My eyes are keeping my life interesting. One thing I inherited from my father is a love of crossword puzzles. When I have a moment, I work the newspaper’s daily crossword. Tonight, I had a moment. The puzzle was fairly easy and I moved quickly until I got to 30 across. I needed a five letter word for “Tilted women.” Tilted women? I’ve heard of jilted women but not tilted. An image of a row of women with their right legs much shorter than their left legs causing them to lean to the right popped into my head. That would make a woman tilted alright but what’s a five letter word for it? I skipped it and moved on.
My second time through I read the key again. This time I read, “Tiled women.” Oh, tiled not tilted. No wonder I couldn’t think of the answer. The last two letters were “es.” But what’s a tiled woman? Were muses tiled? That might fit but it seemed unlikely. I left it blank again.
The third round I now had the first letter, “D.” That meant “muses” definitely was not the answer. What’s a tiled woman? I reread the key. “Titled women.” What else could I do? I laughed at myself and filled in “Dames.”
Just the other day I was driving past an electronic sign which flashed “Hells Fargo.” I’m not sure where it is located, but I’m not going to bank there.
It’s not just my eyesight; my hearing is making life interesting for me also. Today on the radio I heard an ad encouraging me to “Be a local Thai fighter!” That seemed odd. I was unaware of any local problems with Thai’s. Sure, I don’t care for Thai food but that doesn’t mean I want to fight any of them. An image popped into my head that had me looking very ninja like while I defended my hometown from ravaging Thai’s. But it was all for naught. I finally understood the ad was asking us to “Be a local time fighter!” Oh, time fighter. The image of ninja Corina started battling clocks of all sizes until the next ad came on.
As much as I would like to blame it on old age, I can’t. When I was in high school I remember singing along to a catchy Bangles tune, “Just another man makes Monday.” My friends started laughing at me. When they finally picked themselves up off the floor, they explained it’s, “Just another manic Monday.” Oh. Well, that changes the whole meaning of the song. And made it much more appropriate but not quite as fun.