Thursday, July 24, 2014


                     
WHAT the Smucker?

When you get to be my age, every week there is some effen flyer in our mailbox offering “fabulous deals” for rest homes. WTF? I have no desire to rest. Resting is for dead people. Now sleeping--yes, resting, no. It does beg the question though: Where will I be laid to rest? I am much more interested in where I will get laid, but that’s another blog.

I have been thinking about two venues, however. One is “the pearly gates.” What on earth (or in heaven?) is a pearly gate? Is it a gate made of pearls, or a gate where once you enter it, you get pearls. I could use a nice strand, as I never got one from Mr. Wonderful or the guy before him, or . . . never mind. I put in “pearly gates” on the GPS just for the hell-of-it the other day, but all it gave me was an arrow pointing up with a question mark next to it. Anyway, assuming I don’t get there any time soon, I thought about the second venue: the Smuckers Jam Jar.

On the Today Show, (that I watch out of the corner of my eye while I’m writing these absurd ditties) they have a segment where they honor those who have passed the 100 year mark. Good old Olga Jones has her photo right smack dab in the center of those preserves. I wonder if the idea came with the whole “preserved” concept. Anyway, I do not EVER want to be on this jar. Not because I don’t just love Smuckers. I do. Not because I don’t think it’s wonderful that people live to be that old. That’s great. I just don’t want to be around that long. It’s really overkill.