Falling for Corinthian Leather and Oreos

I took a nasty fall in the Staples parking lot on Sunday…went right over one of those low-rider carts they use to caddy large boxes out to your car. I went over the cart...and the box…did this as we were loading the huge (and heavy) box into the back of my car. Shins are healing nicely…swelling is gone…left inner-upper arm is still a black and blue mess though…and quite tender. Most importantly though, and I am happy to report this, the Lazy Boy Executive Chair that was in the box made it home unscathed and is resting comfortably in front of my computer desk. 

And yes, it was worth every twinge, throb, and ache that I have felt thus far this week. It is THAT comfortable. As a matter of fact, when I was sitting in it, playing an online computer game with my granddaughter in Virginia Beach earlier this week (The Lord of the Rings Online…yes...I’m a geek), I thought I heard the voice of Ricardo Montalbán through my speakers, saying something about soft Corinthian leather.

I should add, if you understand what I just said about Ricardo Montalbán and soft Corinthian leather, the following will most likely disappoint you, maybe even devastate you. Perhaps you should sit down, on soft Corinthian leather if you have some. The fact is, in actuality, the Corinthian leather used in the 1975 Chrysler Cordoba came from New Jersey...not Brazil. At least that’s what it says on the Wikipedia page for Corinthian leather. 

So…it was a scam. After all these years, the truth is revealed. 

For me, finding this out was almost as disappointing as when I found out Oreo Double Stuff cookies have, on average, only 1.86 stuff. This cookie sham (and outright attack on everything American) was exposed by way of a real experiment, one conducted under genuine scientific conditions…I checked, they used metric units and everything.

But I digress. 

Sorry.

Here’s the short version of my post…

1) I took a bad fall on Sunday, but I’m feeling much better now.
2) As substantiated by the Star Trek franchise, Ricardo Montalbán cannot be trusted.
3) And it might not be wise to agree to a double date with anyone from Nabisco.

Rainy Days and Mondays

There’s something about the dog days of August that make it easy for a person’s mind to ramble.

And as I’m sure is true for all whom are reading this, if one throws in a few songs from days gone by, that rambling mind might find its way to places where life seemed simpler…and time slower…and the world a better place.

Rose tinted glasses? 

Perhaps so. 

I think they can be a good thing, as long as one doesn’t leave them on for too long. I feel sorry for the person that doesn’t own a pair.

So as it happened...earlier today, during my drive home from work, I was listening to music from my iPod when the following Carpenters song came on. I will admit that it brought a tear to my eye as I thought about how much I miss hearing Karen Carpenter’s voice on the radio…as well as others…Jim Croce…John Denver…Harry Chapin…and on and on. 

After I arrived home, and got settled in, I searched for and found this video. Then I jotted down these words that you are reading…on a Thursday, not a Monday, and with no rain falling from the sky…but yet…it felt like the same kind of day Karen was singing about…now so long ago.

There’s something I want to say…

But first, did you know I'm off to PA for some R&R tomorrow? Badly needed. Isn’t that true for all of us though? 

And here’s a fun fact about where I work: I work on the third floor. The vending area is also on the third floor. Yet I must traverse four flights of stairs to navigate between them. Don’t ask why, but at least I'm burning calories traveling between the two.

I could take the elevator, but I don’t, even when my feet and knees cry uncle (my Great Uncle Arthritis). No, I am not scared of elevators, nor do I suffer with Claustrophobia (a fear of small enclosed places) or Agoraphobia (a fear of being trapped in a situation from which it would be hard to escape). And no, I did not know of the latter phobia prior to Googling it a few seconds ago. I am definitely not a Sesquipedalian (a person whom overuses big words to appear smart) even though I am overusing them right now. I’ll drop the subject to avoid being labeled contemptuous or overtly pretentious (yes…used my Thesaurus).

Strange week. I made the mistake of expressing a political opinion earlier this week…in a venue where only “correct” opinions were welcome…won’t do that again. Lesson learned. And my views remain intact…sticks and stones and all that jazz.

Work has been a tad on the stressful side of the “how’s it going” spectrum -- and by a tad I mean as in "the weather has been a tad on the warm side lately" (temperatures close 100 this week). The truth is I really need to retire sooner rather than later. My numbers as of today are 792 calendar days and 544 work days to go...unless...unless the rug is pulled out from beneath me in the next two years…and that IS a concern. I don’t see either presidential candidate as being a friend to retired folk.

And what is it with this weather? It has been quite a few years here in the shadow of the Blue Ridge since we’ve had a summer like this. Of course we’ve all had summers like this in the past…summers can be hot…summers are supposed to be hot. But I still don’t like it.

I’ve said it before. I hate summer. My Eastern European and Irish skin hates summer. Think of me as a slice of white bread in your toaster…which is dialed to ten…and you walk away…“just for a few seconds”…to watch something on TV. We all know how that ends up. Or as a bag of microwave popcorn…and you walk away to “do something”. It never ends pretty.

Did you know that when I walk into my house after being outside in the sun for an extended period of time without sunblock, the smoke detector goes off?

Really.

No. Not really. I’m being an overzealous fabulist. (Yes…Google)

I long for the cool days of late October…I really do…with a tad of frost. Yes, an actual official tad would be just fine. Before you ask…no I don’t know…how much a tad is…you can check with the International Bureau of Weights and Measures. They’re in France. They speak French there. 

Is there a French word for tad? I don’t think so. Use “little” instead. 

I’ll wait while you ask.

No. Not really. I won’t wait.

That’s all I really wanted to say...that I long for the cool days of October.

Sorry for being so loquacious.