Humor is supposed to be funny, right? One shouldn’t have to be sloshed to laugh at a good joke or a one-liner.
So I go ahead and tell my gal friend avery funny side-splitter. You’d think I was telling it to Mt. Rushmore. Barely a crease of a smile--a bit reminiscent of Nixon’spost-Watergate stone face. A colonic may have helped her…
Who wouldn’t think that a Rodney Dangerfield one-linerwasn’t funny: *My parents gave me toys for the bathtub-- a toaster and a radio. *My uncle’s dying wish, he wanted me on his lap. He was in the electric chair. *I was an ugly kid. I went to a freak show and they let me in for free.
It’s okay if those humor shorts didn’t tickle yourfunny bone. R.D. was off-the-wall funny. I connect to his weirdsense of humor. I inherited the funny bone from mom; we had some great unforgettable, hysterical moments. Laughter is the best medicine…
Our land line phone was obnoxious-- it had a ringer like an air raid siren. The phone didn’t have a ringer volume adjustment. It was so loud it could have caused a stampede of elephants.
I detested it with a passion, and even more so when telemarketers would call me during the evening. My trick, finally, was to ask if they’d mind holding for a moment , someone’s at the door… I’d just go back to what I was doing, usually watching Seinfeld [my Seinfeld moment]. After a minute or so, I’d hear Hello?? then a click.
I got rid of the land line. Tom and I both got cell phones two years ago. Weather always knocked out the electricity anyway...
Figuring out how to use the darn thing took awhile; the user guide could have been written in hieroglyphics. When your brain is over 60, forget it… It took me almost two days to find the ring tone options.
Tom’s ringer is a cool Caribbean sound. He’s not into reggae--more like the 1812 Overture… The ring tones for my phone are far out, modern, jazzy tones.
I chose one called Chill. Not too bad; not too good, either… Maybe I’ll download Jimmy Buffett’s Margaritaville again, or the Beach Boys California Girls-- both music tones drove Paul nuts when I had them on my blitzed phone.
On a dark and stormy night a couple of weeks ago, I woke Tom and Paul up with a top-of-my-lungs scream. It was almost 1 a.m. I’d had a horrible nightmare, and was bashing Tom like a crazy woman. Now that scream would have made a great ring tone for Halloween…
When we decided to move from Cal, tossing out or donating stuff was the first thing we did. I was so happy at the prospect of selling thehouse, I started 6 months early with boxing things up. I had a lot of books on writing and photography. I sold or donated 1/3 of the books; other itemsgot Ebayed.
On moving day, we had a driveway sale of all that was left--everything went. Our FL home is large--just enough room for more stuff, which I’m good at accumulating. I’ve added to my reference collection, thanks to Amazon used books and Border bookstore rewards coupons. I rearrange drawers, cabinets and miscellaneous items that I think I need to save. Some things are hard to throw away--seemingly indispensable. Tom says if I haven't used it in 6 months, throw it out... Food for thought...
I’m running out of space again. My DVD collection is double-stacked. It's all Borders and Books-A-Million's fault forhaving such good sales.
In 7 years I've created a monster... I went online this morning checking out Pier 1 Imports and World Market for bookcases and a media unit-- just large enough to store what I have.
Where would I put the furniture pieces? I might need to Craigslist or donate a coupleof things to make more room.
Jen just called. She's downsizing her storage unit-- "Mom, can I store some of the furniture inthe house?" She lists a media center, chest of drawers,queen bed and headboard, plus a dining set.
Give Tom a pair of pruning shears, and he turns into Edward Scissorhands at warp speed. In our front yard there are two palm trees and one live oak--or what’s left of them.
Tom gets antsy thinking about tropical waves and possible hurricanes. He has visions of the tree branches taking flight through our windows, or damaging the roof tiles.
With intense determination, despite my pleas to “Please leave something resembling a tree,” Tom mercilessly attacks the branches. There’s barely a branch left for a bird to land on…
There’s one tree left to massacre--a live oak, which has been standing naked for 7 years, imitating at being a tree. I warn him that there’s a nest of birds living in it--leave it alone.
Tom proceeds to nip a few branches around the nest. Mama bird is hysterical, swooping and flapping her wings at Tom. She’s made it clear that he’s trespassing. I ask him if he’d like to hose off his head…?
There are still areas of Naples that I’m not thatfamiliar with. You can tell I really get around! Forget maps...they're barely readable.
I was driving my friend to some of his doctor appointments recently. He’d say,”You don’t know where that street is, yet?” Ha-ha. He’d laugh, and tell me turn-by-turn how to getto the destination. 'Mark' knows shortcuts.It's lucky we didn't take one-- a huge banyan tree branchhad snapped off and would have crushed us andthe car. Men like to say they’ve only made a wrong turn…sure. Tom is great at orienting himself while driving, but when it comes to navigating the cyberspace highway, watch out!
Every so often, a cry for help from the computer roomfilters across the hallway. “Nan, can you come here?” My anxiety level rises... Before I get to the room I’m thinking what is it, now? BSOD? PC freeze? Alas,Tom wants to send an email, which he's forgotten how to do. Hark! "You have to enter his @ address, not the web one..." I added the info to an already existing PC info card for Tom.
