"...Fauci wants you to be oxygen starved..." said the bird

 

Today, I drove up to Wegman's, Hunt Valley, to grab something for dinner.  When I came into the parking lot, and parked I noted lots of fluorescent orange fliers on the windshields of the cars.  And my first thought was the pre-pandemic "No! something else to throw away, damn it."

I park the truck, get out, mask on my face, and start walking to the store when the person (or one of the people) distributing fliers approached me.  Again, in my pre-pandemic mind, I said to myself  "Jesus just leave me alone."

No. Such. Luck.

The woman looked like a strung-out Blythe Danner, but she was wearing expensive clothing and a gorgeous fitted coat.  And into my hand, she pushed a flier.  And then she told me to "Take off that mask; you need to breathe."

Excuse me?

"You need to take off that mask and breathe.  Your brain is oxygen-starved for breath."

Yeah, someone is cuckoo for Coco-Puffs.

I continued to walk, her flier in hand.  And she continued to harangue me.  

"Talk off that mask and breathe.  Fauci wants you to be oxygen-starved so you will be complacent.  Vaccines are experimental.  They are rotting your ability to think for yourself.  You need to take off that mask and breathe..."

Oh, shit.  

By this point, people started starring and a couple people start yelling at the woman about the littering she was instigating.  

"You are big pharma's..." and I tuned her out.  She said everything to me and it was too much. 

I kept walking. 

She stopped before I crossed the traffic lane that separated the parking from the front of the store.  More people were starring at her. 

I went into the store, grabbed a cart, and headed for the front desk.  Then I thought, nope, I need to take this to the pharmacy.   Which is what I did. 

I handed it to the pharmacy employee - where customers can get a booster -  and told them what was up outside.  They said they would take care of it.  She called the store manager and was talking when I left.

I found my items, got in line, and paid for them.  

When I left the store the woman was nowhere near where I was walking, I noticed a security patrol for the shopping center out of his vehicle pulling the fliers from windshields. 

We have been going through this damned pandemic for two years because this virus is hard to smack down, and it's hard to smack down because of people like that woman.  Spreading misinformation, harassing people, lying, and spreading all sorts of conspiracy theories. 

And I thought about keeping the flyer to show others, but why?  To what end?   I mean I post a picture of that ransom note looking flier and it gets copied by someone and gets distributed, or worse I get a smackdown from Bloggr for distributing that crap.

On one hand, I am grateful she didn't touch me or try to go for my mask. 

On the other hand, FUCK HER, in the metaphoric sense only. 

But one thing is for sure if anyone needs Big Pharma, it is that bird. 

Things of my youth: Petrolagar

Cookie is getting old, and there is a milestone birth ahead in the fall that reminds him of that.  

Cookie is so old in fact that most of the things from his youth no longer exist.  And that might be for the better, too. 

Take Petrolagar.  A medicine that my mother fed me each night before bed.

Well, I took it, not by choice.  But did any child who was fed it by their parents in the hopes of avoiding constipation in their children back in "then"?  The answer is no - your parents poured and you opened up until you were big enough to say "NO!" and not get spanked. 

Petrolagar was a children's laxative filled with mineral oil.   When it was new from the factory, it came emulsified and uniform in a creamy white liquid with an inoffensive taste.  Most kids didn't mind it in this fashion - we'll get back to this in a minute - and parents only had to give it a little shake before they poured it out. 

This was the only example of the bottle I could find.
The contents separated, but it wasn't gross, just white. 

The packaging was that of a milk or cream bottle - clear, wide mouth opening a white lid.  The label was sky blue with white.  I seem to recall that in the early 1960s, the font was different and the 'g' had one of those circle tails.  Anyway, it tasted better than that nasty crap Fletcher Castoria that children have been abused with for ages.

So this was part of my routine of early childhood. 

Until.

Until Mom brought home something different. 

First, the label said Cascara PETROLAGAR, according to my mom years later.  Secondly, the bottle was brown, the label orange.  And my mother said the dreaded words that children fear: "It's just like the other stuff, but in a different bottle."

So I opened up my mouth and in when the nastiest stuff in the world.  Christ that stuff was gross.  And if I could have verbally articulated it, instead of saying what must have been a BIG "Yuck!", the following words would have flowed from my mouth: "What is that nasty shit?"  

Reader, the taste was foul, the texture was off.  

It. Was. FOUL!

Well, the next day, I was getting ready for bed, and outcomes that nasty-looking bottle, and I refused.  Maybe I had a meltdown.  Who knows.  But no, I wasn't going to take that spoonful of muck. 

So my mother says, and even though this was 56 years ago I remember it clear as a bell, "Well I'll take a spoon just to show you it's good."  

So Mom opens up, that spoon goes in, and she spits it out.  

After that, the stuff in that brown bottle and the orange label went away and the daily dosing stopped. 

Now for the clincher - the ONLY place I could find an image of Petrolagar that I remember is this, which came from the Smithsonian's historic medicines collection. 

