New Ways

Once again I am entering uncharted territory here. I am trying to keep these blogs fairly current, but nothing has been pressing my creative buttons of late. There are a few things that might be blogworthy. I'll leave that judgment to you-uns (that's Pittsburghian for "y'all") to decide.

Shopping. Who'da thunk such a mundane thing as buying groceries would become a hazardous activity? So now, every source of groceries has some form of contact-free delivery - some even free contact-free delivery. The only one we've tried is BJ's, shopped and delivered by InstaCart. It's sort of like an online game. We select the items we want and put them in our cart, then pay for them. At some point we get a notification that someone, and we are told their name, is shopping. If we watch the app, one by one items go from the cart list to the shopped list. Sometimes an item is out of stock, and an alternate is suggested. We can approve the replacement or have that item refunded. Then the shopper is at the checkout, and it's too late to add or change anything. Then the shopper is on the way. And when the notification comes that she/he is almost here, we open the door and there the vehicle is, rounding the last turn into the parking lot. Groceries are unloaded onto the porch, and we bring them in for disinfecting and putting away. It's easier than the old way!

I told mt neighbor the other day that if this goes on much longer, I'm going to have to invest in a comb. The last time I can remember having hair long enough to comb was in the previous century - the previous millennium even. But it's the beard that gets "wooly-bully" and makes me crazy. Cutting my own hair, with my benign essential tremors, is a very risky project, but I did set my clippers on 2 and chopped back my wooly-bully beard last week. More exciting than that, however, was that Carmen, emboldened by my action and driven insane by her own hair growth, set my clippers on 13 and chopped hers back. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Worst of all, though is the plight of our poor abused bassador. Her favorite activity during our walks is being loved on by nearly everyone we meet. Her plaintive cries as I pull her away are heartbreaking for everyone involved.

Other than that, life goes on pretty much as usual.