Clothes Gone Crazy


The floor of my closet is littered with shoes. Not the shoes I wear, those are on the shoe rack, but other shoes. I’m embarrassed to say how many, but let’s just say a lot. Why do I have so many shoes? I looked to make sure, but I still only have two feet.

I decided this spring that I would try to wear every outfit in my closet, one each day. Most of them didn’t fit any more. Some of the ones that did fit, I didn’t like any more. So what did I do? What any red-blooded woman would do — bought more.

My closet is not very large. It is double-racked for tops. I have favorites that I wear all the time, and others that I seldom or never wear, but keep in case I one day decide that I would look smashing in an orange Bohemian top with fringe or that a red Mickey Mouse jacket flatters me.

We spend way too much time on clothes — shopping for clothes, deciding what to wear, washing clothes, drying clothes, storing clothes, talking about clothes, and getting rid of clothes so we can buy more clothes. The other day I went shopping and it took all afternoon just to pick out a few things.

There is a whole industry for clothes, not only for making and marketing them, but for fashion. What is in style? Are our hems too short or too long? Are the toes of our shoes too pointy? What we wear has nothing to do with whether clothes are worn out, or whether we had too many desserts and they don’t fit any more. We must keep up with the style. So, we throw away perfectly good clothes and get new ones to be in fashion.

In the olden days cloth was precious and clothes difficult to make. Pioneer women probably had only a few dresses and didn’t need a closet. They could hang the extra dress behind the door, if they had a door, and keep one good dress to wear to Sunday meetings. When a garment became too worn to wear any more, they cut it up into squares and made a quilt out of it.

Now we have walk-in closets because we have so many clothes. We have summer clothes and winter clothes. I store the things that are out of season in the attic because I don’t have room in my closet. I try to donate things to charity that I’m sure will never fit again in spite of my prayers and vows to diet. Still, I have too many clothes.

I wonder what clothes will be like in the future. Will we never wear the same thing twice? Will clothes be made out of paper and disposable after use like the paper gowns used at the doctor’s office? If dresses were paper, we wouldn’t have to worry about being in style as we would always have on the newest fashion.

Maybe clothes will be plastic like a grocery bag and thrown in the trash after being used once. We could use our closets for storage space and use old dresses to line our trash cans. We could keep a box of pop-up dresses on the dresser.

Or maybe we will go in the other direction and wear silver jump-suits like in science fiction movies. Everyone will look and dress the same in silver jumpsuits that last forever and never get dirty. That’s science fiction all right. Someone would sew a ruffle on one and we would be off again.

It’s probably just as well. I don’t think I would look very good in a silver jump- suit anyhow. And what in the world would you do if your zipper broke and you had nothing else to wear?

Copyright 2011 Sheila Moss

Posted in Fashion, Humor, Shopping | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

The Pizza Laureate

I won a free pizza from Papa John’s Million Pizza Giveaway. I always knew I was one in a million and this proves it. I received an email yesterday with the big news. “Your name was randomly selected as one of this week’s 60,000 Papa Rewards members to receive a free large one-topping pizza.”

There are 60,000 winners? I thought they said a million pizzas? Oh well, why argue when it’s free. My odds of winning were slightly better than they are for some things, say, for instance, a Pulitzer, which has only 21 winners.

I didn’t discovery an earth-shaking story hiding in plain sight, like the Pulitzer Prize winners who receive journalism’s biggest award. I also didn’t get the $10,000 that comes along with it. So, I suppose I will not be listed on their website. Don’t look for me there.

Winning a pizza isn’t like winning the Nobel Prize either, which has only five winners. The Nobel Prize for literature is given for a writer’s life work. Guess my pizza will not be presented by the King of Sweden, but I can still call myself a Pizza Laureate. I will not be receiving a gold medal or 10,000,000 SEK, which is Swedish for $1.45 million, a nice chunk of change in any language.

Winning a pizza isn’t like winning an Oscar. There is no glitz and glamour on pizza night, no limousean, no gold statuette, no prestige and honor involved.  It’s probably just as well. I wouldn’t have anything to wear to the Academy Awards anyhow.

Winning a pizza isn’t like winning an Emmy from the Academy of TV Arts & Sciences, no gold statuette of a winged woman, only cheese and tomato sauce on a golden crust. One good thing, though, I won’t have to lock up my pizza to keep it from being stolen.

A pizza isn’t like the Peabody Award, the oldest prize in electronic media. Pizza isn’t a rare award like the Peabody. Andy Rooney was a writer and he won several Peabody Awards. I don’t know if he ever won a pizza, but I’ll bet he didn’t.

There are not many awards for humor writers. The Thurber Prize for American Humor is the best known. They have only three winners, so my odds are pretty low. Besides that, they only give prizes for books or e-books and I write columns. Guess it’s a good thing I won a pizza.

