Tag Archives: Humor

Fuchsia Fairy

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DIL asked for suggestions about flowers for a hanging basket near their front door.

When I replied that I thought a fuchsia would be pretty, she snortlaughed and said,
“Ring-ring-ring, 1980s calling, Grandma!”

I had never before thought that a purple-pink fuchsia dated me as being OLD, haha. It was a great joke…UNTIL she saw mine, asked what it was, and I was able to identify this amazing creation as a…fuchsia!

So NOW who’s laughing?

How could anyone not love this delicate ballerina of a flower?

Flower fairy and poem credit to https://flowerfairies.com/

Fuchsia is a dancer
Dancing on her toes,
Clad in red and purple,
By a cottage wall;
Sometimes in a greenhouse,
In frilly white and rose,
Dressed in her best for the fairies’ evening ball!

Self Portrait

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The Angels love to look through the photos on my phone, especially all the ones I’ve taken of them, of course.

When we clicked on this rose, I told them it was a selfie of ME cos I’m Princess Rosebud. They thought that was funny but being their dad’s kids, they just HAD to disagree…

“Grandma, you are so annoying! You aren’t a REAL princess!”

“Yes, I am.” I replied. “And you are Princess Charlotte and Prince Theodore.”

“Dad, Grandma’s being annoying again!”

OMG did they just tattle about me to my original Angel Boy? That’s too funny.

From the other room, I hear him say, “Mom, stop being annoying.”

I guess that’s going to be my legacy…however, we’re all royalty around here, so I thought I’d share this little joke to start the week.

This particular rose smells as good as she looks. Spicy and sweet, just like me.

I think a backstory needed to explain the origin of being called “annoying”, thanks to my new friend, wonderfully talented author Debbie Russell. I should have explained it in more detail and to be fair to the Angels.

I first began to reference myself that way when I bothered them as they were busy doing things (just to be funny) like standing in front of the TV during a show they were watching and I’d say, “Aren’t I the most annoying Grandma?” and they’d say “Yes, you are! Stop it!” And I’d stop, of course. Also for example, when I’d read a book to them, a book I’d literally read a thousand times before, to make it more interesting for ME, I’d change the names or spice up the story a bit differently, mainly to see if they were paying attention (which they were) and then they’d say, “Read the exact words, Grandma!” which I thought was pretty cute. And then I’d say, “Do you find it annoying when I do that?” The answer was always yes.

The Angels weren’t being disrespectful. Grandma was!

Gift With Purchase

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How does a three year old know me so well?

Her mom purchased a bottle of perfume and it came with a fancy little cosmetic bag full of samples.

Apparently, as the story was told to me, Angel Girl told Mom she had to “save the bag for Grandma” ‘cos “she loves stuff like that.”

She was a thousand percent correct. I LOVE gifts with purchase because it’s like discovering a surprise treasure chest.

How did she know?

I mean, we share the Chanel connection and the ballerina connection, but gift with purchase?

How could this obviously intuitive child see so deeply inside of me?

That’s too much. My heart can’t take it. The joy.

Every single time I use that little bag, I’ll think about my Angel, and smile.

Yup. She gets me.

Public Toilet Wisdom: Written on the Walls

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I walked to the beach during a May gray morning and sat on top of my usual picnic table to overlook the Pacific Ocean, hoping to see a whale or some dolphins.

I didn’t get lucky this time, but there was a crowded lineup of surfers out there and I couldn’t figure out why ‘cos the waves weren’t all that big.

As I took off my hat, unbraided my hair and shook it free from its constraints to feel the salty breeze, I turned around because I could feel someone standing behind me.

It was a man I often see at the beach; I’m not sure if he’s exactly unsheltered or not, but he stays there for hours, working on a crossword puzzle or reading. I’ve chatted with him a dozen times as he’s a fixture on the boardwalk and he’s very friendly, not at all like the the other guy who wanted to write on me and claim ownership!

He said, “Excuse me for saying so, but you have no idea the unmitigated joy you gave me as I watched you liberate your hair. You have the most beautiful curls, and I wanted to say thank you! That made me very happy.”

His language and phrasing was delightful; old worldly elegant, courtly, very much the gentleman.

I was caught off guard by his lovely comment and thanked him profusely. It made my day even more joyful, that’s for sure.

Before I walked home, I stopped at the restroom. Look at what I found written on the wall! So inspirational!

It’s a manta and an affirmation to love oneself and I couldn’t resist snapping a photo.

PS WordPress is so weird. I didn’t publish this until today, the 15th, but it appears as if I published it the 14th, which I did not. WP is strange…

Happy Mother’s Day!

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Join me as I raise a very happy glass of champs to all moms and May birthday girls.

I’m grateful that I had a mom who not only taught me to appreciate Chanel, beautiful flowers and diamonds, how to bake the world’s best cinnamon rolls and apple pie, but also how to make a bed with hospital corners, debride a wound, and nurse a sick loved one back to health. It’s all about balance, teehee. Miss you, Mommy!

Grandma Gossip: Smarter Than Me

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A while back, the two of us sat on the floor contemplating a puzzle of wild animals.

