kind-hearted guy just trying to relax and enjoy some silly entertainment.

I write stories about my life at least five times a week and as in this post, sometimes I tell his anecdotes for him. I always ask his permission first, even though he has given me carte blanche. After twenty-six years together, his stories are mine, and my stories are his. And we're sticking to them.

Code Red

For the epitome of having just enough knowledge to be dangerous, let me introduce you to:

Hell
To
My
Life

The good news for you is that it's only a threat to me and my already precipice-dangling sanity and my beautiful new iPad Pro. Must go search for app that will allow the device to fly and land without damage.


#notaprogrammerjustplayoneinthisblog

Piper's DiSPAppointing Day

"That body scrub was a little aggressive!"

"Mani-pedi, please!"

"How could they miss a nail? I only have eight and
my hands and feet are one and the same!"

"What kind of two-seed operation is this?
I have been waiting an hour for my blowout!"

I am fairly certain the proprietors of this spa, aka Mommy and Daddy, will not be receiving a good review on Yelp.

I AM

My husband and I watched the Invictus Games a few weeks ago and we were very captivated by the fierce competition, the camaraderie of the athletes and the incredibly moving personal stories of the men and women of the Games.

The Invictus Games, if you aren't familiar, are an International Paralympic-style multi-sport event, created by Britain's Prince Harry, in which wounded or injured armed services personnel and their associated veterans compete. The above images and text do way more justice than my feeble description.

During one of the broadcasts, ESPN's Tom Rinaldi did a report where he said the following:

"To survive the darkest moment there must be 
a holiness in the spirit
and a divinity in the strength."

I hope that in my darkest moment, which was both literal and figurative, I had a mere speck of either. And I am so thankful that the brave men and women who serve this wonderful country of ours have huge amounts of both.

Star-Spangled Purchase

Today at Walmart, as is usually the case, the check-out lines were long. As I held my post with the cart in one possible queue, my husband went on a recognizance mission to possibly uncover a shorter line. He called for me to join him at his new locale, and our cart and I arrived at his side at the same time as another customer.

Seeing that she only had one item to pay for, I pulled back our full cart so that she could go ahead of us. I would have done the same any other day, no matter what her lone product purchase, but today, the day before Memorial Day, she was buying a new American flag.

Two Hot Dogs Keeping Their Cool

They say that most couples fight about sex and money. We have neither so we don't argue about those two subjects. What we do disagree about are a few things that come up over and over again. For 26 years.

One of the regulars, although seasonal, is air conditioners. Ours is not the common dispute over temperature but of the actual units themselves. We live in a hundred-year-old house and do not have central air conditioning. So every summer we install a window unit in our bedroom and one in our downstairs living area.

It got hot here almost overnight and it is already unbearable. My husband texted me the other day saying we should put the a/c in. I ignored him as in my mind it's way too soon. What happens is that once we put the units in, he wants to run them even when the weather doesn't require it. Also, we have such a short period of time to enjoy having our bedroom window open between winter and summer, and that's no longer possible once the air conditioner is installed.

Today it was so hot I honestly was beside myself. I kept telling myself, as sweat rolled down my back, that I had drawn a line in the sand and from said mark I could not budge. I am, after all, a Taurus. But I am also 51 years old and melting into a puddle on principle is a war waged best by the young. And to his credit my husband said not one word when I went to unpack the bedroom unit.

Turns out there's more than one old dog in this house who can learn a new trick.