Category Archives: Humor
Whistling, Number One Survival Skill for Old Age
It’s Monday. Does everyone remember what Monday is? Monday is the day the Lord hath made for whining. Sooooooooooooooo, here I am using my Monday whining card.
There’s whistling in the dark, whistling while you work, and whistling in old age. Ladies, you can’t imagine how much you may need this skill.
I am not very flexible or graceful at getting up from a sitting or prone position anymore. So, I have a handicap safety bar to pull up with on the side of my bathtub. Today, I decided my knee was finally healed enough from surgery for the luxury of a sit down bath. It was lovely! Until I tried to get up and out of the tub. Realized then that even with the handicap bar, I get up on my right knee first to get leverage. My right knee incisions are safely closed, but the knee itself is still very tender. Made several attempts with different approaches, but all were pretty ineffective and scary. I finally decided I needed help. I knew my husband was in his home office, but I had the exhaust fan running in the bathroom and he is pretty hard of hearing. From past experience I know that if someone in one of these apartment groups pounds on a wall or yells,”HELP!” loudly, someone from another apartment will call 911. Normally this is reassuring, but not a comforting scenario in this situation. I would have just stayed in a hot soaky bath until Julian missed me, but I had only a short time to get dressed for an appointment.
So finally, I tried whistling. I was almost blue in the face by the time I heard Julian calling, “Is that you?”
Saved by whistling! Who could have imagined a childhood achievement would save the day at seventy-nine!
Another experience along the same lines last week has me puzzling for a solution. For some inexplicable reason many restaurants are putting one tall handicap toilet and all others are obviously for “little people” or children. At my age, sometimes when the handicap stall is in use, you can’t wait to be picky. You just have to take the first available. Unfortunately, these low to the ground toilets do not have any kind of grab bar or help button. Last week in the “Ladies Room” of an elegant restaurant, I contemplated whether to yell for help or to just stay there until the cleaning crew came that night. Somehow, after much struggling, I eventually managed to get to my feet and hang onto the sides, so that I didn’t end up in the toilet. Perhaps wearing some sort of piercing emergency whistle at all times is the way to go for little old ladies. I’m just not comfortable with a with a call in necklace that shouts, “I’m on the toilet and I can’t get up.”
Wildlife Encounters: Part Three, The Sad and Challenging Kind
My first sad wildlife encounter up close and personal in our Hundred Acre Wood was a baby rabbit our cat brought in. It had a broken leg, so I took it to a much amused local vet, who made it a splint out of a tongue depressor. But as the vet had warned me, in spite of my tender loving care for two days, the tiny bunny finally gave a loud cry and died. This was not an auspicious beginning for a Saint Francis wanna be. It was made even sadder and more disturbing by the timing of the bunny’s death; three o’clock in the afternoon on Good Friday. Honestly! I almost dug up its little box coffin to make sure it was still there.
It got worse.
A few months later I was just starting into town with my two year old in our truck. I had to stop suddenly, because there was a pitiful looking old fox standing right in the middle of the road. He wouldn’t move even when I honked my horn. He was trembling and obviously sick, so I backed up and went to consult with our nearest for “real” country neighbor. He informed me that according to country protocol, I needed to take the fox to the Health Department to be checked for rabies. When I looked at him like he had lost his mind, he explained that he would put the fox out of its misery and put it in a garbage bag in the back of my truck. So my two year old and I waited in the house while the neighbor shot the fox. When I got to the Health Department and told them what I had in the truck, the woman informed me that they would only accept the fox’s head. When I just stared at her speechless, I guess she pegged me as a city slicker. Because she finally explained in a tone that made it obvious she thought she was talking to a ding bat, that I needed to take the fox to the vet to get the head cut off. So, back to the vet I went once more. When he recognized me, the vet smirked a little as he inquired about the health of the baby rabbit. However, he obligingly delivered the fox head to me in a coffee can. He also gave me the rest of the fox back in its garbage bag, while informing me that he had no disposal facilities. As I drove back to the Health Department, I now noticed a very horrible and strong odor coming from the back of my truck. I tried to bring a little humor into what seemed to me a rather grizzly situation by imitating Salome doing her Dance of the Seven Veils as I delivered the fox head. They were not amused. In fact, they then informed me (I suspect secretly with glee) that it was up to me to get rid of the rest of the fox safely. It could not be buried in a shallow grave in case it had rabies and other animals might dig it up. So, sadly the rest of the fox and I finished my second country wildlife death without ritual or honors at the County Landfill. The Health Department eventually notified me that the fox had definitely been dying, but fortunately for us and our neighborhood wildlife, from distemper, not rabies.
No amount of cleaning agents could get the smell out of the back of my truck. It took almost a month of fresh air and rain.
