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Posts Tagged ‘humor’

No Clapping Zone

Posted in inspiration, tagged , , , , , , , , , , on July 14, 2022| Leave a Comment » 

“Wrinkles should merely indicate where smiles have been.” – Mark Twain

No Clapping Zone

Dupuytren’s Contracture in my left hand
joins with an arthritic thumb to create
its own clumsy five-digit island.

On my right hand, a long-ago 
partially healed broken middle finger
refuses to bend. And avoids vulgar messages.

None of the ten appendages chooses 
to juggle anything more challenging
than a dose of Tylenol.

On one point both hands agree.
No clapping possible.
We look like drunk spiders.

And yet, both left and right concur
in more important matters.
In everyday places.

Let’s cook a meal. Ignore the spills.
Or type this poem, or send a message
to someone who needs support.

Let the larger audience carry
the greater approval for performances.
These hands will offer gifts. Just give them time.

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The Keys Are Where?

Posted in humor, tagged , , , , on November 5, 2021| Leave a Comment »

Getting lost is just another way of saying, “going exploring.” (Justina Chen Headley, North of Beautiful)

I should have said sayonara to this purse weeks ago. Right after I dumped its contents on a blacktop parking lot where there wasn’t enough light to guide an owl. No ring of keys anywhere. Or so it seemed. Then my son lifted the purse to my trunk and the back car lights flashed. The car key had to be inside. Halleluiah. But where?

 A hole in the bottom lining had swallowed my keys. The holes multiplied. They had also devoured some coupons, my watch, and the original key ring I swore had been buried somewhere between Pennsylvania and Rhode Island. I wrote about the loss. With certainty. One good possibility had been a sand dune. Vacationland, I apologize for blaming you.

How can an inorganic object develop kleptomania? Especially something I carry everywhere I go. It didn’t learn a thing about honesty from my experience. Like the time I went to the grocery for toothpaste and came home with six bags of everything else, or the time I had to admit the cherry pie was a no-go because I had used baking powder instead of cornstarch in the filling. The boil-over would have made an interesting science experience if it were an easier clean-up.

 I have been telling myself, I will cut through the rest of the leather and find enough cash to feed a city parking meter for an hour. Or maybe just a small cup of yogurt.

However, it would probably be best to simply say goodbye now. I have what I need. The purse served me well before its problems started. Wait, I found one more paper clip…

 

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A Final Conversation with My Dying Microwave

Posted in humor, inspiration, tagged , , , , , , on July 2, 2021| Leave a Comment »

 

Life does exist. It’s the purpose that counts. (Toba Beta, My Ancestor Was an Ancient Astronaut)

Me: What is wrong with you? Ten minutes ago, you turned bacon into the crisp treat my granddaughter loves. Now you have the power of a second-hand toy microwave, the kind with parts that aren’t made anymore.

Microwave: You really want to know.

Me: Yes, I really want to know. STAT. I have guests for brunch.

Microwave: STAT. That stands for Some Time After Therapy. Extensive treatment. You warmed that coffee long enough to mimic molten lava. Did you really think that would coax me into action? If I suddenly rose from the dead, whose tongue were you trying to burn?

Me: Okay. Okay. I was desperate. Wait a minute. You are dead?

Microwave: Not completely. You need to pull my plug.

Me: Literally.

Microwave: Yes. I’m an appliance. You don’t pay for my healthcare. Electricity was all I needed. And an occasional cleaning. I can deal with a garbage-pickup burial. I wish you warm leftovers with no spillovers. May my replacement last as long as I have.

Me: Your timing stinks, you know.

Microwave: And you think you will be planning your demise?

Me: You’re mighty clever for an appliance. No. I don’t think I will jump into a casket on purpose.

Microwave: Well, your son has taken over the stove. Quite well. He’s not staring at a dying appliance for help. Time to face facts, human. You are mighty lucky to have something like me. Gratitude? Yeah. For what you have. For what you can do. Your son is calling you now. Your meal is ready. Celebrate. I’ll wave at you from the curb on pickup day. Well, I’ll wave metaphorically.

And by the way, nothing is wrong with me. Not in the larger scheme of things. You don’t blame a battery for wearing out. Or a day from turning into night. I did what I was meant to do.

