Pending trip to Ft. Wayne

Well, actually I am supposed to leave in about an hour – to take my daughter-in-law and my grandson to his doctor’s appointment – he’s the autistic one, to use some sort of diagnosis. His sister, who was riding roller coasters a week ago today, is going with us. We will pick him up at summer school at 12:10 pm, hope to get to his 1:15 appointment early, then go to the mall food court and I don’t know what else.

I have not yet showered; I have not done one thing to get ready. So, I am going to stick my head in the attitude/mood adjuster machine I ordered from a late night TV ad and see how well it works.

Darn, I believe it was a waste of money. Okay, time to do this the old-fashioned way. Count to three and get up

Four . . . oh, that’s not working either.

Okay, okay, time to put on my Super AmeliaJake suit and  . . . it seems to have shrunk.

I am at the point of last resort: have a silent little fit and then go off and get going.

Random question at the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse

I was standing at the counter, pouring Diet Coke over my crushed ice and adding a splash of Mountain Dew to it, when it occurred to me to ask Frank, “Wouldn’t it be something if people were recalled like faulty products? Or if you had a lemon law for relatives?” Frank is used to this type of question from me; fortunately, this was one he could tolerate. Some of my hypothetical scenario ones make him roll his eyes and grunt at intervals. You know that kind: So if you knew that a scientist’s mind would be triggered to discover the cure for cancer if your daughter, son or Al Gore were bitten by a cobra, would you arrange for it to happen? Yeah, that kind – they drive him crazy.

But, okay, think about this idea of people as well, products. What if different personalities had been “test marketed” and those that weren’t too stellar pulled from the production line? Of course, then I suppose the ones already in the warehouse would be repackaged and sent to  . . . I’d better not speculate where.

Anyway,  my mind and mouth moved on to questions like “What if God ran people production like Proctor & Gamble did its empire?” That’s just the moment when Rosemary walked in – the words were hanging in the air. Ack, Rosemary and I have different views about things . . . and that’s okay. What drives me crazy is that I think people should be feel to let their minds wander around all thoughts – such as how many angels can stand on the head of a pin thing – and Rosemary is the kind of person who . . . doesn’t. She thinks I’m irreverent.

Frank started folding up his newspaper as if he were going to go, leave, flee . . . get out of Dodge. I shot him a look and he kind of hunched back down and became inordinately interested in the Living Section.

Nothing happened.  Rosemary sat down and ordered a orange marmalade, crunchy foldover and I asked, “So, Rosemary, what day did you ladies pick for the ice cream social?” Not that I really cared, but I knew that if “cobra” and “Al Gore” crossed my lips, Frank would make it a point to tear every daily Sudoku out of the paper for the next four months.