A man’s brain is definitely structured a certain way. There’s only so much room for the trivial things and details that we gals are so good at knowing and remembering.
It’s a good thing that women have the babies, since the guys would wonder where the "How To"manual was...
I tried on some end-of-summer clothes today. The fitting room had a two-sided mirror. I thought I was in the Fun House.
For some reason, my legs looked wide and short; I looked magnified. Cellulite seemed to jump right off my legs; looked like the surface of the moon.
Cheesecake poses are one thing,but looking cheesy is another…I stand 5’8 at 125, so the mirrorsaren’t doing anyone justice. Most stores use skinny mirrors.
My side view mirror in my car says Objects in mirror are closer than they appear. No kidding... maybe the same type of glass was used-- I looked like the marshmallow float in Ghostbusters.
Without much deliberation, I removed the shortsand tank, deciding I could live without them. I checked myself one more time in the mahogany-framed floor mirror as I left the store, thoughts of a guava danish dancing in my head...
A doctor's office is the last place I want to be Most poor souls in the waiting room look like death warmed over. I'm this side of feeling like a bowl of leftovers...stuffy, aching sinuses.
The nurse leads me into the patient room, which has to be as cold as Antarctica; something resembling a paper bag is given to me to put on. I never know how the contraption goes. Forwards, backwards...? It's so stuck together that the Hulk wouldn't be able to separate it. I thought I'd put my feet through the arm holes, just to be funny.
The magazine selection stinks: Golf--I don't play, Popular Mechanics--that's a good one; Parents--I'm past that; AARP--I refuse to admit I'm getting older. I finally settle on Naples Illustrated, and find my picture on page 110 which was taken at an art opening at the von Liebig.
After milking the magazine for a good 45 minutes past my appointment time, the doc finally comes in. He asks me what the problem is. "The world's not in too good a shape, kids are out of work, and I was getting sick of waiting in this igloo..." My behind is stuck to the table. He chuckles. I know who to call to book a clown for a birthday party...
After about 7 minutes, I'm shedding Omar the Tent Maker's paper dress, and heading home. I knew it was allergies all along and not a cold... Maybe I should take up golf-- I can find a new doctor whose office is next door to a putting green. He can call me off the course when he's ready...
What kind of a Hello person are you? When friends meet, are you swallowed up in hugs, or weak hand shakes? About everyone I know are huggers, and often, cheek kissers. Heck, I don't mind...I'll take whatever I can get! There's a limit to kissing, especially since there may be food still hanging from the corner of one's mouth--yarg...
We had an old neighbor who really liked hugging me so hard, the air escaped my lungs--and I thought orangutans were huggers...
Not only was he a hugger, but a Guinness Book hugger of at least 30 seconds. I couldn't have broken away if I wanted to. He had a real gleam in his eye... Finally, I had to break down and tell him to bug off, this flower is off limits! Thankfully, he's recently moved.
Tom isn't a hugger.He leaves that up to me, when people meet up.That's okay. Sometimes a "How's it going?"is good enough-- though I don't want to really hear that so-and-so's goiter is acting up...whatever.
There are certain people who deserve a hugand a kiss--like the FPL guy who finally turns the power back on days after a hurricane, getting the AC up and running again...ahhh. Kiss...
*Moths are not attracted to light or flame-- merely disoriented. In order to adapt to the light, the moth circles numerous times to orient itself and accept the light or flame as a stationary object.
*The mosquito is the most lethally dangerous animal due to the array of fatal diseases they carry: Encephalitis,dengue fever, malaria, and yellow fever, to name a few. Every twelve seconds, a person dies due to contracting disease from a mosquito bite.
*Camels store fat in their humps for energy-- not water. Energizer Bunny, move over...
*Waiting to swim 20 minutes after eating allows the blood to return to the legs after helping the stomach digest food--thereby avoiding paralyzing leg cramps.
*Shrimp are the noisiest creatures under the sea, overriding the blue whale. The shrimp layer creates noise which whites out a submarine's sonar, deafening anyone wearing a headset.
*Panama hats come from Ecuador. A quality hat can take up to 5 months to make, since the toquilla used to construct the hat takes five days every month to harvest--during the moon's final phase. The palm leaf doesn't soak up as much water during that time, allowing for easier weaving.
*The color of water is blue. Selective absorption and scattering of the light spectrum causes this to occur. If you peek into a deep hole in the snow or see a frozen waterfall, there's a visible shade of blue.
*The bravest of all animals is the carrier pigeon since they were heavily used during WWII because of blackouts. One of the most famous was Winkie who was on a plane when it crashed. The bird escaped and valiantly flew back to her owner in Scotland-- looking bedraggled and tired. The owner could determine how long Winkie had been flying. She had flown 120 miles from the crashed bomber to deliver an SOS; from that knowledge the owner determined the plane's coordinates, thereby saving the crew. She was awarded the The Dickin Medal for Animal Bravery, the first to be so awarded. *Work is responsible for more deaths than alcohol, drugs, or war. It's been noted that approximately two million people die annually from work-related accidents and diseases. Agriculture and construction deaths head the list, with household deaths due to falls and other accidents, at the bottom of the list.
