Humor Columnist Blog

The Dirty Santa Chicken Blanket

Posted on December 19, 2025 by Sheila Moss

Some months ago I discovered a commercial website called TEMU. It is a Chinese site selling all manner of household odds and ends at unbelievably low prices. I was fascinated and drawn in to look at all the stuff.

Trouble is when you look, you find, and sure enough I found several items I liked. The question was: Is this site trustworthy? After all, it is out of the country and the prices are too low to be for real. I asked some of my friends if anyone had ordered from it. Some had and said the stuff was worth what they paid for it.

I decided to give it a try. I had seen a cute clock with cats on it. How can I resist a cat clock? It was perfect. I also found quilts that looked handmade with patchwork designs. One was country-looking with roosters that were cute.

I knew it would be cheap junk and take 3 months to come from China. Still, I decided to give it a try. Why do we do this stuff? In a few weeks, items started arriving. It seems that everything does not ship from China. They have local warehouses full of their best sellers and it is shipped right here in the USA.

The clock, the thing I wanted most, was a big disappointment. The clock was not two or three dimensional as it appeared in the picture. It had a flat face painted to look that way. The quilts were not pieced or quilted, they were thin flannel blankets printed to look like quilts. I should have known.

TEMU accepts returns but the items were so cheap, it wasn’t worth returning them. So, I put them in the closet with other unwanted gifts and purchases that I didn’t really want. One day maybe I’ll clean it out and give the items to charity.

Every year my church social group has a holiday party where we play “Dirty Santa.” I probably don’t need to explain it. It is a pretty well-known game and is played everywhere even at office parties. It is much more fun than a gift exchange or even gag gifts. Briefly, everyone brings a miscellaneous gift, numbers are drawn and each person opens a gift. But if someone else has opened a gift you like, you can steal it instead of taking a new one. That’s the “dirty” part. There are other rules, but that is basically it.

Usually, the gifts are white elephant type things — something someone might like. It can be a re-gift, a craft, a thrift shop item or something new but inexpensive. My non-returned items would be perfect. So, I wrapped them up and took them to the party.

After everyone ate and caught up on gossip, it was time to play. The gifts were the usual assortment of ornaments, garden tools, or kitchen items. Candles seemed to be popular. Candles are good because if you don’t want them, you can burn them up.

Eventually, someone opened the blanket. It was an instant hit! Everyone wanted that silly blanket. It was stolen over and over until the limit of steals was reached. I was in shock. I guess you never know what people will like.

The cat clock was another story. Someone opened it, but no one stole it. One person considered stealing it, but decided against it. I guess you can’t win them all. Usually, I put a lot of time and thought into my gifts. The gift I get in return always looks like a left-over relic from a gas station gift shop. I suppose I can always save it and use it next year. However, it is often so bad I feel embarrassed to gift it.

That’s the story of the chicken blanket. I have come to realize that the game is for the fun of it and the “gift” is incidental. I’m still trying to figure out the allure of the chicken blanket. If you ever need a bargain gift that everyone likes but me, I know where you can buy one.

Posted in Holidays, Humor, Shopping | Tagged Christmas, gift-ideas, Gifts, Holidays, Shopping | 8 Comments

Reviving Dad’s Birdhouses: A Touch of Love in Winter

Posted on November 18, 2025 by Sheila Moss

The frost killed all my flowers and only a few hardy survivor plants are struggling in the cold winter ground. Soon, they too will yield to the cold. Winter birds scurry around the bird feeder looking for food. It is depressing to look out my window, but I have an idea.

In the attic, I have about a dozen old bird houses inherited when my dad passed away. It is too cold for the birds to build nests now. However, the bright colors would add a happy note to the dreary landscape.

Daddy had a workshop in the old tin garage behind his house near the garden. He loved to piddle with wood and build things. Benches, tool boxes, and bird houses were his specialty. He had given all the kids and grandkids more birdhouses than they had room to hang. Anyone he liked received a bird house.

His birdhouses were not the fancy decorated ones like you see in stores. They were real birdhouses, the kind birds actually live in. There is something about knowing a birdhouse is functional, not just a decoration, that appeals to me.

