Cookies, Chickens, Frogs & More

Sometimes I get a kick out of unusual observances and holidays. 

            This past Sunday was Mother’s Day, of course, and International Nurses Day, but also Limerick Day, National Nutty Fudge Day, National Doodle Day, Hug Your Cat Day and Odometer Day.

            Monday was Frog-Jumping Day; Tuesday was National Chicken Dance Day.  You DID dance in celebration, didn’t you?

 

           Among the observances on Wednesday were Straw Hat Day, Turn Beauty Inside Out Day, Nylon Stockings Day and one of my favorites, National Chocolate Chip Day.  It’s too hot to commemorate Nylon Stockings Day (for those of you who still wear such things) but it’s never too hot for chocolate chips. 

            And then there’s this: The Headless Chicken Day is always the third weekend in May.  (Yep, it’s called “day” even though it’s two days.) 

            According to the sponsoring organization’s web site, the event is based on a true story about a Wyandotte rooster named Mike.  On September 10, 1945,  Leon Olsen, a Fruita, Colorado, farmer, used an axe to make Mike headless so that the rooster would be his family’s dinner, but rooster Mike “continued trying to peck for food.” 

            The festival celebrates Mike’s example, noting that “you can continue to lead a normal life, even after you have lost your mind.”

            If those folks in Fruita ever make the festival a week-long affair, they can celebrate The Headless Chicken Day along with National Chicken Dance Day.  Quite an observance, wouldn’t you say?   

 

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Kudzu Keepsakes

It's a new venture for us.  We've just opened two little businesses - Kudzu Keepsakes and Spitting Images Gallery - inside a new antique mall, Summerville Antique Gallery.

The antique gallery features antiques, uniques and such.

Here are a few of our items in Kudzu Keepsakes.

 

Can this foot DANCE?

Do you think this foot can DANCE? 

"Dance" is the theme for this week's PHOTO HUNT. 

The fake foot is probably the weirdest thing I have listed on eBay right now.  Below are some of the more sensible items.  (Much more sensible, in fact.)

Stoke-on-Trent wash basin

LARGE bag for cat lover!

Quimper from France

 Heath & Rose by Spode Copeland.

Spode's Jewel Copeland Billingsley Rose

Charnwood by Wedgwood

Just in case you're on eBay, look me up.  I'm "evidence."

Getting Needled!

           Have you ever been needled?

            I have. 

            This time, I’m not talking about whether someone has annoyed you or irritated you, i.e. needled you.  I’m talking about having needles put all over your body – inserted through your skin.

            Aside from having various injections for ongoing problems, last week I received acupuncture.  During acupuncture treatment, long thin needles are inserted at various points.

            It’s the points that I don’t understand. 

            For sciatic pain in my left hip and leg, the acupuncturist placed a bunch of needles all over my right arm.   I don’t understand how needles puncturing my right arm help relieve pain in my left hip.  But they do.

            Then, to treat chronic sinus problems, the acupuncturist put needles in both of my knees. 

            Yes, I know; it sounds crazy.  It even feels somewhat crazy.

            The acupuncturist explained that her method of treatment should be viewed much as a light switch and a light.  To turn on an overhead light, it’s not necessary that the switch be right next to the light fixture.  Most of us know that the switch is on the wall next to a door, yet a flip of the switch causes the light to come on. 

            There’s a kind of energy that runs through our systems.  If it becomes unbalanced, someone needs to flip the switch to return the balance, to get the energy train back on the tracks.  Acupuncture involves putting needles at certain points in the body to help reverse or change the flow of energy.

            I guess it turns out that ol’ Ezekiel had it right all along about all of “dem bones” being connected.  The bones are connected, and so are all of the other body systems. 

            Even so, I still don’t totally understand how acupuncture works or why, but I understand that it does work.  Right now, that’s all I need to know. 

            In this instance, being needled is a good thing.  

           

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Boxes - and More Boxes

                        I’ve never seen so many boxes in my life!

                        It’s been six weeks since we moved, or at least since we started moving.  The whole moving process seems unending.  We’re still surrounded by boxes.

