Graduations make me cry
Not-so-random (albeit disconnected) Thursday Thoughts
You can 100% count on the national anthem and graduations to make me cry, and I had occasion for both this weekend in Michigan at my youngest niece’s high school graduation.
What a time.
An amazing few days.
We arrived Thursday, chilled for a bit, and then ate dinner out at one of our fave local bars (Mt. Chalet). On Friday we prepped for and then attended an off-the-chain party for my niece and her BFF, we celebrated Kerri’s birthday on Saturday (brunch out with my mom, sis, and b-i-l and steak dinner/homemade strawberry shortcake with everyone that evening),and whooped it up at the graduation Sunday (followed by Detroit pizza on the patio at Como’s in Ferndale, watching the Celtics game, and a trip to the “iconic” Dairy Deluxe at halftime) before flying home Monday, exhausted but very happy.
Anyhow, here are some of the thoughts that have been flying about in my mind like the caps in the photo above:
Here’s something else that made me cry: learning that the song “Smooth” by Santana and Rob Thomas turns 25 this week. (And also (allegedly) (per Billboard) it’s the most popular rock song of all time. WTH? That tidbit made me really sob.) One of those brutally painful reminders that I am old AF. And those reminders seem to be coming at me faster and furious-er these days.
Airplane travel is a slice of life unlike no other. Observations from this trip include:
A father letting his toddler crawl on the moving/motorized walkway. Do you think the kid will have all 10 fingers by the age of 5?
Me repressing an urge to say “it’s not mine” as I boarded carrying my mom’s CPAP satchel.
A seatmate who studied the in-flight magazine and ripped out at least a dozen individual pages, folding them precisely, just shy of origami, before placing them gently into her tote bag. (No idea what that was all about—just take the whole magazine already.)
Two parents who sat across the aisle from their two kids (under age 5 I’d guess) and spent the whole flight yelling and/or reaching across the aisle and/or standing up and manually intervening in whatever was going on. I’m not a parent, but seems like one parent/one child would be a better seating choice. At least for the rest of us.
One of the parents in d. above (they were on our flight in both directions—-onus!) repeating over and over: “I need to find a different resssssss-taurant.” As if the Evans Terminal at DTW has a Michelin-star venue tucked away. (If you aren’t satisfied with McDonald’s or Coney, skip the meal at DTW.) (And no wonder her kids were also kinda bratty—apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Low battery lights all around.)
An across-the-aisle neighbor who was downright ornery when the flight attendant told her she couldn’t fill her Hydroflask with hot water during beverage service but she could give her a few individual cups that she could use to fill it herself. And then she dropped the bottle, so it was a good thing it hadn’t been filled to the brim.
A guy who put his kid in the overhead bin while we were waiting to deplane…and then closed it.
No Wi-Fi on the plane when I was trying to follow the high-profile Karen read trial in real time…debilitating. (Speaking of which, does the judge (aka Auntie Bev) cut her own hair?)
Also, throw this in and the flight became tooth-rattling bumpy, figuratively anyway. I’m considering it a win that I managed to drink my seltzer water and eat my Pop Chips without a catastrophic spill.
It took me at least five times longer to find the flush button in the airplane bathroom than it did to pee. Why must the engineers turn a routine task into a scavenger hunt?
How cute is this? (The old couple in front of me, during taxi and takeoff.)
If you’re on, say, a bus that goes from the airport to the suburbs, please do not watch personal videos without headphones…no one cares! (And if you’re stuck in excruciating traffic, take extra care—we’re all a little on the cranky side and your videos are not helping.)
I hope you have at least one friend with whom you exchange memes all day long—memes that run the gamut from the absurd to LOL funny to deep thoughts. Because nothing says “we’ll always be besties” like the perfect meme. (Or the perfect 10,000+ memes. 🤣)
Speaking of friends, this article about the two platonic same-sex friends who got married is still blowing my mind, days after first reading it. Takes me back to that old Pee-wee’s Playhouse episode when he says he loves fruit salad, someone comes back with the childish retort “then why don’t you marry it?” and the next thing we see is a bowl of fruit salad wearing a veil. Anything goes! (It *is* Pride Month after all!)
