Tag Archives: Humor

A Watershed Event

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Not too long ago, the Angel Kids’ parents went to a social function. They weren’t too happy about Mom and Dad leaving because they rarely do, but as soon as the door closed, everything was OK ‘cos Grandma was there.

The kids have a solid bedtime routine: bath, night snack, brush teeth, read, and sleep. After their baths and a bowl of yogurt and applesauce, teeth were brushed and we snuggled together for reading time, my favorite part.

We began with a book for Angel Girl about a ballerina who loves to wear sparkly tiaras. I was peppered with questions and comments, “You love to wear a tiara, don’t you, Grandma!” “I have a sparkly tiara, too.” After her book, she turned on her side, clutching her stuffed unicorn, ready to drift off to sleep.

When it was time to read to Angel Boy, Dad had kindly left me with a chapter book they were halfway through, and I planned to read to the lovely child who was curled up against me.

I wasn’t prepared for what came next…and I can genuinely say that it was one of the happiest moments of my entire life…

“Hey, Grandma, how about if I read to YOU this time instead of YOU reading to ME?”

That had NEVER happened before. He’s gifted in math, but reading was sometimes frustrating for him, totally unlike his dad, who was an early and brilliant reader. T tested at grade level in school, but it wasn’t with the joy that reading brings to our lives. I always told him that reading was the gateway to the world. In my opinion, reading is EVERYTHING.

So of course I said that would be the most wonderful idea EVER in the history of wonderful ideas.

He read four chapters of his book while I watched; eagle-eyed, to observe (scrutinize) his reading prowess as a second grader, and his ability to successfully sound out words that weren’t familiar. The best part was that he didn’t want to stop reading; he wanted to keep going, but he was so tired, he agreed to finish the book the next day.

I was absolutely blown away, not only by his skills, but the way he read with humor and expression.

“Did you like that, Grandma? I knew you would because you love reading so much.”

“T, I am so incredibly proud of you! C is too, and we both loved to hear you read. How did it make you feel to read to US?”

“Grandma, I was reading and the words were like, just in my head as I saw them, and I couldn’t believe it, they came out so fast!”

At that moment, I think I almost squeezed the very life out of him, and I was more than grateful to be able to experience his “lightbulb” moment where everything clicked into place.

“T, that is what’s called REAL READING! I told you it would happen soon, where words you see instantly translate from your eyes to your brain — and you totally GOT IT!”

“I wanted to make you happy, Grandma.”

And he did. That was an understatement!

T whispered, “I love you, Grandma.”

“I love you too, so, so much. See you in the morning for buckwheat pancakes!” I whispered back to him.

For me, this definitely qualifies as a memorable, momentous watershed event.

I feel like I’m the luckiest grandma in the whole world.

Brutal Honesty

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“Grandma, what’s THIS?”

Angel Girl asks the question as she squeezes the back of my upper arm.

“Is that FAT?”

“Why is your arm so FAT right there?”

“Hey, T, come see Grandma’s FAT!”

That’s a call to action no big brother could resist. Angel Boy runs in, takes a hunk of the back of my upper arm and confirms his sister’s diagnosis.

“That’s a lot of fat, Grandma!”

I hear the unmistakeable sound of the original Angel Boy snickering in the other room. I bet it’s all deja vu for him as he must recall torturing me the same way.

Out of the mouths of babes, right?

I’m shaking my head; the apple definitely doesn’t fall far from the tree, not with these guys.

“Oh jeez, it’s SKIN, girl. Everyone has SKIN.”

She lifts her own perfectly formed and toned upper arm to show me. “I don’t. My arm doesn’t look like that.”

Mom chimes in, “Wait until you’re older. Come here and help me with breakfast. Let Grandma finish dressing!”

Her brother lifts his wiry arm (built just like his dad)… “Not me either, Grandma. See MY arm?”

I query the other grownups, “Where did she learn all this fat shaming? Sheesh, I thought nowadays children learned to be inclusive and accepting of all of our differences. What’s up with this?”

