Well, its just Tuesday. Plain ole Tuesday. The great thing about this week. Long weekend. yeah baby! Until then I am up to my old tricks of pondering. Here's what's grabbing my goat these last few weeks.
First, there is a what I guess, is a homeless chick that stands at the intersection down from the office. She's been there for more than a year. Sometimes her boyfriend has his guitar and they have a sign that says "Hard Times, Anything Much Appreciated". I am trying to figure out why in the world the police or someone hasn't stopped to help her. I also wonder stupid crap like, where did she get the piece of cardboard to write on. And the marker? I know. The girl is roasting like a marshmallow at a Boy Scout campfire and I wonder where she got the marker and cardboard to write on. But my point is, if she's homeless, shouldn't she like print it on a dirty shirt or something, like a cheap concert T. A woman gave her $10 smacks the other day, but good wife beater and no bra and she might be trading in that street corner for something better.
Next, there is a popular fashion blogger with like 10,000 plus followers out there. I won't say the name but I am sure you can guess. I love her blog too. I visit it every day. I actually like most of what she puts on, and really like her earlier creations, but I love reading the comments. I have left one comment the whole time I have followed her. Never a response. But I see the same suck ups comment every day. And some days the outfits look like crap and I seriously wanted to do her roots for the longest time. It drove me nuts, but I swear these people could say, "oh, (blank), you have the most beautiful asshole. Where did you get that ass hole, I must have it, I bet it would look great with a pink cardi". I love bloggers because I am one. But really?
Why doesn't anyone ever walk up to you and say. "Oh, I love your blush where did you get it?" It's always your lip gloss or the eye shadow, but never the blush. Hmmm, pondering.
Finally, there is a house that has been basically turned into a funeral home on the main drag where we live. On the way back we got caught in traffic and Ian looks at me and says, "Moma, that is a great house, I bet its a happy place." Uhhhh, long pause and silence. The first time I had no clue what to say to my kid. He apparently thinks people live there and there is a water slide and pool in the back. I love that he is so oblivious to the world. Turns out there is a boy that played on his baseball team and his family owns the funeral home. I tell this story to the Owner and he busts a gut laughing. After thinking about it. I now see the humor in it.
What are you pondering today? Come on leave me a few goodies.