Lava, Oh Boy! (Hawaii Volcanoes National Park)

When Bob and I set foot in Volcanoes National Park last October, it was as if we had never been there. Our prior visit was for our 25th anniversary, back in 2000. Kilauea had a devastating eruption in 2018, which changed the geography drastically. I did recognize a building that formerly was a gift shop and information area, but it is now deemed unsafe and is barricaded off to the public.

I’m no scientist, which I’m sure you have figured out by now, but I have learned a thing or maybe even two about volcanoes. First, they can hang around a long time without doing really much of anything except looking majestic and/or foreboding. Second, when they have a major eruption, everything changes.

Top row of pictures is before 2018 eruption; bottom row is after.

In 2018, a new eruption of Kīlauea volcano changed the island of Hawai‘i forever. From May through August, large lava flows covered land southeast of the park destroying over 700 homes and devastating residential areas in the Puna District. At the same time, the summit area of the park was dramatically changed by tens of thousands of earthquakes, towering ash plumes, and a massive collapse of Kīlauea caldera.”https://www.nps.gov/havo/learn/nature/2018-eruption.htm

On May 3rd 2018, the first fissure of the eruption opened up in a residential subdivision, Leilani Estates. The following day, on May 4th, the island was struck by a magnitude 6.9 earthquake as magma continued its move to the Lower East Rift Zone. Over the next two months, lava covered 13.7 square miles of land, several dozens of feet deep in places. The flows in the Lower East Rift Zone destroyed 700 homes, displaced over 2,000 people, covered 30 miles of road, and added an astounding 875 acres of new land to the island.”https://www.nps.gov/havo/learn/nature/2018-eruption.htm

I confess, I didn’t really think about the “You Are Here” sign until I looked back at the pictures. I was too busy taking in everything to realize the here where I was seemed very close to the slope to Kilauea’s caldera. Maybe this isn’t to scale. Either way, I made it out without falling, slipping, or sliding into anything. That kept in step with our goal of not injuring ourselves.

Since I have practically no sense of direction, I rely on signs like this to get me around. Bob loves maps and likes to impress people with his ability to say things like, “Go east at the crossroad.” That kind of talk just makes me angry. I only know where east is if it’s sunrise or sunset, like a normal person.

On the way to view the eruption viewing area, we passed several young trees which were making their way through the volcanic soil, lifting their arms to the sky. I’m not sure who put the rocks around them for protection, but this was a perfect example of new life being protected while it emerges after destruction and devastation.

And there it was. Eruption is not always like you see in the movies. Eruptions go on constantly through fissures in the mountain. When we arrived at this place, there was a large crowd gathered. I did my best to avoid them and grab a quiet volcano caldera moment. I used binoculars to see the lava flow, which was hard to spot and looked tiny from my vantage point.

Meanwhile, Bob was circulating among the crowd, none of whom had binoculars. He was sharing his and pointing out the lava flow. And, as it turned out, he was schmoozing with the Governor of Hawaii, David Ige, who also borrowed Bob’s binoculars as he surveyed the lava flow while touring the national park. (You would think that somebody would have remembered to bring binoculars!) Most of the crowd were not tourists but part of the entourage of the Governor.

In keeping with my love of signs, soon we were faced with the decision of heading to devastation or not. We did not, but I loved the fact that a sign would lead you to devastation. Maybe the National Park Department does have a sense of humor.

This is one of my favorite signs and I photographed it in honor of our friend, Cliff, who is anything but unstable. We have no need to beware of him.

This area reminded me of Yellowstone National Park with its steam vents, which Yellowstone calls fumaroles. Here they were just referred to as steam vents and they lined the hiking trail.

On our way back to our resort, we passed the most dangerous place of all, Mauna Loa, the macadamia nut factory, not the mountain. The sign said “free samples,” so we veered off the road to get a macadamia nut fix. We managed to buy what became an extra suitcase full of chocolate-covered macadamias, onion flavored macadamias, and Hawaiian sea salt macadamias, most of which we could have picked up at Costco. We went nuts and were totally unable to resist the lure of the macadamia. I’d say anyplace that is offering yummy chocolate covered macadamias and is technically on a volcano qualifies as dangerous.

