Tag Archives: Humor

Your Little Boy

Posted on by
2

“Do you know what YOUR LITTLE BOY did?”

“Grandma, I need to tell you about YOUR LITTLE BOY!”

It never fails to make me laugh when I hear both Angels refer to their dad that way.

It started a long time ago when I explained to them that not only was I their grandma, but that their dad was my little boy and he’ll ALWAYS be my little boy.

Ever since, and especially when they have some juicy gossip OR a complaint, he’s referred to as “your little boy”.

When he rode his skateboard sans helmet which is absolutely DUMB, Angel Boy 2.0 would call me and tattle on him. When he fell off his surfboard, I was told about it. When he ran through a red light, yup, I had a phone call.

“Grandma, you will not BELIEVE what your little boy did!”

They extract a great deal of enjoyment when I scold their dad about his small crimes and misdemeanors; I’m a constant source of entertainment: “DAD, GRANDMA WANTS TO TALK TO YOU ABOUT YOUR BEHAVIOR!”

Mom isn’t exempt either, but MY little boy bears the brunt of the scandalous chat.

This time was a bit different. AB is now in third grade and his sister will start kindergarten at the same school. Usually Dad walked him as it’s only a couple blocks away and Mom stayed with the baby, now not a baby. (This is a cool deja vu moment for both Dad and me, because HIS elementary school was also in walking distance, and it was a great time to chat and walk there every day.)

I got the phone call….“Do you know what your little boy is going to do when school starts?“

I literally had no idea.

“Because I like to get to school early – Grandma, you know I don’t like to be late — and you know how Dad and I race there every day and sometimes I win –and C can’t EVER wake up, YOUR LITTLE BOY is going to run me to school first, come home, and then bring C. Isn’t that funny?”

“Well, T, why don’t you just wait until your sister is ready and Dad will only have to make one trip?”

“OMG Grandma, you KNOW that won’t work! We have to leave at exactly the right time.”

The backstory is that Angel Boy 2.0 has always been an early riser like Dad (and me), but his sister could sleep all night and most of the day. Sometimes, we still check on her to make sure she’s breathing, but boyohboy can that girl SLEEP.

Her pre-school started at 9:15 and it was often a struggle to get her there on time. Kindergarten starts at 7:55 a.m. so she’s going to have to go to bed extra early to train for a new sleep schedule. There will no longer be an option to let her skip a day or two or come in a couple hours late.

The best part of this story is how much Angel Boy loves school. He can’t wait to get there and always wants to stay after to play with friends.

His dad loved to learn, too, and still does.

It’s markedly different than my experience, that’s for sure. I didn’t like school and couldn’t wait to get home. The only happy part of it for me was the night before when I chose whatever pretty dress I would wear the next day. There were always matching socks and ribbons for my hair.

Being a fashionista is a life long pursuit and I can’t wait to see what the kids wear for their first day.

MY LITTLE BOY had his own sense of style…

The original Angel Boy with Stella Rondo

Weekend Vibes

Posted on by
Reply

Just picked a cluster of gorgeous grapes; might pour myself a glass of some chilled and fermented ones a bit later. (Of course I’m talking about chardonnay.)

Happy Friday!

Searching For An Open Portal

Posted on by
8

The end of July has brought a triad of unfavorable events, one right after the other — snap, snap, snap…

I feel like it might be about time to run to the forest, search for a circle of rocks, tune into a different frequency, and step into a completely different dimension.

If only I knew the magic words to reveal the gateway to somewhere else. I don’t feel exactly enchanted right now…

The day after I brought home those adorable Lagerfeld heels, I broke a toe on my laundry room doors so I won’t be wearing them for a while.

Somehow, I entered into another inadvertent situation, and by that I mean, my innate carelessness subjected me to a dumb unthinking bizarre accident. I somehow injured the ulnar nerve on my left hand, which can be way more painful than you think! Because it really hurts, I had to get a brace to protect and immobilize my hand as I kept aggravating the Cubital Tunnel Syndrome/ulnar entrapment.

Do you see it? That freaks me out JUST A LITTLE because “ulnar” is “lunar” and I’m desperately and compulsively trying to discern if that’s a MESSAGE from the universe — or not –and what it might mean on a cosmic level.