Winning a pizza is nothing like winning a crystal bullet from the CMA Country Music Association for writing a country music hit. I won’t be going to Nashville to pick up my pizza.  I won’t be singing my own original song at the Opry. I will order my pizza online and have it delivered.

“Your Papa Rewards account has been credited with 20 Papa Rewards Points, so you can now redeem these points for your free pizza offer,” said the email. No money, no fame, no glory, no reporters calling or knocking on my door. It’s one pizza out of a million.

I’m beginning to wonder if they gave a free pizza to everyone in their rewards program. I went to the Papa John’s website and found out that anyone who joins the Rewards Program during their promotion can have a free pizza. ANYONE can be one in a million?

Don’t worry, I’m not going to refuse to accept my pizza like some actors and writers have done with their prestigious awards. I will accept. It isn’t gold, it isn’t priceless — it’s probably worth about $10 at the most. However, I’m planning my acceptance speech right now. “I’d like to thank my daughter, my grandson, and my pizzeria for making this award possible.”

There is one thing that I can do with a pizza that all the other big winners can’t do with their award.

I can eat it.

Copyright 2011 Sheila Moss

Posted in Humor, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

The Fungus Among Us

It seems that human-kind is afflicted with a variety of minor ailments, pimples, warts, moles, sties, fever blisters, athlete’s foot and toenail fungus, to name a few. I seem to be destined to have them all at one time or another. I could be president of the trivial ailment of the month club.

This month’s featured ailment, for those who choose to participate, is toenail fungus.

I thought only mushrooms were fungus, but apparently there are many different kinds of them, some good, some bad and some that depend on opinion for a descriptive adjective.

Yeast is a fungus and useful for bread making or for fermenting wine and beer. Fungus is also what breaks down organic material and causes decay, replenishing the nutrients in the soil.

Mold is a fungus. It may spoil the food in the fridge or grow in the bathroom shower. Mole spores are allergens that can make us sick when we breathe them, but mold is also the source of penicillin that fights infectious disease.

Just as I thought, however, one of the most common funguses is indeed the mushroom, which like other funguses can also be good or bad. Mushrooms can be a source of food, but some varieties are deadly poisonous.

Mushrooms were thought to be magic in days of yore, and were associated with fairies and witches and toads. Science now knows that their “magic” probably came from the hallucinogenic properties of some varieties.

Anyhow, to get back to the subject at hand, or at foot in this case, I have a pesky toenail fungus on one of my toes. These funguses are especially difficult to treat because they lurk underneath the toenail and are hard to reach with medications.

I tried simply ignoring it and waiting until it cured itself. I covered my toenail with nail polish and went about my business until I discovered my nail had become thick, ugly, and difficult to trim. Fungus, unlike warts, does not tend to cure itself in time, only to become worse.

I had nightmares of mushrooms sprouting from the toes of my shoes and fairies visiting me to dance in circles around my feet. Clearly, it was time for something to be done about the nasty toenail fungus.

Actually, fungus can be treated by doctors with systematic fungicides, which are also said to sometimes cause liver damage. Since I really like having all of my internal organs functioning and don’t actually believe much in fairies or witches, I decided to try a home remedy.

Nearly all the minor ailments are so common that many folk remedies exist. In my case, the most common cure I could find was soaking the toe in vinegar or Listerine. Not too difficult until you realize it is for 20 minutes, twice a day for two months. I decided on the vinegar cure since I didn’t have any Listerine.

I can now be found nightly dangling my toes in a plastic container of vinegar while I’m at the computer. The vinegar is said to create an acid environment in which it is impossible for fungus to grow. I’m not sure if it is working or not, but I’m beginning to smell a whole lot like a pickle.

As far as I know, no one ever died of toenail fungus, unless it was from humiliation. But it is very resistant to remedies. Perhaps the toenail fungus has evolved like other diseases that eventually become immune to cures. Or, perhaps the vinegar treatment is just a folk tale and doesn’t actually work at all.

I have another idea. Maybe I should try Listerine.

Copyright 2010 Sheila Moss



Posted in Health, Humor | Tagged , , , , , , , | 10 Comments

Snowed In



The weather people promised us 5 to 6 inches of snow. It wasn’t as if we didn’t know. But we so seldom get snow that we don’t really believe until we see it falling from the sky. Along with snow, there was sleet and ice.

I had plenty of bread, milk and toilet paper – the staples of southerners when snow is predicted – so I wasn’t really too worried. Also, the storm was coming on a holiday when many things would be closed. How convenient.

Day 1 – By spending a lot of time looking out the window at the ice-covered trees and sagging power lines, and watching the weather news on TV, we got by. At least we still had electricity, which was better than the thousands who did not.

