Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Problem: You are walking at four miles per hour, approaching a crosswalk that is thirty feet away.
A car is coming toward you at twenty-six miles per hour. It is three hundred feet away from the crosswalk.
Which of you will reach the crosswalk first?
Answer: The car. They’ll speed up to ensure they won’t need to stop for you at the crosswalk.
You ever get rid of something, and forget that you had, and then spent time looking for it before giving up, telling yourself, “Well, I must have gotten rid of it.”?
No, not me. Never, right? Right.
Accatpaniment (catfinition) – a feline that will embellish or support an activity or another creature with its presence.
In use: Thomas expected Ashley as an accatpaniment whenever he put on his socks, used the restroom, and other activities.
A few months ago, I began wearing mismatched socks. Color, material, pattern…didn’t matter. The only qualifier to my mismatched socks routine is that I didn’t wear dress socks with activity shoes and shorts. That combination reminds me of old photographs of elderly men. *shudder* I’m not ready to join that tribe.
Wearing mismatched socks is liberating. There’s no worrying about matching and rolling or folding socks, whatever your preference, and no concerns about a ‘missing’ sock after doing the laundry. I just scoop up all the socks and dump them in a the sock drawer. So — it’s a time and energy saver, too!
We are old
All of our promises are spent
But not forgotten
The battlefields are memorials
The battles
Never resolved
Never forgotten
And never done
Have you ever been stopped in traffic, and wonder, “What’s going on up there?”, and wish you could raise a periscope in your car to see?
I have.
I’ve also wished my house had a periscope. It could be helpful when I’m looking for a missing cat, or to see where the firetrucks are going.
Our glasses were refilled from the pitchers, with the usual comments about head. I grinned at Ed as I slid his glass to him. “There you go, my friend,” I said. “Drink up.”
“Thanks,” he said. He seemed suddenly subdued. He’s a moody guy but he’d just been laughing and joking. I wondered what threw the switch.
“You okay?” I said.
He nodded and took a quick sip of beer.
“What are your Thanksgiving plans?” I said.
Ed shrugged. “Don’t know yet. Still firming.” Sitting up, he turned and looked at me. “I just realized while sitting here, that I don’t have any memories of Thanksgiving with Dad.”
“Sorry,” I said. “Wow. Did he pass early?”
“No, he’s still alive, almost ninety,” Ed said. “I guess he was either gone or working in the early years, and then he and Mom divorced. I visited with him after the divorce, but I guess I never spent Thanksgiving with him. It’s just a surprise to realize that.”
Thought about this one. There are many ways to take it. I wonder how the people who put it on their car take it.
Have you ever gone to a store, like Costco, with a list of two things, and emerge forty-five minutes later with over twenty?
No, me neither.
