A Visit from the Language Police

As much as we don't want to be defined by our age, there is such a thing as age appropriate.  Time to leave the overdone pink behind, the short-short skirts, the bare midriff.  Definitely time to donate the go-go boots to Goodwill -- if they'll even have them.

I also think some words are age appropriate.  Dude, for example, should be deleted from your vocabulary early in life.  Leave the dude to Bart Simpson who is, as you know, in elementary school and a cartoon character.

Awesome is another word that sounds marginally pathetic when used by those of us of a certain age. First of all, the word has lost its meaning.  The pizza was awesome.  Correction -- the pizza was, perhaps delicious or yummy but hardly awesome.  The party was awesome.  Correction -- the party was a blast, really fun, just great but hardly awesome.  The Grand Canyon was awesome -- now there you go. 

As a self-deputized member of the language police, I advise choosing your words carefully. A tweet or Facebook entry can go viral and your poor choice of words can haunt you forever.   Ask any politician -- the masters of back-pedaling after being quoted "out of context".   The number of times these dudes are misquoted is awesome. 

Elderly? Surely, Not I

Thursdays are usually upbeat, hopeful days in that you're pretty sure you can make it through Friday and then be rewarded with a relaxing weekend.  I was of this belief and perhaps even thinking about it when I suddenly found myself splat on a busy downtown San Francisco sidewalk.

Embarrassed?  Of course.  Chiding myself for the stupidity of falling?  Certainly.  In pain?  Yup. Bleeding? Unfortunately, affirmative. 

Thankfully, several passing people were kind enough to wrap my gashed leg with a towel offered by the nearby florist and get me into a cab headed for the emergency room.

No complaints about my treatment there.  Since my gash was hardly life threatening, I did have to wait my turn for an available doctor but I also got to hear the stories of other patients.  Top of the most interesting character list is the guy who overdosed on something but insisted he was ok because he was part of the Occupy movement.  Nothing confidential in the ER, since only a shower curtain separated our beds. 

I got my stitches and was discharged with a prescription for pain killers, information on what to do in case of complications and a fact sheet on "Fall Prevention, Elderly".

Elderly?  Elderly?  Good thing the nurse took my blood pressure before I left the ER since it was surely elevated now that I was deemed elderly.   What's next -- a walker, large print books, early bird dinner specials? 

What boomers calls themselves elderly?  And will we ever?  This post has a homework assignment: coin a word for this third act we're in. Something with panache and pizazz.  Anything but elderly.

Tax Day Cometh

This being April 14, the most obvious topic is --- taxes.  So not to disappoint, here we go.

As usual, I tackled my own until a rough tally showed I owed several thousand dollars. 
Time to round up those stray receipts and dump them on the desk of a tax professional -- one whose
figures showed a welcomed refund.  I certainly like their math better than mine, plus they know
what to deduct, which line it lives on and on what form.  Apparently they've actually read
the tax manuals -- score points for bravery -- and understand them.

Don't want to gloat in case you're clicking those little abacus beads in haste today, but I filed my taxes
in February.  Yes, I'm stress free today, but it also means the refund is long since spent while all you
procrastinators have yours to look forward to.

I don't mind paying taxes but I'd like a say in where the money goes. No bombs, tanks or
bullets purchased with my contribution, thank you.  How about supporting a struggling arts program
or nutritious school lunches instead?

Do you think the so-called Buffet Rule will actually be in place this time next year?  I'd sleep better
knowing that Wall Street CEOs and others of that ilk pay more taxes than I do.

Easter Bunny & His Basket of Sugar

Here it is Easter Sunday and me without a new bonnet.  Of course I appreciate the religious significance of the day but once you get past that, let's face it, it's all about the sugar.

I bet Easter is right up there with Halloween in pounds of sugar consumed. That Easter basket could contain a record-breaking number of calories.  How many handfulls of jelly beans does it take before your teeth fall out?  I wax rhetorical -- not mathematic so put the calculator away.   Add the Peeps, chocolate bunnies and candy eggs and you can say hello to a sugar coma for most of the day.

The only thing really healthy are the hard boiled eggs, now dyed in colors not found in nature.  Unfortunately, since most of us cook way too many, after a few days they end up slathered with mayo thus cancelling out any possibility of  low calorie edibles.

One of the TV cooking shows made a recipe for sugar-free Peeps.  The host tasted the finished product which was sweetened with agave or stevia or molasses or something of that ilk.  She put on a good oh-this-is-yummy act, but you could see the disappointment in her face.

For some holidays there's just nothing better than pure junk food.  Yes, it rots your teeth and makes the butt grow a tad wider, but you can't top it for bringing back fond memories of Easter morning and that cheap little basket filled with colored plastic grass and sugar.