Online I had seen a picture of bird houses displayed on an old wooden ladder. As luck would have it, I had an old wooden ladder that I had not yet thrown away. It was not safe for climbing any more, but it will easily hold birdhouses.

I went upstairs to the attic. I dragged the old wooden ladder downstairs, through the house, and out to the muddy yard. When cleaning the attic, I had rediscovered the birdhouses. One of them was a large purple martin house. It used to be nailed to a pole in daddy’s back yard.

I arranged the birdhouses on the ladder. The overflow went to a shelf on the fence. I use this shelf for plants in the summer. Daddy had once decided that his plain houses needed to be decorated. He tried to paint flowers and decorations on some of them. His wood working skills greatly exceeded his artistic skills.

I put them all outside anyhow and they were bright and cheerful, painted in greens, blues, and reds. Every time I look out the window, they make me smile.

No bird will move into them during the cold weather. Next spring, I will need to move them. I will space them further apart. I will put them where they are safe from the neighbor’s cats. For now, though, they look great just as they are.

So, I’ve now become bird house buff. I’ve started scouring Pinerest, Etsy, Amazon, and eBay to look at different styles and types of houses. I am shocked at the prices, but intrigued by the variety and design. Some are like miniature models of houses. Some have decorations like keys, knobs, or other hardware. Some are painted with elaborate decoration. Others are rustic, covered with twigs or moss.

I decided that what I like is the natural look of wood, bark and moss. The birds do not really care whether the house is fancy. They want something that will give shelter and deter predators. I had already had one of my older houses claimed by wasps. Nothing will run away birds faster than invading insects or animals.

I have disguised some of daddy’s more flamboyant artwork, painting some of the houses in more subdued colors. I’ve added moss and bark to a few roofs. The only hardware added was a horseshoe that used to hang over the door to daddy’s garage. Somehow it seems appropriate.

The one of a kind, rustic bird houses made by hand will always be distinctive. You can mass produce bird houses that look better. However, you can’t mass produce the love daddy put in each of his creations.

Posted in Crafts/Hobbies, Creatures, Family, Humor | Tagged Birdhouses, birding, birds, crafts, hobbies, Nature, wildlife, Yard decor | 6 Comments

Keep What Matters: Decluttering Strategies

Posted on October 20, 2025 by Sheila Moss

Marie Kondo makes it sound so simple. “Find the things that no longer spark joy. Thank them for their service, and get rid of them.” With this advice in mind, I recently had a house cleaning. I disposed of half of the clothes in my closet. I am resisting the temptation to replace them. This is true regardless of how cute that blue sweater on Amazon is.

I sucked in advice not only from the queen of de-cluttering, but from less known organizers as well. The new trend is toward minimalism. Keep only the things that you need and get rid of the rest, especially as you become older. Don’t saddle your kids with the task of cleaning out your hoard. Your children do not want your stuff. They have their own stuff. Ask “Do I use it? Do I need it? Do it love it?” if no, toss it.

This seems true. When my mother passed, I told my sister I did not want anything. But, I did end up taking a few of her more treasured possessions. I took a double wedding ring quilt from her 50th wedding anniversary. I also took an antique pitcher and bowl from one of her vacation trips. I took her iron frying pan. My sister took the things she wanted and I don’t know what happened to the rest of it.

I have heard of children getting in heated squabbles over possessions after parents pass. I decided this would not happen with us. Nothing mom had was worth arguing over. I think my sister felt the same way. My parents had already given her their car as she was the one providing transportation for them. She sold the car and we went on a trip together to London.

So, I disposed of Tupperware with no lids, books I had already read, and dishes I didn’t use. These were things organizers advised me to dispose of. Then, I started seeing articles advising me to keep things. “Do not give away your possessions. Keep the things that were part of your life and made you happy.” So the other day I was looking for my tie-dyed pants and couldn’t find them. Then I remembered the great closet disposal episode and knew what happened.

