Humor

I Would Have

Posted on October 13, 2013 by Kami

I’m using the Sandwich theory today. When you have to tell someone bad news slip it in between two good things. Not that the middle thing is bad news. Really it’s just something we hear in various forms but we don’t really listen.

Or is that we listen to but don’t really hear?

Whatever. Pay attention to the middle today, okay?

This sandwich is kind of like a good and healthy middle filling that we should choose to eat, enclosed by homemade bread.

Here’s one slice of bread:

20131013-171146.jpg

I didn’t promise the bread would be delicious, did I? Oh well, it’s a classic anyway.

Here’s the flavor packed protein filled goodness of today’s sandwich:

Erma Bombeck wrote this back in 1979 at the same age I am now, and many, many years before she passed away..

“Someone asked me the other day if I had my life to live over would I change anything. My answer was no, but then I thought about it and changed my mind.

If I had my life to live over again I would have waxed less and listened more.

Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy and complaining about the shadow over my feet, I’d have cherished every minute of it and realized that the wonderment growing inside me was to be my only chance in life to assist God in a miracle.

I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed.

I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained and the sofa faded.

I would have eaten popcorn in the “good” living room and worried less about the dirt when you lit the fireplace.

I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.

I would have burnt the pink candle that was sculptured like a rose before it melted while being stored.

I would have sat cross-legged on the lawn with my children and never worried about grass stains.

I would have cried and laughed less while watching television … and more while watching real life.

I would have shared more of the responsibility carried by my husband which I took for granted.

I would have eaten less cottage cheese and more ice cream.

I would have gone to bed when I was sick, instead of pretending the Earth would go into a holding pattern if I weren’t there for a day.

I would never have bought ANYTHING just because it was practical/wouldn’t show soil/ guaranteed to last a lifetime.

When my child kissed me impetuously, I would never have said, “Later. Now, go get washed up for dinner.”

There would have been more I love yous … more I’m sorrys … more I’m listenings … but mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute of it … look at it and really see it … try it on … live it … exhaust it … and never give that minute back until there was nothing left of it.”

Here’s the other slice of bread:

20131013-171451.jpg

Insert your own rimshot at this point.

Hey, you can’t always take life too seriously. Nobody gets out alive anyway.

Just three little somethings to let your brain chew on for a while.

Happy Sunday!

Categories: Humor, People, Relationships | Tags: , , , , , | 3 Comments

The Seven Levels of Dante’s Quilting

Posted on October 2, 2013 by Kami

Have I ever mentioned crafts on this blog?

No? Not surprising.

I DESPISE, okay maybe that’s too strong of a word, I highly dislike, crafting. Participating in, if I’m more  precise.

Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh.

I am currently in the middle of a ginormous CRAFT FAIL of epic dimensions.

English: Red Pinterest logo

If you haven’t, just don’t. You’re life will thank you for it.

Okay, maybe it isn’t technically a craft. Yes, yes, it is. It’s something that requires the PINTEREST gene. Born in the last century, I am sadly lacking in this apparently critical gene segment in my DNA.

If these quilt frames weren’t borrowed they would have been part of a ritual burning in my backyard during the past several hours of insanity and aggravation.

Apparently, as I found out last week with my daughter, putting a quilt on a frame requires at the minimum, two people. Sixteen would be better. Twenty might make it turn out well.

Four people need to stand at the north, south, west and east fung shui points in the room in which the quilt resides. Four people must stand equal distance apart chanting the kumbayarowtheboatashore chant. Four more people need to summon the craft powers of the underworld to levitate fabric, batting, fabric, quilt frames and quilt stands. Four more are helpful if they don’t mind getting stabbed by giant thumbtacks whilst they attempt to pin, simultaneously or laboriously one at a time, all three layers of said quilt to levitated boards.

These C-clamps look like torture devices for good reason.

These C-clamps look like torture devices for good reason.

Most helpful of all is the four horsemen, er magical C-clamp operators, who can open attach and clamp the four corners of the earth, or in the case, the four corners of the quilt to the self-moving, non standing stands.

