I live by the philosophy that if I have nothing nice to say … I say nothing. This clearly does not apply to my head shake. Look up head shake in the dictionary, you’ll likely find a picture of me shaking my head left to right. I do it a lot, so as not to allow my truly honest and sometimes judgmental thoughts to slip out.
Being somewhat of a neurotic traveler I arrive at the airport with plenty of time for boarding and people watching. Nowadays I just see tops of heads looking down at their electronic device. Gone are the days of friendly dialogue with a stranger. You’ll never know if you and that stranger have a person or place in common. No chance of a stranger sharing a thought or story with you that might change the course of your life. Shake my head.
Speaking of airports, how about those people who just stop walking, right in the middle of the terminal. Rolling bags just come to a screeching halt! Is it time to have traffic lights for the walkways in all terminals? Have some awareness and respect for your fellow travelers, most of whom are looking down at their device and unaware they are about to walk straight into your backside. Shake my head.
So I can’t be called a gym rat by any stretch, but I sure am going a whole bunch more these days. I am amazed at the number of cars that jockey, rush, beep and circle for the closest spots. Or the people who get so annoyed that the automatic door openers are not working. I mean, aren’t we going to the gym to exercise? Shake my head.
Yes that’s bad, but it’s “the talk” that really does me in. If anyone is looking for a coach, it seems there is an endless supply at my gym who believe they are more than qualified. But one “gentlemen” in particular always seems to be within my earshot. It’s an evil combination—loud voice combined with an obsession to hear himself speak. But sir, I don’t care who should have been drafted, the play you would have called or any other bunk that spews from your mouth. Thanks to you not only do I have whiplash, but may be hard of hearing soon from upping the volume on my earbuds just to drown you out! Shake my head.
Speaking of strangers, I will never forget the time my kids and I were outside our Michigan home and a “person” tossed a pretty full cup of soda out their truck window. My kids mouths hung open and turned to me. As luck would have it the truck pulled into a neighbor’s driveway, so I went to work. I carefully picked up the cup and walked towards the truck. “Excuse me, I believe this dropped from your car. [LONG DRAMATIC PAUSE] I thought you might want your drink back.” He looked at me baffled and slowly said “Thank you?” I turned with a smile and strutted back towards my kids whose mouths were still hung open! Shake my head.
I was taught one should always pick up after themselves, and their pets. Many winters ago the snow melted and beside my mailbox was an entire winter’s worth of someone else’s dog poop uncovered. It was beyond disgusting, but had to be handled so my young children didn’t happen into it. So I plugged my nose, donned rubber gloves, picked up three full grocery bags of &^%$ and devised a plan. I drove a stake in the same spot, tied the bags to it with a sign that read, “FOUND: SOMEONE ELSE’S DOG POOP!” My husband thought it would end up on our front step on fire, but miraculously no drama … those bags vanished within an hour. Shake my head.
Yeah, I’ve never been a fan of real life drama, but do appreciate a gripping television show. Yesterday a few of my friends were discussing the most recent storyline of their favorite television drama and how it felt a bit hokey. I chimed in “It’s television girls!” Then it occurred to me; television dramas seem more realistic these days than reality television does. And if I very carefully go one step further; it seems our nightly news shows seem a bit more reality TV than factual reporting. Shake my head.
Your head-shaking friend,
A little thing I do: I refuse to eat cookies these days because of their high calorie count but will inhale an entire bag of chocolate rice cakes. Shake my head.