Most articles you read are written by real estate sellers. They suggest you keep your house the way that most buyers would like, not the way you like. If it looks too personal, is painted the wrong colors, or has not been updated, it will not sell. The thing is, you are not looking to sell your house. You have to live in it. It should be the way you want it. It should be comfortable for you. So, if I want two computers in my living room, that’s my business.

Thanks goodness I ignored some of the advice and kept things that were really important to me. My daughter will not want my 12 piece place setting of china and it is taking up space. I don’t care. I like it and I am keeping it, along with my paintings, copper pots and Tiffany lamps. These things are part of my life and I want them. My kids can have an estate sale or do whatever they want when I am gone. For now, I am slimming down the junk. But, I am keeping some of it. The old laptop stays. New computers can’t play a CD.

Some things become valuable over time: Vintage toys, books, jewelry, records, coins & stamps, tools, and luggage. I am not keeping things hoping to sell them later. I don’t have time or space for that.

According to statistics, seventy-five percent of people have more stuff than they want. So how much is too much and how much is enough? I suppose it depends on how much space you have, energy for cleaning, and which article you read last.

Posted in Home, Humor | Tagged Clutter, declutter, decluttering, Hoarding, Life, Lifestyle, Marie Kondo, Trash | 5 Comments

Growing Old with Grace and Humor

Posted on October 3, 2025 by Sheila Moss

Old woman using walker by Sasirin Pamai 2025, Vectors Stock Photos.

I am old. According to government statistics, the average age of death for a female is 81.1. That means I am already dead, statistically speaking. So far, I’ve not seen myself in the obituaries, but there are days when I am afraid to look.

I feel pretty healthy to be as old as I am. I attribute my good health to not thinking about it. That works for some things. For other things, not so well. I am a cancer survivor. I had to think about it when I was getting treatment. Now that I’m over it, I try to forget.

Like many oldsters, I am afflicted by arthritis. My joints hurt and prevent me from doing things I love, like gardening. I had to turn the yard over to my son. I figured he would neglect it and everything would turn to weeds. Actually, he does a pretty good job. If I knew he would do so well, I would have retired from it a long time ago.

If arthritis was the only thing wrong with me, I would be overjoyed. It is hard waking up in the morning. My legs are so stiff I am afraid I won’t make it to the bathroom. After being up for a while, it goes away. Yet, on really bad days, when it rains or storms, my body thinks it is a barometer.

I didn’t realize the damage arthritis caused until the joints in my fingers swelled. I can no longer wear my rings. That is sad as some of them have a lot of sentimental value to me. Of course, my fingers have sentimental value as well. If I wear fingernail polish, will it make my hands look better or call attention to how bad they look?

I sometimes feel as if I have nothing to talk about except illnesses and surgeries. I can’t remember how many surgeries I’ve had without counting the scars. I’ve had so many joints replaced that metal detectors hide when they see me coming.

Another common ailment of old age is loss of balance. The balance problem led to falling and hurting my knee. The bad knee led to falling and breaking a hip. Then I broke my shoulder and so on and on. I used a cane, but as things progressed I had to use a walker. I even a used a wheelchair for a while. Canes are best. No one bothers you when you have a weapon in your hand.

Dying my gray hair no longer fools anyone. Wrinkles prove my age. Creams do not help, regardless of what some celebrity says on TV. I’ve considered face lifts and Botox, but use of a walker is a dead give away of age. I keep plugging along with hair that is straight. I can’t raise my arm enough to curl it since I broke my shoulder. Looking young does not make you young.

I hired a maid to clean the house. At least she pretends she is cleaning. Recently, I’ve also decided that cooking is too hard to do on a walker. We live on precooked food or carry-out. Not cooking is a great idea. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner.

With hired help and what I can get others to do, I get by. So far I’m capable of taking care of my own personal needs without hiring a professional assistant. I can still drive, but I don’t really need a car to shop. I can get anything I want from Amazon, Chewy, or Walmart, and my cat loves the boxes.

I have some physical problems, but at least I still have my right mind. Dementia hasn’t found me yet. Old age should be a time for reflection, enjoying memories instead of making new ones. Unfortunately, reality dictates otherwise. The best way I’ve found to deal with it, though, is to keep a sense of humor. I choose to laugh at human frailties.