My daughter and I managed to do this with only two people last week. I’m not sure how. There must have been quilting angels standing guard. After only two hours of wrestling wood, fabric, tacks, clamps and bad words we finally managed to have to quilt suspended midair. Ten minutes later we had finished tying the quilt together. An hour after that we had disassembled the contraption and sworn off quilting for the rest of our unnatural lives.

That is until my quilt top was ready for quilting. Which it has been for the past four years and one week. I’ve put it off. For good reason, obviously.

Today, I thought I’d attempt putting the quilt on the frame all by myself.

Yes, you read that correctly. Alone. One single person.

Cute, yes. Innocent, no. Don't be fooled by the folksy denim look of this monstrosity.

Cute, yes. Innocent, no. Don’t be fooled by the folksy denim look of this monstrosity.

I reasoned I am an intelligent, well read individual. Besides, I googled it. I’d just done the deed last week. How hard could it be? It’s just fabric and wood. I’m a grown up with skills, talents, logic and some patience.

If I ever think I might make another quilt top, please stop me if I suggest I might want to. But if I succeeded somehow in creating one, I would do everything in my power to allow someone else the privilege of machine quilting it. I’d sell plasma, collect beer bottles, play the violin on a street corner collecting change, whatever it took, to pay for someone else to finish the danged thing for me.

I must be insane.

If I wasn’t before this, I surely am now.

Categories: Humor | Tags: , , , , , | 4 Comments

Irony

Posted on September 25, 2013 by Kami

I call my bulletin board “Irony” for good reason. Notice the word top center? I think I might have some changes to make.

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My bulletin board as is, untouched, unedited, unreal.

Situational Irony: A difference between what you expect to happen and what actually happens.

I would expect my bulletin board to help me simplify and organize my life. When it actually just serves as another place for chaos to happen and apparently propagate then it becomes irony.

I’m afraid I overflow all the edges and boundaries in my life, just like all the papers, photos, notes and other crappage expands way past the edges of the cork board.

Am I going to do something about this?

Eventually.

Luckily no one sees this, but me. Oh, and MSH. And occasionally one of my children.

And now, you and the world.

Just keeping it real.

 

Categories: Humor | Tags: , , , , , | 3 Comments

Cat Highways

Posted on September 23, 2013 by Kami

When we first moved here to the Arizona desert eons ago I had a learning curve to scale. It took a bit of time, but I got used to the oddities. Lizards, crickets, scorpions,  white flies, warm water coming out of the cold tap, the juxtaposition of police helicopters at night and roosters crowing in the morning,  running errands after the sun went down or before it rose in the morning, the pungent odor of dairy farms, pine trees in the same yard as palm trees, and monsoons that involved no rain whatsoever.

Portrait of a Wall lizard (Podarcis muralis

Portrait of a Wall lizard  (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Assorted other desert adaptations for survival became necessary, but I think I’ve blocked those from my memory.

One of the first things I said to myself when I made the mistake of running to the grocery store at noon was, “who in their right mind would start a settlement here and then stay in this inferno?”

No one answered me.

I figured whoever decided that this was a good place for a town, and then another town and then a dozen or two more, most likely was suffering from some heat exhaustion or heat stroke. That was the only explanation.

I imagine the land was a great deal too.  Kind of like those real estate plots in the Everglades.

But I digress. Sorry, it’s been a long, long, long, long, long, long summer. I think someone mentioned breaking records, but I’m sure they meant CD’s or DVD’s.

Anyway.

The point I was trying to make was there’s this oddity I don’t recall seeing in other parts of the country where I’ve lived.

Most everyone in the country appears to believe Robert Frost’s adage that “good fences makes good neighbors.”

Chain Link Fence

Howdy neighbor!

Oklahoma had chain link fences, but then, they’re a really friendly bunch. They pretty much adopt you into their family right after you’ve made introductions. So the fence is really more of a dog deterrent than anything.

There were long expanses of six-foot tall wooden fences in North Carolina. Mine, mine, mine seemed  the word each nail punctuated in those fences. Don’t get me wrong, I liked the people alright, but boundaries seemed very important and well-defined. But then I lived there less than a year. I’m open for discussion on this one if you’re from Charlotte, or parts thereabouts.

The Seattle area employed a combination of wood and chain link depending on the neighborhood. Those fences seemed more of a suggestion than a real threat or barrier.