Now, the offshoot of all of this is that I continued to have gut problems for years, decades.  And then I had the lower third of my colon removed because of diverticulitis, and guess what? The stomach issues removed themselves. 

So there you have it.  Cookie is so old that his childhood medicine is in the Smithsonian. 

The beginning of the end for winter

 

Cookie is done with soothsaying and groundhogs. 

Look, winter is winter, and it's ALWAYS six month weeks of winter from Ground Hog Day to the first day of spring no matter how you slice it, right. 

So Cookie likes to find the silver lining wherever he can.  Well, here is something you can bank on: Today, February 4, 2022, is the first full day of the last half of winter. 

Come again? 

February 3, at some hour of the day, is the mid-way point for winter.  At that point, we cross over that mark that we are now closer to the Vernal Equinox than we are 2021 Winter Solstice.  That means that February 4th is the first day of that final half.  With each day, we get closer to Spring than we are the first day of this winter. 

Yes, Cookie is fully aware that Mother Nature is going to do what she is going to do.  But at least the beginning of Cookie's favorite season - SPRING! - is on the way. 

But Cookie, some smart ass is thinking, that only means that the first day of winter, 2022 is that much closer. Yes, true.  But you are not going to spoil this for me.  Spoil it yourself if you must.  But not me.

Cookie knows better than to wish away time.  So every day is precious.  Bask in the longer daylight each day delivers.  Do the winter things you have been wanting to do but have been putting off. 8

For surly, ten days from now is Valentine's Day. And March 1st is FAT TUESDAY.

And verily, the light is at the end of the tunnel. And before you know it, happy daisies will be here again. 

What we did to see them say "I Do"

So, you may be wondering how is Cookie and if he is still alive. 

Cookie is fine, and yes, Cookie is still alive. 

We made it to the Wedding in Cincinnati, although sporting events and the weather made it difficult at best.  And if you have every driven in Cincinnati you know that going from point A to point B is, except for downtown, twisty and turny, up and down. 

The reception dinner was in Northern Kentucky, in downtown Covington, which I guess is now a happening place. And the room was full of the most adorable young men in the world!  

The wedding was at this lovely Catholic church - and no, Cookie and the Husband were not struck down by lightning getting into the event.   Apparently this church as a big honking bell (nine feet wide across the open end) by seven feet tall.  They do swing this bell when they ring it because the vibrations during the first ringing were so strong that it caused damage to the church building itself.  So the bell is clapped by an external hammer for a less shocking effect. 

And let me say that the bride was radiant.  The groom, tall, lean, handsome. 

But it was the mother of the bride, one of my longest-running friendships (52 years) who stunned me with her dress.  

You know how frumpy a mother of the bride's dress can be?  

Not this one.  

Medium navy blue, beaded with a full skirt and tea length, the hem hit my friend's legs at the perfect point to slim and lengthen her legs.  The dress top hit her arms just at the top of her shoulders, and the straps did a wonderful cross in front and back.  Color matching pumps finished the look.  Made me want to tear up because while I have known said friend forever, this look on her was simply amazing.  And oh, the dress, custom-designed for her by her cousin's husband in his fashion house in Manhattan. 

The dinner reception was held at a building that Cookie first visited in 1985 - a former Passionist Brotherhood Monastery.  Back in the late 1970s, the monks moved on, and left behind was this former chapel and the ancillary building.  Back then, the ancillary building was being made over into offices, but finding a use for the historic chapel (I don't call it a church as it is not in the shape of the cross) was trickier.  I believe at the time we visited it was being used as a media studio.   Well, that didn't pan out, so the building owners struggled to find a use.  

Finally, it found its purpose as an event space.  And it was PERFECT!

During the dinner, the room was utterly breathtaking.  Lights up, shabby chic and all, the flowers, the well-dressed people (including this young Lesbian couple who dressed in the most incredible outfits that showed off their amazing curves.  Did  And the food, which I understand is prepared on-site was ungodly delicious.   Cookie had chicken and prime rib, and while I am a beef guy, that chicken was out of this world. 

Finally, the lights came down - see above -  and the dance floor opened up and the room transformed into a nightclub for the happy couple and their guests.

Thankfully, we took the wedding shuttle. Driving up and down Mount Adams at night isn't for the weak-hearted.  In bitter temperatures, and snow and ice, it was even more nail-biting.

The flights were all fine, Delta treated us royally in first class.  Normally we wouldn't bother with FC flying from Baltimore to Ohio, but we can no longer get there easily.  Thus was flew Baltimore to Atlanta to Cincinnati, and home was the reverse.  

Now we wait one more day to take our COVID tests just to make sure that we didn't catch anything. 

The only thing we didn't have at this wedding was a bridal flower toss.  Do they still do those?

Finally, we did not get the prize for the furthest travel to the event.  Not even close.  The winner was a friend of the family who flew from Germany to be there. 

So that is what we have been up to.  

Hope you all are well, stay healthy and safe, Cookie.