Coming Next- Wildlife Encounters: Part Four, The Funny and Delightful Kind
Wildlife Encounters: Part 2 The Scary Kind
Once we had some young college age kids who were part of a Christian Ministry stay with us. They were mostly from places like Los Angeles and New York. So we tried to give them a taste of country living by bringing them down in our jeep to a nice sandy spot where branches of the creek came together at the far end of our valley. We gathered branches and built a fire to cook hot dogs and marshmallows. One of them played a guitar and we all sang soft sweet songs as the woods disappeared into darkness. It was picture perfect until we heard our local Bobcat scream near-by. That was a little too country for the New Yorkers, so we gathered up quickly. But it took two jeep trips to get us all back to the house. I waited with the last two city kids. They helped me make sure the fire was completely buried while we waited for my husband to come back for us. We had flashlights and we didn’t hear any more from the Bobcat, but those two big eyed kids kept looking over their shoulders until we got all the way back into the house. (And maybe I was just a tad nervous myself.)
But for me the creepiest wildlife experience was the time I was home alone, but fortunately talking on the phone, as a long line of about fifty wild turkeys started coming slowly our of the woods single file. It was like a funeral procession that eventually looped around the house. I told my friend if I disappeared or died, the turkeys did it!
Wildlife Encounters: Part 3 The Sad and Challenging Kind
Wild Life Encounters: Part One, The Curious and Unusual Kind
We moved from the suburbs of a large city to a Winnie the Pooh Hundred Acre Wood. This was six miles down a dirt road and through a creek from the nearest small town. Our love of nature led us into wildlife encounters of the curious, scary, humorous, sad, and blessed kinds. Part One is about the curious and unusual.
One of my first encounters was with a rather large possum who scratched noisily on my screen door. When I went to check out the noise, it stopped scratching, but stayed there staring at me. I stared back. It continued staring. I continued to stare back. Finally, it made what sounded like a disgusted grunt and waddled slowly back into the woods. I never knew if it was panhandling or what. We didn’t have bird feeders or an outside dog then, so I don’t know why it would expect food. But it never came back, so I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a Jehovah’s Witness.
An even more curious experience happened a few years later on a freezing February night. We had returned from out of town late that day and were now snuggled warmly in our bed watching a scary movie. Suddenly there was a tap, tap, tapping on the window next to us. We both froze and stared in horror at the curtained window. The tapping continued, so I followed my husband to the door nearest the window. As he stepped outside, he pointed in amazement and a Chickadee flew from the window ledge onto his hand. It stayed there a moment as we gaped in open mouthed astonishment. Then it flew to the nearest eave where it continued looking at us. We decided this must be one smart, hungry Chickadee, so we grabbed our coats and went to fill the empty feeders which were all the way on the other side of the house.
It still astonishes me, even freaks me out a little that something with, after all, just a birdbrain could be smart enough to know where we were, that we would respond to tapping, that it was safe to come that close, and that we were the ones that gave him food. Nature is an awesome mystery.
(Part Two is Wild Life Encounters: The Scary Kind)
Sex and Jelly Doughnuts or the Face and Voice of God? That is the Question.
It’s easy to lose sight of God in our lives and when we do, we become vulnerable to idols. These days an idol isn’t a golden calf, it’s anything we become dependent on, other than God. In the book of Jeremiah, God warns that not only will we suffer if we choose worldly idols, but so will our children and even our grandchildren. That part about grandchildren really gets me where I live. Though I don’t hear this as punishment, but rather as a natural consequence. So, let’s consider some modern worldly idols.
A very popular idol is pleasure, which isn’t bad in itself, only when we turn to it instead of God. Pleasures we turn to when feeling insecure or unhappy can vary from sex to jelly doughnuts, but if they become a dependency they lead to adultery or diabetes or other equally bad consequences.
Another potential idol is financial affluence and while there’s nothing wrong with being successful, it can grow into a need that becomes the focus of our lives to the point of destroying our relationships.
An even sneakier idol is an attachment to social acceptance that leads us to surround ourselves only with people just like ourselves, which not only gives us a warped view of the world, but isolates us from those in greater need.
How can we protect ourselves from idols? It’s a discombobulating world and sometimes I feel like the child of Christian friends, who when told to wash his hands muttered: “Germs and Jesus, germs and Jesus! That’s all I hear about around here and I can’t see either one!”
One thing that helps me, I call putting on “God Glasses.” That means consciously working to see God in everything. Surprisingly, the beginning step can even come through finding God in the hard things.
When heart break or pain has kept me awake all night, the first glimpse of morning light coming through the window often brought relief. Recently, after finally getting over several weeks of insomnia from the pain of a broken shoulder, I would wake up momentarily at sunrise each morning remembering that feeling of relief and thanking God with quiet joy that morning had come again and yesterday’s sorrows were behind.