                        With everything else going on – like sleeping, eating, cooking, church, work, etc. – we can’t spend 24 hours a day unpacking boxes.  I wonder if we’ll be through by Christmas. 

                        Since Dupp and I are still relatively newly-wed, we have “his stuff,” “her stuff,” “our stuff” and stuff that has been stored in PODS for a few years. 

                        And among all of this stuff are some things we don’t recognize.  At all.  A visitor asked recently about a clock.  I told her to ask Dupp about it ‘cause I’d never seen it before.  Strange.  Dupp said it wasn’t his either. 

                        We found parts of three blenders but not all of the parts to any one blender. 

                        We’ve also found enough crockpots to open a crockpot museum.  I’ll admit that I enjoy using crockpots, even for boiled peanuts.  I’ve been known to use two or three at a time when we had folks coming over. 

                        It’s no telling what all we will discover or rediscover. 

                        Until today, going through boxes was a slow process.

                        That changed when the two grandsons came for a five-day visit.  Do you know how fast a four-year-old and a seventeen-month-old can open and go through boxes? 

                        It takes less than 24 hours for two little boys to unpack every box. 

                        Sure, it’s going to take a long time to put stuff away or donate it or sell it or whatever.  But, thanks to the grandsons, we don’t have as much unpacking to do.

                        Besides, boxes make wonderful toys for playing, imagining, creating and building.  The two boys love having empty boxes.

                        And so do we!

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Signs of the Times?

            I was driving along the other day when a sign caught my attention.

            It was a relatively small sign on a pole and it looked to be hand-lettered.

            The only word on the white background was “Divorce.”  Under the word, though, was “$149.00.”

            Talk about “false advertising” or deception, that would be it.  I don’t know any divorced person - or even relative or friend of a divorced person - who would agree that the cost of a divorce is only $149.00. 

            Come to think about it, there aren’t many of those things we call “major life events” that don’t end up costing a fortune or so.

            Just look at marriage.  Sometimes young adults are encouraged to wait until they can afford marriage before taking the step.  They might as well remain single.

            Likewise, many times young couples are advised not to have children until they can afford them.  They just as well remain childless.

            All of the words of advice and encouragement are meaningful; yes, it does help to get one’s feet on the ground financially – at least somewhat – before taking on certain major responsibilities. 

            But, just like divorces cost a whole lot more than $149.00, marriage and child-rearing are expensive propositions.

            In fact, just living is pretty doggoned expensive. 

            That’s not all, though.  Have you looked at the cost of dying recently?

            If there were a way for people to wait until we could afford dying to die, we’d all be living to the age of Methuselah.

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Lawyers and Insurance Companies!

(The following is reprinted from The Azar Newsletter, an e-publication of long-time friend Joe Azar.)

Don't know if it is true, but it's a great story of don't-get-mad-get-even.

BEST TRUE LAWYER STORY OF THE YEAR, DECADE, AND POSSIBLY THE CENTURY



. . . .A lawyer purchased a box of very rare and expensive cigars, then insured them against, among other things, fire.

Within a month, having smoked his entire stockpile of these great cigars, the lawyer filed a claim against the insurance company.



In his claim, the lawyer stated the cigars were lost 'in a series of small fires.' The insurance company refused to pay, citing the obvious reason, that the man had consumed the cigars in the normal fashion.

The lawyer sued - and WON! (Stay with me.)

Delivering the ruling, the judge agreed with the insurance company that the claim was frivolous. The judge stated nevertheless, that the lawyer held a policy from the company, in which it had warranted that the cigars were insurable and also guaranteed that it would insure them against fire, without defining what is considered to be unacceptable 'fire' and was obligated to pay the claim.

Rather than endure lengthy and costly appeal process, the insurance company accepted the ruling and paid $15,000 to the lawyer for his loss of the cigars that perished in the 'fires'.

NOW FOR THE BEST PART...

After the lawyer cashed the check, the insurance company had him arrested on 24 counts of ARSON!!! With his own insurance claim and testimony from the previous case being used against him, the lawyer was convicted of intentionally burning his insured property and was sentenced to 24 months in jail and a $24,000 fine. 

(You reckon there was a politician involved in this whole thing???  Just askin'.)