And finally, since I have a history of skin cancer and have undergone Moh’s surgery, I had my six month check with the dermatologist and she discovered THREE areas on my face and nose that were problematic. I have to use this gross cancer cream, (which is really chemo) for two weeks. It’s brutal, as it causes my skin to sorta look like I have leprosy — not a pretty sight, that’s for sure, and I can’t go out in the sun at all. DAMN those summers spent tanning on the beach because now I’m paying the price.

I’m not really complaining though, because things could be worse. I mean, they ALWAYS can be worse, right? At least I’m balanced–right toe broken, left hand injured, the exact same spot I broke a bone in 2013 when I ran up the hill to look for a coyote; slipped and fell in the ditch. BALANCED.

I hopehopehope August brings happier news and maybe I’ll finally find the key to unlock that door to another dimension, maybe to a day before I broke my toe or the day before I aggravated the ulnar nerve or before…never mind.

On the other hand, I’d be overjoyed if I could stuff my little toes into those shoes…

The Magical Legacy of Leon Russell: Part Three

Posted on by
Reply

I needed a brain cleanse from all the pictures and chatter about J.D. Vance* enjoying an intimate moment with his SOFA, so I had to share this cute little anecdote…

My son is/was a fairly good piano player. He started taking lessons when he was five years old because my mom thought he had talent along with some interest, so we brought home a pretty cool piano.

He was OK but not a prodigy. Even though family legend has been that we might be slightly related to a world renowned pianist, it didn’t seem to be his joy and after a few years, he quit playing except to entertain friends.

Now that there are Angel Kids, they seem to gravitate toward the piano when they visit. This last time, eight year old Angel Boy was pounding on it, driving me crazy.

I’d say, “Gentle, gentle, Use a gentle touch, PLEASE!” but he didn’t really understand what I meant.

Dad was off surfing (of course) so I couldn’t ask him to play something, as he could have demonstrated what I meant. Since I absolutely can’t play a note, I’m useless.

I had a brainstorm. Thinking that maybe he needed to SEE how the piano ought to be touched, we watched some of Leon Russell’s videos where AB could see the light, gentle touch used on the keys, and the beautiful sounds it would make.

We listened to a lot of Leon Russell’s magical music, I mean A LOT. Like I said, I’m obsessed, haha!

Since kids nowadays know more about the internet than we did at that age, he saw the sign of the red line under each video, to indicate that I had watched a LOT of Leon’s live performances.

“Grandma, did you really watch all of this?”

“I DID, I told you he is a musical genius, and I love to watch him sing and play piano.”

The next morning as I was making his fave buckwheat pancakes, I heard Angel Boy open the piano and start playing.

I could tell that he was trying to emulate the way he observed Leon’s hands glide across the keys-not pounding out sounds, but allowing each key to speak and tell a story and that’s when I knew my little buddy was hooked.

His performance was extemporaneously lyrical. Was I in heaven, or what?

When their visit was over and I was driving everyone to the airport, I paired my phone with the car and started to play (what else) Leon Russell.

From his car seat directly behind me, Angel Boy pleaded with me, “NO MORE LEON RUSSELL, GRANDMA! NO MORE!” He said he’d rather hear my favorite Swan Lake than hear ANOTHER song that he had been “forced” to listen to for DAYS. (However, he really liked “Tight Rope”, so I know he was actually listening.)

It was pretty funny, but I had done my job. Mission accomplished. Whether he knew it or not, my Angel Boy, representing a new generation, was already inspired by Leon Russell’s magical genius.

The legacy lives on. Now his parents need to get a piano and start lessons with a great teacher.

At the very least, he stopped pounding on the keys, so it was a win for me.

Leon’s mind blowing version of Over The Rainbow, always the master of space and time.

*J.D. Vance is the orange turd’s incredibly idiotic choice for vice president, not that it’ll matter ‘cos I predict that Kamala will WIN by a landslide.

Featured photo is Leon Russell as a child at the piano.

Seijaku: Word of The Day

Posted on by
Reply
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Seijaku: stillness in the midst of activity, is an advanced and powerful form of T’ai Chi Chih.

