Tag Archives: humor

Just when I thought I could retire the list….


Good morning everyone!

A few months ago, I wrote a post called “Rules I Never Thought I’d Need” listing some rules that I never expected to have to use as a parent.  I was hoping that soon I could retire the list permanently, but after Friday, we now have a new one to add.

Do not ram your elbow into the top of a plastic hurricane glass. 

Now let me explain.

As you know, last week we went to Destin.  While we were there, we drove over to Captain Anderson’s, a wonderful restaurant I will write about another day, for dinner.  For dessert, Kayla chose a pudding concoction that Captain Anderson’s serves in the plastic glass pictured above.  She got to keep the glass. 

Fast forward to Friday evening.  When she and I were driving home, she mentioned that she had a small (I looked at it, and I would categorize it as vanishingly small) scratch on her right elbow.  I didn’t think any more of it, but shipped her off to take a bath as usual.  About 10 minutes later, she started screaming in terror in the bathroom.  I came tearing into the bathroom to see what was wrong, only to find that my daughter had stuck her entire elbow into the hurricane glass to the point that the glass was stuck.  I started to laugh,  (for some reason, that didn’t seem to calm her down!) but managed to get her into the kitchen where I used the spray nozzle to change the temperature of the glass where I could break the suction and pull it off.  She has a perfectly round bruise about three inches across on her elbow but otherwise is recovering nicely.

When we got to the point we were capable of coherent conversation (ie., she had stopped screaming and I had stopped laughing) I asked her how it happened that her elbow and the glass came together, and she told me that she had slipped it over her elbow tightly so that her elbow wouldn’t sting due to the vanishingly small scratch she had pointed out early while she took her bath.   She only got scared when she couldn’t pull it off again.

For the record, her father thought it was funny, too.

Have a great day everyone!

Nancy

Of Sloths and Moths, Zero-Pack Abs and Other Items


Good morning everyone!

On the four lane and at Patriot Point

You may remember my post from a few days ago, Hometown Heroes:  The 214th Comes Home.  If you do, you will be happy to know that the remaining 57 members of the 214th came home this past Saturday, to the same rousing reception the first group received.  The flags, signs and ribbons were still in place, and I’m sure the people were, too.

Six Pack of Abs - Not for 9 year olds!

Kayla and I stopped at the grocery store on the way home yesterday, and in the checkout line she managed to entertain the (male) cashier, bagboy, and the three adults waiting in line behind us.  It started when I told her not to lift the dog food, it was too heavy.  In a bright, conversational tone, she informed me that everyone in her class said she was “skinny as a rail.”  A trifle indignant on her behalf, I told her that wasn’t true, she was the perfect size for her.  She nodded in agreement, and said, “I know.”  Then she held her arm up in the classic bicep flexing pose to announce to me and the world that, “I’m strong, even if I have a zero-pack of abs!”   That’s when the observers were no longer able to keep a straight face.  I told her she was nine, and didn’t need anything more than a zero pack!

This weekend, just goofing around, I combed my hair completely over my face so that I looked like “Cousin Itt” from the Munsters.  I asked Kayla what she thought of it.  She told me I looked like a moth.  Then she said, “No, not a moth, but it is an animal that sounds like moth.”  It took me three days of rolling it around in the back of my mind before I realized she meant a sloth!  And I have to admit, there was a resemblance.

Sloth: Public Domain Photo by Dave Pape

Have a great day everyone!

Nancy

Beach Talk


Good morning (almost good afternoon) everyone!

We went to Destin, Florida for a few days, in connection with a meeting I had, and got home last night.  I have one more day off to get us caught up on household chores, especially laundry, before I start back.

Load of Laundry: From Print Shop Professional 2.0

The weather at the beach was pleasant – a little hot, but the breeze off of the ocean made up for it.  I got to play in the ocean for a while late Saturday afternoon.  It was the perfect time to go – late enough that we didn’t have to worry about sunscreen, or fooling with chairs or any other paraphernalia besides towels, and late enough that the water had been warmed by the sun all day, making it enjoyable and refreshing instead of numbing.  There were a few people around, but not many.  Because we weren’t going to be there that long, I left my camera in the room, so you will just have to picture the sugar white sand, with the blue-green turquoise water on your own. 

From PrintShop Professional 2.0

We have been trying to encourage Kayla to be a little braver while swimming in the ocean.  We will let her swim in a pool without a life vest with one of us watching her, but she is not quite a confident enough swimmer yet to do the same in the ocean.  She does well, but every once in a while, even with the life vest, she starts to panic and when she does, she immediately grabs my swimsuit (often in a place where I would prefer a wardrobe malfunction not occur).  At one of those moments this trip, her hand slipped across my back, giving me a scratch.  I told her to be careful, she had just scratched my back , and she looked at me and said, “Usually you like having your back scratched.”  I started to comment further, but decided to let her win that one on points. 

