Humor Me...

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
a very funny side-splitter.
You’d think I was telling it to Mt. Rushmore.
Barely a crease of a smile--a bit reminiscent
of Nixon’s post-Watergate stone face.
A colonic may have helped her…

Who wouldn’t think that a Rodney Dangerfield
one-liner wasn’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
your funny bone.
R.D. was off-the-wall funny.
I connect to his weird sense of humor.

I inherited the funny bone from mom;
we had some great unforgettable, hysterical moments.
Laughter is the best medicine…

Hook, Line and Sinker...

It’s Tom’s fault.
The fishing disease, that is.
It’s rampant like a virus in Jen and Paul’s lives.

When Paul was around 9 years of age,
Tom took him down to the SF Bay near
the San Mateo Bridge to fish.

Paul had never been, and it really didn’t take
long for Paul to get hooked.
It was like he’d been born with a fishing rod
in his hands.

We took several fishing trips to gorgeous, scenic fishing
holes in Northern Cal: The Russian River, Eel River,
the Trinity River; also lakes and streams in the Sierras,
and Mammoth Lakes, CA.

Needless to say, when Paul grabbed onto the sport,
Jen followed up.
She is as addicted to fishing as Paul.
Both are now avid fly fisherman as well.

Jen's abilities and bright personality has
offered her a few photo shoot opportunities with
advertisers and the Collier County Tourism Bureau.

Jen is in a fisherman’s paradise--Key West.
She and Paul play phone tag relating their fishing tales.
Yes, it’s all Tom’s fault--
and I’m glad the kids share this wonderful sport.

One Ringy-Dingy, Two....

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…

Where, Oh Where?

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 the house,
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 items got 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 for having
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 couple of things
to make more room.

Jen just called.
She's downsizing her storage unit--
"Mom, can I store some of the furniture in the house?"
She lists a media center, chest of drawers, queen bed
and headboard, plus a dining set.

The house is starting to grown...

Pencil This...

I’m trying to find a pencil.
Sometimes, you just need one.
The house is full of everything else,
electronic and otherwise, but where’s
a dang pencil when you want one?

I find two in a drawer, unsharpened
or broken off. Tom’s so good at
pruning, how’d he miss these?

I put one in the electric pencil
sharpener, and the whirling begins--
honing what I think is a nice sharp point.

As it’s sharpening, the pencil is
slowly downshifting.
I remove the pencil--what’s left of it.
I decide I’d get better mileage out
of an eyebrow pencil.

An 9” pencil has become a stub with
a very nice eraser head.
It has to be a conspiracy to get the consumer
to buy more pencils.

‘Stubby’ fits into a very small section of my purse.
I guess you can’t buy a sharpener for
$5.00 and expect miracles…

Fly-bys...

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…?

Roads Less Traveled

There are still areas of Naples that I’m
not that familiar 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 get to the destination.

'Mark' knows shortcuts. It's lucky we didn't take one--
a huge banyan tree branch had snapped off and would
have crushed us and the 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
room filters 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...

Mirror Image...

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 mirrors aren’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
shorts and 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...

Tee-d Off...

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...

Animal Behavior...

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
hug and 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...

Did You Know...

*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.

Ain't She Sweet...

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 why they'd keep
them outside in this intolerable heat?

Dogs are fine as long as they keep
their yaps 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!

The Ant-inator

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.

What a way to spend my summer...

Buzz It...

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
it don't despair...
just cut it off
and look debonair...

It Wasn't Me...Heh-Heh!

In the 4th grade at St.Clement's,
I remember dipping a girl's hair into an inkwell;
she was annoying.
Her obnoxiously long braids always 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 her braid
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 out how that had happened.
I think I confessed my bad deed at confession,
just to be safe.
Scissors would've been fun, too...

Banzai!

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 chef had gone berserk…

Jen now understands where I was coming from
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…

Bug-B-Gone...

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 low or 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 twice while 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.

Floridians...

*Think of keys as islands.

*Are choosy about which shells to collect.

*Don't mistake dolphins for sharks.

*Don't mistake Roseate Spoonbills for Flamingos.

*Know the difference between buffets and Buffett.

*Eat early to enjoy the sunsets.

*Know the best seafood restaurants.

*Love grits, mangoes and guavas.

*Have great rum recipes for coconut shrimp.

*Have a cupboard stocked with food, water and candles.

*Have battery operated portable televisions.

*Don't have fences around their homes.

*Eat fresh Gulf shrimp.

*Have hurricane parties.

*Get the frizzies.

*Must know the difference between a King Snake and a Coral snake.

*Complain when the temperature dips to 70.

*Know that Persian Limes make the best Key Lime Pie.

*Carry sunscreen at all times.

*Know how to keep a beach umbrella from taking flight.

*Take cover during a lightning storm.

*Have purse-sized dogs.

*Recognize tourists from their lobster-red sunburns.