“The Japanese speak of Seijaku as serenity in the midst of activity. Not escaping from the world to some mountaintop as is taught in the Indian teachings. But finding the real meaning, fulfillment, energy and wisdom in the midst of everyday hustle and bustle – building a silent and imperturbable center while active in the disappointments and triumphs of our busy lives. This is real fulfillment.” Justin Stone Speaks on T’ai Chi Chih®

Seijaku (stillness, tranquility, solitude): The principle of seijaku emphasizes the fundamental Zen theme of emptiness, which implies an inexhaustible spirit.

It is in states of active calm, tranquility, solitude, and quietude that we find the very essence of creative energy. Silent pauses in music, as well as motionlessness in dance and theater, illustrate the power of seijaku.

In meditation, we strive to achieve self-awareness and focus, to learn how to quiet our mind.

I think that’s why it’s called a practice, because it’s a daily exercise to try and attain and actualize that state of being.

Some days it works; often it does NOT, but it’s a life goal. My brain often goes off on a tributary, thinking of funny things like the Seinfeld episode where George Costanza’s dad screams “Serenity, NOW!” (I’m working on that; like I said, it’s a practice…)

Is “Of Course” The New “You’re Welcome”?

Posted on by
7

Of course!

I’ve become obsessed with observing how often people say “of course” in response to “thank you” or any other expression of appreciation. Have you noticed it, too?

For example, I was at the market and said thank you to the person who bagged my groceries. He said, “Of course.”

Later, a neighbor gave me a cool puzzle for the grandkids. I texted “thank you.” She responded, “of course”.

Someone else helped me find a particular section of rugs in TJ Maxx and when I told her I appreciated the help, she responded, “of course.”

This all happened in the same day because it seems as if no one says “you’re welcome” EVER –just “of course.”

Is it rude? Is it polite?

OF COURSE I did a little research…

Here’s the query: Is it rude to reply “of course”?

‘Of course’ by itself means obvious, expected. So when someone says ‘of course’ instead of ‘you’re welcome’, the feeling is “it’s obvious that I would do that because I want to do that’. It seems to be a friendly communication, BUT IS IT?

In fact, it’s a big search on Quora…

Why do millennials often say “of course” instead of saying “you’re welcome” when you thank them?

You can respond to someone who says “of course!” after you thank them by expressing your gratitude again or by acknowledging their kindness. For example, you could say “Thank you again, I really appreciate it” or “You’re so kind, thank you.” This shows that you value their response and appreciate their willingness to help.

What about people who respond “no problem” in response to “thank you”?

I like this following points of view:

“You’re welcome,” is the correct short answer. “Of course” implies entitlement. Even the currently popular, “No problem,” implies imposition.

Both of those answers imply “It’s all about me, not you.” I think it’s another sign, indicative of more and more egregious narcissistic behavior creeping into our society on a daily basis.

Regardless of the following ways to respond to “thank you” and you can call me old-fashioned, but I’m going to stick with “you’re welcome.” That’s the only one that feels right to me.

Do you say “no problem” or “of course” or are you like me and reply with a simple “you’re welcome”?

rachelsenglish.comhttps://rachelsenglish.com › youre-welcome

Today is World Naked Gardening Day!

Posted on by
4

The first Saturday in May is World Naked Gardening Day.

We’re encouraged to wear NOTHING but a sunhat and sunscreen, to pick up a trowel or a rake, and seed and weed au naturale.

Why garden naked? Our culture needs to move toward a healthy sense of both body acceptance and our relation to the natural environment. Gardening naked is not only a simple joy, it reminds us–even if only for those few sunkissed minutes–that we can be honest with who we are as humans and as part of this planet. and that’s also a definitely NOT ME, whether it’s “world wide” or “worldwide”! Curated from https://naturisteducation.org/wngd/

Today, you’ll find me in the garden, fully clothed, planting peas and beans and mixed leafy greens.

However, if YOU choose to celebrate in your birthday suit, DO NOT send pics!

Enjoy!

Cyberspace Issues: Hardwired

Posted on by
4

Finally, finally, I have been reconnected with the World Wide Web. The information superhighway has been restored.