Ever since an ice storm left us without hot water for eighteen days some twenty years ago, whenever I feel that first marvelous spray of a hot shower, I treasure it for a few moments while thanking God profusely.
Some months ago, our hearts were heavy when a beloved grandchild stopped chatting and smiling because she sensed family conflict. Last weekend, she kept me awake once again cheerfully chatting about her favorite books and beamed with glee at trouncing Granddad at UNO. Now, as I go to sleep each night, I cup those memories in my heart with tears of joy and thank God.
Please, while you can still hear birdsong, stop and listen with your heart and thank God for it. Thank God not only for flowers, but the strength to water them and even to cut the grass. Thank God for the joy of that first taste of morning coffee or tea. Age can take all these away from you. Enjoy them now and let them bring you to God. Thank God for faith to pray. What a wondrous gift that is. And definitely thank God for laughter, which will be your saving grace in old age.
Watch, listen and thank. All these small things are the face and voice of God. And more and more you will experience the deep joy of finding Him in each moment. Joy is the most infallible sign of the presence of God. And joy trumps idols every time.
The day of my Spiritual Awakening was the day I saw, and I knew I saw, all things in God and God in all things. A quote from an unknown Author:
Longest Password
During a recent password audit by a company, it was found that an employee was using the following password: “MickeyMinniePlutoHueyLouieDeweyDonaldGoofySacramento”
When asked why she had such a long password, she rolled her eyes and said: “Hello! It has to be at least 8 characters and include at least one capital.”
You laugh, but her password was very safe!
Our God of Love, Energy, and Crazy Bouncy Lines in the Sand
Anne Lamott’s Face Book post:
You know the famous Footprints image, where, in heaven, a person sees their footprints in the sand? My pastor mentions the times where there are two sets of prints, where we’re walking with a power of Something–love energy, let’s say– and the times where there is just one set, where that love energy, carries us when things are too hard. But Veronica also mentions a third pattern, of crazy squiggly bouncy lines. The person, looking them over with God asks, “Oh, and what were those times? And God says, “Those were when we danced.”
Anne Lamott’s Autobiographical books are my number one favorite reading. Louise Penny’s Canadian Mysteries are my second favorite reading.
Both of these Authors’ bottom line is :It’s all right to be a weak fallible human being: we are loved. Period. No if’s and’s or but’s.
Most important: Intelligence, Kindness, or Humor?
I used to think intelligence was the most important trait. Later in life, I decided kindness was.
After this election year debacle, I suspect both are equally important and that a sense of humor probably is way up there with them, because it can free us to see ourselves honestly. Age doesn’t automatically bring wisdom, but it often brings humor which can be the beginning of self-honesty. And once that happens, you empty your pockets of all those stones you are tempted to throw at others. And that’s the beginning of wisdom.
Kiddos! We ALL see through the glass of our limited perception darkly (imperfectly)! Quick! Get rid of the temptation of those stones before they come back to haunt you.
Little Old Ladies Should Get to Have Fun Too
Well, they’ve ruined my physical therapy now. All us old and lame had bonded and developed a sense of community as fellow sufferers who all now come in generous sizes and slightly lumpy shapes. Yesterday they started testing young male job applicants’ physical fitness for a local industry. So, here we old folks are gasping and sweating (and making inappropriate noises), while struggling to bend over two inches below waist level and these young hunks are flat handing the floor. I think I was two the last time I could flat hand the floor. If I was able to be invisible, I might actually enjoy watching them. (Little old ladies should get to have fun too.) But realizing that I might be the cause of someone never marrying, because they were prematurely exposed to what a prospective wife might look and “sound” like in old age, is too much guilt to bear. So I deny myself the pleasure of the debate between pecs and buns and do my exercises with my eyes closed, pretending if I can’t see them, they can’t see me.
One Liners for a Laugh Today
Today a man knocked on my door and asked for a small donation towards the local swimming pool, so I gave him a glass of water.
I changed my password to”incorrect” so whenever I forget it the computer screen will say, “Your password is incorrect.”
If you can smile when things go wrong, you have someone in mind to blame.
Never tell your problems to anyone, because 20 percent don’t care and the other 80 percent are glad you have them.
Hospitality is the art of making guests feel like they’re at home when you wish they were.
Television may insult your intelligence, but nothing rubs it in like a computer.
Every time someone comes up with a foolproof solution, along comes a more-talented fool.
Behind every great man is a woman rolling her eyes.
If you keep your feet firmly on the ground, you’ll have trouble putting on your pants.
A computer once beat me at chess, but it was no match for me at kick boxing.
Women spend more time wondering what men are thinking than men spend thinking.
Women sometimes make fools of men, but most guys are the do-it-yourself type.
If tomatoes are technically a fruit, is ketchup a smoothie?
Laughter: Carbonated Grace 