Mauna Loa, the mountain/volcano which is part of Volcanoes National Park, not the candy factory, erupted in 1843. This is the earliest, well-documented eruption. It has erupted dozens of times since, sometimes with months or even decades between eruptions. We were in Hawaii in October. Just weeks later, Mauna Loa erupted again. Click here to see the grandeur and destructiveness of that eruption.

We were thankful to have gone to this unique national park on the beautiful island of Hawaii. Also, in our pursuit of checking off as many national parks as possible, this is a good one. It and Haleakala are the two farthest from our home in Florida and we feel privileged to have visited them twice.

Ode to Black Friday

As I wandered the Altamonte Mall on the day before Thanksgiving, I wondered if Black Friday was coming off life support. There were definite signs that customers were being wooed back to the brick-and-mortar shops. I even spotted this team stocking the stores with goodies to sustain the merchants through the “big day.”

When my children were young, I looked forward to shopping on the day after Thanksgiving. I didn’t even mind getting up pre-dawn to do so. I have wonderful memories of picking up my mom and heading out for the Black Friday Shopping Expedition. We would use the newspaper to map out our path. (By the way, that is my favorite type of mapping.) You would need two hands to hold that massive issue with its dozens of Black Friday ads.

There were always bargains to be found. JC Penney would give away ornaments like this one from 1996. There would be scratch-offs for prizes and discounts. The jewelry shops often gave away goodie bags with little “gold” charms inside them. Target and Home Depot gave great incentives for stopping in early. Early meant around 5 am. That was doable.

Eventually my mom lost interest in the adventure and my daughter was only too interested in stepping into this grown-up outing. We always hit the mall, especially Penney’s, and Target and Bealls. I do admit to going to Walmart a time or two, but for me, it just wasn’t worth the crazy.

Confession: Over the past five years I have been losing interest in Black Friday. Probably because as I have gotten older, and I’d rather not exhaust myself in the pursuit of bargains. My daughter, however, has not reached that point. I dedicate this post to her. She is in mourning over Black Friday, which by all accounts from the last two years has gone from life-support to flatlining.

She loved going out at midnight on Thanksgiving and staying out for 12 hours was not uncommon for her. I drew the line on that one, but I have joined her for a few hours during a more civilized time on that Friday. Mainly, I’d do this out of guilt. You know the power your adult children can wield – especially if they throw in the word tradition. It was a tradition, but like so many traditions, it changes through the years and generations.

Even though I was fairly certain of my Black Friday plans, I picked up the local Orlando Sentinel. It was so skinny! I also had sticker shock as it cost $5.35!

Bob and I have one all-important stop on Black Friday, and we don’t have to be there until 9 am. If you read me at all regularly, you can probably guess it’s Costco. Who can resist $8 off a pork loin or $10 off a Butterball turkey? Not me. And as of this year, not my daughter either. She sadly admitted to me over the phone that Costco had the best Black Friday deals. I couldn’t see her face, but I think there was a little catch in her voice. At least her family of six will be eating pork and turkey for the next few months.

We will tell our grandchildren of those days of old. The days when Black Friday meant something. The days of people being trampled in hot pursuit of a bargain. The days of people camping out in front of Best Buy to snag that new mega-TV or gaming system. The days before Black Friday became a joke that lasted all the way through November. Sigh. Those were the days. How did we get here? I’m putting a lot of the blame on COVID. I’m reminiscing about the song, “Where Have All the Flowers Gone?” by Peter Seeger.

Here’s my rendition.

Ode to Black Friday

(Where Have all the Sales Gone)

Where have all the sale ads gone

Long time passing

Where have all the sale ads gone

Long time ago

Where have all the sale ads gone

COVID took them one by one

When will they please return?

Oh when will they, return?

Where have all the papers gone

Long time passing

Where have all the papers gone

Long time ago

Where have all the papers gone?

