…and other serious stuff found on Facebook.
…and other serious stuff found on Facebook.
These are from The Idealist page on Facebook. There’s a lot of seriously inspirational stuff there. There’s also this.
When I showed it to him he knew who it was and laughed. I took that as a good sign that I hadn’t traumatized him for life.
Yesterday W came across a picture on Facebook of someone we haven’t seen for over thirty years and remarked that he looks awful. He doesn’t really, he just looks old, because, well, he’s old. We see our own changes gradually, and are often shocked at the changes in other people with whom we’ve lost touch. Inside I feel like I’ve never left my thirties, but the mirror tells a different story.
So this is not the face I married, although he’s in there somewhere. I’m going to hang on to this until we’re in our nineties and then show it to him again so we can both see how handsome he was way back in the day. This is of course supposing we both live that long and can still see and remember where we put things.
I was looking at celebrity high school yearbook pictures on some Facebook site (yes, we both have way too much time on our hands these cold dreary January days) and the captions were statements of disbelief and what happened? Well, time happened, you idiot caption writer.
Here’s to time and the wonderful changes it makes to our life-well-lived faces.
Well look at me. I was going to take a well-earned day off from posting, but then I remembered that every day is a day off for me and do I really need to spend any of these days doing ABSOLUTELY nothing? Or could I just put that off until tomorrow or some other day.
And then as I was wasting time on Facebook looking at pages that I’ve liked in the past but which never ever come up on my news feed, I came across the following interesting thought-provoking stuff.
Plus W mixed me a spiced rum and orange juice. So I’m not completely responsible.
Back to the drawing board tomorrow.
Tuesdays at work wear me out. We have a doctor seeing patients and I’m there until 8 p.m. Then I come home and sit at the end of the couch where there is a stupid lamp with such a thick shade that the light hardly comes through it and that’s where I stare like a zombie at my I-Pad for a couple of hours. That little bit of light is very relaxing, and because of it I can say I’m not sitting alone in the dark.
Because I’m not. There’s my I-Pad. I catch up on Words With Friends and e-mails and Facebook and check out that there’s nothing new on Netflix and as a last resort play some Candy Crush. I drink decaf coffee. I read my current e-book. I am a barrel of fun.
Wednesdays when I’m off work, I always think I’m going to get a zillion things done, because, hey, it’s a whole day, and I’m off. So I sleep in late, mess around doing nothing for the entire morning (because seriously, I have the WHOLE DAY), do a repeat of Tuesday night with electronic time wasters, drink my smoothie, consume a lot of coffee, wonder what I should make for dinner…. Suddenly it’s evening. There are three days of work ahead of me, laundry becomes a priority, there’s no time for those projects I’ve been putting off until my day off. I am lazy and I like to procrastinate, and I excel at relaxing. You’re supposed to do whatever you’re really good at, right?
Yesterday, like most Thursdays, I worked early and got off at five. There are a lot of hectic people out there running around getting things done in a huge hurry with places to go and people to see and deadlines to meet and WHY IS THAT? Our contact lens student is one of them. She got her glasses dispensing licence, went straight into the contact lens course, accepted the position of teaching the glasses course at the same time, is getting married, buying a new house, looking after her son from a previous relationship and her future husbands son from his previous relationship, constantly doing nice things (like baking) for other people, and now she has accepted the position of manager at another store (the store is a ridiculously busy one and she has no managerial experience) and she will start that before any of all the other stuff is finished. She is twenty-six. And probably insane.
Someone asked me if I didn’t remember being young and ambitious and I had to admit I’ve never been that ambitious in my entire life. I want to tell her to slow down, don’t be so impatient, stop being so hard on yourself, get some sleep. I’m afraid she’s going to burn out before she’s thirty. And wonder where her life went.
And now it’s Friday and another full day looming, filled with trying to sell stuff to justify my pay cheque. I’m tired. And I haven’t even done anything, comparatively speaking. But I’m not twenty-six either. I drummed up enough energy to go and get my hair cut last night. That was pretty exhausting, sitting there listening to another twenty something pink haired girl tell me about her social life.
Yeah. I’m old and boring. And ready to pack in this working for a living crap and actually get on with living and doing whatever I want. And whatever that is, I want to do it very, very slowly. Because now I know life rushes by while we’re busy thinking about all the things we have to do to get to a place where we can do something else.
