tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32140979033308112132024-02-07T21:16:04.900-08:00Musings of the Everyday LifeJTaylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15747107644302341340noreply@blogger.comBlogger8125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3214097903330811213.post-5790232689481049272011-08-08T10:14:00.000-07:002011-08-08T10:17:43.316-07:00Spare a Quarter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8awz8OkQY36PkW41n7Ruv3zEIO0M1Z2pOEQVbFwkQbMzJ9JbV1ZtPpAww9-_x_pkXfKTCa22yhq88S6lmrWXEDn57wsGxlEwP_qFEM1R4NvZ57jYwwV_-syd-5EhW-V0I20WHYG7LZJw/s1600/Jacket-s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8awz8OkQY36PkW41n7Ruv3zEIO0M1Z2pOEQVbFwkQbMzJ9JbV1ZtPpAww9-_x_pkXfKTCa22yhq88S6lmrWXEDn57wsGxlEwP_qFEM1R4NvZ57jYwwV_-syd-5EhW-V0I20WHYG7LZJw/s320/Jacket-s.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">As I walked to the 7-Eleven in this ungodly heat, I passed by an assumably homeless man standing by the pay phone. He did not say anything to me as I pushed the stroller past him to the Redbox machine. I needed to return the movie we had kept one day longer than planned. As I walk past the man again to leave, he muttered, "Spare a quarter?" I pretended not to hear him. As I walked home, I thought. </span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I should take that $2 spent on the Redbox movie and give it to the man. I can help a man out. I should do my part. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I instead kept the $2 and walked home. I've been reading about how to use money for origami. I can make an intricate fish, or a jacket. Undoubtedly, however, it will purchase us a night of a Redbox rental, and one day of forgetting to bring it back. </span></span></div>JTaylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15747107644302341340noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3214097903330811213.post-58599329094892508182011-08-08T09:59:00.000-07:002011-08-08T10:05:49.209-07:00The pinkeye.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsk9wep8uf-UiyFa9ujPIomS3XJ8U5hoNA0MZS1qqc-BgyO3Y5vvPxM0ifquXcmQeSOjYhzNj3WSdx4CvXDE1_b9IjqBMw7NfgtqA76L1d451ZyzGm99QxkPO8sGY0A25gr2jeANBHCtc/s1600/return_of_the_fly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtNVBhPkoa7HZ2Q1xB4lVaJ1uhG4T0Ato31CNSvS6mH6JKL6xWqjEPY0ZvIxdr5E5djB_yI7XVPBlqCH-QZvhonqq5kybuYYXAVTX_aUoiWhuU24fmNo6pDn609-tMw_K7k97PBOt6HZ0/s1600/return_of_the_fly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtNVBhPkoa7HZ2Q1xB4lVaJ1uhG4T0Ato31CNSvS6mH6JKL6xWqjEPY0ZvIxdr5E5djB_yI7XVPBlqCH-QZvhonqq5kybuYYXAVTX_aUoiWhuU24fmNo6pDn609-tMw_K7k97PBOt6HZ0/s320/return_of_the_fly.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">I took my daughter to the doctor last week because she was very congested. Because the whites of her eyes were very white, I was in denial of any conjunctivitis. The pediatrician said, "Yeah, she's got it. And she's highly contagious. So should you get it..." Oh, I won't get that. It's been a week and nothing. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Yesterday, my eyes began to ache. It must be allergies. Denial continues. I took a nap in the afternoon to awake with my eyes swollen shut. I could not open them. I flailed around to get to the bathroom for a warm washcloth. I looked in the mirror. It was worse than I thought.