Back Scratch: From Professional Print Shop 2.0

On Friday evening we got ready to go out.   She put on a skort and a cute top that matched the new purse she bought with her allowance( to go with the other 10 purses she has that she doesn’t use – can you tell I wasn’t exactly in favor of the purchase?) and began prancing around the room.  I asked her what she was doing, and she told me “I’m a professional!”  I asked her “A professional what?” She shrugged, answering, “I don’t know.”  It didn’t particularly worry her!

From Print Shop 2.0 Professional

One of the things about being a mother is that once your child is able to talk, you are programmed to react automatically every time you hear, “Mom!”  We went to see the movie Green Lantern one afternoon, and after we finished we both went into the restroom.  A voice floated out from somewhere in the bathroom while I was in a stall that said, “Mom, is that thunder?”  Being well programmed, I answered, “No, the theater music is just very loud.  Don’t worry about it.”  When I went up to wash my hands, Kayla was grinning from ear to ear.  “You do know that wasn’t me, don’t you?”  Well, no, I didn’t, (the echo made it hard to identify the voice) but I wasn’t going to admit it to her! 

Thunder Clouds: From Professional Print Shop 2.0

Have a good day everyone!

Nancy

Fibber McGee’s Closet


Morning Everyone!

I am pleased to report to America that I have discovered Fibber McGee’s closet – it is now a kitchen pantry and lives in my house!

I was born without the gene that gives people the gift of organization – the ability not only to straighten something up in a logical and usable manner but also to keep it that way. My husband, happily born with this gene, patiently reorganizes the pantry from time to time, but somehow I always manage to get confused and put stuff back in the wrong place and then I run out of room and put something on the very top or second shelf on top of something else. Since vegetable beef soup cans were apparently not designed to sit on top of loaves of breads, bags of egg noodles or cracker boxes, eventually someone opens the pantry and various items fall off the shelf onto either the floor or the opener’s head. While not conducive to cooking anything, it is very good for the reflexes – I have made some excellent saves of soup cans and Doritos bags in my day!

Not only is Fibber’s McGee’s closet alive and well, but it has had a child, which also lives in my house – Kayla’s closet.  (We think the pantry may have had an illicit affair with my craft closet, but have not yet been able to prove it.)  I had the occasion to go into Kayla’s closet yesterday looking for something, and upon doing so realized I should have marked it as a hard hat only zone. I think the only reason the child can find any of her clothes is that the majority of the ones in the closet remain hung on the rack (although some of them appear to have mysteriously taken up residence on the floor – well, on top of the piles of toys that are on the floor) and some others are in her clothes cupboard which is a no toy zone. You can tell that this closet is still young, however, since, in spite of its best efforts, nothing in the closet managed to fall on anyone.  It wanted to throw something at me, but couldn’t quite manage it.

Have a great day everyone!

Nancy

P.S.  For those who are wondering what the heck Fibber McGee’s closet is:

A long time ago, in a galaxy not so far away, before television, computers, iPods or internet, there was radio.  There were many kinds of radio programs – news, comedies, drama, mysteries. One of the longest running shows was a comedy called “Fibber McGee and Molly” which ran from sometime in the 1930’s until it was cancelled in 1959.

One of the “running gags” in the show was Fibber McGee’s hall closet. A person opened the closet at his or her peril, because, with one exception, every time the closet was opened, you would hear the clatter of all kinds of things pouring out of it and onto the head of the person who opened it. Accordingly, the phrase “Fibber McGee’s closet” is (or was) synonymous with cluttered closets.

Child’s Play


Hi everyone!

One of the privileges of being a mom is the privilege of watching our children’s imagination at work when they play. 

To her great regret, Kayla doesn’t have any brothers or sisters to play with, but she uses her imagination (and sometimes the dogs) to make up for that.  I had the chance to get a peek into her play world this weekend, and wanted to share it with you.

Kayla has often said that she wants to be a teacher.  Saturday morning, she decided to play teacher, and set up her school.  When I walked in her room to check on what she was doing, I couldn’t resist grabbing the camera!

At the moment I walked in, she was taking a break.

(I admit that sparkling lemonade and pickles won’t work for everyone as a snack – it certainly doesn’t for me – but she likes them.)

Then she noticed I had the camera.

Oh no, she's taking pictures again!