Now, you do the same.

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Sonnet by a Mature Woman, a Poem

Posted in inspiration, tagged , , , , , on June 21, 2021| Leave a Comment »

new beautician

Happiness is when what you say, what you think, and what you do are in harmony. (Mahatma Ghandi)

No, I don’t wear makeup. It doesn’t hide anything that isn’t superficial. During play, my granddaughter acted as my new beautician. Since the mascara was probably bought sometime during the Reagan era, I washed my face as soon as possible and then discarded the contents of the old makeup bag.

However, I saved this poem, written and published in Dream Weaver Magazine in January of 1998.

Sonnet by a Mature Woman

New wrinkle creams entice from glossy ads
with svelte, young anorexics smiling out
at both my chins, at skin too old for fads.
Bold claims portrayed in color, dull my doubt.
 
Be young. Be free. Deny the lines of time.
The agony of blemish, breasts that sag
must never mar a body fit to climb
perfection’s route, nor risk cosmetic snag.
 
And yet my husband sees each bulge and flaw
with eyes that know the gain and loss of years
we’ve shared: the new and old, the fresh and raw
of yesterdays with struggles, joys, and fears.
 
We see within each other love held deep.
Compared to banal wisdom, beauty’s cheap.

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Goosely Translated, a Poem

Posted in inspiration, tagged , , , , , on June 5, 2021| 1 Comment »

flying geese

It ain’t what they call you, it’s what you answer to. W.C. Fields


GOOSELY TRANSLATED

Two Canada geese
settle into an angled parking space
in a Wal-Mart lot.

They take turns 
sharing shreds of bun
left in a torn red McDonald’s box.

One goose eats.
The other stands and watches.
They protect one another.

A car honks.
The blast interrupts their feast.
Harsh and threatening 
human voices call to the birds
as they flee.

The geese answer
from their aerial perspective.
I interpret their comeback
into English.

Excellent volume.
Lacks style.


Illustration created from a clipart drawing, pastels, and colored paper

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The Seasons of Envy: A Poem

Posted in inspiration, tagged , , , , , on April 10, 2021| 1 Comment »

clean sheets

The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there.  (L.P. Hartley, The Go-Between)

THE SEASONS OF ENVY

When my kids were little
another young mother
ironed sheets, handkerchiefs,

boxer shorts, and the white T-shirts
her husband wore
to repair other folks’ plumbing.

A super-heroine mom.
I don’t recall her name.
We belonged to the same circle,

but I rarely spoke to her.
I thought we were too different.
Her kids appeared photo-shoot ready,

even in the sandbox.
Before noon my kids’ shirts needed pre-soak.
My boys called dress-up clothes corpse attire,

and a shirt buttoned to the neck, a noose.
Hours bonding with an iron didn’t suit my lifestyle.
Yet, I wondered how super-mom managed.

I honored her the way some people venerate saints,
the ones who accept martyrdom over burning coals
as if it were sunburn.

I meditate as I iron. Her explanation. Life’s wrinkles transformed.
Mine remained. I recall those days 
as I change bed sheets on an ordinary Thursday afternoon.

I notice holes in fabric
that has lasted through bleach, hot water,
myriad spins, more than one washer and dryer.

I consider the decades,
the blood clot in my lung, my parents’ funerals,
and nights when I couldn’t sleep.

I rub my hand over creases
and feel the texture of old cotton,
as if I could gather the years,

hold and thank them
for loss and imperfections
that have added character to my imperfections.


















					
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From the POV of my Coffee Cup

					

					Posted in humor, inspiration, tagged , , , ,  on March 12, 2021|
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We lose many things simply out of fear of losing them. (Paulo Coelho)


Anthropomorphic. Yup, I admit it. In this short blog, my coffee cup understands every word I say. I’m too lost in my own overfull agenda to hear it.


“Holy grounds, I had that mug a second ago. Where the heck did it go?”


“Before you made stew in the crock-pot, checked your email, put in a load of wash, emptied the dishwasher…By the way, my contents are iceberg cold.”


I walk through the kitchen, living room, and dining room.


“That wasn’t a second ago.” The cup’s tone is as cold as the coffee.


“Come on. Where are you? I need to leave for art class in less than thirty minutes.”


