Tips on Doing Housework

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Ever since the beginning of history, it has been the woman’s job to sweep the cave, and dust the stalagmites. While men have come a long way in recent times, statistics say that housework is still mainly the domain of the women. To enlighten you on how this is best accomplished, I’ve developed a list of tips:

1. Start in the kitchen and do wet cleaning first. Wipe counter tops with warm water and cleaner with a small amount of grease solvent. Wipe out microwave oven. Look in refrigerator. Ugh! Wipe off front of shelves and leave refrigerator for next time. Ditto on oven.

2. Now that kitchen is spotless, mop the kitchen floor. Lemon ammonia is nice and does not leave a soap film. I meant, put a small amount of ammonia the in mop water. Cough! Open a door or window and let fumes out! Be careful, as wet floors are slickkkkkkk…

3. While you are wet anyhow, clean the tile floors in the bathroom. Use bathroom cleaner to clean fixtures and any tile. The bathroom is the worst part of cleaning. Get it over with. Leave shower till later. Replace dirty towels and it will make a world of difference.

4. Let’s do the living area or den next. All we need to do is dust with a soft, treated cloth or duster. Kerchoo! Remember to dust lampshades, tops of doors, and accessories. Kerchoo! We do not need to polish furniture often as it causes wax build up. It takes about an hour for the dust to settle after cleaning. Kerchoo!

5. Remove sheets from beds and put in washer. Hang up clothes and put away shoes. Don’t worry about closets. Out of sight, out of mind. Also, try not to look under bed. If you see dust bunnies, it could become a major project.

6. Use a laundry basket to pick up scattered toys or other items that are out of place throughout the house, and then return the items to the appropriate room. We will hide them for now, however, and do this later since we are starting to become tired.

7. Run vacuum before you collapse entirely. Yes, you are tired, but you have to run the vacuum! How can you clean a house unless you vacuum? Next time we will do that first. But see how much better things look afterwards?

8. Put sheets and towels in dryer and take a break. You deserve it after all you’ve done. Fix a cold drink or a cup of coffee. Relax. Look out the window. Read a newspaper. Do not get on the computer!

9. I told you not to get on the computer! Now, look what time it is and you are not half done! Get sheets out of dryer and make up beds. Hurry up! Resist the temptation to take a nap. You can’t be that tired! All you did all day was a little housework!

10. Use window cleaner to wipe mirrors, TV screens, glass shower doors, and other glass surfaces. Forget windows till another time. You shouldn’t have wasted so much time on the computer.

11. We forgot to vacuum under the furniture cushions. Maybe no one will notice. Who goes around looking under cushions anyhow? We are just doing a go-over, not heavy-duty stuff. Don’t get obsessive-compulsive on me.

12. Empty trash and put away cleaning supplies. Use air spray or potpourri so house will smell fresh. Now take a shower and put on fresh clothes. Uh, oh, sound asleep sitting at the computer. You didn’t even take a shower!

In addition to the modern women, this method works equally well for modern men who are bachelors or men who want to prove that they are no longer Neanderthals. What works even better is hiring a cleaning service and going out for lunch.

Copyright 2005 Sheila Moss
Posted in Home, Humor | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

When Harry Marries Meghan

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Here it is the week before the royal wedding and I’m still waiting for my royal invitation which undoubtedly was lost in the royal mail. It doesn’t really matter, though, I don’t have a hat big enough or ugly enough to wear anyhow.

On second thought, maybe I do. My sister and I found a hat box with some hats from the fifties that are pretty bad. They might rival those monstrosities on the heads of the English ladies. Oh, well, too late now. We will have to save them for the next royal wedding or a luncheon of the ladies’ Red Hat Society.

Will you get up early to watch the nuptials on TV? Me neither. I am really shocked at the number of people who said they will, though. For some reason, people are still fascinated by a “Once upon a time” wedding, complete with royal carriage only recently changed from a pumpkin into a vehicle by a Fairy Godmother lurking behind a bush somewhere.