While I’m speaking, Angel Girl is following me around, squeezing my arms and laughing hysterically. I can’t help it, now I’m laughing, too–because, at the end of the day, it’s just funny. She’s always been hyperfocused and hypercritical of my each and every detail –from my hair to my shoes, and this is no different.

“Jeez Louise, girl, goodness gracious sakes alive, you’re killing me.”

She’s not being rude, if that’s your conclusion–she would never intend to hurt my feelings – it’s simply a case of speaking her truth. I’m one thousand percent sure that she would naturally censor herself with her pre-K classmates, but I’m different, and it’s OK to practice life skills on me.

I’m her pet project, the Little Grandma, with apparently endless patience.

Both of the Angel Kids are fascinated by my diminutive size…

“My hands are almost as big as yours, Grandma!” (This is a continual hand-to-hand ritual measurement every time we see each other to gauge how much they’ve grown.)
“Look, I can wear your shoes now!”
“Can I have your Hello Kitty shirt, Grandma! It fits ME!”
“Why are you so small?”
“Stand still! I am LITERALLY almost as tall as you are!”
And that’s true. I’m five feet and that 7.5 year-old truly is nearly my size.

That’s the time I tell them that the best presents come in small packages, but since that’s not their life experience, they shake their heads and laugh.

Thanks to Angel Girl’s eagle eyes, I have to silently agree that I need to focus more work on my triceps.

Brutal honesty. BRUTAL. Brutally honest.

Searching For Answers

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Photo credit to Enchanted Seashells

My Monday involves waiting for the plumber to arrive. The new hot water heater has been delivered in a great big box I’ll save for the Angel Kids.

A neighbor came by yesterday and turned off the hot water heater so it’d stop leaking and I realized how much we take for granted things like readily available hot water at our fingertips. It’s something to be grateful for but we don’t normally think about it until we no longer have that luxury.

I had to move everything away from that area in the garage to make it accessible so I took the opportunity to clean and purge which hadn’t been done in a long time, and that felt like an important accomplishment.

Waiting, I started to research other meanings for specific life events. It’s interesting to look deeper to see what it could symbolize in the fourth dimension, out of time and space, on a spiritual level.

Since water represents the flow of emotions, plumbing issues in a home (or a leaky radiator in a car) might signal emotional matters. 

Water leaks in our homes can often be perceived as nothing more than an inconvenience or a financial burden, but in some cultures water leaks are seen to have spiritual meaning. They may represent the release of pent up emotions within your home, or even a greater life transition occurring. 

On a brighter side, water has long been seen as a sign of luck and wealth. In Feng Shui, water can also symbolize prosperity and career success, and water leaking into your house could be interpreted as an abundance of good fortune coming your way.

That makes me feel slightly better!

Many spiritual practitioners believe it’s a sign to clear out negative or stagnant energy in their homes or lives. Spiritually cleanse through meditation, cleaning, and smudging. 

Once you’ve repaired the issue and taken steps to prevent future leaks, you can begin to restore balance and harmony in your home.

  • burn incense or candles
  • play calming/binaural beats/528Hz music
  • saltwater cleanse
  • burn sage or palo santo

When the plumber leaves, I think I’ll sage the new water heater as I restore everything I had to move out of the way so they could work in the garage–and be thankful for a nice, long, hot shower.

Family Friendly 🎄Holiday Movies 🕎

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What’s your family’s favorite holiday movie?

I liked It’s a Wonderful Life until I got old enough to figure out that James Stewart’s character stood on the bridge contemplating suicide. Somehow that didn’t seem very happy to me and I didn’t think it was the type of conversation we wanted to have with the Angel Kids.

If you watch Miracle on 34th Street, I recommend the original 1940s black and white version with Natalie Wood.

When everyone was here for Thanksgiving, our goal was to find non-animated films with real people. We chose National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation with Chevy Chase and my absolute all-time favorite, Elf.