`        `             `                  `               `

It's Breaking News, and a Sigh Heard 'Round the World

Remember learning about the “shot heard around the world?”


There was something similar last week. It was a widespread and collective sigh of relief heard ‘round the world.

You heard it, didn’t you? It was the response to the headline-grabbing news that Bert and Ernie would not be getting married.

Yes, right in there with joblessness, the economy, the stock market, the war in Afghanistan, missing children and more, we learned from Sesame Street folks that the popular Muppets would not be getting hitched.


Bert & Ernie photo from their Facebook page


Bert and Ernie, you see, are both males and they’ve been roommates a long time. Recently, there was a petition encouraging Bert and Ernie just to go ahead and tie the knot, now that gay marriages are legal in New York.

Sesame Street responded that the two wouldn’t be getting married: "They were created to teach preschoolers that people can be good friends with those who are very different from themselves."

The explanation is that Bert and Ernie wouldn’t be legalizing a relationship that didn’t exist; they are simply roommates and good friends with “no sexual orientation.”

I say “hooray” to the Sesame Street crowd but my “hooray” has nothing to do with whether or not Bert and Ernie are gay. I’m just sick and tired of issues being injected where they don’t belong.

Bert and Ernie, modeled on a banana and an orange when created, were introduced in 1969. They are puppets, for goodness sakes.

Whether Bert and Ernie are gay or not shouldn’t even be addressed on this children’s show.

Like the Sesame Street statement said, they are around to teach tolerance and friendship “with those who are very different from themselves.”

Besides, we’re told these two puppets have no sexual orientation at all.

Now, isn’t that different enough?


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Sheep and Beer Bottles

Have you ever counted sheep?


If not, what do you do when you can’t seem to get to sleep?

I’ve always had a hard time going to sleep. I also have a hard time waking up!!

Counting sheep doesn’t seem to work for me. I could never figure out where all to find the sheep and which sheep to count. Are the sheep supposed to be out in a field or pasture, just wandering around? Or are they supposed to passing by in single file in a line or in a semi-circle over the bed?

Sometimes I get up and read, or work a crossword puzzle, or create a crossword. Sometimes I get up to do some writing. But all of these things seem to stimulate the brain, so that I’m awake for hours and hours.

Recently, I finally tried silently “singing” an old song: “A Hundred Bottles of Beer on the Wall.”

It takes a while but this seems to work better than anything else. The problem is that, the older I get, the less I can remember. As I try to go backwards from 100, I can’t keep track of how far I’ve gotten numerically. Try as I might, I can’t seem to remember if I just did the verse for 95 or if 95 is the next one.

One night I got down to 53 before falling asleep, but I think I did all of the 60s and all of the 70s twice that night.

It’s likely that on some nights I do the same number several times over before moving on.

But, as long as I finally get to sleep, I guess it doesn’t really matter which numbers I’m doing.

Now, if I could just figure out a way to wake up quickly.

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Can't Blondes Have Fun -- AND Be Smart?

Some folks are so prejudiced against blondes. Have you noticed?  People make fun of blondes and act like blondes can’t be intelligent or even somewhat smart.
Society frowns on jokes showing prejudices – except when it comes to blondes. It’s not politically correct to tell stories and jokes about religion, sex, ethnicity, age or color, unless, of course, that color is blonde.

I’m here to defend blondes. I am blonde. Or at least I was the last time I saw my roots. Sure, the color is a very dirty, dishwater, almost brown-and-mostly-gray blonde, but it is a blonde of sorts.

Okay, so it's many sorts of blonde. There’s quite a variety of colors and shades in that mixture now.

But back to my original point. Why do so many people think blondes can’t be smart? There are blonde scientists, teachers, lawyers, engineers, authors, doctors, etc.

I’m blonde. I can read and write. I’ve got a law degree. I know how to use a computer. Except when the computer is malfunctioning.

I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not savvy enough to figure out how to fix any kind of problem if the computer is on the blink, and, recently, my computer was, in fact, on the blink. It totally blinked out.

The manufacturer sent a box for me to use to return the computer and said it might take up to two weeks to repair. Two weeks? I’m lost without a computer. How in the world would I survive for two weeks?