I must admit, they will make a lovely couple. He will wear his military jacket with gold braid, she a white gown and veil, possibly with diamond tiara borrowed from Princess Diana’s collection. It will be a fairy-tale wedding in spite of the fact that she is an American model and divorcee. Is that called a fairy tale or a Hollywood gossip column?

The fashion critics are foaming at the mouth to see the wedding gown. It will probably look pretty much like any other wedding gown, yards and yards of lace and flowing white material, with a train so long someone has to help carry it so the bride can walk. Even as vows are exchanged, fashion designers will go into overdrive creating fabulous knock-offs, arriving soon in a bridal shop near you.

And what about the queen’s outfit? I guess queens don’t wear crowns anymore, or at least not to grandson’s weddings. No crown, no cape, no nothing. At William and Kate’s wedding, she just looked like everyone else, or maybe a bit like a royal canary in a yellow outfit complete with the mandatory yellow hat. How could anyone not think of Big Bird?

When my grandchildren play with Barbie dolls later, they surely will have material for hours of re-enactment of the Prince Harry of Wales and Megan Markel wedding. Somehow, they still seem to prefer Prince Charming and Cinderella. Real life princes and princesses just don’t get the respect they once did.

There is always talk of doing away with royalty in Britain because of the cost to the British taxpayers of maintaining them. Somehow the Brits never get around to it. They simply adore all the pageantry that surrounds the royalty and the spectacle of the filthy rich flaunting their wealth.

This is the first wedding extravaganza since Kate and William were married. The couple is flaunting tradition and acceptance of their romance is considered a progressive step for the modern era. Megan’s unfortunate father has already “decided not to attend” due to negative publicity from his staged photo ops. The big speculation is: “Who will walk her down the aisle?”

After the “intimate wedding” in Winsor Castle with only 600 guests attending and 2040 invited to watch from the grounds, the couple will live happily ever after in a 21 room “apartment” at Kensington Palace. The British will have a new royal couple to give birth to a new generation of princes and princes to be chased by the paparazzi.

So, I suppose I might as well give up on my over-due wedding invitation and just watch the wedding re-runs on NBC, ABC, CBS, PBS, or BBC America like the rest of the common people.

Copyright 2011-2018 Sheila Moss
Full Disclosure: Does this article seem familiar? It is a revised edition of “The Kate and William Show,” updated for the latest wedding with only names and some other minor details changed. Funny how little things have changed.
Posted in Fashion, Humor, News & Current Events | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

A Visit with Mom

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As an adult, I used to delay visiting mom as long as possible. Mom made me feel like a child, regardless of my actual age or even the fact that I was also a mom.

Mom’s house was a cluttered arrangement of mementos. Every gift that everyone ever gave her was appropriately displayed, along with pictures of the children,  grandchildren, and every high school graduation or wedding that had ever taken place in the family. One look around the room and your entire life flashed before your eyes.

Mom was always cold so the house was always hot. As beads of sweat pop out, you dared not inquire as to what the temperature might be. “It seems a bit cold in here, only 78 degrees.” Even the houseplants had wilted from lack of air.

Meals at mom’s house were always a smorgasbord. Mom had been cooking for at least a week prior to your visit in spite of the fact that you were overweight and trying to diet. Of course, you had to eat so her work didn’t go to waste. And when you felt as if another bite would make you explode, she said, “I made your favorite dessert, coconut cream pie.”

Sleeping at mom’s house was a real challenge. Mom still had the same mattress on the extra bed in the spare room that had always been there. It must have been at least 50 years old. Even the lumps had mellowed. When you would lay down, you would sink about 8 inches into the mattress, like a waterbed without water.

Of course, just finding the bed was a formidable task. First you must dig through layers of cushions and ruffled bedspreads without tripping over a footstool or knocking over an antique lamp. Chances are that mom had already turned the bed back for you, though.

Mom was very neat. In the morning she made up the bed while you were in the shower. When you left a room, she turned out the light. She put anything
you left out of place beside your suitcase, “So you will be sure not to forget it.” She poured your coffee and put a coaster under your cup. You were not allowed to help with dishes as she could do it faster herself, without a dishwasher.