Creative Block

Cement block wall. More than just a fence between neighbors. (Photo credit: lukeroberts)

By contrast, here in the desert, the fences are really walls. Six foot high cement block walls. I still haven’t figured out what that means. Go away and leave me alone? I’ll stay on my side and you stay on yours and we’ll get along just fine? I have a room full of guns and I’m not afraid to use them?

What I noticed, early on after moving here were the cats on top of these lovely interconnected walls. The cats made really good time from one section of the neighborhood to the other and stayed well out of reach of any dogs. In fact, I believe they stopped and taunted dogs as often as time and speed allowed. I took to calling the walls “cat highways.”

Just last year I realized that teenagers had adapted and learned by watching the cats. They frequently scale the walls and run along the tops to get to where ever they want to go. Not sure if they taunt the dogs, though.

It’s important to know that the top edge of the wall is only six inches wide. The kids I know who do this seem oblivious to the possibility of falling, trespassing, irritating a rabid neighbor or injuring their often bare toes and feet. But then, most teenagers are oblivious to most things not orbiting their own personal universe. (No disrespect intended, just stating a fact.)

I guess if you live in the desert you adapt, change, melt a little, and do whatever it takes to survive.

You use what nature and construction offer and you run with it. Or, in this case, you run on it.

My take on it all? Extra good fences make good neighbors and in some cases, really good shortcuts.

_________________

Just in case you were wondering, here’s the actual poem by Frost that I was referring to. I consider it an astounding work of art. Enjoy. Read it out loud! It rolls in a warm wave and fills the room with the scent of an open meadow, pines and apple blossoms. At least in my mind it does.

Mending Wall

Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,
And spills the upper boulders in the sun;
And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.
The work of hunters is another thing:
I have come after them and made repair
Where they have left not one stone on a stone,
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,
To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,
No one has seen them made or heard them made,
But at spring mending-time we find them there.
I let my neighbour know beyond the hill;
And on a day we meet to walk the line
And set the wall between us once again.
We keep the wall between us as we go.
To each the boulders that have fallen to each.
And some are loaves and some so nearly balls
We have to use a spell to make them balance:
“Stay where you are until our backs are turned!”
We wear our fingers rough with handling them.
Oh, just another kind of out-door game,
One on a side. It comes to little more:
There where it is we do not need the wall:
He is all pine and I am apple orchard.
My apple trees will never get across
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
He only says, “Good fences make good neighbours.”
Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder
If I could put a notion in his head:
“Why do they make good neighbours? Isn’t it
Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.
Before I built a wall I’d ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offence.
Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,
That wants it down.” I could say “Elves” to him,
But it’s not elves exactly, and I’d rather
He said it for himself. I see him there
Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top
In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.
He moves in darkness as it seems to me,
Not of woods only and the shade of trees.
He will not go behind his father’s saying,
And he likes having thought of it so well
He says again, “Good fences make good neighbours.”

Robert Frost
Categories: Humor, People, phoenix | Tags: , , , , , , | 3 Comments

All Things Chia

Posted on September 19, 2013 by Kami

Today’s Daily Prompt from WordPress asked:

“What’s the most dreadful or wonderful experience you’ve ever had as a customer?” 

My post twists the question around somewhat to reply as the one providing the customer service. I’m sorry to have to report that it turned out as rather inept service.

“I’m making a chia cava,” the woman said. “Can you tell me what fabric would work for that?”

“I’m sorry,” I replied. “I’m not sure I heard you right.”

“I’m looking for fabric, for a chia cava,” she said again.

After the tragic and premature death of Fernan...

Chia cava. Chia cava. Chia cava. I repeated in my head. I’m picturing chia plants, chia pets, chia heads. But what’s a cava?

“My hearing isn’t very good, ma’am,” I said apologetically, “could you say that again?”

“Chia cava,” she repeated louder. “Fabric for making a new chia cava.”

She didn’t have an accent, she wasn’t from a foreign country, she could pass as my grandmother and yet I couldn’t tell what she needed.

“Just a second,” I said as looked for the other sales associate to call her over.

“I’ll just find it myself,” the woman said and she walked away toward the stacks of fabric. Exasperation wasn’t exactly the look on her face, but I had clearly failed her.