Did you hear the one about the full-sized bull named “Party Bus” jumping int the crowd at a rodeo in OR? I’m only laughing about it because no one got hurt. And if the bull had any other name, the story wouldn’t have caught my attention.
The Starbucks Iced Shaken Oat Milk Espresso apparently is not shaken. Go figure.
It was recently brought to my attention (causing subsequent shock and awe) that Ace of Base’s “Don’t Turn Around” (1993) is a cover of a song Tina Turner originally released in 1986. I had to listen several times. I mean, I saw the Tina Turner “Break Every Rule” tour that supported the album it came off of, kind of (it was the B-side to “Typical Male” back when that was how music was released)…I had no idea. Have at it if it’s as much of a mindf-ck for you as it is for me:
Last week I talked about both the PWHL and the WNBA. They’re on my mind again this week, and not in such an effusive and positive way.
First the PWHL and this story of a massive power struggle between the GM (a woman), the coach (a man), and some players with power (egomaniacs) in Minnesota. It ended with the GM being forced out, just after the team captured the inaugural championship Walter Cup. Story is here.
With the WNBA, it’s all the rhetoric around Caitlin Clark being left off of Team USA for the Paris Olympics. CC herself seems the least bothered by it of all. But it is hard to watch what is going on. Instead of riding the wave and letting this popularity (who cares why?) crest, people seem hellbent on crashing and burning. Competitiveness is one thing, and popularity is another. Some people have it, and some people don’t. I mean, I kinda think that’s why Hillary didn’t win but that’s a soapbox stance for another day. CC did not bring this on herself, so no need to beat her down to justify someone else’s decision.
Also with the WNBA, I am starting to think that Christie Sides (CC’s coach on the Indiana Fever (not to mansplain but to catch people who may not follow this up) is not just a terrible coach, but also a terrible person, having publicly revealed details of conversations between her and CC after the Olympic Team was announced. Boundaries, already. Feels like Christie is jealous of CC and making a point of showing her—and everyone—who’s the boss.
I’m frustrated by all this drama because it is taking away from all the progress. It’s bringing out all that is wrong with women’s sports, and it’s also highlighting the worst of women’s relationships in general. Women get accused of being too dramatic or too emotional or whatever…and maybe that is or isn’t poppycock but either way it’s taking focus away from all that is great with women’s sports and interpersonal relationships. As much as we talk about women raising other women up and progress and blah blah blah, I think the gender gap between men and women is still so great that there’s a lot of infighting among women trying to cross that gap. Not a good look. ‘Nuff said.
But how about Doris Burke being the first woman to ever call a professional national championship series? Go Celtics! (Though almost coughing up a 21-point lead last night was more than I could take. I know….I know…almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades…but still…pass the ball! Billy! Don’t be a hero! You have four chances to win one game…I’m on pins here!) (Also, does Luka Dončić cut his own hair? Flowbee?)
Hot dog eating champeen Joey Chestnut has been banned from the annual 4th of July hot dog eating contest, sponsored by Nathan’s, on account of his affiliation with—Impossible Meats. Time for someone else to receive accolades for slurping down waterlogged buns and wreaking havoc on their digestive system. If there’s any question, now we know: brand loyalty is dying, if not dead.
I’m not going to count my chickens before they hatch and plan on selling home-grown produce at a stand in front of the house in lieu of getting an actual job, but things on the prairie are looking good so far. (Knock wood.) What are the chances that these three flowers actually turn into three Cajun Bell Spicy Peppers? Stay tuned!
Do smoke alarms ever chirp for new batteries—or worse yet, sound a full on alert—during the day? Or only when one is in a deep sleep? (I worked up a sweat plugging, unplugging, cleaning, checking, and changing batteries in our hard-wired system yesterday. I kid you not. My Oura ring recorded it as a 23-calorie burning “housework” activity.) Seriously, nothing like waking up to the highest pitched high sound imaginal and a robotic voice advising “Fire. Fire. Fire.” I mean, if there were a fire that would be great—but when there isn’t one, it’s a real kick in the balls, as it were. At least today they waited until 5AM to go off. I’ve disconnected all the units, switched out all the batteries, and sprayed enough canned air to clean every keyboard at Microsoft. Currently only one unit is connected as I endeavor to isolate the problem…but since that problem itself is irregular I am not sure this approach will even work. 🤦🏼♀️ Wish us luck. Might be time to call the electrician. (To be honest, if this goes on much longer, it’s going to be added to the “Things That Make Me Cry” list.)