The principle item in mom’s living room was the television set, and everything focused on the tube, like leaves turning toward the sun. Dad held the remote control. Just as you begin to get interested in a program, he changed the channel. If there was nothing he wanted to watch, he turned it off.

Mom was happier when the TV was turned off because “It makes too much noise
anyhow,” and she could not talk. Mom told the same stories over and over. Sometimes they varied a bit from telling to telling, but mostly they were always the same. She talked from the moment you walked in the door until you left. You knew every doctor she had, every pill she took, every operation and illness, and every friend that had died and who came to the funeral.

If you went somewhere, mom pointed out all the interesting sites along the way: the local nursing home, her lawyer’s office, the school where your sister used to teach, the church that her brother helped to build, the street where houses used to be before the mill tore them down, and other local sites of immense interest.

So, you ate till you ached, you listened till your ears hurt, and you were glad that mom was still able to tell her stories. You loved her in spite of it all.  Now that mom is gone, you realize that what used to be a minor annoyance was simply mom saying “I love you.”

Now you secretly wonder if you will ever become just like her? You are already telling stories.

(c) 2004 Sheila Moss
Edited to Update
Posted in Family, Holidays, Humor | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

Born Yesterday

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I was born yesterday, fell off a turnip truck, and am not playing with a full deck. I don’t have a spam filter or know how to block an email address. I read all my email, especially the ones offering drugs, sex, and online poker. I believe every word I read. They couldn’t say it if it wasn’t true!

I use my real name on social media and register online with my actual date of birth. I shop online and don’t worry about insecure servers or someone stealing my credit card number. I don’t bother checking my credit card bill either. I just pay the minimum payment and don’t worry about it.

I read all the letters I receive online from people whose husbands were tragically killed, leaving them the sole heir to a large sum of money of which they will give me half — if I help them get it out of Nigeria. I’m sitting here just waiting for my share when they deposit the money in my checking account using my bank account number and PIN that I sent them.

I always fill in subscription forms and give my email address for online mailing lists. If I don’t like their newsletters, I can always unsubscribe. You never know, I might miss out on something I really like otherwise… like daily newsletters on bungee jumping, knitting doorknob covers, and cooking with garlic.

I can’t understand why PayPal thinks that someone else is attempting to use my account. But I clicked the link they sent, and gave them my correct ID and password to verify that it was really me, so that should take care of that problem. Funny how I seem to be getting the same notice from my bank and even from banks I’ve never heard of.

I order from any seller on the net that has something I like. I’m not really concerned about verified sellers. I can’t possibly check the history of every single one of them. I’m still trying to figure out how to return the size 14 shoes I received, but the company seems to have moved their website and my email always bounces.

I don’t worry about computer viruses and open all my attachments. I’m not really too worried about some unknown virus. I run virus protection and a pop-up blocker and clean the spyware off my system every once in a while if I happened to think about it. You must be mistaken. I’m sure it isn’t my computer that sent you that virus the other day.

Yes, I was born yesterday, fell off a turnip truck, and am a few cards short of a full deck. I am running on empty, out to lunch, and dancing out of step. I have bugs in my belfry, a loose wire, and forgot to punch the time clock. There’s a sucker born every minute, so I must have a lot of company out there, at least that’s the way it seems.

A thousand emails a month can’t be wrong. And if you believe a word of what I’ve said here, you must have been born yesterday as well. It’s tough work but somebody has to be stupid enough to believe this stuff and keep the spammers, scammers, spoofers, and phishers in business. Welcome to the club!

Copyright 2005 Sheila Moss
Posted in Humor, Technology | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Tree Hugging

 

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Survivor Tree at Oklahoma City National Memorial – Attribution: Dustin M. Ramsey

Probably most people remember a tree that was important to them in some way, either in childhood, or because of some special event in life. My special tree was a walnut tree in the yard of the house I grew up in. It was not even a full-grown tree at that time, but the trunk split at just the right height to make a perfect foothold for s child to climb the tree. 

I played games underneath the tree and climbed in its shady branches to sit among the leaves. I swung from a rather low branch and used it as a trapeze. Another branch was just right for a rope swing with a board for a seat. I spent many happy hours playing under the walnut tree.

