Thursday, October 30, 2014
Tuesday, October 28, 2014
About a year ago I fell right on my nose in the lobby of the Kimmel Center. It hurt like hell, but. aside from two black eyes, I was essentially unharmed. I looked grotesque, though.
Last Thursday, a dog knocked me down a (short) flight of stairs. The sound of my head hitting the step was horrific. Again, no damage, unless there are bruises under my hair.
My father lived to be 99, and it took a dedicated team of doctors, at a renowned medical center, to kill him.
I am starting to feel like Rasputin; who I understand survived several attempts to kill him. And that's all I know about Russian history, and probably all I ever will know.
Posted by miriam sawyer at 7:44 PM
Friday, October 17, 2014
My broom has no home. When I want to use it I take if from wherever it is standing, usually in the way, and after using it I leave it somewhere, usually in the way. The somebody knocks it over.
Does anyone else have broom problems? I never notice other people's brooms standing around waiting for someone to knock them over. Other people have control of their brooms.
I have lost my last house key. I never use them, because I come and go through the garage, but I think one should have a house key. So I have to start thinking about a locksmith.
I let my husband's subscription to a magazine come to a close. Then I ordered a new subscription for myself. Now I either have two subscriptions or none. This requires action, but the thought of straightening it out makes me want to take a nap.
These are first world problems, right? St Teresa said, in a quote that's too good to check, that life was a night spent in an uncomfortable inn. Try to imagine a 16th century Spanish inn, where you had to share your bed with other travelers, some of whom probably smelled bad. Now call a locksmith.
Posted by miriam sawyer at 3:20 PM
Monday, October 13, 2014
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
My father and my brother the genius were so alike it scared me. The first word ever applied to either one is "brilliant." Both of them spent enormous amounts of effort on some cause. My father spent four years trying to invent a sewing machine which would sew the toe of pantyhose invisibly. He turned my brother's bedroom into a machine shop, surprising my brother when he came home from college and had to sleep on a sofabed in the living room. Dad had scores of patents on this machine, which proved difficult to design. He became the world expert on pantyhose and was about to cash in worldwide when all the women of all nations simultaneously decided they hated wearing pantyhose, discarded them, and started wearing trousers or going barelegged.. Even Anna Wintour. And when you've lost Anna Wintour you've lost everyone who counts.
My brother the genius has a scheme for extracting energy from seawater. Don't ask. If he were rich he would devote all his time and resources to the project. He also has lots of patents. Needless to say, after the spectacular failure of wind and solar power nobody wants to listen.
When my mother was alive, he was convinced that all the natural gas in the world was going to be used up imminently, maybe within a year or two. He actually ordered an oil burning furnace for her house. When the installer came, the cleaning lady warned mother in time and was met with armed resistance and was forcefully ejected. Thank heaven she caught him before the backhoe was applied to her rose garden.
It didn't take much acumen to consider him mistaken. Just because someone is brilliant doesn't necessarily make him right.I felt in my gut that sooner or later, there would be an oil glut and I was right.