My son, DIL, and I couldn’t stop laughing during National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. Neither one of us had seen it since it was originally released. A lot of the jokes were lost on the kids (Angel Girl fell asleep right away), and except for one slightly inappropriate part with a semi-nude female, it was slapstick humor at its finest, perfect for a precocious 7.5 year old.

The next evening we watched Elf. I always resonate with Buddy’s everlasting childlike joy and joie de vivre. He’s innocent and trusting, and the overarching message is that love wins every single time. Again, Angel Girl fell asleep immediately, so we’ll have to make it a family tradition and watch it again when she can stay awake.

My two most favorite lines in Elf are “Santa! I know him!” and “So…good news. I saw a dog today.” I say both of those lines year-round, and laugh to myself every single time.

New to me, but released in 2016, is A Nutcracker Christmas. It combines a love story and ballet, what could be better? Well acted and danced, it is a JOY to watch.

Since we also celebrate Hanukkah (begins sundown on December 7), I found a website that lists some family-friendly movies and we’ll watch a couple of them, too. https://www.verywellfamily.com/10-hanukah-movies-to-watch-with-kids-5208915

What are your favorite holiday movie traditions?

As Above, So Below

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Did everyone survive 11/11? Are we all freshly intentioned, manifested, and affirmed? I hope so.

I don’t know if I can blame planetary energies or if I must simply and honestly accept full responsibility for the calamity that unfolded for ME yesterday. After watching a few DIY haircutting videos, I THOUGHT it looked easy enough to try a “wolf cut” hairstyle. It’s a cut that works great on curly hair. However easy the videos made it seem, it was for me completely deceptive.

I’m NOT posting any pics, but you can believe me when I say that it was a disaster. I was lucky enough to schedule an emergency appointment with my hair stylist next week, and have total faith in her ability to repair the damage, even as she’s shaking her head while examining my failed attempt.

Today I’m keeping myself far, far away from the temptation to chop off more hair. Since we might actually get rained on in the next few days, I fertilized the lawn and raked up some of the leaves from the mulberry tree. They’re continuing to change color, dry up, and fall to the ground.

As above…

So below…

I love the sound and feel of crunchy leaves, don’t you?

OB-SEH-SHUN | Cell Phone Lanyard

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My new obsession-mission was to locate and purchase the perfect neck lanyard for my cell phone.

I misplace my phone on a daily basis and if that’s not bad enough, I dropped it in the toilet last week. Although it’s surprisingly, actually, completely FINE after that mishap, it made me realize that I need to be more closely tethered to that little rectangle.

Being sick was the perfect time to do an obsessive amount of research about around-the-neck cell phone lanyards, and there’s a lot to learn.

So many decisions! Do I want flat straps or round cords? What’s the best method to attach to my phone? What degrees of sturdiness and stability are necessary, and what’s my price point?

Phone neck lanyards come in a variety of prices, from a low of five dollars to a high of $100+ for a Bandolier brand.

Did I want to order from Amazon or actually walk in a store and SEE the product in person?

I decided that I needed a sturdy metal attachment because I’m tough on my phone–not only do I often misplace it, but I constantly drop it, thankfully not in the toilet (that was special).

I stopped at Best Buy at a not busy time and two employees took the time to show me what THEY use and like. I appreciated their input and endorsement of a brand I was leaning toward simply from my exhaustive research.

Of course it had to be the right color because fashion MATTERS in EVERYTHING. I opted for a bluish-purple hands-free lanyard that works great as a crossbody holder for me.

Even better, those really kind employees further helped me by popping off my phone case and installing it, definitely going above and beyond in customer service.

Since I’m a VERY thrifty grandma, this one was pricier than the cheapest one I found, but the Casetify brand I chose is sturdy, well-made, and comfortable to wear.

Honestly, I don’t know how I survived without this handy accessory.

Adult Regrets | Forever Young

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I’m not talking about the dark night of the soul burdensome self-condemnation kind of regret, but I was randomly thinking about how sad it is that when we grow up, people stop asking us who we’re going to be for Halloween.