I saw a story somewhere about an artist that sketches trees that have a special significance attached to them. He started by sketching a tree that was important to him, and as it turned out, it was also significant to other people who saw the drawing.

It seems that trees are important to a lot of people, so important that there is actually National Registry for Historic trees. These are not like my walnut tree, but trees that are landmarks or have historic importance. The Angel Oak of Charleston, S.C. is a beautiful old tree believed to be 1400 years old and the oldest living thing east of the Rockies.

Other trees are important because of events that happened near them, such as the dueling oaks of New Orleans, where sword fights occurred in the olden days. There are “hanging trees” near jails in Texas and New Mexico. Jacksonville, Florida has a famous old live oak tree where treaties were signed between settlers and the natives. Boston had a elm in colonial times known as the “Liberty Tree” due to its association with the American Revolution.

Some important trees are associated with or named after a special person. General Sherman, a giant Sequoia tree in California, is the world’s largest tree and 3,500 years old. Methuselah, a bristlecone pine in California, is believed to be the world’s oldest living organism at over 4,700 years old.

Some trees are so important they have a pedigree, such as two large Tulip Trees planted by George Washington at Mt. Vernon. Seeds from famous trees are actually gathered by an organization and sold so that you can buy them and plant a tree that is the actual offspring of a famous parent. Your backyard could become a living history story.

Trees are often taken for granted until they are gone. Elms were a popular shade tree at one time, but they were nearly wiped out by Dutch elm disease. Millions of firs have been lost in the Smoky Mountains due to imported insects that are toxic to the species. Many old trees are cut down to make way for roads and buildings. My walnut tree is now gone, a victim of urban development.

The National Registry of Big Trees enables anyone to nominate trees to be included in case you happen to have a piece of infamy growing in your yard. The trees in my yard are not worthy of national distinction. However, they are still special either because of who planted them or because of other associations. I have a plum tree, the lone survivor of four trees planted by my dad. My Jonathan apple tree was planted by my late husband to honor a grandson and is the same age.

I also have a large silver maple tree that the kids in the neighborhood seem to favor. Like my walnut tree, the trunk of the tree splits at just the right height for a child to be able to use it as a foothold for climbing.

Copyright 2005 Sheila Moss
Posted in Environment, Humor | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Showboat

3540148507_0cc213a1a0_bIt was more than we could resist. We had just been talking about how long it had been since we had been on a riverboat and how we need to get out and do something. Then an email came offering tickets at half price. Kind of makes you wonder about ESP, doesn’t it?

“It’s Chinese acrobats,” said the voice on the phone when I reserved tickets. “And dinner is Land & Sea.” Yes, I knew that. It was in the email.

The night came and we got dressed and drove over there. They have been doing construction on the road for years it seems. Will, they never get it finished? Between my honey’s aggressive driving and the crooked path between concrete barriers, I felt a bit like I’d been on a roller coaster by the time we arrived.

All we had to do was park and get on the boat. Park? Easier said than done. They just keep building things, shopping centers, theaters, and restaurants, all in a confined space with limited parking. We rode around and around until someone finally backed out and we swooped in and parked.

We stood in line to get aboard getting our picture made whether we wanted a picture or not. Once on the riverboat we thought things would get better. But it was hotter than … well, it was hot. For some odd reason, we were not allowed inside the theater until the boat left the dock and we stood in the sweltering heat, fighting the bees that buzzed around my coke.

At last we got inside out of the heat and our waiter introduced himself. Land & Sea turned out to be strong salmon and a small steak that appeared steamed instead of broiled. But I’m getting ahead of the story. The waiters paraded out with trays held high and began serving. We waited and waited. No food. Other people ate. We sat. Finally, we attracted someone’s attention and a different waitress brought our food. We still don’t know what happened to our waiter. We didn’t see him again until time for the tips.

The show started and the acrobats twirled, tumbled, climbed, contorted, juggled, balanced and all the strange things that acrobats do. Before he did his disappearing act, the waiter had pointed to the sign above the stage and said the entertainers would be that high up. We thought he was exaggerating, but they actually were with a feat involving stacking chairs higher and higher and balancing on top of them. Cheap seats were in the back, but I was glad we were far enough away to avoid acrobats falling in the middle of the table if they toppled over off the stage.