I explained the misunderstanding to the other sales associate who looked at me like I’d lost my mind.

“Seriously, she said ‘chia cava,’” I whispered to her. It wasn’t a very big fabric shop.

Fabric shop in Hilo, Hawaii

Fabric shop in Hilo, Hawaii. Not, unfortunately, the one I worked at.(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

My coworker walked over to the misunderstood and somewhat frustrated customer and started chatting with her. They ran their hands over the bolts of paisley’s, prints, stripes and solids. They took out a bolt or two and spread out the fabric a bit. There were hand gestures I couldn’t quite make out. I still had no clue what a chia cava was. They walked over to another section of the store and talked about some of that fabric.  And again, there was the touching of fabric, more pulling bolts and spreading it out across the top of the other bolts. There was some laughter. Then they walked over to another section and chatted some more.

I stayed busy restocking a few notions while I surreptitiously watched the two of them chat and talk about fabric. When the customer selected the fabric she wanted the two of them walked back to the cutting counter together. I found something to do in another section of the store. Embarrassed at my inability to understand or help, I made myself as scarce as possible.

After measuring the fabric, cutting it, bagging it and collecting the money, my coworker walked to the door with the customer, chatting comfortably. As the door opened they both looked back at me briefly and I hid my face again. I’m not certain but I’m pretty sure I heard chuckling. The customer left with a look of satisfaction clearly on her face.

I stepped out from my hiding place near the notions wall and lifted my hands and shrugged my shoulders to ask, “well?”

“Well, what?” my coworker laughed.

“What is a chia cava and what kind of fabric do you make it from?”

She pulled up a chair behind the counter and sat down.  “See this?” she said, leaning back in the chair and letting the front legs lift off the ground.

“What? The chair?” I said exasperated.

“Yes, the chia,” she replied, dropping the “R” in the word chair.

“A Chair?” I said hitting myself in the forehead with the palm of my hand. “But what’s a chair cava?” I asked, but as I said the two words together out loud I understood. “A chai cava is a chair cover?” I said emphasizing the “R” sound in each word.

English: Chair

“Yup, simple as that,” she said. “She wanted to recover a chair in some new fabric, and if it turns out well, she’ll be back for more fabric.”

I looked at her, stunned and sheepish.

My coworker laughed. “That customer thought you were the strangest, dumbest salesperson she’d ever encountered in her whole life.” She laughed again. “I told her you were really new to the job and didn’t even know how to run the cash register yet.”

Now it was my turn to laugh. I’d been working there for over two years. I thought it better for the customer to think I was silly and inexperienced than for her to feel awkward or embarrassed herself.

I’m sure she told her friends and her husband about the airheaded sales clerk who couldn’t understand simple English. Just as surely as I told my family about the customer who couldn’t make herself understood by a simple sales clerk in a fabric store.

Occasionally when one of my kids says something I can’t quite hear or understand, I’ll throw out the phrase, “you want a chia cava” and get a laugh out of them. Then they’ll repeat themselves very slowly as if I am hard of hearing and dimwitted, laughing at me the whole time.

At least they all get a laugh out of it.

I’m happy to be of service.

Categories: Humor, People | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Questionable Recipes

Posted on September 16, 2013 by Kami

I realized I’ve never posted a recipe here on my infamous blog.

Why? Perhaps because this isn’t a foodie blog?

I have posted photos of food several times which I’m not so sure counts. You see, my goal is to write, not just post photos. So why is my head bouncing around the idea of a recipe for today’s post? Of course, I’m going to explore this in my head a bit and then get back to you. While I’m gone you can contemplate the following photo which involved a two-year old and a DVD player.

Items found inside a non-working DVD player. Any idea why it wasn't working?

Items found inside a non-working DVD player. Any idea why it wasn’t working?

After a modicum of thought I have concluded this isn’t an actual RECIPE post, with something you can go buy the ingredients for and replicate in your own kitchen. No. Apparently not.

Rather, the muse has whispered three words, recipes for disaster.

Put two or three seemingly harmless ingredients together and stand back to see what happens.

Rain Dance

Carefully wash one car under a blue sky.

Leave outside for a few hours. Rain will follow shortly.

