When you are a Fed in the DC Metro area Monday through Friday, the OPM website tells you whether or not to report to work if there is any snow or other major weather event. However, if you have to work on the weekend, you are on your own.
In the 1990s, I ran the post library at Ft Myer next to Arlington Cemetery. On Friday evening, I was in Mechanicsburg, PA to accompany my husband to a mandatory evening function. (I can’t remember what it was, but it involved evening wear.) It had snowed all day and we thought that the event might have been canceled but Central PA routinely deals with the type of snow that would paralyze DC.
On Saturday morning, we got up extra early to shovel the snow away from the cars so that we could begin the two-hour drive back to Arlington, Virginia. The Pennsylvanians had already cleared the snow in Carlisle, PA, and south along US 15. In Maryland, I-270 was in almost as good a shape. I-95 in Maryland and Virginia was tolerable. The roads on Ft Myer had not been touched.
Fortunately, my Chrysler convertible had front-wheel drive, as long as the snow was shallow enough for the wheels to haul the low chassis through the snow. My husband’s four-wheel-drive Jeep did better in the snow but a higher center of gravity meant it was not as stable as my convertible when changing lanes on icy highways.
When we got to the library, the Jeep lead way into the partially shoveled parking lot. My husband drove the Jeep back and forth creating parking spaces for both of our cars. Stepping into knee-deep snow, we waded to the front door of the library. He made coffee in the staff room while I began sweeping off the front step enough to empty the book drop outside the front door, which was fortunately almost empty.
After a quick cup of coffee to warm up, we got back into our winter jackets to begin shoveling the path we had created wading up to the front door. The snow was heavy and wet, each shovelful was a struggle to for two semi-fit fourty-somethings.
“Why don’t they get some soldiers out to help us?” he asked, gazing down the street at the barracks a few blocks away.
“Don’t know who to call on the weekend,” I explained.
We kept shoveling and thinking of all of those nearby 18-year-olds who could have finished this off in a much shorter period of time and might have enjoyed the chance to have fun in the snow.
After an hour, he went back into the library. By now the ten-foot sidewalk was half shoveled. The library had opened at 11 and so far no one had come out to brave the snow. I continued shoveling for another hour and was almost finished when he came out with some salt to melt the slushy sidewalk.
I had just finished shoveling and he had most of the slush melted on the half of the sidewalk to the driveway. The half of the sidewalk to the street was still full of snow although the base engineers had plowed the street by now.
A lady parked her car on the street at what would have been the sidewalk if it had been shoveled. Although not an authorized parking spot, it was the quickest path from the street to the library front door. Grimacing, she stepped into the snow and marched as fast she could through the snow.
“Why haven’t you shoveled this yet?” she demanded, ignoring the half a sidewalk that we had shoveled.
“We did shovel the half to the parking lot,” I replied, pointing the shovel at the wet side of the sidewalk.
She threw her book onto the counter and huffed off.
About thirty minutes later, a sergeant came by with eight young soldiers, carrying shovels. They spaced themselves out and had the rest of the sidewalk shoveled in about twenty minutes. When I asked where they had been that morning, they looked at each other, laughed, and said “Asleep in our bunks.”
When I was born they helped me hear
The original function of the ear.
Next, they helped hold back my hair
so my eyes could glance, or see, or stare
Earbuds were inserted for music and song
Before Bluetooth cell phones came along
Then vanity was added on to hearing
When I pierced them and wore earrings
Next came glasses to better see
Letters no longer clear to me
Now that masks are daily wear
My ears have more than they can bear
Hearing aids not yet required
Nor or they as yet desired.
Kally at Middle Me just blogged about Mega, Macro, Micro, and Nano influencers.
She distinguishes them by size:
- Mega-influencers: 1 million and above followers
- Macro-influencers: 100,000 to 1 million followers
- Micro-influencers: 10,000 to 100,000 followers
- Nano-influencers: 10,000 followers or less
Having a pun intended propensity, I started to think about MAGA influenzers. Donald Trump tops the list. He has a very rabid fan base that may be shrinking as Coronavirus reality conflicts with what the base would prefer to believe. The A(list) zone is Arizona.
It seems ironic that the influenzers that think that pandemic is a hoax now have a mask they can wear proudly.
Wikipedia provides some history on the phrase
“Make America Great Again” (often abbreviated as MAGA) is a campaign slogan used in American politics that was popularized by Donald Trump in his successful 2016 presidential campaign. Ronald Reagan used the similar slogan “Let’s make America great again” in his successful 1980 presidential campaign.
Bill Clinton also used the phrase in speeches during his successful 1992 presidential campaign and again in a radio commercial aired for his wife Hillary Clinton’s 2008 presidential primary campaign. Democratic pollster Douglas Schoen has called Trump’s use of the phrase as “probably the most resonant campaign slogan in recent history”, citing large majorities of Americans who believed the country was in decline. The slogan has become a pop culture phenomenon, seeing widespread use and spawning numerous variants in the arts, entertainment, and politics, and used both by those who support and oppose the presidency of Donald Trump.
I truly do appreciate all of the people who stop by my blog. Some of you are regulars and some of you only light if the topic appeals to you. Many of you take the time to ‘like’ the blog; a few of you are regular or occasional commenters.
I have one follower, who is such a prolific blogger, that I have had to limit receiving his blog posts to once a day. He ‘likes’ my blog posts about once a week where he has liked several of them within 60 seconds. How many posts, even short ones can you actually read in a minute?