 Although she wasn’t thrilled at first, she decided after a moment’s reflection that having a class photographer would be a good thing, so she continued playing. 

First she taught her class:

Then she allowed me to meet her students and view the various seating arrangements.  Since many of the stuffed animals in the class are old friends, I was happy to see them.

Three of the seven student class (originally it was a nine student class, but Darwin and Mandy high-tailed it out of the room as soon as I opened the door), Abby, Sparks and Ruffy (from right to left), were provided with the lid of the toy box as their desk, and were seated firmly between the toy box and the bed.  Kayla had furnished them with name tags, and allowed them to start work.

Ruffy, Sparks and Abby's work

 

Abby and Sparks are twins, and younger than Ruffy.  They both came from the local Build-A-Bear workshop.  Ruffy is a little older; he was bought to be a little brother to Scruffy and Fluffy by my husband when he spent a week in Boston on business once.  Scruffy (not shown – Kayla said he was the oldest and was in a different class) is the first Build-A-Bear Kayla ever owned, and is a stuffed dog.  She had slipped Scruffy (leaving his sister/twin Fluffy, a stuffed rabbit, at home) into Mark’s suitcase, and about four days into the trip, Mark told her that Scruffy kept getting in trouble by turning the TV on when Mark wasn’t in his room, so he bought Ruffy to keep Scruffy company.  Kayla loved it! 

 

The next three members of the seven student class were, again from left to right, Gatlin, Fluffy and Ana. 

 

Kayla decided to join their picture and have a little fun at the same time:

They also had been provided with name tags and had started their work:

The last member of the class, Gale, was tucked behind a wooden chest, which she was using as her desk.

I think she was apart from the others because she was smaller, and Kayla wanted her protected.  However, Gale also had managed to start on her work:

Kayla set up everything I have shown you so far on her own before she ever knew that I was going to come in and take pictures.  However, we collaborated on the final pictures, since we both decided that every class needs a class picture.   The first picture was just of the students.

Then we took one of the class with their teacher.

After that, I was forced to leave the world of my child’s imagination for the much more mundane task of doing laundry, but that was okay.  Class continued until lunchtime, at which time it abruptly came to a halt as all of the students were hastily scooped into Kayla’s closet so she could eat. 

Kids are fun!

Have a great day everyone!

Nancy

The Miracle Cure


Hi Everyone!

I hope you have had/are having a great Thursday.  Only one  more day until Friday!

This morning, I was on track and on time with everything, and then the sound I most dread in the mornings when I am in a hurry began – Kayla was crying hard out in the den.  I went out to see what was going on, and after playing 20 questions was about to lose my temper when I finally was able to translate “eee mmmm yyyyy urssssss” to “my eye hurts.”  I looked at the eye, which appeared normal, and asked several question about how it hurt, when it started hurting  and what was going on with it.  She forgot to cry in answering my questions, and seemed very pleased that I was taking her seriously.  She did feel just a hair warm to the touch, so I went on a quest for the thermometer, which failed. 

The thermometer mysteriously disappeared about two weeks ago; probably because I ended up putting in somewhere safe after walking around with it during the month I had bronchitis unable to believe that I could feel that bad and still not have a fever.

I was a little mystified by Kayla’s symptoms, and the suddenness of their onset.  On the theory that it might be sinus pressure, I had her lean over for a count of ten, and then flip her head back.  She told me nothing had changed, and then said, in her most pitiful voice, “Couldn’t you just call Ms. Hanlon at your work and tell her you are going to be late so I can go see my doctor?” 

I thought about it for a minute, but wasn’t convinced enough to sign on for a day home sick with my child, so I suggested instead that I would take her on to day camp, and then, if she didn’t feel better before their lunch at 11:00, she could call me and then I would take her home.  She looked at me with both eyes wide and said, “But then I will miss swim time!”  I said in my most sincerely regretful voice, “That’s true, honey, but if you’re sick, we need to get you looked at.”  She sat still for another minute then looked at me sideways and announced that, really, she had started to feel a little better once she flipped her head back, and she thought she better risk going to camp.

Another miracle cure accomplished!

Have a great evening everyone!

Nancy

Heat Wave! (And I Ain’t Talking Basketball!)


Ladies and Gentlemen, (and with apologies to my youngest sister, who says talking about it makes it worse):

IT. IS. HOT.  Pure-T fried egg on the sidewalk, 100+ degrees, thank God for air conditioning, get in the car and ride around to cool off, hot. 

Driving home on Monday, the bank sign informed Kayla and I, just for grins and giggles I guess, that, at 6:21, it was 101 degrees.  The car’s thermometer disagreed, coming in at 99 degrees.  There’s just nothing redeemable about that kind of heat. 