Posted in Health, Humor | Tagged Aging, Arthritis, Health, Life, Mental health, old age | 4 Comments

The Life of a Cat: Setting the Record Straight

Posted on September 25, 2025 by Sheila Moss

MEMO: To Whom It May Concern

FROM: Shadow, The Cat

SUBJECT: The Life of a Cat

It has come to my attention that I am being called several malicious names and subjected to false accusations. I hope to set the record straight.

Firstly, it has been alleged that I am overweight, in other words, a “fat cat”. This is totally untrue. I am oversize, but I wish to remind you that I am a Tomcat. As such, I am larger in size than smaller female counterparts. Furthermore, at my medical checkup, I passed the weigh-in. Yes, it was close, but as long as I keep my current weight, I am okay.

Secondly, I am accused of scratching the furniture. My human has covered up all possible scratching surfaces, and I am forced to scratch only my scratching posts. These posts are enjoyable, but a little variety would be helpful to resolve my scratching instinct. After all, I am a cat. What can you expect? I have discovered that the doormat makes a wonderful scratching pad, as long as my human does not know.

Third, there is the matter of the pesky dog. I do believe that silly mutt wants us to be friends. I do not need any dog friends. Hello. Dogs and cats are natural enemies. I believe I am being quite patient by not scratching his eyes out. Of course I hiss when he gets too close. I want to show him who is the boss. He must not think that he is the dominant animal around here.

Fourth, there is the ridiculous accusation that I am too affectionate. The human claims I wake her up by jumping and walking on her in the middle of the night. Five-thirty in the morning is not the middle of the night! If she would take nice little cat naps like me, she would not sleep all day. Also, she should appreciate my loving rubs and purrs. I could be hostile and hiss at her. She is lucky I am such a patient feline.

Fifth, there is the matter of my climbing on top of the refrigerator, kitchen cabinets, and table. I also climb on kitchen counters and anything else I can jump on. She must realize that cats are curious. We naturally want to explore our environment. I am not going to walk on the cooktop. I won’t get burned. She can stop using that as an excuse to harass me.

On other matters, the litter box provided is adequate for the time being. I am a factitious feline and well-mannered in matters of toileting. She can be grateful for that. I would prefer an extra litter box in the bathroom. I hope she will get on that demand before long. Enough said.

The cat food provided is dry and bland. Other cats at the shelter where I used to live said that wet cat food is really delicious. I have not had an opportunity to sample this wet food. I believe the human is deliberately withholding it. They want to keep me eating dry food. If I ever taste wet food and like it, she will be sorry. Cats are finicky and I shall never touch dry food again.

Toys: The human tried to get me to play with catnip mice and chase a laser light. These toys are not interesting and beneath my dignity. On the other hand, the feather toy on a string drives me out of my mind. I should ignore it, but I can’t resist. With my excellent hearing, I hear the tiny bells tinkle. I run from the back of the house and amuse the humans by chasing the silly feather toys.

I am an “inside only” cat. This is better than being locked in a cage all day at the shelter. All in all, I am happier at my new home than at the earlier one where I was unwanted. I am a handsome, long-haired black cat, friendly and loving. Who would not want a cat like me?

I was told there were mice here to catch, but I’ve not seen any mice. I have a feeling they all jumped ship when they realized a cat was around. Good riddance.

I will continue breaking in my new humans and hope they can be trained soon to understand cats.

So, that’s a wrap.

(P.S. You don’t need to mention this memo to my human. She doesn’t like it when I walk on the computer keyboard.)

Posted in Creatures, Humor | Tagged animals, cat, cat behavior, cats, Pet adoption, Pets | 5 Comments

Adopting a Wildcat: Two Weeks from Hell

Posted on August 28, 2025 by Sheila Moss

I wanted a cat and I got one. I named him Shadow but should have named him Satan. He is a holy terror, a wildcat, part panther, I think. “He will settle down,” everyone says. It has been two weeks and he hasn’t settled yet. He has claimed the back bedroom as his own. It has the old cat tree that I dragged in from the garage. I put it in front of a window so he can look out. But, he is more interested in jumping from the top level.