There was always a great deal of excitement around this conversation, “Who are you going to be for Halloween?” or “What are you going to wear?”— whether we dressed as a witch or a ghost or a princess or a superhero or a pirate. It’s a way to step outside of ourselves for a couple of hours, to escape into an innocent fantasy.

Some might claim I’ve never grown up and that’s simply not true. There’s a difference between being childISHly puerile and one-dimensional as opposed to the open-hearted ability to discover and appreciate simple, joyful, childLIKE pleasures in life. That’s a good thing, in my opinion.

For Halloween, I’m never scary. I usually dress like a princess (of course) but next week I’m going to be a ballerina. I hauled out my sewing machine and made a longish sparkly pink tutu with a tulle overlay, reminiscent of Les Sylphides.

I’ll adorn myself with pink ballerina earrings (an unexpected treasure from Goodwill), my toe shoes and a tiara, so I’m really going to be a princess ballerina.

Je ne regrette rien. No regrets. Forever young.

Who are YOU going to be for Halloween?

Virtue Signaling

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Virtue signaling: a public expression of opinions or sentiments intended to demonstrate one’s good character or social conscience or the moral correctness of one’s position on a particular issue.

Take note of how often virtue signaling consists of saying one “hates” things.

It’s another way to convey that someone feels superior to another.

I recently experienced being victimized by virtue signaling, which I feel is REALLY annoying.

Here’s the story:

I attended an event and a couple of women and I were chatting well after it was over. We decided to get together the following week for coffee/tea and continue the conversation since it seemed as if we had common interests.

When we met, we started talking about all the usual things: our personal histories, our children, education, and what we like to do for fun.

When it was my turn to share, I mentioned how much I love to shop. For me, shopping is truly therapeutic. I don’t necessarily mean I have to spend money to reap the benefits; I enjoy looking at pretty things whether it’s for me, for someone else, or finding special presents for the Angel Kids.

And it’s the truth. While I love to garden and bake (for the kids) and a (sometime) community activist, going to stores brings joy.

Well…my innocent confession set off a chain of negative comments…”I hate shopping.” “I never shop if I can help it.” “Shopping is a waste of time.” “I wear my clothes until they’re worn out like rags.”

Virtue signaling 101.

“Shopping is buying into the patriarchy.” OKAY, they didn’t actually go that far, but the spewing of hatred for my pastime wasn’t very nice at all. I felt personally attacked.

What I detected by those comments was their close-minded conspicuous, self-righteous, lofty, superior moral viewpoint with the intent of communicating their BETTER-than-me attitude.

The subtext was that I was a frivolous naive one-dimensional superficial fairy-like creature who doesn’t dwell nearly enough on the somber, grim, seriousness of life. Like they do.

To look down on someone with disdain and contempt for sharing what they do as a leisure activity or distraction is judgmental and close-minded.

I didn’t ridicule THEM for NOT liking retail therapy, although the snarky side of me privately thought that they could both benefit from some (teehee).

I have found this experience to be something I’ve endured several times in my life, and recently. It’s like a moral badge of righteousness for some women to declare how much they hate shopping. “I don’t shop.” “I don’t care what I wear.”

Well, I DO. I love treasures and bargains as much as l love to look at Gucci handbags and Chanel jewelry, not with envy and longing, but with appreciation for the beauty of the craft.

The lesson I learned that day was that I didn’t really have anything in common with mean-spirited people, so they won’t be my new BFFs and I won’t be joining them again for coffee. That wasn’t the only personality difference, though. They had detached parenting styles while mine is more drone-like and very much attached. Their own parents weren’t like mine; they both had complicated and angry issues with their mothers and lots of complaints. I couldn’t relate as mine has been dead for a long time but I miss her every day.

Rant over. I’m going shopping now.

October Fevers and Aussie Binges

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“Whence October is upon us, There shall be magic in the air, why it shall be everywhere. All ye leaves shall fall as Autumn does call. And as the faery folk are now gathering up and foraging, tonight I shall be leaving them a wee offering. Why, I shall leave them a few freshly hand picked Bramble berries & a wee tipple of Whiskey, Oh why how merry they shall surely be.” –Athey Thompson

First I’m hot and then I’m freezing. I confess that I’m having a hard time locating the magic in October. Not yet.