This one is almost always a guaranteed winner, particularly in a drought situation. Be sure not to let your real intention be to produce rain or the recipe will not work. Your sincere and only aim must be to have a clean and shiny car.

Stick-to-it-iveness

To one blender with a missing lid add one or two hungry and independent children.

Add milk, fruit and ice-cream. 

Not one of my favorites as it involves not just the floor but every surface in the kitchen, horizontal, vertical, curved, moving, alive or stationary. Burns large amounts of time easily. You’re sure to find stickiness for weeks afterwards.

Misery

Say goodbye to someone you won’t see for a long time, and within ten minutes of that get really crappy news from someone else. Add in a virus. Throw in the definite possibility that you’ve let a few people down and mix generously with insufficient sleep.

Serve with a generous side of self-pity and a headache. *Does not mix well with alcohol or driving or other human beings.

With recipes like this some serious medical attention may serve as desert.

There you have it. A good cook gone bad.

Maybe next time I’ll post my favorite bread recipe. Not original, but very edible.

Categories: Food, Humor | Tags: , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

My Friday Five: Prepared

Posted on September 13, 2013 by Kami

photo-17 copy 3Few things in life aggravate me more than getting caught off guard. I’m a bit jumpy by nature anyway. It only takes someone walking into a room quietly and simply saying hello for me to literally jump at the sound of their voice. I guess I’m wound a little tight.

In the spirit of being ready for whatever life throws at me, I try to take baby steps in that direction.  The following list of five things aren’t major investments. You could accomplish one or several with little or almost no energy, if you move slowly enough. And they will make your life a veritable funfest of joy and abandon. Okay, maybe not that last one.  But at least you’ll be better prepared for those wild kicks life launches at you.

Wild kicks?

Huh?

You know, the unexpected, the not so happy moments in life, the inconvenient accidents, the uh-ohs, the dagnabits, the what-was-I-thinkings.

Yeah. Those.

Such as:

  1. Hospitals. Have small purse or satchel packed up ahead of time, this weekend, or next weekend if you want to tempt fate. Why? For when, not if, you have to visit an ER as a patient, driver, friend or loved one. Include a small thin blanket, (like the ones the airlines charge you an arm or leg to use.) Include some cash for the cafeteria, coins for sodas or snack machines late at night, a notebook and pen, (for questions, answers, games of hangman, profound thoughts) gum and mints, some granola bars, fruit snacks or chocolate, a toothbrush and toothpaste, lip balm, lotion, and a paperback book. On your way out the door, grab your phone and charger (or keep a spare in the bag if you can pull that off) and a sweater or jacket. Hospitals are some of the coldest places I’ve spent time in and the stress makes you feel even colder. There’s no telling how long you’ll be there. This is stuff you can really use, or you can share with some of your friends or family. You’ll be really glad you did this. Really. Truly. Deeply.
  2. Lock outs. Being locked out of your car or house throws your day off kilter like nothing else can. A spare key hidden somewhere handy could put you right back on balance. Don’t “hide” it in any of the predictable places. Maybe a spare house key hidden outside your neighbor’s house (if you know them and trust them). Not in a plant by the front door and not under the mat. You’ll figure it out, you’re the smart one. Also, get creative about where you put a spare car key. There are lots of nooks and crannies and ways to camouflage a key’s hiding spot on, around and under a car. This is way faster than waiting for AAA or a family member to get you out of your predicament. You can thank me when you slide that spare key into the lock.
  3. Whatever. A stash of cash for who knows what could come up. The more you can tuck away the bigger the uh-oh you can deal with. I wouldn’t keep it all in one spot either. A bit here, a bit there, and some over there.  A seldom read volume of Shakespeare serves as a great bank if the bills are, say, tucked in singly every thirty pages. (No, you can’t rifle through my volume.) And that’s just one idea you could try. Get creative. And then, this is really important, you need to write down where all those hiding places were so you can remember. And put that note somewhere you’ll see or remember without a reminder. (I know, I know, so much to remember to remember to remember.)  <== (Not a typo.) How much you need to stash is your call. I personally feel better if I’ve got a few twenties and tens where I know I can get my hands on them in a hurry without going to an ATM. I’d feel even better, and richer, if the twenties were hundreds, but let’s be realistic here, shall we?
  4. Lights out! Batteries, flashlight, matches, candles. Honestly there’s no reason to go without candles nowadays. It’s like a decorating staple item. The question is, do you have matches or a lighter to actually use them should the need arise. Hmmm. And batteries to match flashlights seems like a no-brainer, but I’ve been known to have one but not the other. In fact, I keep a small flashlight on my nightstand. And another one in my car. I keep thinking a key ring flashlight would be handy, too. Who knows when you’ll need to see into the dark, deep recesses of your purse? When that glitch hits your local power lines, who ya gonna thank? Yup, yourself for being so well prepared and not having to sit in the dark.
  5. TP. One can never have too much toilet paper, (or bathroom tissue) around the house.  I’d rather have too much around than not enough, wouldn’t you? Buy an extra package or two when you can, you’ll be glad you did. Sorry to say these aren’t generally regarded as a decorative item, so you’ll have to stash them discreetly. Although I have seen some ingenuous TP holders that, at the least, were entertaining to look at, if not downright artistic. Google it, if you don’t believe me.

