Saturday, April 18, 2015

Grumpy Old Woman Complaining

People, I know that with every passing second, an American my age becomes less and less valuable, less marketable in the work place, less important as a consumer, less valued as a citizen. Alright. I am good with that. I had my day in the sun. I am fixin-to-get-ready to retire so I can just fade away and leave the world to the cell phone addicts. Before I go, I have a couple of things to get off my chest.

First of all, goddamn it, a point is MOOT - not MUTE! Mute means silent. Moot means irrelevant or open to debate. It is pronounced moooooot. (If cows could make a point, they would make moot points. Oh, I crack myself up!)

Americans once held the grand idea of educating every child - a marvelous, democratic and noble idea! So how did almost 318.9 million people reach the age of majority without understanding "they're, there, their"?

They're - a contraction of "they are".
Their - a possessive plural pronoun.
There - refers to place, an adverb

Now pay attention: "They're going there with their children."

Not that I myself posses perfect grammar. It is impossible for me to even catch my own mistakes because I was born in Kansas, raised in Kansas, and have lived here my entire life. I am never sure how to properly use was/were. My writing is full of such errors that I wholeheartedly, without shame, blame on the Kansas vernacular in which I have been steeped lo these many years.

I struggle to avoid ending a sentence with a preposition. There is even a prepositional joke:

A PhD, between flights was waiting in a crowded airport. A friendly Kansan sits down next to her and asks, "Where you goin' to?"

The PhD sniffed, "I do not answer people who end their sentences with prepositions."

"So, where you going to, bitch?"

Grammar issues are nothing compared to cell phone etiquette. If we are in a face-to-face conversation, unless you are the President of the United States or an Obstetrician, do NOT check your texts every five minutes - or every ten minutes. Trust me, it can wait. I am dying even as we speak! Have some respect.

Monday, April 13, 2015


The handsome pup

Nothing lasts forever - not the sun, nor the moon. Not a human life and certainly not the life of a dog. I called the old Duke in from the rain one final time early Saturday morning. A thunderstorm was almost on us. He was not doing well at supper and I did not want him out in the rain. I had to look for him with a flashlight. Wherever he had been, he faithfully came when called one last time. When I went toward the garage, he could not go any longer.

Unable to lift him, I got a sheet of cardboard to move him, but realized that he was dying. I stayed with him then until the good dog passed out of his old worn out body, leaving me behind.

He came home in the arms of my son in April of 1999, and took his leave in April 16 years later. He lived a set of four rounds of four, befitting a good and wise spirit such as he.

I do not believe there is a human being on the planet who truly deserves the love and devotion of a dog. I did not deserve such a good companion.

The old graybeard

Inspecting the construction materials

Trying to have a back scratch in the tall grass but what happens?  JAKE!

He asked for so little for what he gave.

Nothing Duke loved more than a cold winter morning!

Just call and then get out of his way!

Now I do not know where his spirit may be.