</span>JTaylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15747107644302341340noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3214097903330811213.post-63521876990146842102011-07-31T06:25:00.000-07:002011-07-31T06:25:49.410-07:00The Saucy Bus<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:DocumentProperties> <o:Template>Normal</o:Template> <o:Revision>0</o:Revision> <o:TotalTime>0</o:TotalTime> <o:Pages>1</o:Pages> <o:Words>72</o:Words> <o:Characters>413</o:Characters> <o:Lines>3</o:Lines> <o:Paragraphs>1</o:Paragraphs> <o:CharactersWithSpaces>507</o:CharactersWithSpaces> <o:Version>11.517</o:Version> </o:DocumentProperties> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:DoNotShowRevisions/> <w:DoNotPrintRevisions/> <w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:UseMarginsForDrawingGridOrigin/> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--> <!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglYZaiYxKbRFoi2lt_h_EhgfaqqrNVt7k6YO61LnDYrClAfw2s7Q-lWKZQ3vBxkAcLqxMc_p9YoC8tNpYQW2HCmb_ZdNS5798bll0Le8GeYygsCP2WDWGHzI1IpKX-4GMSwi3cdK01z7M/s1600/81.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglYZaiYxKbRFoi2lt_h_EhgfaqqrNVt7k6YO61LnDYrClAfw2s7Q-lWKZQ3vBxkAcLqxMc_p9YoC8tNpYQW2HCmb_ZdNS5798bll0Le8GeYygsCP2WDWGHzI1IpKX-4GMSwi3cdK01z7M/s200/81.jpg" width="200" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I took the bus west on Lawrence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The bus driver yelled, “Get AWAY from the dang back door!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Didn’t I tell you?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>MOVE IT!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The young man scooted from the back door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He moved two inches to his left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The bus was packed.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">An old man walked in the bike lane and the bus pulled over to its stop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The old man walked up to the bus driver’s window and stood peering in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He smiled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the bus drove away, the driver commented, “Man, you are ALWAYS in my WAY!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every DANG TIME!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The driver was a woman.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><!--EndFragment-->JTaylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15747107644302341340noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3214097903330811213.post-44938443877499833292011-07-31T06:15:00.000-07:002011-07-31T06:26:40.617-07:00The news today, according to E!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhii3t5Du16C2OYqXtOp76QjRY8uwgdR38wjuLFj3Sg002dR6LaSFa4rfZqdi_QBK2Mpc7gdypioYi4OCf5gSg-vXg_oqiS1ucLOiuIrBlTCzLBT-QrnDD1094X1tGPRsIL3PHGWHPAdU4/s1600/Elevator-1.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhii3t5Du16C2OYqXtOp76QjRY8uwgdR38wjuLFj3Sg002dR6LaSFa4rfZqdi_QBK2Mpc7gdypioYi4OCf5gSg-vXg_oqiS1ucLOiuIrBlTCzLBT-QrnDD1094X1tGPRsIL3PHGWHPAdU4/s200/Elevator-1.gif" width="198" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The interview was on site at the elevator that had stopped. The video footage showed a woman laughing, “Don’t shake the elevator!” Cut. A young girl said, “I have to pee! I have to pee!” Cut. The interview commenced with a victim revisiting the site. The Hollywood reporter asked, "How does it make you feel to stand right outside the same doors that, just yesterday, trapped you inside?" The victim replied, “It gives me the shivers.” Cut. “Once the people were out of the stopped elevator, their petrifying journey did not end there," the reporter told. "The victims then had to take yet another elevator to get to safety.” Cut.</span></div>JTaylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15747107644302341340noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3214097903330811213.post-50371241729662423092011-07-28T13:59:00.001-07:002011-07-28T14:30:51.139-07:00My bangs are kinky.