I've spent over five hours trying to blog. Three hours yesterday and two today.
I was trying to pull together a topic that I thought worthy of my consideration. I had the title, and the subject matter. I yearned to put into the story over forty years of my knowledgeable philosophyiness only to find it getting stretched into a long lengthy blob, like silly putty, instead of a blog.
It was to be about ethics, etiquette and Facebook.
Ethics is knowing the difference between right and wrong. My youngest daughter has gone back to school. She had to take a class on ethics. Ethics are even having to be taught in the work place. How sad is that?
Etiquette is knowing how to be seen or act, usually in public.
Since most people know what Facebook is, why bother to explain it's a huge social media website that allows people to prove why ethics have to be taught in a class room setting and etiquette has flown right out the window.
There, five hours reduced to three paragraphs. One more thing about Facebook though. If someone dies, or is in a bad accident, FOR CRYIN' OUT LOUD, don't post it. Would you really want to find out that kind of information, via Facebook, if it was a member of your family?
Oh, just one more thing about Facebook, then I'm done. If you don't like what someone is posting, un-friend them. Sure, it will make them mad and they will probably continue to post unsavory comments. They might even post some nasties about you, but guess what? You won't see them! Unless, of course, one of your other friends happen to share the nasties to your page. When that happens, un-friend them too, because real friends don't do that and that has something to do with ethics and etiquette........
While I was struggling to blog yesterday, my oldest daughter sent me a text. She had some gift cards that were beginning to smolder and did I want to ride along.
Yesindeedidoo, I did. It was a chance to get out. Not just out of the house, but out of town. Not just out of town, but out of the county! I could give a diddly squat about shopping, but a road trip was just what I needed. We talked for 60 miles and it was wonderful therapy.
The first stop was for lunch. Do you know how incredibly hard it is to get the inside of a bread bowl scooped out with a plastic spoon? As I sat and watched people dispose of their lunch remains, I figured that was where most of the metal spoons had gone, so the plastic ones were probably much cheaper to replace. I did have a real knife though, but I'm not sure why. My sandwich was already just half of a sandwich, so there was no need to cut it. I could have used it to eat my soup. That would have given the soup more time to soak into the insides of the bread bowl, making it easier to retrieve. I think a spork would have come in handy and if I had seen a suggestion box, I could have written that splendid idea on a napkin.
Then we were off to exchange a couple of wrong sized shirts. I wandered around in the area of the store that held the displays of yard art and longed for warmer weather. I thought about how different my daughter and I are. I would have never exchanged a shirt. I don't know why, other than it would require me to actually do some shopping. I always felt like a gift was a gift and was to be accepted as such. That is probably the main reason no one ever gives me clothes as a gift anymore. If it was the wrong size or color, I simply put it in the closet, never to be seen again. The giver of the gift probably noticed that.
Next stop was the mall. I hadn't been in there for years. We quickly found the winter coat department and I served the purpose of holding her purse and coat while she tried on different styles.
Being satisfied with a particular coat we were fortunate to be in close proximity to a not so busy check out. It happened to be located in the neighboring lingerie department. As she stood in line, I began to scan the ocean of bras, panties and promise not to roll body slimmers, those of which I would beg to differ. My gaze fell upon a perfectly proportioned headless mannequin sporting a thong. In my day, thongs were something you wore on your feet, now they are referred to as 'flip flops'. There is no better way to draw attention to yourself or to clear a room than to announce in a loud voice, "Hey! How do you like my new thongs!" I looked at the scanty garment on the mannequin and decided since my own undergarments already fit like that, I didn't need to purchase one. It seems to me that the most comfortable way to wear a pair of those would be on the outside of ones' jeans, but I suppose that would be another good way to draw attention, or, clear the room.
Our last stop was to exchange another gift. As soon as we walked through the doors, there on a big red sign was the arrow pointing to the return/exchange department. It wound us through the store and was almost like following the yellow brick road. As we turned the last corner, we discovered why it was located in the back of the store. The line must have been four miles long, if it had been located in the front, people would have been standing out on the interstate. Some of my do not like to shop genes obviously got passed on because she took one look at the line and made a quick decision to leave. Out we went, un-returned gift in hand and were lucky enough not to set off any alarms or draw the attention of the security people.
The ride home was just as enjoyable. The only time we stopped talking was to draw a breath. The sun setting in the west put on a dazzling show of deep purple, yellow and orange hues that rivaled a Hawaiian sunset.
What a fun day, I really should get out more often.
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