To wear or not to wear part 3

Last summer I wrote a couple posts observing what people were wearing, where they were and why I thought their choices were...hmmm, let's say inappropro. Here are links to those previous posts.

To wear or not to wear Part 1
Part 2


I recognize that fashion trends come and go and people have their own sense of style. And believe me when I say that I'm no Coco Chanel. However, I try to dress based on where I'm going, the weather and my sense of comfort. Here is another list of acceptable/unacceptable clothing to wear in public. Again, just my opinion.

Last Saturday evening we took Chris to a huge carnival/festival nearby. Part of it was on a parking lot and the rest was on gravel. I wore comfortable sandals. Some women wobbled along in high heeled shoes. Did I mention that there was gravel? Ladies, what in hell were you thinking? This is a family oriented carnival, not Carnevale in Rio!

And to the women in shorty short skirts: the world is not interested in the color of your undies! Save those micro minis for the nightclubs on the Strip, or the privacy of your own home, or wear them on your head like the headbands they are!

I'm still not understanding the socks and sandals or flip flops look that guys insist on wearing. Sandals and flip flops are for bare feet. Socks are worn with closed shoes. It's that simple! If you need socks to cover your ugly, fungal feet you shouldn't be wearing open shoes in the first place.

Oh and please, for the love of all that is holy, will young men stop wearing their pants below their butt! Who started this silly trend? Did someone somewhere decide one day, Yeah I'm so diggin' my undies and I want the whole world to see. I have no interest in your tighty-whitey, fruit of the loomies.

Jokers are wild in the park

While strolling through the park one day
In the merry merry month of May....


Actually I wasn't strolling, I was sitting in the park. And yes, it was and still is, May.

I take Chris to the local park a few evenings during the week. He meets up with some school friends and they play kickball or tag.There are lots of other kids and parents around, but the group of kids he plays with are a nice bunch of boys and girls.

One of the moms sometimes joins the kids in their play. The grandfather of another walks laps around the park and another dad sits and reads from his tablet. And me? I sit on a bench and play video poker on my phone.

Hey now, I'm not really gambling! I play with pretend points. It's just a game!

Today I'm wearing pants

TodayPartly Cloudy 75° Precip 10%

TonightMostly Clear 61°

Dear Las Vegas weather,

These temps are unbecoming of a warm southern climate. Knock it off! I'm wearing pants! For god's sake. I know that statement sounds like I run around in my underwear. I don't. Except at night when it's dark. I'm kidding. Sort of. Anyway, I should be wearing shorts is what I meant. 

I expect warmer temperatures in the coming days.

Thank you for your attention in this matter.

~Sandy

Where's the cure?

I apologize in advance for this bitchy and bossy post. It came about when I saw Chris using his new insulin pump and he realized that this will be part of his life now. Forever. And it made me sad because he's just 9 years old. He has his whole life ahead of him. Right now the only things that should be on his mind are the upcoming science fair at school and meeting his friends at the park for kick ball, not his blood sugar levels.

Chris has only had diabetes for two years. That’s two years of pricking his fingers, insulin injections, and blood sugars that were really high or really low.

I realize that some kids have had diabetes for a lot longer than my son. I further realize that many adults were kids when they were diagnosed.

And I know that there has been some great strides made medically and technologically regarding how diabetes is managed, treated and lived with.

So excuse me for sounding a little whiny, for complaining and seeming ungrateful when I say, Where’s the cure?

Diabetes has been around for so many years. In all that time, they haven’t found a cure? There’s been hundreds of thousands of millions of dollars, donated, funded and charitably raised for research and development of a cure. Top doctors, scientists and researchers are working on it. And each year Ivy League universities graduate future doctors and scientists. Where is the Jonas Salk of our time?

And each year more money is raised and more research conducted. Insulin is great. The work-in-progress artificial pancreas is fantastic. But where is the cure? The vaccine or pill that will make this disease go away?