Gone to online every one.

Oh when will they return?

When will they ever return?

Where have all the shoppers gone

Long time passing

Where have all the shoppers gone

Long time ago

Where have all the shoppers gone

Buying on Amazon every one

They never leave their home

They never leave their home.

A classic for you – Joan Baez singing “Where Have All the Flowers Gone”

Bonus weird Thanksgiving product

The Problem with Passports

Bob and I gazed intently into each other’s eyes. “What color are my eyes?” he asked.

“I’m not sure, what color are mine?” I replied.

“I’m not sure either, but I’m renewing our passports and the Department of State wants to know.

We’ve been married 46 years, and looked into each other’s eyes so many times, yet I still have trouble discerning what color they are. Thankfully, he has the same problem. We have trouble distinguishing between hues.  

Surprise, surprise – the United States government has gotten pickier. The forms are longer and require more information. Things have changed since we renewed our passports ten years ago.

Uncle Sam now wants us to tell him what color our eyes and hair are. Isn’t that covered with our pictures? I wonder if someone at customs will even look that closely at our eyes. “Sorry, sir, you cannot enter our country because you claim to have green eyes and they are clearly blue with a greenish tint.”

Bob and I have that color eyes that seems to change from greenish to blueish depending on what we’re wearing. I’ve always claimed to have green eyes, but some people have commented on my blue eyes. It’s very confusing, but we knew it was our civic duty to finally lay to rest the eye color question. I wish you could have seen us getting in good light, naked, so as not to affect eye color change. On second thought, maybe not.

Next, it was time to figure out what color hair we have. Bob was easy – gray. As usual, I was more complicated. Typically I don’t think a flip about my hair color, as long as I can cover up the gray. There was not a choice of light brown or dark blonde or mostly blonde with gray roots. I decided to go with blonde – I hope they’re okay with that. (It’s quite the challenging form to fill out.)

Plus, as far as hair goes, it does. It goes for some guys, and it gets colored. Does this mean that I have to keep my appearance the same as my passport photo? If only! The last decade has resulted in some subtle changes in my appearance. I don’t think it’s going to get any better moving forward.

To further vex me, my beloved Costco no longer has a photo department where we can get inexpensive photos to send along to Uncle Sam during our weekly visits there. We were forced to use Walgreens like regular people.

The picture taking was disturbing, too. We decided to get ours done on the way to a dinner date. That way I would have fixed my hair, put on a little make-up and jewelry, and basically not look like I do every other day. Except that day I was suffering from dry eye syndrome and couldn’t wear eye make-up. That’s okay (I thought), I’ll put on some foundation, eyebrows, and lips. I’ll have jewelry on to give me some color and I wear glasses. As for Bob, he took a shower and combed his hair. Life is so much simpler for him!

At Walgreens, things took a bit of a turn. For the photos you are not allowed to wear jewelry or glasses, and you must put your hair behind your ears. Then, as before, they zoom in for a close-up that shows every open pour on your nose and all the new wrinkles you try not to think about, and there you go! Voila! A picture that haunts you because it’s going to be your identifier for the next ten years.

What have I learned through all of this? I am much more vain than I realized. I’ll do what it takes to be able to travel. None of this really matters. And Bob’s and my eyes are definitely green.

Extra credit: Can you distinguish between these Hughs?

Photo credit: depositphotos.com
Photo credit: depositphotos.com
Photo Credit: pngkey.com

I’d Like to Weigh in on Something

Every morning, without fail, my husband dutifully weights himself. Several years ago he lost about 35 pounds and watches that scale to make sure it doesn’t creep back on. Most mornings I, too, weigh myself. But not in front of him. When you’ve been on a diet for 45 years, you get a little sensitive about certain details. Yes, he can know how much I’ve lost. No, he cannot know what my current weight is.

Eventually, I tell him, but only after I get to my goal. He is a genius with numbers, so I know he can remember my weight loss and figure out from whence I came, but I don’t think about that. And he’s smart enough not to mention it.

