El Cajon, CA
Clear sky
Clear sky:
35.6 °F

Articles by Sheila Buska

have been super busy all of a sudden. All that stuff I put off is keeping me jumping. What a different lifestyle I have begun! No more procrastinating, no more “doing it tomorrow,” no more “There’s plenty of time.” Today is the day. Right now is the moment. See it; do it.

The first signs of trouble were the splats of raindrops on the patio. How would I get Paul out of his wheelchair and into the car for dinner out with friends this evening? Like always, I guess—but with an umbrella. All would be fine.

My phone is charging, my drink is drunk, the music’s playing, my car is waiting. The banana bread was okay—not great, but okay—and I have forty minutes to spare before I head home. I didn’t buy the screws before I got here because when she rang them up she asked for nine dollars and change but when I found the packet of fifty screws the price below said a dollar thirty-nine and since I didn’t need fifty screws but the price was right I was going to buy the whole packet. But not for nine dollars. . .

A stray comma before the word “and;” a picture hung slightly off-kilter in a friend’s living room; flat whipped cream; a hair out of place—little things. Little, but they bug us. Years ago, the nun in his Catholic school taught him a comma should never be placed before the word “and” and years later it bugs him to see a comma before “and.” He sees them all the time—they stick out like a sore thumb to him. Grammar rules, have they changed? Do people not know better?

The weirdest things happen to me. Like, I was in my comfy chair, watching TV, holding down the “back” button on the remote control and the program was speeding through images a mile a minute—going forward. Not backward. Wait! What? I need to go back to catch up on what I missed.

Boy, do I get it wrong! I was never much of a hugger—more of a “Hi, how are you?” kind’a gal. A handshake if it was someone I’d never met, or a business acquaintance. But no hugs, unless I was hugged first.

George Orwell’s Big Brother has nothing on my Buick. In his novel, Nineteen Eighty-four, citizens were constantly told, “Big Brother is watching you,” Today we have the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act, FISA, to worry about, but my Buick with its “MyBuick” feature, in collusion with its OnStar feature, is way ahead of them.

The first day of the New Year poked me with a shocking idea. Unfortunately for me, I accepted the challenge: to start my taxes. Well, why not? I’ve always loved TurboTax—well, as much as anyone could love tax software. It would only take a TurboTax minute to download the new 2018 tax files. I’d leave the rest for later, but this would be a good start.

The New Year is here. Wait! I’m not done with the old year! Are you? I need a few more months to finish everything I started this year, plus there are tons of things that need to be done that I never even lifted a finger to start.

The little red reindeer stood proudly on the coffee table, its head held high, hoofs ready to prance at the press of a button. I was visiting my niece Kathy, a real Christmas buff. If it walks, talks, sings or dances—or does all four at once—you’ll find it under her gaily decorated Christmas tree or waiting on the carpet for small nieces, nephews or children of friends to arrive.