“Don’t help me!” “I can do it by myself!”

“OK, I won’t, but I’m right here if you need me. All you have to do is ask.”

She cocks her head, slyly looks at me, and declares, “I’m smarter than you, Grandma.”

I laughed, “Oh, you are? How so?”

“I can do this puzzle without your help.”

“I know you’re very very smart, so I believe that you can, but I will always be here if you need any help at all.”

A couple minutes go by as we work together to turn over all the puzzle pieces.

“I’m smarter than everybody.”

“Really?” I ask. “Everybody?”

“Oh yes.”

“Are you smarter than Daddy?” “Cos you know MY little boy is pretty smart, right?”

She thinks for a nanosecond.

“Yup, I’m smarter than Daddy.”

“How about Mommy? Are you smarter than Mommy?”

Another second goes by with a nod, “Yes, I am.”

“And what about Theo? Are you smarter than he is, too?”

First a sigh, than a shake of her head as she wistfully says, “No, I’m not smarter than Theo. He can do anything.”

My goodness. I was speechless. I could feel the deep love she has for her big brother.

“Theo IS smart and so are you, my Angel Girl.”

Laughing, she says, “We’re both smarter than YOU, little Grandma!”

I can’t really argue with THAT three-year-old, that’s for sure.

Call Me Dr. Rosebud

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After all this time, after all my injuries, once again I accurately diagnosed a medical issue.

Last March I did a deep weighted squat and felt something pop in my right knee. My stubborn self chose to overlook the subsequent discomfort and stoically carry on.

We need a backstory here...This is the same knee that was injured when I carelessly pulled a full and very topheavy garden waste trash can to the street, blithely ignoring the fact that the wheels were tangled up in fruit tree netting.

I mean, for a split second the thought crossed my mind that I should probably untangle it before I rolled it down the hilly driveway but I did not.

So…as you can probably guess, my feet became entwined in the netting which then pulled the heavy can down on me, twisting my leg and knee beneath it.

I know, I know. I’m not bright, also extremely impatient.

Once I deduced that my knee/leg wasn’t broken, I iced it for a while and endured the pain on the lateral side of my knee. A few months later, I had some physical therapy which actually seemed to help and I was back to normal movement.

And that’s how I ended up doing a weighted squat. Again, I iced it and figured it would take a while to heal, whatever it was, but this time there was no specific pain location. I wore a brace and compression sleeve and that didn’t really help.

Finally, I was able to pinpoint the pain, did my research and thought it was a medial meniscus tear along with an inflamed bursa, right below the knee.

I waited a really long time before telling my doctor (too stubborn to admit defeat), but when the pain wouldn’t subside, I did. She ordered an x-ray and when the results were unremarkable, she ordered an MRI, the appropriate course of action.

That was my first ever MRI. For me, it was a pleasant experience, probably because only my legs were in the machine.

The results came back as I had predicted:

  1. There is a complex meniscal tear involving the posterior horn of the medial meniscus.
  2. Severe chondromalacia involving the lateral patellar facet (also known as Runner’s Knee)
  3. Mild joint effusion. (I believe it’s the pes anserine bursa.)

Now I have an appointment with the same orthopedic office where I’ve often visited for other dumb accidental broken bones and torn ligaments.

SIGH.

Just call me Doctor Rosebud BUT don’t be like me and wait months suffering before seeing a professional!

Near Death Experience

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This is a cautionary tale to be diligent, alert, and always pay attention when you’re doing something as simple as walking…

Since we’re between storms, this was a beautiful morning for a walk. As I headed toward the beach, there’s an intersection with a four-way stop. (For those of you who know Carlsbad, it’s Chinquapin and Adams.)

At the time I safely proceeded to cross at the crosswalk, there were no cars. As I was almost all the way across the street, three-quarters of the way to the other side, a small-ish SUV caught my eye because the car didn’t seem to be slowing down to stop at the stop sign and I was directly in the line of fire.

It seemed as if she was planning to roll through the stop sign and hit me!

I stopped, yelled “HEY!” as loud as I could, which got her attention and she screeched to a halt, inches away from me.

She looked extremely flustered, surprised and guilty; proof that she had absolutely not seen me. I know I’m small, but I’m not invisible. Sheesh.

After that, I emitted a few dozen choice words and tried to get her license number as she sped off but not before I saw that she had a photo of a baby hanging from her rear view mirror. She was a mom and might have even put her child in harm’s way.

That’s a close enough call with death for one day, or at least a close call with a potentially painful accident.

The moral of the story is to stay alert and don’t trust that a driver will pay attention or even obey simple rules of the road.

Anyway, I’d like to thank my guardian angels for protecting me one more time!

Left Behind

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I don’t know if it was Freud or someone else who said that there was an underlying subliminal reason why someone leaves things behind at your home, but in the case of my Angels, I love it when they do.

I find and gather up the artifacts to either mail or bring with me on my next visit. They’re like little treasures that attach themselves to memories of a special time.

Thank goodness I didn’t step barefoot on a fierce Ninjago Lego minifigure. I had found another one and mailed it along with random socks and a forgotten light up ball that had rolled under the sofa, but this little guy was exhumed when I changed the sheets and I recalled the morning Angel Boy crawled into bed with me at about 6am.