Nevertheless, I dropped off the computer at the designated shipping place and inside the designated shipping box.

Less than 48 hours later, it was there on our doorstep!

That’s because I had shipped it right back to myself!!!!

Now, why is it that some folks think blondes aren’t so smart?



Sherry at the computer!



Do You Like Your Name?

Do you like your name?

Have you ever wished your parents had given you a different name?

Choosing names for a child is a wonderful opportunity and an awesome responsibility.

I’ve often wondered how much of a child’s personality, if any, is shaped by his or her name; if children befriend others with similar-sounding names more than they befriend those with unusual names; if teachers show any kind of preference – even sub-consciously – to students with traditional names.

When it comes to later in life, are job opportunities somewhat different based on names. Do some names indicate more creativity than do others? Do some represent stability and maturity?

And, finally, if a person’s identity is strongly tied to his or her name, what happens to a woman’s identity when she changes her name at marriage?

All of these thoughts are swirling through my head because I just read that we are in the midst of “Celebrate Your Name Week.”

Not only is there a special week about names, the days in it include observances: Sunday was “Namesake Day”; Monday, “Fun Facts About Names Day”; Tuesday, “Unique Names Day”; Wednesday, “Learn What Your Name Means Day”; Thursday, “Nametag Day”; and Friday, “Middle Name Pride Day.”

I’ve had so many last names that it might take the whole month for me to celebrate!

Most of us like to protect our names; we take a certain kind of pride in our names. For example, my name is spelled “Sherry.” I can’t stand to have it spelled “Sheri” or “Sherrie” or any other way. There’s nothing wrong with those spellings; they just aren’t my name.

Mom’s name is “Elsie.” It’s occasionally written as “Elise” and she doesn’t like that. And I know two people named “Elise” who don’t like to be called “Elsie.”

Sister Christy probably has her name spelled incorrectly on occasion, as do brother Shawn and sister Lorri. Our late brother Rod probably didn’t have as many problems with the spelling of his name, although he – like any of us who have ever been involved in politics – often was called many other names, and not so complimentary ones either.

Ah, a rose by any other name: would it really smell as sweet?

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Part TWO: Aftermath - The BOTTOM Line

Yep, this is Part 2 of “Aftermath – The BOTTOM Line.”

If you read the blog post from earlier this week, you understand that the use of the number “2” is both ironic and appropriate.

After all, this IS the aftermath of a hemorrhoidectomy we’re dealing with.

The first time I met the surgeon – I’ll just use his real last initial and call him Dr. S – I could tell this wasn’t going to be any joyride.

That’s partly because when I asked him about recovery, he answered, “Well, you won’t like me for about three weeks.” And right now, I’m thinking three weeks was a bit short-sighted.

The other clue that this wouldn’t be a joyride was that Dr. S seemed to look down at the floor when he answered my question. Now, sure, I realize these doctors who perform this particular procedure may not be used to dealing with or concentrating on people’s FACES, but I felt like he just didn’t want to have to meet my eyes when he shared the gosh-awful news.

As it turned out, Dr. S wasn’t even the one who did the surgery; he was called out of town unexpectedly, so I met the second Dr. S (Dr. S2) on the day of surgery.  Yes, both of the docs have last names that begin with "S."

[It just occurred to me that, if there were another doctor in the practice with the last name of, oh, say “Adams,” the acronym for the three would be perfect for what they do.]

As I was leaving my first follow-up visit after surgery, I commented about the gorgeous photographs adorning the walls. I was told that Dr. S2 was the photographer, to which this additional comment was made: “He has an excellent eye.”

Well, maybe NOT. He had just looked at my, uh, surgical site and pronounced I was doing fine!

I was NOT doing fine.

Earlier this week, while recuperating – when I was finally able to walk and to act somewhat like a human being again – I took my horrendously noisy car to the auto repair shop.

After hearing the noise, Robin, the friendly shop owner, said, “Maybe you just need a new tailpipe.”

Lord, if she only knew!!!!!

Truer words were never spoken!



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Life -- In Graph Form. Do You Recognize Any?

This was forwarded by a friend and it was too good not to share.  Thanks to Rose in U.K.