I have no love for The Donald. I imagine the feeling is mutual.
We have nothing in common, or so I thought until I remembered that during the campaign The Donald made a point of telling us that he was good at making up nicknames for his enemies.
Remember “Crooked Hillary” for HRC and “Pocahontas” for Elizabeth Warren? Such clever [?] zingers from that man.
Thinking on these nicknames I realized that The Donald and I do have something in common. We’re both good at finding what we believe to be the perfect way to describe another person who we do not care for.
So today in honor of his inauguration, and as a way of showing respect for his leadership regarding the use of nicknames, I’ve created a poll using nicknames that we might call The Donald during the next four years.
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After reading the list, compiled from nicknames I found all over the place, please indicate your choice of what to call The Donald. You may choose up to 3 nicknames.
[Please note: Suggestions for nicknames not on this poll may be added in the comment section of this post. Remember, this is a PG-13 blog, so use discretion when adding nicknames. Thank you.]
This has been a ridiculous week. MY MIND AND SPIRIT ARE WHACKED, ON EDGE. In fact, so much so that I’m going to write a listicle instead of a proper post To Remember It all.
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In no particular order…
√ ANXIETY: Our normal temperature for this time of year would be 39ºF. However, on Monday morning it was 7ºF here with a wind chill close to 0ºF, a light dusting of snow everywhere. By Thursday morning, after 65 mph winds on Wednesday night that took down many tree limbs, our temp was 65ºF. Right now on Saturday morning it’s 35ºF outside with gray skies.
These extreme temperature fluctuations make me nervous– and put a wrinkle [pun intended] in my early morning “what to wear?” decision-making process.
√ AWARENESS: I’ve always said that I believe that education is everything. I was naively referring to learning about language and history and math and science and critical thinking and how to get along with people. I was not thinking about learning new terms for sexual deviancy, but thanks to our PEOTUS I now know more about said topic. Unless you’ve been visiting Mars this week you do too, right?
Perhaps we should change the aforementioned acronym to mean Pervert Elect Of The United States.
√ ACRIMONY: I’m disappointed to know that one member of the board at LL Bean, a woman who is a descendent of the founder, has used her vast wealth to fund The Donald’s campaign. I agree in part with the current LL Bean Executive Chairman’s FB message [instead of a proper press release?] reminding us that this woman is free to do whatever she chooses with her money, but I disagree with him about how her behavior does not reflect upon the company.
A company’s board of directors, chosen for their acumen, is the brains behind a company, and as such whatever a director values will influence [obviously] his or her input into how the company operates. Thus any connection to anything or anyone dodgy [Hello Donald] casts doubt on the way the whole company is run.
Not saying I won’t shop there in the future, but it’ll no longer be the first place I go to when I need clothes, bedding, sporting equipment, outdoor furniture.
√ ADJUSTMENTS: My iPad, which by techie standards would be a great-great-grandma, is doing wonky things. It has taken to tweeting not what I write, but a link to the last article that I read. Fortunately I’m not ashamed of anything that research and read, so that aspect of this problem isn’t what worries me. No, it’s the fact that great-great-grandma seems to be on a tweeting bender. The poor dear just can’t help herself. Nor can I.
So I deleted my Twitter app from my iPad and this week have lived a life in which I only see Twitter when I’m using my desktop computer, which means not so often.
IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT I woke up with itchy eyes. I have lots of boring medical problems with my eyes so this happens.
Downstairs on the kitchen counter was a bottle of prescription eye drops that I knew would relieve my itchy eyes, but it was all. the. way. downstairs. and I was toasty warm in our bed upstairs.
However, I couldn’t get back to sleep so I begrudgingly got up and went downstairs at 3:00 a.m. to instill [that’s medical lingo!] a drop in each eye.
Of course while I was downstairs waiting for the drops to do their thing, I glanced out the window to see what was happening outside.
Curiosity. Or habit. Maybe both.
I dunno for sure, but I took a look-see. Just ‘cuz.
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ABOUT FIVE MINUTES LATER I WENT back upstairs to bed where I thought I quietly slipped into bed again. But apparently my blanket shuffling was more disruptive than I realized and I awakened Z-D.
After politely inquiring if I was “ok” Z-D, who knows my habits, asked what the weather was like outside. I told him that it had snowed, but that it had only snowed on the grass, not on the sidewalk, driveway, and street.
He mumbled: “that can’t be.”
I assured him that was what had happened outside. It had snowed on the lawn, not on the hard surfaces. I’d seen it.
Again he said: “can’t happen.”
Then he rolled over away from me taking the covers with him and began to snore. I would have ignored him entirely but he had swiped too much of the blanket and I wanted my part back.
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SO I TUGGED ON THE BLANKET which roused him again.