There you have it. My five bits of wisdom for you. Sadly, most of it I’ve learned the hard way. I’ll leave those stories to your imagination for now. Or not.

On that note I’ll leave you with this lovely thought by a smarter woman than I am.

photo-17 copy 4“Hoping for the best, prepared for the worst, and unsurprised by anything in between.” -Maya Angelou

Categories: Humor | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Laughing at the Lemons

Posted on September 12, 2013 by Kami

I’m a proponent of the lemons => lemonade way of thinking. I must have learned it from my Mother. Since her stroke she’s been incredibly optimistic and downright hilarious at times. Now that I’m not hanging out with her on a daily basis, which I thoroughly enjoyed, I know I’m missing out on some great laughs and I-can-do-this kind of thinking. As role models go she’s been the best, but now she’s added new dimensions to what I admire and strive for.

mother quoteOne of the best lemons turned sweet is her sense of humor. Here’s a few humorous things Mom’s said since her stroke:

While still in the hospital, two of my sisters who shall remain nameless, and my Mom in her wheelchair, got into the elevator. The door closed. They waited. And they waited. Finally, Mom, the one who had suffered the stroke a few weeks earlier, and at the time was still struggling with basics like walking and talking and eating, piped up and said, “Shouldn’t we push the button?”

Mom lauded that one for all it was worth. My sisters swore each other to secrecy about the incident. I think Mom was the one who told me about it. For the record, my sister who teaches second grade was NOT involved in that incident.

Always looking out for and concerned about the other person, Mom was talking about how many hours Dad had spent at the hospital, which is an hour and half drive from their home.

“Your poor Dad! While I’ve been in the hospital he’s had to sleep at your Aunt and Uncle’s house, and your brother’s house and at your sister’s house. He’s just been sleeping around.”

Then, a pause, followed by her giggling at how funny her last sentence was.

Sunset

Sunset (Photo credit: armisteadbooker)

Shortly after she got back home we liked to sit out on the front porch at sunset. One evening while sitting on the porch swing, Dad joined us. Not long after sitting down on the swing he started getting a bit irritated at Mom for making the swing rock back and forth. He likes to sit still. Finally he gave up when she couldn’t keep herself from moving the swing. As he got up to walk away Mom thought a minute and then hollered after him, “I guess I’m just a swinger!”

Her giggle turned into a laugh this time. Dad just shook his head and grinned as he stepped inside the house.

Lest you think my Mom has all the wit and wisdom in that duo, here’s an interesting bit about my Dad.

I had plugged my iPhone into Mom’s charger since her iPhone and mine are nearly identical and my charger was upstairs. When I went to unplug it I couldn’t get the plug out. I pulled and tugged and tweaked and got aggravated. Then I gave up for a while. When Dad came in the room I told him my dilemma. He said, “Here, let me see it.” He’s not much into technology, so I thought, fine, he’ll get out some tool and pry it out of there and then we’ll have to buy something to replace what’s broken. He took the phone from me and said, “Have you tried this?” He squeezed the outside edges of the plug and gently pulled the charger out of my phone.

Apparently, Mom’s charger has a couple of release buttons on the side, which mine does not. Outsmarted by the older not-so-tech-savvy-guy again! Dang it. He always had the answers when I was growing up, too.

