Leigh's Views

So, it was that time again – I needed to get a mammogram.   Yes, ladies this is important.   We tend to forget to take care of ourselves because we’re too busy taking care of everyone else.   Okay, I’m new in town and found out that this doesn’t work the same way everywhere.   I was led back to the changing area.   The female technician told me to do some things that I hadn’t been told to do at my last mammogram.    Well, I was polite but I questioned her instructions to make sure I was understanding.   Her response was to get snarky and rude.   Not a good start to an appointment where I’m going to be practically naked.   Fine, I tried my best but found that instead of a hospital gown there was this cape/drape thing.   It didn’t have snaps, buttons or strings.   I couldn’t figure out for the life of me what was the front or the back.   Nor how to keep it closed.   Ugh, at least I’m tiny and could wrap it around me a few times.   But it didn’t’ quite go to my waist.   Let’s just say t

I was having dinner with a friend the other night.   We share a meal frequently and I’ve learned to add a lot of salt to whatever I cook for us when he comes.   You see he likes salt, a lot of salt.   Sometimes I’m to the point of gagging because the food’s so salty and he’s just fine with it.   Now I’ve tried using other spices to flavor the food to cut down on the need for salt.   It doesn’t work, he just reaches for the salt shaker and dumps a bunch on.   Then tells me I’m being too cheap with the salt.   A while back someone told me this taste for salt has to do with where we grew up respectively.   I grew up in a desert area, dry and hot in the summer.   You don’t sweat.   Thus, no need to crave salt.   As where my friend grew up in the tropics, hot, humid most of the year.   You sweat, a lot.   You crave salt to replace those lost fluids.   Not sure if this is correct logic or not.   Personally, I think it’s more a matter of how our parents cooked.     But as I reflected more o

I walk a lot.   Sure, some of it’s because I find it enjoyable, but mostly it’s for the exercise.   It keeps me healthy, fit, young.   Thus, I don’t take the shortest route most of the time.   In fact, I often find the longest way to stretch out the walk since I do some of my best think while out and about.   However, sometimes I do find I’ve miscalculated how long it’s going to take me to get somewhere.   So, I end up need to find a shortcut or two.   Fine, I’ll cut through that vacant lot.   Now here’s a mostly empty parking lot I can zig-zag through.   But I’ve been noticing a trend lately.   My fellow walkers in life seem to think it’s okay to wander anywhere.   And I do mean anywhere.   Now you may be thinking I’m talking just about those jaywalkers wandering through traffic.   Oh, no.   I’ve seen people hop over fences and cross backyards.   Then there was the guy who walked across the loading dock at the grocery store just to save a few steps.   Oh, and by the way, the poor pe

I love dollar stores.   You can get all sort of crazy things there for next to nothing.   I got a nice thermos – stainless steel, fancy, generic.   $3 bucks.   Sure, I figured it wouldn’t work as well, but the thing keeps stuff hot for 6 or 7 hours.   However, I’ve discovered some things you maybe shouldn’t buy cheap.   The dish soap that was on sale 2 for $1.   It was in these huge containers, so I bought two.   Really, how bad can it be – dish soap is soap right?   Wrong.   This stuff has no pretty scent.   It’s about a thick as silly putty.   It makes no bubbles.   And best of all, it doesn’t take anything off dishes.   Not even food that’s not really stuck on there.   You know like the bread crumbs from my toast.   Don’t even get me started on how this stuff left all the dishes slimy and gross because it clearly doesn’t tackle grease.   You know like the little bit of left over margarine from the one plate I had that toast on.   Now in case you're thinking this is my fault, I

I met someone the other day who told me he was single.   I took that to mean he’d never been married.   I said I was divorced.   Well, he then informs me I’m divorced only if I want to be.   Wait, what?   He goes on to explain that I’m just as single as he is.   Uhm, no I’m not.   I’ve been married, I got a divorce.   I can’t unring that bell.   Thus, I tell him just that.   Okay, then he says he’s going to let me in on a little secret.   He’s been married and divorced a few times.   It doesn’t matter.   What does matter, is he’s not married at the moment.   So, he’s not married, he’s single.   Huh, fine.   I ask if any of his wives know that he’s been married before.   “Oh no,” is his reply,   “I always tell them I’m single.”   Whoa.   That’s a rather big leap.   Plus, isn’t your marital status technically a legal thing?   You know, you get your ex-spouse's social security as long as you never remarry because you're divorced – not single.   I don’t know but I do know I would

What’s up with this new generation of baby adults?   I’m talking about those 20 something year old people who think they’re adults but can’t possibly be.    Because they still think every moment's a party.   Take for instance this exchange I witnessed.   Someone I know was considering selling their home.   A young man who works at the same company overhears a conversation about this.   He says something to the effect that he’s tired of renting.   So, the two set up a time for the young man to tour the home.   Now, mind you, my friend’s near retirement age and hasn’t made any firm plans yet.   But still he didn’t want to waste his time with someone who really wasn’t in the market.   Thus, he had asked some questions before agreeing to the tour.   Well, the night this was all supposed to happen, my friend and I were going to have dinner.   The young man didn’t show up at the appointed time.   Fine, we waited awhile.   We got hungry.   We waited some more.   Finally, I said I’d whip

A friend and I were talking and I stated that I needed a new pillow.  He looked at me stunned.  “Why?  I’ve had mine for 35 years.  You’ve been here for what, a few months?”  Eww…  He’s had the same pillow for 35 years?  How is that possible?  Even if you clean your pillow, they’re supposed to be replaced every few years.  I need a new one because I didn’t get a great one when I first moved here.  Okay, I needed to clarify this.  Maybe he means he’s had the same pillowcase for that long.  Not sure if that’s possible, but, um, it’s at least easier to clean.  Turns out, nope, he really meant the same pillow.  He’s never washed it, never even tried to clean it at all.  He likes the way it smells, he likes the way it’s smashed down, he takes this pillow everywhere he goes.  Okay, it’s part pillow, part security blanket.  I tried to explain to him that it may be what's causing his allergies and breathing problems.  He wouldn’t listen, his pillow was his pillow.  End of discussion.   Ho

I love making projects out of old, reclaimed wood.   While most people who use this wood for projects look for the best side, I often don’t.   I look for the side with the dings and dents.   Why?   Because often those scars create a unique pattern, it shows age, wear, damage, weathering.   To me, there's a beauty in the flaws.   Any board can be sanded down, filled and painted to hide all the imperfections.   While this may be fine with wood, it’s not really okay with people.   Too many people try to change who they are to show only their ‘best side’ to others.   They're afraid to show all the little dents from all the whacks they’ve taken over the years.   But that’s what makes us who we are, that’s what gives us character and depth.   Sure, you can hide some things if they are too big, too painful, too private.   But in the end, you need to just be you.   No one is perfect and no one should be.    There’s freedom in acknowledging that. There are so many people who really ne