At a recent dinner with my brother Toby I talked about my bucket list.  He suggested I write a blog about it and other juicy subjects as they occur to me.

“Who would read that”, I asked, coyly batting my left eyelash

“I would,”  he said.

OK – I have an audience of one.  I’m writing a blog.

It’s called    B.L.O.G. – Bucket List – Optimistic Geezer

The rules:

1. No politics
2. Reading time 2 minutes max.
3. Not delivered your email, Twitter or Facebook.
4. If you want to read it go to normrosenblatt.com
5. Nostalgia, like garlic, used sparingly
6. On days when I have nothing to say, there’ll be a charming emoticon

9/13/18

My bucket list:

• Breakfast with Nan tomorrow morning at the little round table at the window looking out at  our courtyard, waving to  friends taking their dogs to the park
• Joyfully watching our 5 grown grandchildren building careers, and the two younger ones building bold personalities.
• Finish writing the song to the poem I’ve been working on “Some Kind of Crazy”

And certainly the journey we’re about to launch to Lisbon, Jerusalem, Tel Aviv and Haifa with our delightful friends Deepa and Thampy Thomas

Why yes, climbing Machu Picchu would be spectacular, a personal tour of Windsor Castle with Meaghan Markle (aka Duchess of Sussex) would be charming.  But my bucket list celebrates here and it reveres now.  And if I were to elaborate this blog would stretch way beyond my 2-minute limit.

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It’s rumored that Alexa and Siri are In a relationship

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Google now has a robot who provides suggested responses to your incoming emails.  This robot, however, totally lacks any sense of irony.

I suggest a few additions to the robot’s repertoire.

“Dude, Seriously?”

“I’d love to but Tuesday afternoon is when I take Frieda, my Chihuahua to her analyst”

“You still owe me $20 from t­he last time”

“ This is truly artificial intelligence”

“ Last time I took part in anything like this, I was in the 6^th grade”

“Has some potential, but it just doesn’t pair with broccoli”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have –  and I really mean you shouldn’t have”

Post your own non-robotic response and I’ll post it here – with or without attribution, up to you

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In about 1968 the Nob Hill Theater appeared as a men’s strip club on Bush between Powell and Mason.  Ever since we moved here I’ve been puzzled by the incongruity.   Well,  In early August there appeared an addition to the usual sign which read “TOUCH OUR JUNK”.  It announced the theater’s closing on August 19. Then the sign was changed as below.  It stretches the limits of one’s imagination to suppose what might have been included in the Memorabilia sale. I did not go.  Now the sign just reads, “TOUCH OUR JUNK’.  I assume any number of collectors of antiques and collectibles will knock.