You can see I’m a lucky girl, raised by such smart, witty, optimistic and persevering parents.

I hope they know how wonderful they are!

Categories: Family, Humor | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

The Best Cure for Insomnia

Posted on September 10, 2013 by Kami

It’s Gratituesday! Today I’m infinitely grateful for that glorious elixir called sleep. It’s the cure of many ills, both physical and emotional. Sleep can turn a cranky toddler into a happy child or transform a short temper into patience. Enough sleep can make the difference between overwhelmed and empowered.

A couple of fluffy pillows is all I need!

A couple of fluffy pillows is all I need!

Oh, I know it isn’t that simple. But sometimes it is. Sometimes all it takes is a nap, or a full night of uninterrupted dreaming. Sometimes calling it a night is the best answer to any problem we face.

Sometimes sleeping in heals our brain fuzz. The fog lifts and what was indecipherable and impossible becomes doable and understandable.

An entire book, a classic, exists based on the idea of one man’s sleep deprivation adventures. Have you ever heard of Don Quixote? Here’s the part of the book where I wanted to cry because I’ve almost been like that a time or two.

“Finally, from so little sleeping and so much reading, his brain dried up and he went completely out of his mind.” — Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra

Running on the fumes of not enough rest can render us nearly mad and fairly ineffective or even nonsensical.

I’m a big fan of naps. Not long ones. Usually. Twenty minutes with my pillow are often all I need to regenerate and get through the rest of the day. Although yesterday I left the alarm off and let myself sleep nearly two hours. Surprisingly I dreamed a vivid, colorful, creative, restful dream in a sleep that left me feeling awake and not groggy or drugged or foggy.

This quote by Rita Rudner makes me laugh.

“I love to sleep. Do you? Isn’t it great? It really is the best of both worlds. You get to be alive and unconscious.”

Ernest Hemingway shared this same love of sleep, albeit for different reasons I suspect, based on these two telling sentences.

“I love sleep. My life has the tendency to fall apart when I’m awake, you know?”

Sleeping like a baby is an oft misunderstood phrase. Babies, esp. newborns wake up crying every two hours to be fed.All. Night. Long.

Sleeping like a baby is an oft misunderstood phrase. Babies, esp. newborns wake up crying every two hours to be fed.All. Night. Long.

I’d like to think I’m less self-destructive than he was when I’m awake. Although I wouldn’t mind being as prolific and talented a writer as that guy. There are days, especially the sleep-deprived ones when I think I should have stayed home, away from civilized people and kept my rude, aggravated, bleary-eyed self out of trouble.

I’ve often wondered why we sleep a full third of our lives. I’ve yet to come up with a good answer for that. I’ve concluded that being human is an odd thing. That’s all. Nothing profound.

If you want profound look to some spiritual leader like the Dalai Lama XIV who said the following:

“If you think you are too small to make a difference, try sleeping with a mosquito.”

Who knew those guys could be funny as well as wise, huh?

Here’s one more funny guy with his thoughts on sleep.

“The best cure for insomnia is to get a lot of sleep.” – WC Fields

My favorite thought on sleep was one that made the rounds on the internet recently. In fact, I think I need to get a t-shirt with these very words printed on it.

“I already want to take a nap tomorrow.”

Ah, sleep, I love thee dearly.

Categories: Gratitude, Gratituesday, Humor | Tags: , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

I Vote for the Grawlix

Posted on September 7, 2013 by Kami

I’m convinced that the only reason children are given middle names is so that parents have a way of letting the child know when they are really, really, really in trouble. Who hasn’t overheard some dialog like the following:

“JJ, we keep out hands to ourselves now, don’t we.”

“Jimmy, don’t touch that.”

“Jimmy B…Are you listening to me?”

“James, I said don’t touch that, get over here now. Don’t you run away!”

“James Henry Beelzebub! You are in BIG trouble now!”

Did you notice the escalation? From everyday to formal, from easygoing to insistent?

I made the error of not giving three of my children a middle name. That middle name would have come in handy, on many an occasion. Instead, I had to employ some serious creativity to get my point across. Or make up a middle name so they’d know they were in trouble.