Saw the worst billboard the other day featuring a burly worker in a sultry pose, with the giant words “Lifeguard doody.” It was for Roto Rooter. Gross, right? Especially if you have a pool. Human waste and swimming do not mix.
Still waiting for the other shoe to fall with Bennifer 2.0. When they reconciled I wanted to believe in their fairy tale, even though I should know better at my age. Some things are not meant to be. “They” say to fish or cut bait. And once you cut bait, you can’t put the toothpaste back in the tube. Or something like that. Apparently A-rod is following the story like a giddy schoolgirl—a bit catty, but I get it.
In terms of other stories I’m kind of following…where the ever-loving-f-ck is Kate Middleton and will she appear at Trooping the Colour this weekend? Honestly, if she is gravely ill, that is beyond sad…but that said, there’s a lot of mystery surrounding the apparent disappearance of two of her kids and the Middleton family while Wills goes about official royal business and occasionally nips into a soccer match with George. Something isn’t adding up.
In other news, regarding the Karen Read trial, now that we have had some very inappropriate activity by Massachusetts State Police on very public display, why isn’t the Governor of MA speaking up to let us know she is aware of the, er, “issues,” and will address and remedy them? Kind of feel like we’re not super-protected here in MA. This isn’t about the case. It’s about local leaders taking ownership of a very ugly problem, reassuring the public, and taking steps to eradicate/remediate the issue and rebuild trust.
If you’re ever overcharged a few cents a gallon for gas at a self-serve station, just let it go. I mentioned an 8¢ a gallon discrepancy the other day on principle and chaos with a calculator ensued. It wasn’t about the 73¢ or whatever, but rather about the 73¢ multiplied by the number of however many other people were lso overcharged, lining Irving’s wallet. Hard pass.
The nicest person at the store the other day asked if I wanted to go in front of them in line because I only had a few items. I declined, stating that I had much more than a few items (which was true—my haul was deceiving) but they insisted just the same. It was so kind. Made my day.
I’m officially in my first official pickleball “league.” Which I think officially makes me an upper middle-aged aging wannabe athlete. Sigh. So if you’re looking for me on Tuesday nights from 6-8pm between now and the end of July, I’ll be at the Bosse Center in Boston, dinking like a madwoman, staying out of the kitchen when I volley. 🤦🏼♀️
Hunter Biden was found guilty on all counts, and things have been relatively quiet. A few observations.
When the Cheeto was being tried, “us liberals” were pretty quiet, for the most part, while the Drumpfmasters were all up in arms about how unfair life is. It’s “interesting” how proactive they are in defending him, and how quick they are to put not just words but whole paragraphs in our liberal mouths, when we haven’t even engaged.
If the justice system works as designed, both Big Orange and Hunter will get to appeal, they’ll get due process. And I can assure you this—their privilege will privilege them. This is what we all should be up in arms about.
I’m not sure either of these cases were the best use of taxpayer dollars and I am sick of my money being pissed out the window in one juvenile pissing contest after another between some has-been politicians. (This position may or may not be influenced by the fact that my anemic unemployment “award” ran out months ago.)
I’d like to close with some lessons I took away from assorted speeches at the graduation. I think they are reflective of the times and some of the challenges we’re all faced with as humans trying to get by in this complicated day and age:
Perspective and gratitude are two of the most important tools in our toolbox and we should use them judiciously.
Take your temperature and your pulse and be attuned to any changes that need to be tended to.
Keep your eyes and ears on others and take care of them as necessary.
Never forget—you are enough. Cliche? Maybe. True? Definitely.
My brain is empty and my body is calling for coffee, so I’ll close by saying how fortunate I feel to be able to share my thoughts with you, and how grateful I am for your willingness to engage with them, and with me.
Happy Friday Eve, and happy Father’s Day to all the great dads and father figures out there, including the female ones. If you’re like me and will be missing the best dad who is no longer of this world, I hope you find peace, comfort, and happiness in the memories—I know I will be.
Love you too.