If doctors can transplant organs and scientists can clone sheep then there should be a cure for diabetes already. What’s taking so long?

Two years and already I’m sick and tired of this disease. I’m tired of looking into scared eyes and offering reassurances when my son’s blood sugar is scarily low or high. Enough already.

There have been monumental structures built, feats accomplished, and discoveries made. Finding a cure for diabetes should not be so hard. How much longer do we need to wait? Where’s the damn cure?

Me vs. stairs

I suffer from a mild case of bathmophobia. No, this does not mean I'm afraid of taking a bath, despite how the word sounds. Bathmophobia is a fear of stairs.

I think whoever coined that word was way off. And an idiot. So for the purpose of this post and because it makes more sense, I will call my fear, Stepophobia.

I didn't always have this fear. Actually, it's not a true fear. Let's just say I'm more cautious when going down them these days. Kind of like I'm walking through a landmine field while carrying nitroglycerin.

Anyway, like I was saying, it wasn't always like this. Until I misjudged some basement stairs and broke my ankle. I swear no alcohol was involved. It was a straight up accident that pissed me off more than it hurt. Like, ouch! Who the hell moved the damn stairs?!

Once I was able to walk completely cast-free again I became more aware of things that affected my legs and feet. Even wearing high heels weirded me out because I thought that one wrong move, one slip of the heel and I could twist or worse, break my ankle. Not that I ever wore extremely high heels like the clackers who go clubbing in stilettos do.

I have since gotten a lot better regarding my stepophobia. I can wear heels more confidently without worrying about tripping and ending up on the floor in a heap. I walk down stairs with more ease although I use the handrail more than I ever did. However, I wouldn't recommend walking behind me when I'm going down a staircase in high heels. In that situation, I still walk like it's my first time with the new legs.

We're going down! No, no, false alarm, so um, Happy Spring!

Today is May First, also known as "May Day".  And because it's a holiday (Not as well-known as it used to be. Sorry Pagans.) I thought I would post some information (and pics!).

I'm not advocating any political agenda. I just love a poster that uses the words 'Testicles of Terror'.

Okay, so there's May Day and Mayday. It sounds like one word when spoken but has two completely different meanings. It's spelled as one word for one meaning and as two words for a completely different meaning. Got it? 


According to Wikipedia's Mayday definition Mayday is an international distress signal used in radio communications.  "Mayday! Mayday! We're out of ketchup!! Send backup!"

There's also May Day, which is an ancient spring festival and a traditional spring holiday in many cultures, that takes place on the first of May, so says Wikipedia. "Happy May Day!"
 
Just beware of calling for help on May 1st. You might get wished a Happy Spring when in fact you need immediate assistance. 

Pic courtesy of wallpaperviews.com

  
Some interesting facts about May Day because this blog tries to be educational. Tries being the key word:

In Hawaii, May Day is also known as Lei Day. I know....so many juvenile jokes.

In parts of the United States, May Day is also known as Law Day. I'm thinking someone, somewhere made a typo and put a 'w' instead of a 'y'. Go back, re-read. I'll wait.

Mutants running wild

Christopher has gotten into the habit of calling things he dislikes, 'mutants'. I love this. I encourage this.

The State-Standardized Testing he's been having these last two weeks in school...Mutant Tests. The insulin shot that he gives himself is...a Mutant Shot. The pigeon that won't get out of the way when I'm driving is a goddamn stupid bird! But he calls it...yep, a Mutant Pigeon.

Best of all he makes this crazy face and changes his voice when he calls something a mutant. This type of behavior just makes me so proud.

And I apologize to all mutants for his taking their name in vain. But at least he isn't using foul language. Have you ever listened to the potty mouths some kids at the park have? Granted I  sometimes have the Mother Commode of all potty mouths and I secretly giggle when I hear one kid call another a buttface, I just don't want my kid cursing. Yet. There's plenty of time for that when he's older.

Maybe I should try to start using the word mutant in place of swearing. But knowing me I'd make it more colorful and call something f**king mutant.