Last Saturday was like every other day, only I was awake to see Bob weigh himself. He got on. He got off. He got on again. “Hey,” he exclaimed, “this scale is like the wheel of fortune gone crazy. It stops on a number and then rolls to another, over and over.”

Bob’s weight went from 170 to 214 to 68 in no time at all. Well, folks, that is 2020 for you. Nothing is what it should be. I stepped on and was delighted to see that I was in a weird bathroom/carnival game, not knowing where the scale would land. I decided I would choose a number I like and go on with my day.

By Monday, Bob was going through scale withdrawal and stopped at Costco to buy a new one. Alas, they had none. I know they’ll reappear in January, but for now, Bob had to find another source. If you follow me or know us, you will marvel at how we think everything can be found at Costco and if it isn’t there, then it’s either the end of the world or the year 2020. It doesn’t make sense, but that’s pretty much how we operate.

Bob got on Costco.com and found some options and listed them as I fixed dinner. Did we want bamboo finish, clear glass, black finish? Would we like our weight to the nearest tenth of a pound? Hey, these have Bluetooth. They will track our weight for us. That’s when I put down the spatula.

A great big NO to tracking! I turned the contact tracing off on my phone. Why would I want our scale to keep my numbers for public display to anyone who was passing through our bathroom? And who needs Bluetooth for their scale? Really, is that what this crazy world has come to?

Bob added that some scales can track up to four people. “Fine,” I said maturely, “but if you get that scale, I’ll never weight myself again.” And with that, I sliced myself a piece of pie to make sure he knew I meant business.

Amazon (Costco’s alternative universe) gave us more sensible and lower cost choices. When I saw a scale that came with a tape measure, I knew order had returned to my universe. So if you are feeling like the weight of the world is on your shoulders, remember you can discover what your weight is for $14.38 on Amazon.com. Let’s just hope this scale can keep a secret!

An Unexpected Shortage

I am so thankful to God for birds. We have a wonderful area in our backyard that we have fixed up just for them. Feeders, birdbath, trees and shrubs to hide in – it’s lovely and has been a source of peace for me in the midst of COVID-19. I think the birds like it, too.

Once in a while a big one stops by. This is a Sandhill Crane.

Do you have a place in your life that helps you to find calm during the crazy right now? For me it’s my backyard. I like to sit outside in the morning with a cup of coffee and the Bible and enjoy my little slice of heaven. Hearing the birds sing in the trees and watching them fly in and out for their breakfast is peace to my soul. I confess that once during the shut-down phase, I went to Costco solely because we were out of birdseed. It is essential for me.

Two weeks ago, we had a hailstorm. We had our roof examined and it has no damage, but one of my birdfeeders wasn’t so lucky. Its roof must have taken a direct hit and had a nice size crack in it. (The insurance company said it was not covered under our insurance.)

Different birds like different feeders, but this one, a hopper feeder, is the favorite of most. I keep two on hand because these guys may look like birds, but they eat like pigs. When I go out-of-town, I hang the extra feeder because I don’t want the birdies to think I deserted them and look for food elsewhere.

These hopper feeders are cheap – I can pick one up for $10-$12 at any hardware store. At least I thought I could, but that was before stupid COVID-19. I checked our local Lowe’s and Home Depot and the feeders had flown off the shelves. I looked at four different stores before I gave up and went on-line. Even on-line they were in short supply, though I did manage to find one not too far from me, so I ordered it and picked it up this morning.

I donned my mask and entered Lowe’s where I stood in line, six feet behind two women who each had a dog with them. One dog was in a carriage. The other was on a leash, like some kind of animal. These women didn’t know each other, but the one was quick to come to the aid of the other when her dog pooped on the floor right in front of us. The cashier behind the plexiglass was unable to help because they don’t have any wipes in the store, but the woman with her dog in the carriage was prepared for whatever would come her way. She even explained away the accident to the embarrassed owner by saying that the dog must have been nervous.

By this time, I was getting a little nervous. Bad smells have been known to trigger my gag reflex and you don’t want that when you’re wearing a mask; but I controlled myself. It was a good thing too because I already knew there were no wipes in the store.

