PEARLS & AMBER

BYE BYE CAFETERIA TRAYS

It has been brought to my attention by an article in the New York Times that cafeteria trays are going the way of ocean liners.

I never like to hear something is going away.  I have a strong sense of nostalgia.  I moved a lot when I was a kid.  It's my parents fault--

But cafeteria trays?  I am very okay with this.  I hate cafeteria trays.  I've always hated cafeteria trays.  The fact I have a tray in my hand, and I am putting a plate of food on it, signifies to me I'm stuck at school somewhere, and this is never a good thing.

Other negatives?

Big plastic cups filled with Coca Cola and Sprite slide off at the slightest tilt. 

Following the defiant four year old determined to carry his own tray full of plastic dishes is heart attack time.

Emptying the thing into an overflowing trashcan is a lesson in futility. 

And the look of them.  Ghastly.  Institutional.  College kids must adore their departure.  Such a downer, those trays.  Such a reminder that they are no longer eating Mom's cooking.  Now, with those nasty, water consuming items removed from their sight, our precious college kids' moods will improve--

This means their grades will go up.  This means fewer calls home asking for money--

And in the end, this means (dare I say it?) that COLLEGE DEGREE, clutched in a triumphant hand no longer sullied by a cafeteria tray.

the ATLANTIC MONTHLY

I just finished reading a very long article in the Atlantic.  Surprising myself, because my attention span isn't what it once was. 

I'm liking this new realization that my attention span...isn't.  I am one of the fashionable crowd.  I am ADD.  My daughter, who is a law student, therefore she knows these things, diagnosed me.

Yes, I've felt a lot better ever since because I know the NEW WAYS of communication are just right for me.  I don't need to cluck or wring my hands, and wonder what happened to the good old days.

I am referring to short blogs, short e-mails, short texts (as in texting), which all leads to short arguments, short meals, short hikes into the wilderness, short bouts of unhappiness, despair, and yearning, and therefore less shock with those all too short bouts of happiness, hope and gratification.

The Atlantic used to be called The Atlantic Monthly.  Then they modernized...redesigned?  Anyway, the powers that be apparently told them that in these times people have NO attention span.  Therefore such an unwieldly name had to go.

Hence, 'The Atlantic Monthly' became 'the ATLANTIC'.  Yes.  The 'the' is in small letters.  However, no one seems to have told them that long articles are OUT.  The mag is filled with endless pieces.  Even the book reviews are short story length.

Endless works, for me, if it's funny.  Dry humor works too.  The article I read was wry.  So I stayed until the end.

But SHORT IS IN.

So, this entry is done.

DUST OFF THE ROLLS

I've never seen so many Rolls Royces out and about here in the OC. 

This is the  newest battle cry-- 

Quick!  While it couldn't be more politically incorrect--

Quick before the Peta of the automotive world regroup and buy that paint and stake out the VIP parking at the mall--

Quick before your grand kid comes to visit from college, a freshly minted humanitarian, vegan and chess player who'll keel over in horror--

Quick before you forget where you put the keys, how to drive the thing, or even care--

Quick!  Do something you've never done before in your privileged life, never been allowed to do in your privileged life, maybe never even wanted to do--

Flaunt your $$$$$!  Flaunt them big time while others are too cowed to drive even the Hummer in public, let alone send the kids to camp via first class.

Dust off the Rolls, don't even try to remember which husband or grandfather gave it to you, praise the powers that be, and drive that thing out of the garage, down the road, heading East, like you don't have a care in the world--

Because maybe you don't. 

Somebody's gotta do it.

INTERMISSION

This story is older than the hills--

I HAVE A NEW COMPUTER.

Make that I HAVE A NEW MAC.

I have also initiated a few minor changes in my SCHEDULE, thank you very much...

And am now blowing feebly in the wind.

My cat Molly knows all about it, and she is praying to her CAT IN THE SKY for me to rise to the challenge, get over myself, and start living large again--

Which would make it so much easier to be around me.

I promise to do better.

Even though I can see that new Mac sneering at me, just setting me off my feed big time.

I'll take a deep breath.  

I'll go outside and breathe.  It's Sunday.  A day of rest.  This is no day to be cursing at the new Mac. 

This is no time to become enraged over the use of the word 'cookies', whatever the hell they are.

Tis the time to let my cat out.

And me too.