Because I wasn’t very smart last year and didn’t get a pneumonia vaccination, I ended up really sick with the most horrible case of double (bi-lateral) pneumonia, so bad that but for the fact that I’m incredibly stubborn, I would have been hospitalized,

THIS time I got the vaccination, reluctantly, because I always endure side effects for about thirty-six hours: headache, chills, fever. Most people only experience a sore arm but my immune system likes to give me a more ambitious taste of reality.

That’s why I’m now wrapped up in a blanket on the sofa, drinking ginger tea and binge-watching my new obsession, Blue Heelers, an Australian TV show from the 90s about the daily lives of Victorian police officers working at a police station in the fictional small town of Mount Thomas.

I think I’ve pretty much exhausted all the available British shows, so I had to search in a completely different hemisphere. Yes, it’s outdated with the gigantic brick-like cell phones, floppy disks, and scrunchies, but I’m learning a lot of new words like “mozzy” for mosquito, “esky” for Eskimo cooler, “slab” for six-pack of beer, “good on ya” and “you beauty“. I had to look up “it’s my shout, mate” to learn it means whoever said it will pay for the next round of drinks.

Previously my DIL and I loved A Place To Call Home, Rake, The Newsreader, The Doctor Blake Mysteries, and of course, Bluey.

I’m bracing for more vaccinations next week because it’s better to have a robustly active immune than the alternative. The first Covid vaccine sent me immediately to urgent care with an allergic reaction (read about that here) but the rest of them have been well tolerated except for the thirty-six hours of subsequent hell.

Anyway, happy October and stay healthy!

Blink! Is it Magic? 🪄

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At one point, Angel Boy 2.0 would often ask me to do something for him; for example, he’d ask me to reach something or make him breakfast or a snack or to play MagnaTiles, anything really, and he would become incredibly impatient if it didn’t happen RIGHT THIS MINUTE.

As an impatient type myself who wants everything RIGHT NOW, I totally understood.

Instead of getting angry or telling him to wait, I started to say, “BLINK.”

It was enough of a distraction the first time I said it that he stopped and said “WHAT?”

I repeated myself, “Blink.” I mean do it, really BLINK YOUR EYES, OK?”

He blinked and looked at me.

I said, “Did anything happen? Am I magic? Do I possess magical abilities?”

He slowly shook his head…nope. (I’m sure he thought his grandma was totally cray, and he might be right, but he was engaged and interested.)

“Well, I wish I could blink my eyes so that what you want would happen in the blink of an eye, and since it obviously did NOT, it’s going to take as long as it takes. What do you think about that?”

He laughed and I did, too.

It must have been the perfect response for him because we’ve continued the tradition.

“BLINK! Did it happen? Nope, not for me either. I’m still not magical, I guess, still only human.”

It was a more fun way to get my point across that he could be a LITTLE more patient. I think I got the idea from watching Bewitched. Although I can’t twitch my nose like Samantha, I can blink my eyes.

Angel Girl recently did the same thing as I mended a torn dress for one of her dolls. Watching me, she kept impatiently repeating, “Are you finished, are you finished, why is it taking you so long?”

“Blink, girl. Blink your eyes. Is your doll all sewn up yet?”

She blinked and shook her head while her brother nodded with all the wisdom of his 7.5 years.

“See”, I held out my hands. ” I’m not magic. These hands of mine can only sew one stitch at a time and if you want me to do a good job, it’s going to take as long as it takes.”

It’s not like I have the powers of Bianca in Wishenpoof, the story about a young fairy girl who grants children’s wishes, although SOMETIMES I do swirl my arms around and say “Whish” like she does in the show, but sadly, I’m still not magical. Not at all.

No matter how many times I blink MY eyes, I’m only human.

It’s all going to take as long as it takes. Lesson learned. 🪄