Day 194

It is one to thing to voluntarily give up your possessions; it is entirely another thing to have them float away, burnt or otherwise destroyed by a vindictive broad named Sandy.

That’s not good.

I have seen so many people directly affected by the superstorm* interviewed saying things like, “well as long as my family is safe…” and “We can rebuild.”  I am always proud and get a bit of a catch in my throat when I hear this.  It has been my experience, really tough times, tragedy  or the “near misses” tend to realign my views about what is important.  I imagine I am not the only one.

I had planned on one of my typical rambling tongue in cheek posts for today.  I was going to tell you all about  buying a pair of Dolce and Gabbana sunglasses  at a thrift store that had apparently been cast off because they were stretched out and wouldn’t stay on a normal person’s head.

But today, it seemed a little trite and everything I write seems to have a hollow ring.

So, I will cut to the chase:  I took them to Walmart to get them fixed at the optometry center. There, now you know.  Walmart will fix sunglasses.–and they didn’t even charge me.

I wish everything was as easy to repair.


*Am I the only one that is completely baffled by the term “superstorm” ?  That is driving me crazy, because super sounds good, as in… superhero, Superbowl or supernova.  Instead, I prefer the somewhat puerile but more appropriate  title, “stupidstorm” Sandy.


4 Responses to Stupidstorm

  1. Sandy has been making it rain on Ohio for the past several days. I got a day off work due to power outage, and my internet is out (“technicians have been dispatched to repair the lines as soon as possible…”) but I could have had it so much worse. Someone I know had her truck smashed by a falling tree. I have family in FL, NC, DC, and PA and I think they’re all okay. Haven’t heard any bad news at least.

  2. My little (overly wise) grandson had a hellish summer due to a medical problem. In the midst of it, I complimented him on his bravery. He gave me a small, gentle smile and said “What other choice do I have”?
    All that bravado is so bittersweet. But still brave.

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