And now I have to rush off to work so I can get that over with and then I’ll be able to come home and NOT work. We’re all running around in circles. Sit down and let people lap you. It’s okay. That’s really all I’m saying.
Mental Floss (where knowledge junkies get their fix) has a page on Facebook from which I have shamelessly stolen this link because it’s SO worth sharing. You need never run out of cutesy names for your spouse, children, pets, and best friends ever again.
French, meaning “my cabbage.”
German for “cutie pie.”
“Sweet nose” in Swedish.
Portuguese for “my little squash.”
Russian for “my little sun.”
“My little round thing” in Flemish.
Hungarian, meaning “my little bug.”
“My little sky” in Spanish.
A quirky Dutch term for “my little poop.”
Greek for “my little eyes.”
“My little microbe” in Italian.
“May a mouse eat you” in Persian.
Irish for “my pulse.”
Danish, meaning “my gold nugget.”
French for “my flea.”
Personally I am now questioning the sanity of the Persians and the Dutch.
Adding to the fun, here’s another link from Mental Floss with alternatives to saying a simple hello.
How they say “What’s up?” in Ireland. The craic (pronounced “crack”) is the news, gossip, latest goings-on, or the fun times to be planned.
Be classically cool with this late 19th-century slang for “How’s it going?”
Add a little jaunty excitement by getting into pirate mode.
Be the strong, silent type and forgo words entirely with an elegant tip of your hat.
Make someone feel like the man or the woman of the hour.
Feeling friendly and cosmopolitan? “Ciao” will set the mood. Add a kiss on each cheek for authenticity.
Want to write a letter with a classical Latin feel? Open with this abbreviation for Salute plurimam dicit. Si vales, bene est, ego valeo. “Many greetings. If you’re well, then that’s good, and I’m well too.”
Show off your verbal dexterity with this gentleman’s greeting.
Or keep it simple and use the word that means just what it says.
Keep it casual, cowpoke, or get fancier with a full-on “Howdydo?”
Bring a little mellow sunshine to your interactions by greeting the Hawaiian way.
Start with a show of respect. This peaceful greeting comes from the Sanskrit for “I bow to you.”
You’ve got to smile when you dust off this gem from the 1920s.
Open the conversation like a trucker on a CB radio.
Reminiscent of the sweet way your grandma used to express how impressed she was with you. Why not spread the love around with this opening?
And why not choose a random number from each list and combine the two?? It’s not like you have anything better to do on a Sunday, right? Well maybe you do. I don’t.
So – How hops it, schnuckiputzi? Microbino mio – well – just look at you!
The possibilities are truly mind-boggling. But that’s what Mental Floss is all about, boggles for the mind. And there you go. Don’t ever say I have never contributed to your brain scrambled weekend.
Maybe this is more of a disconnect from the boring business of acting like an adult, but today I am going to make paper dolls. Because they are connected to each other and also ridiculously cute. I’m sure I read somewhere that it’s a good idea to connect with ones inner child every so often so we’ll just call this artistic therapy and leave it at that.
This is a long strip of card stock paper in shocking pink. I leave the choice of paper quality and color up to your personal preference. Nothing is written in stone here. Fold it in half width-wise three times, and then using the fold lines as guides, fold it back and forth accordion style until your fingers hurt and it looks like this.
Then fold it up flat again with the four folded edges where you’ll do your cutting. If you’re very adventurous you can just cut it free hand and see what happens, or you can draw something like this as a guide.
Find some big sharp heavy-duty scissors and cut this out. It’s all coming back to you, right? Now we all remember why we never used heavy card stock paper with those blunt and awkward little-kid scissors.
Taa Daa! A normal person might stop now, after admiring this for a sufficient ego-stroking amount of time, but the child in me can’t seem to leave well enough alone.
There, now we’re done, because we’ve added awesome hair (some of it appears to be facial), big smiles, cute dresses and colorful mary-janes.
Come on, wasn’t this a lot more fun than a post about connecting to some dumb social network like Facebook or Twitter? Never mind that it will be connected to both of these when I hit the publish button. That’s completely beside the point.
Did you make these, or some variation of them when you were little? What have you done today that’s completely silly but insanely fun?
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