Some kids have more than one middle name. Does that give the parents more emphasis? Or does it give the child more chances before things ramp up to utter chaos? Just curious.

If a parent often or always used all three or more names to address their child, then that middle name wouldn’t hold any more power than a single name. The rare frequency of use is what imbues that middle name with meaning and emphasis.

In the same way, swear words lose their punch, power, meaning and impact when used too often.

Like the tale of the boy who cried wolf, swearing, if it becomes common or too frequent, or out of context, loses its efficacy.

“Oh, that’s just the way he is. He doesn’t mean anything by it,” is something often said about those who swear without thought. The only meaning conveyed is anger or thoughtlessness or lack of vocabulary.

Swear

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

While living in another state, we used a fantastic mechanic friend who worked on cars from his home garage. We got to know his family, his kids, his wife. Nice people. Surprisingly, he swore like a sailor, meaning, nearly every third word was a vulgarity. The first few times I spent any time around him I thought he was in a bad mood. Turned out that was just how he talked, happy, sad, angry, indifferent. That’s how he was raised. The swear words served as fillers for him, like most people use the words “uh”or “hmm” or “like” or “y’know.” It wasn’t easy to tune out or filter the sense from what he said. It was distracting and often uncomfortable. Surprisingly, he was the most tender-hearted, kind, generous person I’d met in ages. His words didn’t match who he was. Consequently, many people kept themselves from getting to know him, the real man behind the angry sounding words. What a loss.

 “Your own words are the bricks and mortar of the dreams you want to realize. Your words are the greatest power you have. The words you choose and their use establish the life you experience.” – Sonia Choquette.

I admit I’m kind of a word snob. I select words with probably too much care and precision. I get told I use “big words” too much. I blame that on all the reading I’ve done over a lifetime. There are so many words to use in every possible situation! And I keep learning new ones!

photo-14There are some words that aren’t even swear words that make me cringe; misspelled words, grammar errors, typos. That’s just me being silly and picky. A word that means something else other than what the speaker thinks what it means can make me wince. A swear word when nearly any other word would be adequate just feels lazy and pointless. Certain swear words are like a punch in the gut, a word out-of-place in a sentence, meaningless, almost silly.

Here’s a brief example of the many word choices out there that could replace just the word vulgarity: rudeness, tastelessness, uncouthness, offensiveness, crude, impropriety, indecency, cuss, execration, expletive, profanity, obscenity, cuss word, four-letter word, rude word, dirty word, vulgarism, sacrilege, curse, oath, and lets not forget ^*$#(@&**!!

That’s twenty-one word choices! Why would a person, particularly a writer, always use the same three or four words when there are twenty-one or more options? It doesn’t take a boatload of effort to look up words in a thesaurus or dictionary anymore.

Don’t get me wrong here.

I’m no purist. My mouth surely has needed a soap washing on many an occasion. Just ask MSH or my kids. When I get really, really angry half my brain cells shut down and what I say comes across as all but meaningless. I’m not proud of it. I am after all a wordsmith. I have the skills to get my ideas across without the &*#$*%#$ thrown in as empty fillers.

That’s a grawlix.

That string of punctuation marks that signify cussing is called a grawlix, by the way.

I like that. You’re free to fill in the blanks or let it slide. I picture Yosemite Sam grumbling under his breath as “that durn rabbit” gets away again. I get his anger without taking a hit to my gut and my sensibilities.

As for bleeping out cuss words, I’m not much of a fan of that. There isn’t much left to the imagination when lip-reading is obvious. And blanking out the middle letters of expletives doesn’t lessen the angry meaningless of the word.

English: A black ink splatter with slightly bl...

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I guess I just wish we all tried a little harder to say what we really meant. Swear words just feel like so much anger spewed on the page, like ink splatted out of a quill pen. What a mess where there’s so much potential. I’d like to think we’re all better writers and better communicators.

I know, it’s supposedly cool and sophisticated to freely pepper our sentences with those words we wouldn’t normally use in front of our grandmother, our minister, a potential employer or small children. Why is it we don’t say them in such company, I wonder.

Does that say something about our sense of propriety? Does it say something about us? Does it say anything?

Do our word choices say anything at all?

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Categories: Communication, Humor, Writing | Tags: , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

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