On the way home I surveyed the incident and came to the conclusion that animals were being treated like people and people like animals. We people were herded through the line, obediently standing six feet apart, and those dogs weren’t even wearing masks! A little poop on the floor – no big deal! I had to wear a mask to gain entry to the store and I never poop on anyone’s floor. Sigh.

This isn’t a post about the Great Mask Debate of 2020 or about people bringing their pets everywhere with them as if they were people. Well, maybe it is a little. It’s more about the irony of the day. Unlike birdfeeders, puzzles, coins, rice, pasta, meat, Lysol wipes, and toilet paper, irony is not in short supply. I sure hope we don’t experience a sense of humor shortage. We would surely be doomed if that were to happen.

I take refuge in the fact that nothing escapes the view of my Heavenly Father. He loves the birds of the air and he loves his children.

 

Matthew 10:29-31 – Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.

 

These are red-winged blackbirds, not sparrows, but the point stands.

 

 

April 30 – The End is Near?

I am hopeful that some semblance of normal life is just around the corner. I am also aware that some of the corners we round are blind corners – it can take a while to get around them and you don’t know what you’ll face once you do. I’m not sure what end is near. Maybe just the end of April. Hopefully the end of so many ordinary things being closed and the end of being sequestered in our homes but mostly the end of this horrible virus.

For those of you who have suffered loss during this season of COVID-19, my heart goes out to you. Your normal is forever changed. I’m so sorry. I continue to pray for comfort, healing, and God’s mercy.

In keeping with the title of my blog, I also continue to look for the light side of whatever life looks like. Sometimes that side is funny and sometimes it is brilliant with the light of God shining through a situation. Sometimes it’s hard to find that light, but God is always there, even in the darkness. May you feel his presence in a greater way than ever.

I’ve taken some pictures as I’ve traversed my part of the world this past month. (I decided to use a big word for those little trips out of the house.) I want to reprioritize my life a little and remember and appreciate what we have, had, and will have. I want to remember how hard people worked to keep us safe even if they made mistakes while doing so. I realize that it’s easy to forget, so here’s my perspective of how things have looked in Altamonte Springs, Florida, during the April 2020 pandemic. (more…)

Quieting Anxiety and a Trip to Costco

Yes, Costco is open for business. Yesterday after Bob’s first day working from home, we braved ourselves and headed there. Bob had a prescription to pick up and I had our usual list. It was completely sane there. You read that right, sane. Not only was it sane, but gasoline was $1.65/gallon, with no line.

This is one of the things that baffles the brain of every Floridian I know. From June 1 through November 30 we are used to emergency preparedness which involves stocking up on things when a hurricane is in the forecast. In order to avoid the rush, in early June I go ahead and stock up on paper products, water, and batteries and make sure our propane tanks are filled. But buying gas before a hurricane is always tricky because you can’t stock up, and when one is coming there is always a line.

So, my brain draws from past behavior and thinks a hurricane is coming, and it won’t shut up about it. Yesterday I realized that my stress is mainly because there is no hurricane. Let me explain, when we know a storm is approaching, we ready ourselves. When the storm passes, we recover. I’m waiting for the storm and that produces stress.

This realization has helped me. People aren’t comfortable with open-ended problems. Well, we’re in training for that now.

One of my favorite scriptures is Philippians 4:6 – “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.”

I am thankful that God revealed to me that the source of my stress here is not simply a virus and the economic impact, but it is the unknown timeline of it all. I hope that helps you, too.

Meanwhile, I continue to chat it up with people at Costco and that is always interesting. I bought everything on my list yesterday except for onions. I was unwilling to spend $8 for an enormous bag of onions when I only needed one. I figured onions aren’t really in the need category anyway, so that was fine. But once in the parking lot, I couldn’t help but notice just a few cars away, a man and his wife were unloading their cart, and they had onions. My mouth was salivating.

“Hey there,” I said half-jokingly, “I’d love to buy one of those onions from you.”