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9OrNz_zuh6CgsBtShyeRPLPYItERfVWbIuTWo894vYVptW_2kxH2mbozVPLqQzotfW2_zr1qL_UKwFvscBdG0XMcL8Hk2_yJmQk7wzyMeqhFE9sm_gaxtJz4xIkrtEqFoklRRo5dbO5E/s1600/bangs1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9OrNz_zuh6CgsBtShyeRPLPYItERfVWbIuTWo894vYVptW_2kxH2mbozVPLqQzotfW2_zr1qL_UKwFvscBdG0XMcL8Hk2_yJmQk7wzyMeqhFE9sm_gaxtJz4xIkrtEqFoklRRo5dbO5E/s200/bangs1.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I used to have the straightest and finest hair. Ever since I had my daughter, one year ago, my hair becomes kinky in this Chicago summer air. Today, my hair resembles the 80’s perm I had when I was twelve. It did not look good when I was twelve, either.</span>JTaylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15747107644302341340noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3214097903330811213.post-48332880682385968912011-07-28T13:58:00.002-07:002011-07-28T14:31:03.851-07:00There are bugs.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkKDcIIXRBizfdH0xTy3-OfKAr4W2EDhKOU10_xZeZjCfNadBhiB2wFWdHgc3Yivf321JUmRkKkNQZOks80D-Ci8p8rosglHd7bnKOx4TuqNF7_PIwZtLWl1kMk1o9_KZ7TGx63J1rtww/s1600/wasp1b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkKDcIIXRBizfdH0xTy3-OfKAr4W2EDhKOU10_xZeZjCfNadBhiB2wFWdHgc3Yivf321JUmRkKkNQZOks80D-Ci8p8rosglHd7bnKOx4TuqNF7_PIwZtLWl1kMk1o9_KZ7TGx63J1rtww/s200/wasp1b.jpg" width="148" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">We have wasps hanging out on our deck. They have now built two small nests behind our grill along the railing. We had them exterminated. They are back. Eviction is difficult to execute according to Chicago Law.</span></div>JTaylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15747107644302341340noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3214097903330811213.post-5198483254840685062011-07-28T13:58:00.000-07:002011-07-28T14:32:48.426-07:00My feet. Are Swollen.<div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFBaYrsP1lxABtECxPtOW3DMQRTBL37xCIVIUH35wdK8FWrpzlPo96_hN5RBJH8ZsAccie7sMkAn8stckmTo6ZEJFU26pjp-R-tVncX8rjCF_vJPBtBpf2ZKoGjM2e7Nfgv9FXD4LwnWQ/s1600/feet1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFBaYrsP1lxABtECxPtOW3DMQRTBL37xCIVIUH35wdK8FWrpzlPo96_hN5RBJH8ZsAccie7sMkAn8stckmTo6ZEJFU26pjp-R-tVncX8rjCF_vJPBtBpf2ZKoGjM2e7Nfgv9FXD4LwnWQ/s200/feet1.jpg" width="149" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Ever since I had my daughter, one year ago, my feet and ankles swell. This is new. My sister and I were lounging in the pool. My feet were poking out of the water. She said, “Ew! What are all those lumps on your feet?” My sister is a nurse. </span></div>JTaylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15747107644302341340noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3214097903330811213.post-28269898183932596102011-07-28T13:56:00.000-07:002011-07-28T14:37:34.958-07:00The Beginning.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh4DIilXoLFO9ji_IVBIyoxhKZ1BoKoG2kFulLadZOx4yn2NAmE1PXQnb7eXuynw2Mkj3PV6OVLtxTHHXj-0cgHEV2N2Y3Ic45RudoHzQAxsQyAOX2j-cTgpFj37sMynVk_CicFLU6MiY/s1600/keyboard1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh4DIilXoLFO9ji_IVBIyoxhKZ1BoKoG2kFulLadZOx4yn2NAmE1PXQnb7eXuynw2Mkj3PV6OVLtxTHHXj-0cgHEV2N2Y3Ic45RudoHzQAxsQyAOX2j-cTgpFj37sMynVk_CicFLU6MiY/s200/keyboard1.jpg" width="149" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Tidbits. Morsels. A teaspoonful.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">There is nothing more to read here than the anorexic slice of life. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Musings of the Everyday Life.</span>JTaylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15747107644302341340noreply@blogger.com0