Our poor heat pump is doing its best, but I know it has to be ready for a break!  When we’re not home we keep the thermostat set fairly high (for us), but the heat pump is still pulling about 14 hour days to keep the house comfortable.  However, at least it is working.  Last year, in August, with similar weather, the air compressor went out.  

With the impeccable timing that home appliances, office copiers and computers have, the heat pump decided it would go out on one of the rare days when we were having company over.  Our friends were quite gracious about it, declining to comment on how hot it was in the house when even the dogs were looking for some kind of shade at 8:00 p.m. at night. 

The high today is supposed to be 96, with 88% humidity.  I don’t believe it.  They have tried to con me into thinking that the temperature would stay in the mid-90’s for two weeks, and each day it has instead inched up towards 100. 

I haven’t watched any weather reports on TV; I just check the forecast on the computer.  The reason is that infernal invention known as “the heat index.” 

The “heat index” is supposed to tell us what the outside really feels like, as opposed to what the temperature is.  According to Mike Hoffman, a weather man at WNDU, the “heat index” is “an ‘estimation’ of how a human feels during certain weather situations.”  I know how a human feels during weather like this – we feel hot!  (My observation has been that the “heat index” is always higher than, or equal to, the actual temperature.  If not, than it is called “wind chill” which is used to make us understand how much colder we are in the wintertime than the temperature would suggest.) 

I asked if we could move to Maine, (the high today in Caribou is supposed to be 58 degrees) but my husband nixed that idea, so I guess I am stuck with the heat until the weather breaks.  According to the weather channel, that looks to be sometime late next week, when the temperatures will ease back down into the low 90’s.  A veritable cold wave, no? 

Have a great day everyone!

Nancy

Light Switches


Good morning everyone!

A few years ago, the Home and Garden Channel showed a home where everything, including the lights, worked by voice command.  At the time, I thought it was a silly idea, but the older I get, and the more trouble I have with light switches, I am re-thinking my position.

For example, I was leaving the office late last Thursday, from a building where I have worked for over 20 years, and found myself playing the “guess the light switch” game yet again.  (It was 10:15 at night and I was exhausted, but still…)

I am at least, consistent – I have the same issues with light switches at home.  I lived in one house for ten years; to the day that we moved, I was hitting multiple light switches in order to get to the right light.  It goes without saying, then, that after only 5 years at our current house, I still am playing musical chairs with light switches. 

Remembering what switch goes with which light is probably simple for most people, but, this is just one of those areas that challenges me.  Of course, the  bewildering array of possible configurations, doesn’t help. 

Back Door

For example, we have two light switch panels on either side of our back door.   That means I have five switches assigned to various  lights.  I believe the set on the left controls the porch lights outside, while the panel on the right controls the lights over the dining room table and the breakfast bar.   In a further attempt to confuse the Russians (those of you who don’t remember the Cold War, please look the phrase up), the outside lights that aren’t on the porch, including the ones on the back, are controlled by a switch at the front door.

The outside porch light switch plate looks like this:

After some trial and error, we found that the switch on the right controls the four recessed overhead porch lights, while the two switches on the left side control two fans (with lights) that are outside on the porch.  This would seem to be very simple, except for the fact that there is another switch to the overhead porch lights in our bedroom. 

Another deceptively simple light switch arrangement exists for the study area of the great room:

 The simplicity of the light switch by the hats, which runs the chandelier in the study, is a sham – there is a second switch by the kitchen that is a double panel, one of which also runs the chandelier in the study.  Keeping the two of them in sync can be a challenge!  (Of course, I could learn that it doesn’t really matter whether they are in sync or not, but that is another column for another day!)

My favorite light switch is the one in the hall outside the two smaller bedrooms:

It runs a single light, in the hall, and has no brothers and sisters to help it out anywhere else.

The light panel switch in the kitchen has at least one switch that I can always identify:

The switch on the far right controls the garbage disposal.  The only reason it is easy to remember is negative reinforcement.  It doesn’t take too many times of hitting that switch by mistake and jumping startled 3 feet in the air before you start to remember what it belongs too!  The other three light switches I am hit and miss with – two of them have twins in other parts of the house, while the third does not.  Don’t ask me to tell you which!

It goes without saying, of course, that both my nine-year old daughter and my husband have no problem figuring out any of the light switches anywhere!   

Have a great day everyone!

Nancy

The Rewards of Patience


Hi Everyone!

I hope you had a great weekend! 