He laughed and after hesitating a moment said, “Do you need one?”

“Well, kind of. I just couldn’t bring myself to buy so many when I knew they’d go bad.”

At that point he ripped open his bag of onions and offered one to me. I paid him a dollar for it, which he said was silly. So, I told him to put it in his church offering. After we debated over which of our churches should get the dollar, I offered to trade a roll of toilet paper for it.

This made my day. Laughter over an onion. Do you see the irony? Usually I’m crying over onions, but this one brought joy to four people in a Costco parking lot in Altamonte Springs. I love people!

Holy Zamboni!

I’m not a hockey fan, but after the unusual game played last week when the Carolina Hurricanes visited the Toronto Maple Leafs, well, I’m still not a hockey fan.

But I love a good story.

Thanks to my husband who keeps me apprised of all-things sports, knowing that there will be a small portion of those things that I am interested in hearing. He didn’t let me down with this story.

First of all, he had me at Zamboni, which is a fun word to say. I actually knew what a Zamboni is, because they use it in the Olympics to resurface the ice for the skaters. I guess it makes sense that they would use it to prepare for a hockey game as well. I hear hockey has a big following.

Photo Credit: Wikipedia

Evidently, every hockey team has two goalies. I’ve seen a little bit of hockey, so I was surprised that they only keep two, but seriously, what do I know? (Rhetorical question, but in case you’re wondering – not much.)

There is a provision in place in the event that both goaltenders become injured. It’s a weird one. The guy who drives the Zamboni becomes the goaltender. It doesn’t matter that he may be playing for the visiting team. That’s his job. (He also practices with his home team, which makes it a little less like they picked him up off the street.)

It reminds me of being back in school and learning to debate the other side of an opinion, only there is a chance you could lose teeth in the process. You have to give it your all and try to win the debate. That’s tough – hockey tough.

Well, the stars aligned and 42-year-old Dave Ayres became the emergency backup goalie for the visiting Hurricanes. He was met with great encouragement and admiration from both sides. Amazing. Carolina was leading 3-1 when Ayres entered the game. He ended up stopping 8 out of 10 shots, and Carolina won 6-3. He was the hero of the game for both sides.

Talk about stepping up to help in time of need! That’s what he did and now as a result of his 15 minutes of fame, he’s being featured in my blog! He also received $500 for his work and was allowed to keep his jersey. Pretty cool. He has an interesting story and you can read about it and more about the game here.

It all made me think about how we don’t really know what our day ahead is going to look like. Maybe we’ll have to step in for someone else doing something we’d never dreamed of doing. I’m fresh off of a conference at our church about the Holy Spirit. One of the sessions talked about such things – adventures with God. So I’m going to keep my eyes and ears open and drive my Zamboni (or Ford Escape) until called upon to step in. It almost happened as I left Costco today.

The lady two cars up pulled out of the parking lot, and her wallet went flying off of the roof of her car. Horns sounded loudly to alert the driver, but it was to no avail. The woman in front of me quickly emerged from her car, snatched up the wallet, and tore down the road to make the goal. I hope she wins. She’s a winner in my eyes.

Black Friday

I have considered wearing an armband to show that I am grieving over the loss of Black Friday. Gather around and let me tell you the story of the true meaning of this shopping event. If you started Black Friday shopping in the last 10 or 15 years, then you have no idea the fun you missed.

First of all, nothing was open on Thanksgiving Day except for the occasional grocery and convenience store. We ate our feast and played games together and watched football. Movie theaters were open. Many times, we’d catch a holiday movie on Thanksgiving evening with family and friends. After which we would go home and enjoy one more piece of pie and go to bed because we had to get up early the next day.

Early meant around 5 am. Lots of stores opened at 5 or 6 and my mom and I would plan our route by scouring the ads in Thursday’s paper. Why get an early start? There were lots of good deals, but also you could get free stuff. FREE. You didn’t have to buy anything. Amazing.

Free ornament from J C Penney’s – I put this on the tree every year and it reminds me of shopping on Black Friday with my mom.