I worried about the dog frightening him. But, that is not a problem. He is a bully and seems to seek opportunities to hiss at the dog. The dog is accustomed to being an only pet. He doesn’t know what to make of this strange black hissing creature that has invaded his turf.

The trouble with a shelter cat is that you eventually see why someone else did not want him. He seems starved to death for affection, rubs on your legs wanting to be petted. “Yes, cat, I love you too, but please get your butt out of my face.” So, you have a session of cat petting. He purrs like a motor boat. A little bit of love makes him want more. It is hard to fault him for this. I hope eventually he will be secure enough to let us have peace without being so aggressive in his demands.

He does use the litter box. Thank goodness as that is a deal breaker. He is so enthusiastic in his scratching that he throws litter far and wide. I have to clean it up or it will be tracked all over the house. I think (hope) it is partly the litter brand, which is very light weight.

I ordered a 40 lb box of litter from Chewy, not realizing how heavy 40 pounds is. I don’t know how the delivery person got it off the truck. I did not move it much less lift it. Finally, I managed to scoot it onto a luggage dolly I had almost forgotten I had. Now that it has wheels, I’m not sure what to do with it.

I also bought a scratching post in hopes the cat would use it instead of the furniture. He uses both. Declawing cats is considered cruel and has fallen into disfavor. So I spend a lot of time saying, “No, NO!,” trying to train him, and praising him when he uses the scratching post.

He jumps on everything, the furniture, the table, the kitchen counters. The counters are a definite no-no as he will walk onto the hot range. He quickly conquered the top of the refrigerator and from there the top of the kitchen cabinets. I got him catnip mice and a laser toy to distract him, but he doesn’t seem interested. He would rather get into mischief.

I caught him chewing on my plants. “NO!” Plants can be toxic to cats! He must have ingested some as he threw up. At least that seems to have curbed his enthusiasm for house plants other than scratching dirt out of the pot. My other cats never bothered plants.

We have to limit his food intake as he is overweight. He is always interested when it is time to eat. He drinks a lot of water for a cat and empties his water bowl. I think he is getting help as I caught the dog drinking from it last night.

Well, that pretty much sums up my first two weeks with the new cat. I mentioned how much he likes to rub you, purr and get petted, day or night. He also loves to jump from the top of the cat tree to the bed where I am sleeping. Nothing like having an 11 pound cat drop on your chest in the middle of the night.

I am hoping he will settle down and start behaving himself with patience and training. All of this is just stuff young cats do. I can’t give him back now. I’ve spent money on a carrying case, food, litter, toys, a personalized collar, and the adoption fee. I think he is just testing his limits. He is certainly testing mine.

Posted in Creatures, Rants | Tagged animals, cat, cats, dogs, Pet adoption, Pet behavior problems, Pets | 10 Comments

The Journey of Adopting a Cat

Posted on August 16, 2025 by Sheila Moss

I said I was getting out of the cat business when my former cats both died in the same year. Cats scratch up the furniture. They shed on everything. They cost a fortune in food and vet bills. Then, they die and break your heart. I did not quit liking cats, I just quit owning cats.

Nevertheless, “Once a cat person, always a cat person,” I suppose, as I’ve just adopted another one. A stray mouse realized we no longer had cats. It decided this was the opportunity it had been waiting for. Everyone told me, “Get a cat, get a cat.” I had tried everything else, up to and including an exterminator. The cat was my last resort.

“Where can we get a cat?” asked Honey.

“Are you kidding me? Everyone is trying to re-home cats on the Internet. Unwanted cats are as frequent as cat memes on Facebook”

Normally, cats choose you. One showed up on our patio, climbed up on the barbecue grill and wouldn’t leave. Our neighbor’s son found one at the airport. My daughter rescued one after almost running over it. These are just a few examples. NOT getting a cat is the hard part.

Having never adopted from a shelter, I had no idea it was so complicated. You would think I was adopting a baby, not a homeless, unwanted, shelter cat. I expected to walk in, say “I will take that one,” and they would wrap it up. Of course, things are never that easy.