It took the technician hours because it wasn’t a simple repair, apparently. Since I’m always interested in learning about pretty much everything, I watched him troubleshoot the problem.

Not my actual box, but similar.

First of all, somehow, there was an actual broken wire in the little junction utility box that houses all the wires on our street. Just mine, not anybody else. Weird, right?

He fixed it but that didn’t resolve the issue. He showed me his Ipad map that pointed to another broken wire seven hundred feet away, down the street and around the corner. He went there, didn’t see a problem, but his map then told him the main issue was a broken wire two more blocks away on the main street.

When he opened up that particular utility box, he had to sort through hundreds of twisted wires of various colors and find the one that eventually connects wifi to my address. When he did that, he discovered that it was broken in half, not connected at all.

He repaired that wire, came back here, we rebooted my router and got a strong connection. After doing a few more tests to make sure everything was successfully in working order, the technician left.

I asked him how often similar things occur and he told me that it happens fairly often because the wires get old and no one ever checks them unless there’s a problem like I experienced.

I’m grateful he didn’t give up!

CRAZY, right?

At some point, I’m going to examine my relationship with the internet. I’m not happy with myself and how I felt about being unplugged cold turkey. It caused emotional and psychological distress. I don’t have an addictive personality but this felt very much like descriptions I’ve read about withdrawals. It’s time to self reflect and try some neuroplasticity.

At some point, I’ll do that, but right now, I’m tap tap tapping away, SO happy to be reconnected.

It’s A Mystery

Posted on by
4

I have a million seashells, well maybe not actually ONE MILLION, but I have a lot. Some are big, some small; many are so beautiful they’re lovingly displayed on shelves. To me, they’re all enchanted.

During the torrential rain when it was stupidly dangerous to venture out and I was forced to allow my leg to heal, I decided it was the perfect time to dust and rearrange my enchanted treasures.

In the process of relocating one of the seashells, I noticed there was what seemed to be paper stuck deep inside the cavity and that piqued my curiosity.

What was it?

A treasure map? A love note? Jewels?

Tweezers were necessary to extract whatever it was, and when I uncrumpled two pieces of thin yellow paper, I discovered THIS:

It appears to be a receipt from the Chong Hua Hospital pharmacy. It doesn’t say anything else that I can decipher. Google reports that this hospital is located outside of Cebu City in the Philippines.

Crazy, right? From the Philippines? Why was it in a seashell? How did it get there? How did it get HERE?

There was no date, no name, no treasure map, no smuggled diamonds, no love letter.

You can 1000% believe that I’ve peered inside every other seashell around here but they’re all devoid of any surprises.

The mystery remains…

My Soul Mate is a Monster

Posted on by
Reply

Sorry for the typo.

I meant to say my Giant Monstera is my soulmate. I certainly should have done a better job of proofreading…my bad.

This guy is the cause of my freak injury. I know I should hate him for it, but he’s so beautiful, especially when backlit by the sun.

I can’t help but love the source of my trauma, my pain.

You can’t really see it in this photo, but the reason why I raced down the stairs in slippery socks (and fell HARD) was to get the Amazon package that contained the moss poles to help my BFF climb to new heights.

When we first met (at Trader Joe’s) and fell in love, he whispered to me that a little support would make him happy. Since I love to oblige, it was an easy request to grant, however, this proclivity of mine set the stage for me to become irrevocably injured.

Deep wounds take a long time to heal, but my love for this Giant Monstera will last forever. Pretty soon I’ll need taller poles and more support because he’s growing and thriving under my care.

Love hurts, but isn’t he gorgeous? My monster(a), my soulmate. 

Update on my injury: Stitches came out yesterday (after two weeks) but were replaced by a dozen Steri-strips to help the eight-inch gash finish healing, which it is,  but at a snail's pace, probably because I'm not a very patient patient. I'm a much better caregiver. The recommendation was no strenuous activity for at least two more weeks or it'll open up again and I'll need more stitches and the doc threatened me with an aircast to immobilize my leg. "Threatened" might be a SLIGHT exaggeration, but that's how I interpreted her words...