“Try locked in the microwave. Put in your hearing aids. Follow the beeps. Please, lady. I’d open the door by myself, but your screaming would crack my surface. I’ve heard your descant. You strike a mighty high range.”


“Oh, there it is. Maybe if I heat it again, I’ll have time to drink at least half.”


“Then leave me with a dark ring around my middle. Gee thanks.”


“Now to get my shoes…Wait a minute! I know I took them off while I was on the couch.”


“Hah, hah,” says a black, old slip-on from just under the sofa. “I thought I would help us both out a bit, mug. She takes me for granted, too.”


Some of my things have a bizarre sense of humor.


 


 





					
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The Almost Ice-Cream Cake

					

					Posted in inspiration, tagged , , , , ,  on February 28, 2021|
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Failure doesn’t exist. It’s only a change of direction. (Alejandro Jodorowsky)


Oops! One smudge of cake batter on my pinky. And it tastes horrid. The mixture is missing…sugar! The surprise cake is for someone I love. However, this concoction would work better as an eviction notice for squirrels damaging the attic. 


My creation. Saved in time.


An ice cream center, yes! A great idea. Until the freezer door is left partially open. The chocolate cake is lovely. But it looks like it was lined with pale pond scum. 


My sweet guest isn’t in the mood for cake anyway. Then, she admits ice cream has been bothering her belly. I guess I need to change direction.


Amazing what sweetness can do. Depending upon what kind it is. Fortunately, in everyday life, flavor and savor don’t need to contain calories.  Amiability does require intention. 


This time I am lucky. My guest and I haven’t seen one another for months. She settles in as if she were here yesterday. And the day previous.


“Help yourself,” I say. She puts hot sauce on her spaghetti. I smile but don’t try it.


Life doesn’t have much to do with my expectations. How much I adjust is another matter.


 


 





					
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One Mask, Not Pretty but It Works

					

					Posted in inspiration, positive thinking, tagged , , , , , , , , , , ,  on April 19, 2020|
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Everybody’s talking about people breaking into houses but there are more people in the world who want to break out of houses. (Thornton Wilder, 1897-1975)


 Thornton, you were ahead of your time.


 I am reviewing my four-year-old-child skills. With the same lack of finesse. Making a mask from one of my husband’s old shirts. The mask I have pulls my hearing aids out, and the silk scarf I tried for the grocery store, slid off as if I’d smeared my face with bacon grease.


 Now, I model my newest creation. In cotton, St. Patrick’s Day green, designed for social distancing wear. 


 Take an old T-shirt. Cut off the bottom, as wide a space as needed to tie around the face. Then cut out a square on each side, leaving enough room to tie above and below the ears. 


 This version took a few minutes, with scissors that have cut a lot of paper. And numbed the cutting edges. Something like chewing celery without teeth.


Yes, I do have artistic ability. And no, I didn’t use any of it here. Genuine creation takes time. All I want now is a walk. Outside. Where the air moves a farther distance than a furnace fan can reach. 


Slipshod work is good enough. A little fabric glue between the layers later will complete the project.


 


And—my husband and I—we are in the sun. Vitamin D, I’m ready to soak you in. 


 White clouds and blue sky, may I never take you for granted again.


 


 

					
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Trick-or-Treat, Ella-style

					

					Posted in inspiration, positive thinking, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , ,  on October 10, 2019|
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The simple things are also the most extraordinary things, and only the wise can see them. (Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist.)


Ella and I play trick-or-treat any time of the year. Our version transcends reality. The costume takes over the wearer. A skeleton drinks apple juice and it passes from bone to bone to the front porch.


Today Ella wants me to be permanent trick-or-treater while she adjusts the treat to the visitor.


“Hi,” I say, then complain. “I’m a tree, and yeah, I know the peaceful nature scene. Quiet. The woods. All that. But I have bugs climbing all over me. Squirrels are nuts. They don’t just eat them. And the birds? That early morning song is nice enough, but the pre-dawn time can get on your sap after a while.”


Ella smiles and then takes on a composed expression. “Okay. Here’s a woodpecker.”


I’m immediately out of character. Our girl has a sense of humor. Down syndrome, yes. Up personality? No question about it.


 


photo a combination of pic taken in our backyard and portion of public domain pic

					
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