The jewelry store in the mall gave out coupons to possibly win a piece of jewelry and they’d give you little cheap charms, too. J.C. Penney would have their free Christmas ornaments. Target gave out goody bags full of swag. And that’s just to name a few things.

We would finish our shopping before noon, come home, eat another turkey sandwich, and decorate the house. I got a lot of Christmas shopping done during what was the kick-off of the season.

I remember back in the 1990s when my daughter Dena had reached the age where she was old enough to go with me. She was thrilled. Now a mother of teenagers herself, she has turned Black Friday into an event of epic proportions. This year she started out late on Thursday night with her 16-year-old daughter, returned home several hours later for a nap, and then went back out again, this time making it a foursome with her 14-year-old daughter and me. She has more energy than Charlie Brown has anxieties.

 

New Black Friday memories

I have given up being excited about the event, but I am excited about spending time with my daughter and granddaughters – to a point, that is. I won’t leave the house until 9 am, and my first stop has to be Costco. That’s where the real magic happens.

I wanted to introduce Dena to the joys of Costco Black Friday shopping. I’m not talking about the things you find in their ads; I’m talking about food. Food that you and your family and friends will eat and then you can brag about the deal you got on it. Plus, you don’t have to get up before the crack of dawn. And that’s a huge plus.

In years gone by we have gotten Butterball turkeys for two or three dollars. This year, unfortunately, Costco was better about judging how many turkeys they needed for Thanksgiving, so none were left, but that still left the pork loin.

 

At $8 off per package, we got this baby and five more like him for around $4. That’s three for Dena and three for us. Her family of six will devour a half a one in one meal – that’s $2 a meal. Score! Bob and I will cut ours in thirds and we’ll be eating pork until next Black Friday.

Later in the weekend, when my non-Black-Friday-shopping daughter-in-law asked Dena what her best bargain of the day was, you can only imagine my joy when she said $4 pork roast. Score one for Costco and getting up after the sun rises on Black Friday. I may as well say it, score one for me, too.

A Short Post

When this is published there will be 38 days until the first day of Autumn. Contrary to excessive advertising bombarding us with all things fall, and considering there are 3 months or approximately 90 days in each of the 4 seasons, I do not think that summer is almost over.

Need calendar proof? If you’d like to countdown with me, there’s a website for that. Check out https://yourcountdown.to/autumn-fall

Living in Florida, I know that summer is far from over, and that’s why something has gotten on my nerves lately.

No, it’s not the great sales on summer clothing and swimsuits. It’s not the heat either. I look at hot days as opportunities to go swimming or to the beach.

It’s a little bit of the back to school hype. Even thought it’s been a long time since I’ve sent kids off to school, I don’t like to be reminded that summer is coming to a close – BECAUSE IT’S NOT! Even when we lived up north, summer was allowed to be in charge until after Labor Day. Autumn had to fall (so to speak) in behind it.

But that’s not the thing that has my dander up today. It’s shorts.

I’m right in there with all you people who like to make fun of pairs of shorts and pairs of pants when you’re talking about a single piece of clothing. It’s all clean fun. And it has been explained why those articles of clothing are referred to in the plural when they are singular in function. That’s fine.

I was in my beloved Costco a few days ago checking out the clothes, when I noticed they did not have any shorts. They had short(s). I don’t even know how to write this, because if I say they had shorts you will fail to understand fully this weird occurrence. Here’s a picture, that should explain it to you.

Shocking! Isn’t it?

I immediately searched the women’s and men’s tables for the historically correct and accepted word “shorts.” I came up short.

My next task was to ask Merriam-Webster. There is no shortage of definitions for the word “short.” A long way down in his definitions it is stated that shorts are knee-length or less trousers – usually in plural. Short drawers.

Whew, I felt better. Until…

 

Yep. All the tags come up short. I mean they are selling short, which of course means we are now dealing with the stock market and I’ll have to ask my financial advisor son to give me a short explanation of this.

I’m going to end this now just in case your attention span is short.