At least we didn’t have to sit with the Mafia this time. The last time we were there, we had some very strange folks at our table. I still think they were gangsters. This time, however, we sat with ordinary locals who were bringing some out of town guests. It’s a touristy sort of place. Come to think of it, the last time we were there we were taking out of town guests.

“How did you like it?” asked my honey afterwards.

“Well, except for the traffic, parking, food, heat, and waiting, it was fine.”

“That’s pretty much all there was to it,” he said.

Now I remember why it had been so long.

Copyright 2005 Sheila Moss
Posted in Entertainment, Humor, Travel | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Following Directions

mountain roadUnlike a man, I know how to ask for directions. Also, unlike a man, I follow the directions even if they get me lost. I needed to go to Fall Creek Falls, a Tennessee State Park. I’d never been there before so I wanted to be sure I knew where I was going. I got directions off the State Park’s website. Then I went to one of those Internet mapping sites for really specific directions. What I didn’t think of is that the closest way is not always the best way. Women who are great navigators don’t worry about things like that.

I slung my suitcase into the trunk and off I went, two sets of directions and a map right beside me. I watched the odometer carefully. Mileage was exactly right to the tenth of a mile at the first cutoff. I was exactly where I was supposed to be. I congratulated myself on being so clever.

It was easy as long as I was on the Interstate. Unfortunately, Interstates don’t run through State Parks. I left the Interstate at Exit 288, just like the instructions said. Highway 111 was a four-lane road. How lucky could I get? Being a navigator who follows instructions sure pays off. What I didn’t know was my luck was running out.

According to the Internet instructions, I was to turn left onto Highway 30. There was  sign at the cutoff, “Fall Creek Falls.” But the park’s instructions said to go straight. What to do when instructions conflict? I did what any great navigator would do. I followed the signs.

I soon had a hunch that something was wrong. The road became narrow, winding, and steep. “Funny how there is no one on this road except me. Where are all the other cars?” But I followed the road and the instructions. This had to be right.

I wound around curves, S curves, U curves, reverse curves, hair pin curves and curves for which no descriptive name had previously been invented. I finally came to a curve that was so sharp I could see my own tailpipe. “This just can’t be right. But I’ve come too far to turn back now. Nothing to do now but go on.” I was grateful for one thing. At least it was daylight. I’d sure hate to do this road at night. Even great navigators have their limits.

“I’m surprised they do any business at all with a road this bad to travel.” I was starting to feel a bit nauseous from all the swinging and swaying around the curves. By the time I saw the entrance sign, “Fall Creek Falls North Entrance,” I was so dizzy that I really didn’t much care any more.

I continued on for what seemed like miles and miles. “There has to be a lodge in here somewhere.” The signs were rustic, but I thought I was reading them correctly. Finally, at long last, I saw the lodge on the other side of the lake. “How do I get over there?” Drive around it, of course. Good thing I knew how to navigate.

I arrived at last, my nerves rattled and my car nearly twisted in half. I didn’t get lost after all. I only thought I was lost. I found out later that what I used was the “old road.” There is now a new entrance on the other side of the park, and a nice wide road to get there. You don’t need to go over the mountain at all — you can go around it.

I wonder if other great navigators have the problem of following directions too well?

Copyright 2005 Sheila Moss
Posted in Automotive, Humor, Travel | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

The Rooster Pitcher

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I won! I got the item I was bidding for on E-Bay! This may seem like a small thing, but it was my first purchase on E-Bay. From all the email I’m receiving from them, they seem to be as excited about it as I am. I never thought before that I wanted to get involved in the trouble of bidding and haggling, but I think I’m starting to like it now.

It all started out in a rather unusual way. I was looking at Blogger; you know the place where people write online weblogs, called “blogs” for short. They have a place on Blogger where they ask offbeat questions just to get people started. Apparently, some people have trouble with this; though, I’m not sure why they are blogging if they have nothing to say.

