Random Observations
March 6, 2021 59 Comments
I don’t mind brown. Redheads often look good in brown. What I take exception to is – you know that friend you have that walks around in his life with his cell phone in his hand and feels the overwhelming need to share every single breathing moment of his life and so you get to see stuff you could have lived a long time without seeing? That’s what I take exception to. Am I the only person who chokes back the gag reflex when seeing FB postings of relatives or loved ones or friends’ food? Am I the only one who notices they are always brown? Am I the only one who thinks, “Oh, look. It goes in the same color as it comes out.”
When my cousin Michael graduated high school, he wanted to go into forestry. He has always loved nature. Now, in his 60s, he still very much in love with nature. Every day on FaceBook, he posts pictures of nature or something nature related. But his big passion is orchids. He definitely has two green thumbs because his homegrown orchids are stunning. He posted a picture of an orchid that looks like a cute child’s face. It certainly couldn’t be real, it had to be some kind of meme or something so I contacted my dear friend Margaret Ashworth – as I’ve mentioned before, she is a writer for The Conservative Woman UK and has a weekly Sunday column called Notes from the Sticks. She did some research and this is what she sent back, apologizing for not being able to find the exact orchid I had mentioned. (rubbing my hands together in delight …) I can’t wait to read the comments when you peruse this: 17 Flowers That Look Like Something Else | Bored Panda.
Warning: you may want to skip this section – heaven knows I’d like to but Nebraska Energy Observer prides itself on free speech and boy, have I got a speech for you. Those of us who have attained a certain age have slowly come to grips with the fact that we are not quite what we used to be. There are those few odd indignities with which we are forced to deal. You might refer to it as a fact of life – not the exciting kind, like learning about sex – the fact that we now have to do things our parents stopped us from doing when we were babies. Namely – playing with poop. “What in the world is she talking about???”, you may ask yourself but that’s just because you have yet to reach ‘the certain age’. (smug grin …) But you’re time is coming so perhaps you should read this and learn from example. This morning’s task, according to my doctor, is what is euphemistically referred to as ‘stool collection’. I looked at the ‘kit’ I was to use with same kind of interest a scientist brings to fungus growth in Petrie dishes. I had resigned myself to fact that this ‘event’ was designed to protect me from beasties that may be hiding in my body (that I have trusted all my life but evidently never knew was conspiring against me). With as much good-natured aplomb as I could muster, I faced the kit. And then I saw them. Two long stem … no, not roses … brushes. I’ll give you a minute. It took me a couple of minutes, too. Ok; ready to proceed? I can’t, of course, relate here all the thoughts that crossed my mind while staring at the brushes but the one that stands out in my mind is, “What sick human being decided that a cheap paint brush was a good idea for this?” Reading the directions – I had to read them three times because I couldn’t quite wrap my brain around what I was being instructed to do – I ‘manned up’ and proceeded to follow the directions. The first part was easy – I’ve done that all my life. Presented with step two is what got me. I won’t, out of a fear that you may be reading this while snacking, go into detail but I ‘addressed’ the situation at hand. This is the instruction that got me – “Tap the brush on the side of the toilet once.” Once? Only once? Why not three times? Why not the drumline from a rock song? Why not use both brushes at one time and pretend I’m Ringo Starr??? ONCE, it said, so I promise – I swear to you! – I only tapped once.
Now comes the … uh … ‘good part’. I am to take the said brush and apply it to this tiny little square on a cardboard ‘frame’ (brush; frame; very artistic references). I pretend I’m two years old and apply the brush to the spot. Is that enough? Is that too little? How about I make little dots all around the cardboard? But wait! There’s more! There are TWO brushes. I look at the second brush, I look at the used brush, I look at the target area in the toilet. Wait, what? Is the first one ‘too dirty’ to use? Did you think I lied with the first one? Do you think I borrowed someone else’s poop and they’ve left the building and now I have to prove I’m using the same poop? There’s a limit here, people, and I’ve about reached mine! Despite what I’m being instructed to do, it is my job to be the adult in this situation and so … brush number two finds its target. I have now completed the assignment. You know what the saving grace is??? Later today, I get to hand my artwork to a tech at the lab and say, “I’ve got a little something for ya.”