Yesterday I reblogged On the Lighter Side: Signs of the Times. It was truly a fun blog with lots of coronavirus memes based upon the lockdown. I saw it as recently as Friday and scheduled the reblog to appear on Sunday.
I did not know that the site had been taken down until I got a comment from Rolig.
I checked my stats about 10 am and found the following:
I had 22 views and 15 likes for a post that was not there. Do people even bother to click on links?
A fresh look at the Lock Down via On the Lighter Side ~ Signs of the Times
Unfortunately this site has been taken down. Too bad because they had some great signs.
National Dive Bar Day is sponsored by Seagram’s Seven Crown because 7 and 7 is a classic dive bar drink.
Definitions vary as to what a dive bar is. Dive bars are generally considered to be dingy, working-class bars, although people from all social stratifications are welcome to frequent them. The term shouldn’t be overused: not every single small bar is a dive bar, and many bars that aren’t dives are wrongly labeled as such.
One of my favorite dive bars is Big Sam’s at Rudee Inlet in Virginia Beach. Although I would not personally qualify it as a dive bar, I have a t-shirt that disagrees with me.
Brewster the Rooster thought that he was the one
To pleasure the hens and get the job done
But when came time to deliver the shipment
Poor Brewster failed–he lacked the equipment.
Narendra is brilli-ant with photography and insights into bird in his native India (nt). Now he has written a charming tale, laden with ant puns. You are in for signific-ant pleasure. Maybe he will write enough for an Ant-hology.
Enjoy the story. via A(i)n’t Just a Rant!
On June 12, when I looked at my statistics, I realized I had published my 1,000th blog post. I started on February 12, 2017 so it only took me three years and four months.
Quip–a witty remark. E-Quips (think e-book or email) is hopefully a witty blog. Is it?
Since then, I’ve expanded what I write about and feel more comfortable taking a stand on some issues. As a Libra, I try to look at both sides of an issue before making a final decision.
Blogging (almost) every day is a personal decision. I am retired and usually have the time to write. I don’t feel the need to be long-winded in order to get a point across. I also feel that many people cover a topic with more eloquence or authority than I do and the librarian in me wants to share those writings with you.
So I’d like to share my gratitude
For those who like my attitude
This is real, not platitude
Though it might just be a pat-itude.
Have you ever had the dreaded 404 error: Page can not be found.
The HTTP 404, 404 Not Found, 404, Page Not Found, or Server Not Found error message is a Hypertext Transfer Protocol standard response code, in computer network communications, to indicate that the browser was able to communicate with a given server, but the server could not find what was requested–from Wikipedia
Merriam Webster, the dictionary people, have put their wordsmithing talents to create one of the more delightful 404 errors.
Have you ever found a fun 404 page?
Tony’s Bologna offers stand up, tongue in cheek observations. Sometime his unique point of view is right on point . IMHO this post is one of his best.
To bait the hook:
Figure out What You Want to Do and Double Down
I’ve been like a freshly caught fish, flip-flopping on the shore of choice. Some days I want to do this, so I flop over here. Other days I want to do that, so I flop over there. Listen, choose one thing you want to go for and go all in. Think about what excites you and do that. Your work should ideally be confused for your play. Although it’s more comfortable to ease into the pool of life, how you get to the other shore quicker is diving in and swimming confidently, hence the double down.
To read more, click here.
I merely forward these. I didn’t write any of them.
I’m on two diets. I wasn’t getting enough food on one.
A cold seat in a public restroom is unpleasant. A warm seat in a public restroom is worse.
Apparently RSVP’ing to a wedding invitation “Maybe next time” isn’t the correct response.
Don’t irritate old people. The older we get the less “Life in prison” is a deterrent.
Have you ever listened to someone for a minute and thought “Their cornbread ain’t done in the middle.”
Aliens probably ride by earth and lock their doors.
I asked my wife if I was the only one she had been with. She said yes, all the others were nines and tens……
I really don’t mind getting older, but my body is taking it badly.
It turns out that being an adult is mostly just googling how to do stuff.
I miss the 90’s when bread was still good for you and no one knew what kale was.
Do you ever get up in the morning, look in the mirror and think “That can’t be accurate.”
I want to be 14 again and ruin my life differently. I have new ideas.
As I watch this generation try to rewrite our history, one thing I’m sure of….it will be misspelled and have no punctuation.
I thought getting old would take longer.
I told my wife I wanted to be cremated. She made me an appointment for Tuesday.
Confuse your doctor by putting on rubber gloves at the same time he does.
My wife asked me to take her to one of those restaurants where they make food right in front of you. I took her to Subway.
Me: Sobbing my heart out, “ I can’t see you anymore…..I’m not going to let you hurt me again.”
Trainer: “It was one sit-up. You did one sit-up.”
I went line dancing last night. OK, it was a roadside sobriety test…same thing.
Picked up a hitchhiker. He asked if I wasn’t afraid he might be a serial killer? I told him the odds of two serial killers being in the same car were !!!!extremely unlikely.
Have you tried a Quarantini from your Isobar during your Locktail?
The 30th poem on the 30th day
This race is over, Hiphiphooray.
I persevered and now I’m done.
The Poetry Month marathon is won.
It can not be the present
COVID-19 is a gift that no one wants,
to give or receive.