Thursday night, I had to work extraordinarily late – until 10:15 at night.  Because Kayla is attending day camp here where I work, and Mark was out of town that night, she got to stay at the office with me, and I have to say that she waited about as patiently as you could ask a nine-year old to do.  She played lawyer for a while, interrogating imaginary people  on a play phone, read a little bit, drew pictures and kept herself occupied for five hours so I could concentrate on my e-filing. 

I was so proud of her, and so grateful for her patience that I decided to schedule Saturday morning to take her to get her hair done and to get a manicure and pedicure.  I explained to her Friday night what we were doing Saturday and why, and she turned to me with her eyes wide and asked, “All that for one patience?”  Visions of shelling out her entire college savings to her as rewards for such things as waiting two or three minutes before interrupting Mark and I dancing in my head, I told her quickly not to get used to it!  She thought that was funny.

Saturday morning, she popped out of her room at 7:00 fully dressed announcing,” I’m ready to go be made beautiful!”  She was a little early, but by 8:30, we headed out to the salon as we had to be there at 9.  I had planned about an hour and 15 minutes for the hair and scheduled the nail appointment accordingly, planning that Kayla would ask for her hair to be blown straight.  She has never  once  walked into a salon and asked for her hair to be more curly – until Saturday.  The lady cutting her hair had naturally curly hair in tight ringlets cascading down her back, and that was the look that Kayla wanted.  (Kayla told the stylist that she had always wanted curly hair.  I nearly fell out of my chair laughing!)   They managed to come up with a way to do it, but it took a little longer than we expected. 

Towards the end, I got a chance to take some pictures of Kayla while she was “on the chair.” 

I think I like it!

 

Uh Oh! She's taking my picture....

 

Maybe if I ignore her she will stop it!

Oh well, I'll have a good time anyhow even if she is taking my picture!

The pictures alone were worth the entire expedition, but we also got our nails done, and I got a real kick watching her explore the mysteries of the Spa Massage Chair she was sitting in!

Have a great day everyone!

Nancy

Keeper of the Passwords


Hi Everyone!

When I became a mom, I knew that the role would call for many things.  However, this morning my daughter attempted to assign a role to me that I simply cannot and will not do:  Keeper of the Computer Passwords.  I can’t keep up with my own; let alone anybody else’s!

Those of us who have seen the computer revolution blossom in front of our eyes (you know who you are –  you took classes on Basic in college; you remember when the Internet did not exist, or at least was not as ubiquitous in the American household as, say, the refrigerator is; you can remember playing games on a Commodore 64 computer that plugged into your TV to use as a monitor; and you remember when 1/2 megabyte of RAM was a lot of memory for a PC and we stored extra files on 5 1/4″ floppy discs), can remember a time when – hang on for this younger generation – you could get through life without any passwords at all!  Yes, you heard me correctly – you could go from the cradle to the grave without having to enter a password into anything more complicated than the combination lock to your bike – and you wrote that combination on your book bag so you wouldn’t forget it.  Those from a slightly later generation can remember when you could use things that were easy to remember, like your children’s name or your birthdate, for passwords or PIN numbers.  Heck, only about four or five years ago, most of us did not need to know what the words “case-sensitive” meant.

 However, somewhere as the years went on, the simplicity of the password has completely faded into oblivion.  Each organization  has its own requirements in terms of the amount of letters and/or numbers to be used in a password.  Some sites are even getting hyper-technical on me and requiring not only letters and numbers, but characters too!  People, if I can’t remember whether my original password was adam12 (or maybe that was Adam12 or ADAM12) I don’t have a hope of remembering whether I used a !, a%,  a # or (for when I lose my temper) &^%$##$%&&%%##**$ to go with it.  

I have had web sites grade me on the strength of the password I am selecting; that gives me an inferiority complex.  I never felt happy with a grade unless it was an A, and I have yet to get an A grade on any password I selected.  (If I did get an A grade, I probably wouldn’t be able to remember the password.)

I have other sites that require me to change my password periodically whether I want to or not; that’s really disturbing, because how do I know I can come up with a password that is as good as the one they are making me get rid of?  I also have to perform a series of mental gymnastics to keep track of which password to use this week. 

The logical thing to do, of course, is to find a place to store all the passwords for all of the sites in one place so you can look one up when you need it, but apparently we are not allowed to keep such a list any place where it can be easily found, which means that the odds are good that I won’t be able to remember where I put the list by the time I need it! 

So, to my daughter who won’t read this anyhow because she doesn’t have the password to our home computer (how else could I get away with writing the stories I write about us?), I must regretfully decline your offer to become Keeper of the Passwords, at least until I am able to successfully keep my own!

Have a great weekend everybody!

Nancy