The question of the moment was, “Your Aunt has just given you a maple syrup dispenser shaped like a chicken for your birthday. Write her a thank you note.” I found that amusing, which probably shows how easy I am to amuse.

My reply was “Thank you for the lovely rooster syrup dispenser. Ever since I  received it, my pancakes taste just like chicken. I’m really starting to get tired of chicken. Do you suppose you could get me a gravy boat that looks like a cow so I can have a steak?”

Then I started speculating. “I wonder if there really is such a thing as a syrup dispenser shaped like a chicken?” Naturally, I had to find out. I typed it into a computer search engine, and didn’t have much luck with “maple syrup dispenser,” but when I typed in “chicken pitcher” a whole new world opened.

It seems that there are not only pitchers shaped like chickens, but they are quite famous. Also, quite cute I might add. Auntie’s gift was not as amusing as it might seem as these things retail for some very fancy prices, depending on size and quality. They are believed to bring good luck and are often given as wedding gifts by those with little awareness of what newlyweds really need – like a laptop computer or a big screen TV.

Pitchers, by those in the know, are very well known in collectors’ circles and even have a story attached. According to the legend, enemies were attacking an Italian noble family after a night of festivity and wine, but the roosters were aroused and made so much noise the whole town woke up and stopped the attack. A ceramic pitcher that looks like a rooster was made to commemorate the event — and let the world know that the town gets up with the chickens.

I decided to buy a small one as a contest prize for my humor-writing friends who also came up with funny maple syrup stories at my request. Where else could I buy such a thing except on E-Bay? I had so much fun bidding on a small rooster pitcher, perfect for maple syrup, that I decided I wanted one for myself too.

The finest Rooster Pitchers come from Italy. I quickly figured out from the bidding that the ones bringing the highest prices were the genuine Deruta Rooster Pitchers named after the Italian town where they are made. I’ve become highly knowledgeable in fine Italian ceramics, or at least as knowledge as one can become in one week of studying E-Bay.

I’ve just received an email that time is running out to bid on another Rooster Pitcher on my “watch list.” My finger twitched on the mouse button, and before I knew what happened, I had clicked the yellow button to bid on it. Now I’ve received another email, and guess what? I won again! What am I going to do with all these pitchers that look like chickens? I will soon have an entire flock of the things.

Not only that, but I am beginning to wonder if there is really such a thing as a gravy boat that looks like a cow.

Copyright 2005 Sheila Moss
Posted in Humor, Shopping | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

The Accident

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“Hello, Mom?”

I was at work and it was my daughter calling. I had to put another call on hold to answer.

“Hold on for a minute.”

“Mom, I can’t, it’s an emergency!”

“Just a minute, I’ll be right back.”

The person on the other line just wanted a phone number, which I was trying to give them.

“Mom! I had a wreck! I was hit by a semi!”

That got my attention, “Are you all right?”

She was nearly hysterical. “Yes, I’m on the Interstate. The police are here!”

Good grief, don’t you just love cell phones? There is nothing like getting an eyewitness accident report when you are at the office and can’t do anything about it.

“Are you hurt? Tell them to take you to the hospital.” A third line on my phone was now ringing and going unanswered.

“I’m okay, I’ve gotta talk to the police now!”

“Where are you?” She told me.

“I’ll be right there.”

The first line gave up, and the other line kept on ringing. I don’t know if the first person ever got the phone number or not. I also don’t know why I’m supposed to be directory assistance, but that’s another story.

I called my boss and explained that I had to leave… then I realized that I didn’t have a car. I called my honey and told him the story. He called his boss and explained that he had to leave too.

My daughter called again, “They are towing the car,” she reported.

“Go to the hospital!” I told her.

By the time we got out of the parking garage and drove the fifteen miles, the car had already been towed and my daughter was gone. I wasn’t sure whether to try the hospital or go home. I called her from my cell, “Where are you?”

“I’m home.”

We arrived at the house to find her on the door step wrapped in a blanket and shivering. The police gave her a ride home, but she was locked out. That figures. Her keys were in the car.

“Are you okay, do you want to go to the hospital?” How can someone be in a car that was run over by an 18-wheeler on the Interstate and be okay? She continued to assure me she was not injured.