I don't have a dog; my family used to years ago.I'm more of a bird gal. Birds are much easier to care for. Our lovebird , Daisy, is perched on my wrist while I blog, preening...
Besides, we don't need a dog since there are now two pugs living next door...barking at any movement in the backyard.
They go absolutely nuts when Cruiser, our resident duck, waddles by. Cruiser snorts hot air at the yappers. It's strange how the owners never really hear their barking animals--must be music to their ears. I also wonder whythey'd keep them outside in this intolerable heat?
Dogs are fine as long as they keep theiryaps quiet,and don't charge at me with teeth bared.That's happened only twice. I'm lucky the dog, on each occasion, was held back by a working electric fence. Unfortunately, many Florida communities don't allow fences around the property. Maybe I should capture the neighborhood alligator, leash it, and take it on walks with me... Tom's been bitten once in the past by an unleashed German Shepherd while jogging, requiring stitches on his leg. Paul was nipped on the ankle by a neighbor's Maltese while taking a walk. The Dog Whisperer would be very busy in our neighborhood... Like I said, I'd rather have a bird... quit pecking at me, Daisy!
Ants, the size of Sherman tanks, invaded the lanai over the weekend. Tom and I foot stomped at least 100 or more. They're indestructible.
No sooner would I squish them, that they'd pull an Arnold, suddenly reconfiguring their twisted bodies. I couldn't even get Cruiser, our tortilla chip-eating resident duck, interested in picking them off.
The recent deluge unearthed the huge beasts. They were circling the pool in droves; some were diving into the water. All that was missing were their floats and snorkels.
I hosed them off through the lanai doors, then used some ant spray. Impervious to that, the armor proof ant squad regrouped and skittered defiantly along the cage perimeter. I expected to hear bugles blowing...march on!
Short of using something volatile like a flame-thrower, I sprayed them once more . I could've been spritzing them with Tommy Bahama, all the good it did...
Then, seconds later, dizzy and awkward, they fell, legs up... looked like the conga line after a wild night at Sloppy Joe's.
I see nothing but horrible comb-overs. Men take the thinnest, stringiest bits of hair and lop it to the other side of their skull.
The part is falling off the side of their head. I won't even mention bad, ill-conceived hair-pieces. Looks like something died up there... It's the most unnecessary, last-ditch effort to preserve the appearance of having hair.
Remember GLH,the powdery spray-on one could use to disguise a thinning scalp? Hair in a can. The consistency was weird-- looked like colored, vinyl-like sawdust .
Get rid of the comb-overs with a close haircut--bald is in, too. Gals like the chrome-dome look. Yul Brynner was handsome and hairless.
If you're losing itdon't despair... just cut it off and look debonair...
In the 4th grade at St.Clement's, I remember dipping a girl's hair into an inkwell; she was annoying. Her obnoxiously long braidsalways hung temptingly over my desk; they must've been 20" long. They'd swing, swish-swish... sometimes they became airborne, flicking me in my face. I could've used them for bookmarks.
Mind you, only the tip of one, from the rubber band down--say 1"--got baptized. The unfortunate thing was that herbraid began dripping onto her crisp,white uniform blouse; just a little,but enough to notice. Uh-oh.
Sister brought it to the girl's attention, who was then excused to wash the ink out from her braid and her blouse.
The girl never could figure outhow that had happened. I think I confessed my bad deed at confession, just to be safe. Scissors would've been fun, too...
I never wanted any help in the kitchen, though sometimes I’d have Jen help me out. If help’s in the kitchen, it usually means more of a mess-- I figured why add to the kitchen cleanup? Everyone has their own rhythm and methods of doing things. I clean up immediately after each prep. Jen would cut up the veggies and cube the chicken. We liked making Asian-inspired recipes. I really appreciated her help, even though it sometimes looked like a Benihana chefhad gone berserk…
Jen now understands where I was comingfrom when I’d often tell her “No thanks, honey--I can do it…” She’s a great cook and enjoys her kitchen and cooking solo. Her fella, Vince, from what I hear, rocks in the kitchen, too. Jen’s motto is: Food go in pot, not on floor…
We’ve been fighting a mosquito in the house for days. The high-pitched buzzing insect has evaded death several times. It cleverly hides on the light walls or furniture, very lowor up on the 14’ ceiling.
I won’t use bug spray--hate the smell. I bet the bugger knows that, too--hence, why it’s been a cat and mouse game for almost a week. I thought of wearing a disguise, a la Far Side-- maybe a gigantic bug suit with a huge stinger. Might scare the toxins--for lack of a better word-- out of the mosquito!
For insects so insignificantly small, they bring down grown men. It’s funny to see Tom go after the critter. Towels swat left and right at the evasive insect.
Well, the battle finally ended last night when the space invader met Paul’s wrath, after biting him twicewhile he was at the computer. With the swiftness and precise aim of a great mosquito marksman, he clapped the Biting One-- may it lie squished in peace.