Maple syrup costs more than gas? | Column | The Press and Standard

by | September 20, 2017 5:00 pm

Last Updated: September 20, 2017 at 1:44 pm

Random thoughts while eating a pound of Costco cashews and otherwise not preparing for Hurricane Irma:
I’ve been looking for a clawfoot bathtub. It’s easy to find a clawfoot tub, but hard to find a beautiful clawfoot tub. If I wanted something with ugly metal feet, I’d bathe in a chafing dish.
• Does anyone care at all about how, when or why Kim Kardashian has a third child? I didn’t think so.
• I’m so lucky to have a husband who thinks mowing grass, trimming hedges and taking trash to the dump is a jolly good time. Because my idea of a jolly good time is baking cookies that he’ll never eat—more for me!
• I want to be like a man at my church who went bungee-jumping at 75. He’s my hero.
• The secret to a happy marriage is separate bathrooms and large closets. Don’t let anyone tell you different.
• Every now and then, I do a Google image search of Bo Derek to see if she’s still a knockout. She is.
• Speaking of Google, the last time I Googled my symptoms—headache, sore throat, temperature—it turns out I had rabies. Who knew?
• It’s so easy to become immune to the beauty around us. Yesterday at sunset, as I jogged around the church cemetery, the bronze rays against the white fence made me stop and stare. Stay woke, people.
• Re: cemeteries. I actually run across my final resting place about twice a week. From our house to our gravesite is a perfect three-mile loop.
• When did hot buttered Cheerios become a thing?
• In the last month America has weathered hurricanes, fires, floods and an earthquake. I’m no doomsday prepper, but I did buy stock in Beanee-Weenees.
• You don’t need false teeth to appreciate PoliGrip: It makes terrific spackle in a pinch. I’ve used it to patch nail holes Widdle never knew I made.
• People who routinely get manicures and pedicures fascinate me. How do they stand it? The thought of a stranger clutching my hands and/or feet for 30 minutes gives me cold chills. As you can imagine, the idea of getting a massage sends me right over the edge. (To add a little irony, my brother and sister are both licensed massage therapists.)
• I never thought eight ounces of maple syrup would be more expensive than gas.
• Adolph Hitler’s monogrammed boxers and socks went on the block last week in Baltimore. I hope the Shoah Foundation bid, bought and burned them.
• Remember when we thought a balanced diet was a wine cooler in one hand and Cheetos in the other?
• A lot of good people don’t go to church, and that doesn’t make them any less good.
• At least twice a week, my sleeping husband puts me in a headlock and does a gator death roll. Is this normal?
• The one thing I regret most in life, the only failure I can’t forget, is not learning to drive a stick shift. I am totally, utterly uncoordinated. I can’t climb stairs without tripping; I choke trying to chew gum. Driving a car with a clutch was just never going to happen. Three patient, wonderful people have tried to teach me. Widdle lasted the longest, but his nerve finally broke when I stalled out in front of an oncoming 18-wheeler. I never knew a man could shriek that high.

(Julie R. Smith, who did make egg salad and trail mix for the hurricane, can be reached at widdleswife@aol.com.)

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