“What happened?”

“He changed lanes and I was right beside him. My car went under the truck.”

I knew exactly what she meant. I have had the same thing almost happen to me several times. Later when I told other people, they all said the same thing. “That has nearly happened to me.” It seems that trucks have a very large blind spot and if they don’t know you are there, you may end up as tinfoil.

The car is a total loss and is now in the junkyard waiting for the giant beer can crusher to take it to the big recycling center in the sky.

I open the mail today and there was a card from the car dealership, “Happy Birthday to your car.” Guess they don’t know it’s deceased. If I tell them, they will be delighted to fix us up with another one, I’m sure, for the right price. I can practically hear them rubbing their hands together now.

Take my advice and never have children. They will make you crazy. If you already have children, never let them have a driver’s license or a car. If they already have a car, don’t let them have a cell phone. And if all else fails, don’t give them your phone number.

Now, since my daughter doesn’t want to go to the hospital, would someone please take me?

Copyright 2005 Sheila Moss
Posted in Automotive, Family, Humor | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 10 Comments

Wild, Blue, Yonder

airshow

They came… they flew… they’re gone!

I wish they would bring back the local airshow! I’ve missed it since it quit coming. I don’t know where it’s been or why it is taking so long to return. Like all the other fans around here, nothing could make me happier.

I remember the last time I went like it was yesterday:

I didn’t have an inkling there was an airshow until I saw the flashing sign on the highway, “AIRSHOW.” We whizzed by it, but I was sure it said airshow. I rushed to the computer when I got home to Google “airshow”. Yep, there it was in black and white, or electronic letters – whatever.

I have my own little set of rules on how to go to an airshow. Unfortunately, I forgot about them in my excitement and didn’t obey my own rules too well.

Rule One is get your tickets early and save five bucks per ticket. Problem was, I couldn’t figure out where to get them, some bank I’d never heard of. Once again, I was saved by the Internet and found it was in a grocery store. But I got there late and had to stand in line for 30 minutes. Fifty thousand people going to an airshow and one person selling tickets. No wonder people pay extra and get tickets at the gate.

Rule Two is go early to stake your claim on a good spot up front. We overslept. I didn’t have anything ready. I had to dig through the garage to find lawn chairs and then dust off spider webs.

Rule Three is take your own food because they charge $3 for a bottle of water. I didn’t have anything to take, so I just grabbed up what I could find, water, apples, and diet soda. It wasn’t enough for an entire day.

When we arrived we had to wait in another long line to park. They didn’t seem as organized as they used to be. I guess it had been a long time for them too. By the time we got in and dragged our chairs a mile across the parking lot, all hope of a spot anywhere close to the front line was gone.

I noticed that we were hopelessly out of fashion with our heavy folding lawn chairs. Everyone else had the collapsible kind with its own portable tote bag. Two out of our four were broken, so we had to be careful how we sat on them. Lawn chair upgrades were sorely needed.

Rule Four is to take sunscreen and sunhats. I did remember that, thank goodness! I couldn’t find my airshow hat with the small brim and had to wear my fishing hat, but it was a hat. I used sunscreen, but I forgot about my feet. Who would expect feet to get sunburned?

The flying was just as fabulous as in all other years as the show unfolded against a clear blue sky. There were loops, spirals, Cuban eights, near passes, bombs, synchronized acrobatics and other thrilling demonstrations of man’s artful mastery of the air.

I wonder what it is about an airshow that captures the imagination and holds thousands spellbound as they watch the various aerial feats. Probably something as basic as man’s discovery of the airplane itself, the dream of escaping our earthbound existence and flying like the birds. It has to be something inexplicable to get people to sit in the hot sun for five hours looking up.

But it was a first-rate show, in spite of my sunburned feet. I was already thinking about next time. I saw those portable lawn chairs on sale! And my grandson, who attended for the first time, wanted to add his idea, “Next time, let’s get an umbrella.” Sounded like a good idea to me.

And, if it isn’t too much trouble, let me know about it a bit sooner next time!

Copyright 2005-2018 Sheila Moss
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