I had a friend with kittens that she wanted to re-home. One was really cute, solid white with blue eyes. I couldn’t get it out of my mind. Unfortunately, her son had bonded with it and she no longer wanted to give it away. Strike one.

After scouring all the rescue pets on Adopt a Pet, I found another white one at Metro Animal Control. It had green eyes, but I was willing to compromise. Before I got there to claim it, it was adopted by someone else. Strike two. Well, at least it has a home.

I found a white cat with blue eyes at another shelter. But it was a “special needs” cat because it was deaf. Did you know that 85% of white cats with blue eyes can’t hear? It has something to do with the genetic code. It needed a home with no other cats as it was fearful and nervous. I figured no other cats also meant no dogs. Strike three

While looking for a white cat, I noticed a ton of black cats were available, some quite striking. I have heard that black cats are hard to place as people in the U.S. associate them with bad luck. Oddly enough, in Ireland and some other countries they are considered good luck. Ancient Egyptians famously worshiped cats, even the black ones.

So, I picked out one and hoped it would not be adopted before I got there. It was a large, fluffy male cat, a gorgeous cat. I sent an inquiry and they sent me an application two pages long in fine print. “Have you ever owned a cat? Do you have any pets now?, Who will take care of the cat if you go on vacation? What if you can no longer take care of the cat? Yadda, Yadda, Yadda.

I filled it all out as “incomplete applications will not be considered.” A different shelter wanted a video of your home. I decided that was too much just to adopt a cat. It seems like an invasion of privacy as well as a security concern. Who else would see this video of your entire home?

Well, anyhow we got the fluffy black cat I wanted. We are trying to follow Jackson Galaxy protocol and separate it from the dog. On day one it was happy to stay in its room. On the second day we let it see the dog. Simba has never seen a cat, and the cat has never been around a dog. Eventually, they will adjust. I only hope it does not turn info a whirlwind of fur and claws.

Now it needs a name. I scoured the Internet again for lists of cat names. Some names are too common (Fluffy), some too cute (Eightball), and some linked to evil (Salem). Out of hundreds so far I’ve selected a few possibilities: Midnight, Shadow, Karma, TickTock, Stormy, and Twizzler.

As far as the mouse, I hope it is cursing and packing its suitcase.

Posted in Creatures, Humor | Tagged Adoption, animals, cat, cats, dogs, Luck, Pets | 13 Comments

My Ongoing Battle with Household Mice

Posted on August 8, 2025 by Sheila Moss

I can’t ever remember having so much difficulty with rodents. As you recall, I earlier mentioned that a mouse has taken up residence in my house. Even worse, it has chosen my mattress as the perfect abode.

I did all the usual things that one does to get rid of a mouse. Finally, I called in the big guns and hired an exterminator. Unfortunately, the exterminator had no better luck than I did in spite of poison and special traps. It is absolutely maddening. How can a varmint with a brain the size of a pea outsmart even a professional?

Eventually, I decided to surrender and throw away the mattress along with the unwelcome resident. I went online to Mattress Firm and selected another mattress. My mattress was old anyhow, I reasoned, and a new buy would be worth the money.

I paid extra to have the delivery guys cart out the old one and didn’t mention the resident rodent. I was really afraid it would jump out when they carried it away. Nothing happened. Thank goodness, my plan was a success.

Did I say it was a success? Actually, not exactly. It was only three days until I heard the unmistakable sound of scratching and chewing again. The mouse had found the new mattress and loved his new condo. I’m sure it was rolling out the rug, arranging furniture and hanging pictures.

By now, you are probably wondering what filthy home I am running. I must be a hoarder or slovenly house keeper to attract rodents. I swear, I run a stellar operation, empty trash, clean, and de-clutter on a regular basis. I have even hired a maid service to come weekly. According to what I read, it has nothing to do with cleanliness and even the finest mansions can have mice.

Unlike rats, a house mouse is curious. It will seek out tiny secret places to live. They can live for three days on a crumb as small as a piece of dog kibble. Even worse, they stockpile eats for their dining pleasure at a later time. Their incisors constantly grow and they must chew to keep them at a manageable length. The mouse dentist can be proud as my critter maintains his teeth in exceptional condition.

