More creative license plates

I'm certain that I've chuckled at a number of plates that I've forgotten, but I made some notes--written and verbal--to help me remember.  People are creative and I, for one, am glad that they share with me.

A well-used, small, blue pickup truck's plate said ZOMBKLR.  Good to know.

A creamy, yellow crossover was SUN E 1.  Could be a comment on attitude.

Another attitude was likely showing on a little gray crossover.  It was an ESCP POD.

Most license plates definitely refer to the owner.  Like the big SUV that said BRWNSGR.  The vehicle was white.

A sporty, red car was flaunting a BASGUTR.

A PT Cruiser had a friendly TOODALU.

Then there are the plates that obviously came from nicknames.  SWEEDEE, WEEZER, B BO, and--my favorite--WYADURP.

My hubby and I laughed at the creativity of the plate we saw while traveling.  When asked for a plate number, the driver could honestly say,  NONE.

I can't help but watch, so I'm bound to collect more.

Deteriorating Language Skills--updated yet again

I was visiting with a much-younger woman this morning and she agrees with me:  today's young people are dreadfully short on language skills.  Naturally, there are a few exceptions, but television, video games, computers, and smart phones have replaced reading and conversation.   It should not be a surprise.  And look at what kids today see and hear.  I've posted about the disappearance of adverbs and the "verbing" of nouns, but these commercials cannot really be explained by any language rules.

Red Lobster workers "Sea food differently."  Doesn't sound wrong, but playing with spelling makes it strange.

The drive-up says, "This is how you Sonic." Apparently I don't sonic, because I have no idea what to do.

The clothing store has, "..savings that make you go Kohls." I don't know how to go Kohls any more than I know how to Sonic.

Sears is "where better happens." Better what?  I thought better described something.  Better happens?  Who knew?

T.J. Maxx wants to know, "What's your HomeGoods happy?" Does this make any kind of sense?

How about the Guilted Bear (maybe just a regional store) that says we should "Shop local and shop unique."  Exactly how does one shop unique?  Can we shop purple?  Or shop wild?

Chex Mix wants you to try a "bag of interesting."  Is that like a bag of hairy?  Same kind of word.

Fabreze makes it so you can "breathe happy."  Personally, I'm always happy to breathe, but the other way around?

Those are just the one-liners some advertising agencies thought up, but sometimes even the sentences used are crazy.  The only one I wrote down after I'd heard it a few times is for an over-the-counter medication.  "Nothing relieves nasal congestion faster or stronger..."  Can something relieve nasal congestion stronger?  Not the kind of sentence one uses in an SAT essay.

When kids listen to stuff like this for hours a day, it's no wonder they are not sure how to use the English language.

Good, it's not just me.

Sometimes I see funnies or hear comments that make me feel like I'm not alone. I'm not the only one whose mind seems to take strange detours. Apparently there are more of us.

Wait a minute.  If there are too many of us, how will we ever get anything accomplished?  We must hope there are adequate numbers of youthful, efficient brains to counteract our need to retrace steps to remember what we were going to do.

Mumbling actors.

I think I mentioned this in another post (as a kind of afterthought), but this comic hit home.  I have noticed the lack of care in making sure the audience can hear what is being said on television shows and in movies.  I have often had to back up (thank goodness for DVRs) and turn up the volume to try and understand what a character is saying.  Then, I have to be certain to adjust the sound for any "action" or commercials that follow.  It is pretty annoying.

Annoying and way too loud.

I have wondered about this because there are several stores whose music has driven me out.  Odd, since I'm sure I have more disposable income than most 20-somethings.  Hard to figure.

Changes in life roles.

Thinking today about life and our roles in it.

In the previous generation, roles were more clearly defined.  In the case of my parents, it meant that the inside of the home was my mother's and the outside was Dad's.  He did the yard stuff, took care of repairs, was in charge of the automobiles (and horses when we had them), and let his creativity show puttering in his shop.

Mom did the inside cleaning, cooking, laundry, and was responsible for budgeting and the social aspects of their life like remembering birthdays and activities.  There was no crossover.  My siblings and I used to chuckle that Dad might starve if something should happen to Mom.

As it happened, Dad passed away.  Mom had to learn to put gas in the car, and many adjustments were needed to take care of things that had been Dad's responsibility.

I'm now seeing the other side of this because my mother-in-law passed away unexpectedly.  She and my father-in-law also had similar, well-defined roles.  He went from his parents' home, to the Navy, to marriage, and has never lived on his own before.  Now he has to learn to prepare food for himself, do a little laundry, and take care of things he's never had to think about.

Fortunately, my hubby and I are nearby and both have siblings who help, but the adjustments are challenging, especially for people in their 80s.

For our generation (early baby boomers), roles are not so straight-forward.  Although hubby and I do have individual strengths and responsibilities, we'd manage the loss of one another with less of a lifestyle upheaval.  I hope that's good.

Grown up student.

I was in my home town, eating at the local fast food joint with my Mother, when a young man sat down next to me.  I didn't recognize him, but he did me.  He had just moved back with his family and was enthusiastic about having his children now in the same schools he attended.

This thoughtful man took the time to stop and tell me that I was his 3rd grade teacher (some 30 years ago). We had a nice visit, catching up a little with each other.  Then he sweetly told me I looked just the same. I guess when you are nine years old, grown-ups look plenty old already. It was lovely, just the same, and it brightened my day.

Often those sweet children grow up to be kind, caring adults.

Leaving a mark

Went to the cemetery with my mother to fix an arrangement on my Dad's grave.  Close by was a lady putting flowers on the grave of a son who died many years ago, but far too young.  It would have been his birthday.   She was accompanied and assisted by a granddaughter.  This granddaughter was a little embarrassed by her just-washed hair and lack of makeup because she was once one of my students.

We visited a while, and she told me I was her favorite teacher. Not only was that incredibly sweet of her to say, but it really makes me think.  How many small things do we do that leave impressions--good and bad--on others?  She was in my class at least 25 years ago, and in my memory she was a gentle, obedient, good-natured girl.  What did I do to deserve that place in her memory?

It reminds me to be conscious of the daily, seemingly small interactions we have with others.  How are those remembered?  I'm sure sometimes we fade into vague recollections, and I often speak without enough thinking.  That kind young woman reminded me that if I leave a mark as I pass by, I'd like it to be a good grade.

I'm with you, Dennis!

So grateful to be getting older!

I'm feeling a bit nostalgic today so I'm taking a detour from my usual posts--few as there have been recently.

Thirty years ago yesterday, I was in congestive heart failure, more ill than I was willing to admit even to myself.  My mitral valve was so stenotic that the left atrium of my heart was enlarged and there was extreme pressure in the pulmonary veins coming from my lungs.  I could not walk a flight of stairs without stopping to rest and even though I had been teaching until a couple of days earlier, I had found myself resting against the walls as I worked with my students.  It wasn't until I looked back that I realized how close I had been to death.

I am so grateful I live in the time I do, because a talented team of people led by a gifted surgeon gave me another chance.  This is like my second birthday and I can't help but celebrate.  Thirty years ago my husband could have been left alone with a 5-year-old and a 14-year-old.  Now they are grown up, successful, and have given me six fabulous grandchildren.  Oh, what I would have missed!

In August there will be another celebration because I needed that surgeon and his team again ten years later.  That time, I knew the kind of trouble I was in.  But that is a story for another day.  Today I am remembering the gift from 30 years ago and feeling grateful for each and every day.

Reminds me of....me.

This comic reminded me of....me. It's nice to know the author of the comic strip has thought some of the same things I do.