“Grandma, are you awake? Daddy said I could come down. He’s going surfing.”
“Look at my Legos.This is one of the Ninjagos, LOOK!” “He’s one of my favorites.” “Grandma, can you make me a Ninjago cake?” “You can do it, I know you can.”

“I don’t know, T. I can do a kitty or an owl or a bunny, but a Ninjago cake seems pretty difficult for me.”

“Did you wash my favorite (Ninjago) shirt for me?”

“It’s a bit early for me to handwash your favorite shirt, T. How about breakfast first?”

“Grandma, do you always do the same things every single time you wake up?”

“What’s that, T? What do I do?”

“You put on your glasses, take off your retainers, take a vitamin, and do your inhaler. And then you make coffee.”

“You know what, Angel? That’s exactly what I do, in exactly that order. You are incredibly observant to remember each and every detail. I do those same things every single day at your house and my house. Do you think about that?”

“Yes, I do. I’m hungry. Can I have some apple pie?”

The answer to that was yes. The children know me too well. I approve of apple pie for early breakfast. I wrapped a piece for dad to eat before his dawn patrol surf sesh, too.

Those Angels leave a trail of love behind, that’s the best part.

Conversational Speed Bump

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As I sit here with a sore throat, sneezing so hard I think I’ve rearranged some brain cells, I wonder how I even got sick since I still mask up in public. I’ve tested twice for Covid and it’s been negative both times, so that’s something to be grateful for. All I want to do is to curl up with a mug of spicy ginger tea and a cozy blanket.

My virus-type thing came on pretty rapidly after THIS experience. Maybe the Universe is helping me stay home and safely away from toxic people…

Photo by Michael Anthony on Pexels.com

There’s one specific car that flies down my street every morning, Monday through Friday, hurtling itself over the speed bumps/humps and barely – if at all – bothering to slow down for the stop sign before turning right and into the elementary school parking lot.

After randomly witnessing this occur over several days, I walked to the school and snapped a pic of the car in the parking lot.

I entered the Admin building and asked the school secretary to please take a look at the photo and explained that I’m sure this was an employee and it would be a good idea to caution this person that she was speeding and please slow down on our street as it’s not a freeway, even if she’s late for work.

I never imagined the vitriol I would soon receive.

First of all, the secretary curtly informed me that anything outside the parking lot wasn’t her business and I should go to the police. While she thought that statement would deter me, along with her frosty dismissive attitude, she clearly didn’t know with whom she was dealing.

I said slowly, enunciating carefully, “I came here as a courtesy, hoping that all staff would be reminded to drive carefully, legally, and responsibly around the neighborhood as it’s a known ongoing problem, and what you’re suggesting is that I should just go to the police?”

“Well, there are fifty cars out there, you can’t expect me to figure out who owns that car! How do I know if it’s even an employee! That’s not my job!”

I responded, “Oh, but yes, I surely DO expect you to do your due diligence, especially since you’re looking at a photo with the license plate. And I don’t understand why you’re not concerned or being helpful. This person is driving in a reckless manner.”

I will tell you that I spoke in a calm but firm voice, having been in that office dozens of times as a parent, which is why I know the lay of the land, so to speak.

I reiterated, “So what I hear you say is that you WANT me to go to the police and you are refusing to address this issue, simply and internally?”

She looked at me and said, “Where did you say this was? At the roundabout?”

Geez, I hate these kinds of encounters so much, but I persevered. I took a breath before continuing. “So far, I’ve explained to you three times that this car flies over the speed bumps on the street before the stop sign.” (And I actually pointed in that direction, which she could see through the doors.)

Her next words made me chuckle. So predictable for people like that.

“STOP YELLING AT ME! You’re being rude! I don’t have to be treated this way!”

I calmly informed her that I hadn’t raised my voice but that we neighbors do not appreciate staff using our street like a freeway and if she’d prefer that I give the vehicle info to the police, I’d be happy to do so as I had made the effort to come into the office as a consideration to avoid involving the police, which seemed entirely unnecessary.

In the old days, I would have been so angry that I would have met her vitriolic negative energy with a shit ton of my own. Trust me, I could raise the threat level to DEFCON 2 (next step to nuclear war) in a heartbeat.

In the OLD DAYS, smoke would have poured out of my ears and nose like a dragon, but this kinder and gentler version of me didn’t respond further. I walked home, shaking my head. Life lessons learned.

I was honestly surprised by her attitude. In my naïveté, I thought she’d thank me for bringing the matter to her attention and she’d inform the principal to review safety protocol for driving in our community, to respect the neighborhood, and to assure me that my concerns were important and would be properly addressed.

I was wrong.

So my next call will be to the police which was definitely avoidable. Once again I’m reminded of one of the reasons I HATED teaching elementary school.

(Another time I’ll recount the tale of the high school assistant principal who DARED to target my 4.8 GPA child for a crime he didn’t commit. Let’s just say that after I was done with him, he had another job. Mama bears don’t have an off switch when it comes to protecting their young, right?)