So, what to do. I consulted AI and followed every suggestion to no avail. I bought sticky traps and high-frequency sound deterrents. I bought mint mouse spray as mice dislike mint. I have the most delicious mint-smelling bedroom in town. The only thing I did not do was spray cat urine. My friends would think I’m nuts. “Hey, would you mind bringing me a pint of your cat’s pee?”

Cats are predators and mice are deathly afraid of them. I guess that explains why I have never had a mouse problem before. I’ve always had cats. Most people say “get a cat” when I tell them my problem. But cats are trouble. They shed on everything, scratch the furniture, want expensive food and have sky-high vet bills. And after they cost you a fortune, they die and break your heart. I’m not sure which is worse, a mouse or a cat.

I think I will have to throw away a brand new mattress. But if it didn’t work before, what’s to say it will work this time? Nonetheless, if this continues, I will soon spend more on exterminators and repellents than the cost of the mattress. I keep thinking it will eat the poison the exterminator put out and eventually die. It is quiet for a day or two and my hopes are up, then it returns.

At this point, there seem to be only a few things left to do. I will throw out the mattress and not buy a new one. Second choice is to get another stupid cat. Lastly, I name the mouse “Micky” and learn to live with it. If I was sure it was “Micky” and not “Minnie,” that would be a choice.

But what if the scratching I hear is mamma mouse preparing a nursery? I will soon have dozens of mini-critters running around.

Posted in Creatures, Home, Humor | Tagged Exterminator, Mice, Mouse, pest-control, Rodents | 10 Comments

Buzzwords We Love to Hate

Posted on July 24, 2025 by Sheila Moss

Sometimes it’s the little things that get under our skin. According to the old adage, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me.” As a craftier of words, I take exception to this. Words can be very powerful, but some of them make us simply scratch our head and wonder.

Are there certain expressions that make you cringe every time you hear them? Maybe everyone has words or phrases that make them bristle like a cat being rubbed backwards, or is it is just me? Anyhow, I have started writing them down. Here are a few buzzwords that will probably be in the Oxford Dictionary soon if they are not already.

Baby bump – Sounds like child abuse, doesn’t it? Celebrities and others have taken to calling their pregnant belly a baby bump. It is supposed to be a cute way of saying, “Look at me, I’m expecting!” Call it what it is, your fat pregnant belly, and stop showing it off in front of a camera. We know what you end up with is a beautiful thing, but truthfully, your fat belly isn’t cute.

Photo bomb – Sounds like a terrorist photographer. Ever try to take a picture on vacation and have it spoiled by all the other tourists trying to take the same picture? The expression was probably invented by paparazzi, angry that their perfect shot isn’t worth a dime because someone else wandered into the frame and the picture “bombed.” Sometimes it is an accident, sometimes a deliberate gag, and sometime due to the giant ego of someone who wants to steal the show. What ever happened to the word “bloopers”?

BOGO sale – What the heck is a BOGO and why are they on sale? This term is an often seen in online ads and in supermarket circulars. It came from an acronym used in text messages and means “buy one, get one free.” Why don’t they just say this? I have to wonder how many sales are lost due to senseless, witty expressions. I thought they were still called twofers, which shows how behind the times I am. I doubt that I’m the only one, however, who doesn’t need a BOGO today. Thanks anyhow.

Twerking – We know what it technically means, a combination of “twist,”and “work.” Most people think Miley Cyrus invented the word to explain her sexually suggestive MTV performance, but actually the word is much older than Cyrus. Some say it is African and some say it appeared first in rap music. Miley learned to twerk and hasn’t stopped since. I seriously do not want to see or hear this word again. If you must display your private parts, call it something less silly sounding than twerking.

Black ice – Dirty snow? Frozen slush? Show me some black ice. There is no such thing. Weather reporters are probably responsible for this one. It seems that thin ice on asphalt is transparent and appears to be black. This is another terminology that is a bit too clever for me. It is thin ice, invisible ice, or an ice-slick road. Reality is ominous enough for most drivers.