At which point, in his sleepy daze as if the conversation about the weather was still ongoing, he said to me: “you’d have to be some kind of stupid to not know that snow falls on everything outside. It just doesn’t land on the grass, it falls on hard surfaces, too, where you don’t see it because it’s melted.”
And with that he fell fast asleep, leaving me, the stupid person, to realize that: 1) he was absolutely right; & 2) I had no more interest in talking to him if he was going to use annoying old logic.
I mean, really– this is a man who can’t find his car keys at noon when they’re on the kitchen counter right in front of him, but he can tap into meteorological reasoning when awakened from a sound sleep in the middle of the night?
LATE LAST WEEK I WAS sitting in my PCP’s waiting room. I was there for my annual check-up.
I had on my basic summer look: v-neck short sleeve t-shirt, bermuda shorts, leather sandals. Curly hair pulled back with two barrettes. Hoop earrings. Recent pedicure. Nice purse. Rimless glasses.
And I was reading a book, a mystery.
Another patient, a conservatively dressed 40-something woman, checked-in at the reception desk, then walked by me to sit directly across from me.
As she went by I moved my feet under my seat so that she wouldn’t trip. This movement, which people generally acknowledge with a tip of their head or a thank you, earned me a glare.
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BUT IT DIDN’T END THERE.
After this woman, who had long straight hair and was wearing a long skirt, long-sleeved cotton blouse buttoned up to her neck and ballet flats got settled into her seat, she continued to glare at me, looking me up and down.
I began to wonder what she was seeing when she looked at me:
A wanton harlot with bright red toenail polish?
A stoned hippy wearing Birkenstocks?
A liberal feminist reading, of all things, a novel?
I smiled back at her, as polite people do, then went back to reading my book.
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SHORTLY THEREAFTER HER NAME WAS called, and because of the waiting room chair configuration, she had to walk by me again.
This time she glared + snorted derisively as she walked by me; she needed for me to know that she didn’t approve of me.
For some reason. Nonspecific.
[Another patient across the way, a woman dressed about like I was, rolled her eyes and grinned at me as it happened.]
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NOW OBVIOUSLY I’M NOT LOOKING for validation from strangers who I encounter in my daily life, but the fact that something about me really irritated this conservative woman fascinated me.
And truth be told, I was equally fascinated by the fact that I rather enjoyed the sense of power it gave me over her.
I mean, if I can bother someone by merely existing in their view, imagine what I can do when I decide to speak. 😉
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Question of the Day:
Have you ever found yourself on the receiving end of a stranger’s hateful stare for reasons you could not figure out? And if so, how did it make you feel?
AS IF MY LIFE is not exciting enough, I had the pleasure of escorting Zen-Den, at 6:00 a.m., to the hospital for a routine colonoscopy.
I don’t know if you’ve ever been the Colonoscopy Escort, but your duties are simple:
Get the [snarly and grouchy] patient to hospital at assigned time.
Wait by yourself in the Colonoscopy Waiting Area while patient is checked-in.
When receptionist tells you it’s okay, go sit with the patient in Pre-Op Area until patient is rolled away for procedure.
Go back out to Colonoscopy Waiting Area and wait.
After procedure go sit with patient in Post-Op Area until he or she is released back into the wild.
Take [ravenously hungry] patient home and feed + water him or her.
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AS PER DUTY #4 I was sitting in the Colonoscopy Waiting Area, playing games on my iPad, waiting, when the receptionist called out the name of someone’s Colonoscopy Escort.
No one in the waiting area responded.
She said the name again.
The receptionist got up from her desk and walked around the Colonoscopy Waiting Area, quietly asking each of us if we were this someone’s Colonoscopy Escort, until she eventually got to a 40-something man with his face buried in his laptop computer.
Standing directly in front of him she said his name again, loudly, and he finally looked up at her.
By now everyone in the Colonoscopy Waiting Area was staring at him, because human beings are nosy, and because waiting is boring so anything out of the ordinary is entertainment.
She told him he could go back and wait with the patient, DUTY #3, to which he said: “WHY THE HELL WOULD I WANT TO DO THAT?”
And immediately went back to looking at his laptop.
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THE RECEPTIONIST WAS IRRITATED, but shrugged and went back to her desk.
However, the rest of us, the cooperative Colonoscopy Escorts, started sending hate glances toward this guy. While an adorable 80-something lady with silver white hair went a step further by looking over the top of her bejeweled reading glasses, and loudly *tsking-tsking* in his general direction.
Somehow that particular sound got this guy’s attention and he looked up to see all of us glaring at him, shaking our heads at his obvious Colonoscopy Escort faux pas.
So with a noisy *sigh* he snapped his laptop shut and trudged over to the receptionist’s desk, ready to be taken to sit with someone who had the misfortune of knowing this man well enough to ask him to be his or her Colonoscopy Escort.