Category: Commentary

Gadget Girl

I got called “Gadget Girl” today while shopping at TJ MAXX. After thinking about the title, I decided to own it. I like gadgets, especially those that make packing and traveling easier. 

A woman in the store had asked where I’d gotten my handbag (ebags.com) and I showed her all of its little pockets and clever features. After my demonstration, she said, “Why, you’re just a regular gadget girl!” 

What kinds of gadgets, you might ask? The bag is geared to keep thieves from casually unzipping the main compartment and removing a wallet or cell phone with locking devices at every opening. Plus it has RFID pockets built in to reduce the likelihood of someone scanning my credit cards and passport. The bag also cannot be easily sliced open and the straps are reinforced to prevent a thief from snipping one off. 

Of course it could always be stolen, but that would mean a lapse of vigilance on my part. We all know how vigilant I am. (Studly Doright is crying tears at that statement.)

A couple of weeks ago I ordered some items from a company called RūMe. I’d seen their ad on Facebook, and thought, “Wow! Cool travel gadgets!” I didn’t pay for expedited shipping, though, and was beginning to worry that my items wouldn’t make it in time. So, I found a “contact us” link and shot off an email. They got back to me within 24 hours and provided a tracking link. 

After several days, the package still wasn’t moving, so I sent off another email. This one was answered immediately, and I was promised a speedy delivery. True to their word, I received my products Saturday morning, in plenty of time to practice packing for my upcoming trip to Ireland. Yay!

So what did I order? The product is called a Garment Travel Organizer. 



It allows for one to carry up to six items on hangers, and additional items in the mesh pockets. Supposedly, when one folds the packed organizer in thirds, it will easily fit into a carry on bag. There were several patterns from which to choose, but I’ve been on a blue kick lately, so I ordered this navy and white number.


I also received this trio of Tech Tacos to keep cords from tangling. Cute, eh?


And a trio of bags, one of which was a freebie:


I’m extremely pleased with my RūMe products. They look good and were reasonably priced. And the RūMe staff was responsive to my needs. I’d order from them again. My Gadget Girl status remains intact.

Peace, people!

(Oh, I received nothing in compensation for this review. I just wanted to praise a good product.)

Tell Me Two Things

Studly and I have been discussing pop music as we drive the back roads around Doright Manor. Well, I’ve been discussing music while he pretends to listen, just occasionally asking, “What?”

I recently told him that I think the Beatles’ Eleanor Rigby has the finest lyrics of any pop song from the 60’s, perhaps the finest of all time. 

“What?” Studly asks, then after I repeat myself, “Oh, yeah, it’s got a catchy tune.”

“Don’t you even listen to the lyrics?”

“Not really,” he said.

How have I managed to stay married to this man for 40+ years? Oh, I guess there is that crazy little thing called love. 

So, readers, tell me two things: 

1)Which pop song from the last five decades has the best lyrics? 

2)Does your significant other understand what lyrics are?

Eleanor Rigby
The Beatles

Lyrics

Ah look at all the lonely people
Ah look at all the lonely people

Eleanor Rigby, picks up the rice
In the church where a wedding has been
Lives in a dream
Waits at the window, wearing the face
That she keeps in a jar by the door
Who is it for

All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?

Father McKenzie, writing the words
Of a sermon that no one will hear
No one comes near
Look at him working, darning his socks
In the night when there’s nobody there
What does he care

All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?

Ah look at all the lonely people
Ah look at all the lonely people

Eleanor Rigby, died in the church
And was buried along with her name
Nobody came
Father McKenzie, wiping the dirt
From his hands as he walks from the grave
No one was saved

All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?

Songwriters: John Lennon / John Winston Lennon / Paul Mccartney / Paul James Mccartney

Eleanor Rigby lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

Learning to Sleep Again

I overthink everything, even managing to overthink my tendency to overthink. Lately I’ve been overthinking about my inability to sleep. Granted, I do sleep better now than I did a couple of years ago, but there are still many nights when my brain refuses to shut off, nights when I feel like I have twice as many arms as a normal human and none of them can find a comfortable position in relation to my head or torso or legs.

As I engaged in overthinking I realized that part of the problem stemmed from the acres of clothing I seem to wear to bed. My simple nightshirt magically turns into a parachute-sized garment around midnight, and no matter how I turn or twist or reorient my body, it bunches up beneath me. Plus, my pajama bottoms ratchet up to my knees causing my calves to rub together and causing all sorts of unpleasant irritations. 

I liken my dilemma to that of the princess and the pea. No matter how small the annoyance, it becomes a boulder as I ache for sleep. 

I tried sleeping in the nude, but none of my body parts like touching each other. They need their own space, little divas that they are. Ideally, I should be allowed to sleep like a starfish taking up the entire bed; however, Studly Doright wouldn’t have a spot, and since he pays the rent I can’t very well shoo him away.

And honestly, I’m a side sleeper. Fetal position works best, but again, those darned body parts come into play. What I need is a mummy wrap. But then I’d get too hot, or I’d have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. I can picture me in the throes of a hot flash or doing the potty dance, trying to unwind my wrappings as quickly as possible, and ultimately failing. 

So today I bought a sleep bra, and tonight I’m going to pair it with a pair of yoga pants. There’ll be no excess material to speak of, and just maybe I can prevent my arms from coming into contact with each other. I wonder how a straight jacket might work? 

Anyway, wish me luck. Better yet, wish me sleep. 

Peace, people.

Took Me Long Enough!

I posted my first piece on July 10, 2014, and voila! It only took me nearly three years to reach the 1,000 follower mark. Oh, and if you add in my follower numbers from Facebook (468), Tumblr (78), and Twitter (237), it’s still fairly dismal, especially considering that many of those are folks who follow me on more than one platform. 

So why do I continue? I asked Studly Doright, my husband of forty plus years why he thought I continued writing in spite of my low followership. He said, “I dunno. Because you’re a masochist?”

So there you go! And if you’re a follower, thanks for being here! I love each and every one of you. Yes, even you. 

Peace, people!

Love is…

Love is…

When you’re hungry, but you know if you get up to fix something you’ll wake up your sleeping husband and the cat, so you just sit and slowly starve to death.


They’re both snoring, by the way. 

Snapshot #183

Today’s snapshot is of a collection of photos taken on our recent visit to DisneyWorld in Orlando, Florida. Studly and I joined his sister, Angie and her family for a couple of days of their vacation. Angie took some of the photos that Studly and I were in and had them made into a collage for us. 

Neat idea, right? I call this one, “Family Fun.” Many thanks to Angie, Steve, and their kids for asking us to tag along.

Egg or Turd?

Wednesday as I sat typing at the kitchen table I caught movement in my peripheral vision. Just outside my window a turtle seemed to be laying an egg or eggs.


As soon as she moved away, having covered the fruits of her labor, I went outside and placed an empty flower pot atop the disturbed earth in order to protect the eggs from scavengers.


Of course now I’m wondering if she was indeed a she. If not, I’m most likely protecting turtle turds. Good times at Doright Manor. 

Peace, people!