Bucket list – Good grief, I cannot figure out why anyone would want to carry around a list in a bucket. As it turns out, it is supposed to mean a list of things you want to do before you die. (Die meaning, kick the bucket.) I suppose it is meant to be humorous. The thing about a “to do” list is that it is never finished as there are always more things to do. If you never finish your list, do you have to carry a bucket with you to eternity? If you finish your bucket list, does that mean you are ready to die?

You probably have a few words that are pet peeves that you can add to my list right now. I’m sure I will think of more and grit my teeth every time I hear it. Buzzwords seem to come and go with the times. Sometimes they go out of vogue before the dictionary even has a chance to add them.

Come to think of it, I don’t much care for the term “buzzword” either.

Posted in Humor, Rants | Tagged grammar, pet peeves, words, Writing | 6 Comments

Driving Through Cataract Surgery

Posted on July 18, 2025 by Sheila Moss

When Honey went to the eye doctor for his regular exam, he received some bad news. “I have to have eye surgery!” he told me. My mind quickly conjured up all sorts of horrible maladies.

“I have to have cataract surgery,” he explained.

Cataract surgery is very common. In fact, almost everyone will have to have it at around age 70 if they live long enough. It is out-patient surgery, takes about 30 minutes and they don’t even put you to sleep.

I tried to reassure him. Of course, just like every sniffle is man-flu, every eye problem is a near-death experience. Thank goodness surgery was scheduled soon, so I would not have to hear him obsess about it for months.

“You have to drive me — I won’t be able to drive!” he exclaimed. Not being able to drive for a man is almost worse than having surgery.

By the time the day finally arrived, Honey had only reminded me about a dozen times that I would have to drive him. To be fair, he knows how much I hate to drive downtown during rush hour. But in a case like this, there is really no choice.

For some reason surgery is always scheduled at the crack of dawn. “You have to get up early.” Honey obsessed. I didn’t need an alarm as he woke me up 30 minutes before it went off, not that he was anxious or anything.

“You can drive there,” I said, “And I will drive us home.”

The traffic was bumper to bumper. For some reason the state has installed new electronic speed limit signs and the highway department loves changing the speed limit to 30 mph creating rear-end panic among drivers. It used to be officially 70 mph and unofficially as fast as you can crawl in heavy traffic.

Honey mumbled and complained and I held on to the door handle as tightly as possible. I am sure that if we ever have an accident they will say, “If she had only held onto the door tighter, it wouldn’t have happened.”

They always have you arrive an hour early for medical procedures so you have plenty of time to get nervous. The surgery, however, went without incident. The drive home did not. When I went out to get the car, it was pouring rain, and I don’t mean ordinary rain. It was monsoon.

My umbrella, of course, was in the car as who knew it would rain. I had no choice but to go outside through the rain as the nurse was waiting at the front door with him in a wheelchair. I was soaked to the skin getting to the car.

“How was the surgery?” I asked.

“I don’t remember,” he said. That seemed a little strange, but whatever…

The drive home was a nightmare, rain so hard I could not see anything except the fuzzy taillights of the car in front of me and the many puddles on the road.

The air conditioner was on and I was freezing as I was soaking wet. I could not take my eyes off the road long enough to adjust it. “Can you turn the air off?” He tried, but couldn’t see and managed to poke every button but the right one. By the time we arrived home, I was a Popsicle.

The good news is we made it home in spite of cold air and rain storms. The bad news is we get to do it again in two weeks for the other eye. They only do one eye at a time because — well — it’s your eyes, for God’s sake. Just in case something goes wrong, you will still have one left. Reassuring isn’t it?

The second trip was much less eventful than the first. I asked the nurse why he can not remember the surgery from the first eye. “I thought they did not put you completely to sleep.” I mused.

“You are awake,” she said, “But the sedative we use causes temporary amnesia.”

He made it through the second surgery without incident, and we made it home eventually after detours to Petsmart and Publix. Honey can almost see now except for small print. He is sure he can drive to his regular Bridge game tomorrow. I just hope he can see the cards.