Thank goodness, I had remembered to buy cat food. Nothing is worse than being cooped up with a couple of hungry, yowling cats.

Day 2 – The walls were starting to close in, but the weather showed no mercy. We were able to stay in touch with the outside world on the computer. A State of Emergency was declared by the Governor. Boy, this house is really small when you can’t go out. It feels like one of those tiny minimal houses that you read about on the internet.

I had an appointment to get a vaccine, but is it worth wrecking your car and getting injured? Not to worry, they closed due to the weather. We continued to squeeze past each other in the shrinking house. The pipes were not frozen, so we had hot water. We still had heat too. The only thing we didn’t have was elbow room. I was starting to feel a little claustrophobic.

Day 3 – Will this stuff never melt? The schools gave up and closed for the rest of the week as the busses couldn’t get through to pick the kids up. By now I felt like Alice in Wonderland, too large for the house with my head, arms and legs sticking out windows. I think I am going insane, I thought, as I stumbled over the dog and knocked a cat off the table.

A loud boom shook the house. I thought the roof had caved in, but checking inside and outside, we couldn’t find anything wrong. We found out later it was an ice quake caused when underground water freezes creating pressure in the earth. Who ever heard of such a thing?

Day 4 – Some of the ice was melting a little. The sunshine was warm at the end of the tunnel. I wanted to take my car to the gas station when the roads were dry enough to drive on. I hoped my car would start after sitting idle in the cold for four days.

“Do you want to eat out?” asked honey, who went out in the snow for a chiropractor appointment even though I told him not to go. Boy, would I love to eat out. Had it only been four days? It seemed like an eternity.

“No,” I said, remembering the icy roads, “But we do need some groceries.” I gave him the list and talked him into going alone to restock our food supplies. Apparently everyone else had the same idea as shelves were picked bare, he said. “But I think I got everything.”

“Did you get potatoes?” I had called him after he left as I realized I forgot to put them on the list.

“No, do you want me to go back?” Not worth braving the snow again for one item.

By this time, the house was morphing back to its normal size. We had survived the storm and life was good. That is, it was good until I turned on the TV. Another snow and ice storm is on the way and we may have to do it all over again.

It isn’t as if we don’t know it’s coming. But we so seldom get snow that we don’t really believe until we see it falling from the sky.

Copyright 2015-2021 Sheila Moss

Posted in Humor, Weather | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Could That Be Snow?

“Severe weather warning” barked the TV. Beep, beep, beep, the weather warning rolled across the bottom of the screen, four to six inches of snow. I ignored it. That’s what they said last time. Nothing happened – nada. In the South, we have grown complacent. Oh, sure, the forecast is right once in a while, but just as often it is wrong.

When morning came this time, there were three inches not four. They were wrong, but not wrong enough. Three inches might as well be six. We don’t know how to deal with snow in the South. Snow is a northern thing. This should be happening in Boston, New York, or Buffalo, not here.

For a moment it was almost beautiful as I looked out the window at the whiteness, a clean blanket covering the dead grass. The trees were alive again, covered with spring snow blossoms. Then I remembered, the streets are covered too.

Snow crunching under the tires, the rear end of the car sliding around, crazy people trying to drive, spinning their wheels in the snow, going too fast on slick roads. No, I can’t deal with it. I’m staying home. Southerners have no experience driving in snow. It isn’t worth getting killed over.

My daughter calls, her kids have snow saucers and are sledding on the perfect hill near their house. This afternoon they plan to build a snow woman – equal rights for snow people and all that, I suppose.

Dogs love it too. The dog frisks around, up and down like a worm in the drifts with whiskers full of fluffy stuff. Her feet are covered with snow, frozen to her fur like ice boots. She makes muddy track all over the kitchen floor then wriggles and squirms while I dry her paws. Silly dog needs snow boots.

My feet will not touch it, I think, except to make a picture, that is. I would like to have a picture. I’ll use my cell phone, and I can email it to my computer. I make the ultimate sacrifice and go outside, careful not to slip. This stuff is impossible to walk in without sliding. I must be crazy. What if I fall and break a leg?

Back inside I email my picture. It didn’t work. It’s upside down no matter how I try to fix it. Oh, rats! So, I do it all over again. This time I’m careful about holding the camera phone right side up.

Pictures are great. I can enjoy the snow while staying warm inside. Hot chocolate, a fire in the fireplace, snow isn’t so bad after all as long as it is outside and I’m inside.

I got enough of the cold stuff when I lived in Chicago. One winter it snowed in the fall and I didn’t see the ground again until spring. But now I live the warm South were snow doesn’t happen, or at least we like to pretend it doesn’t.

The weather report comes on TV. The cold front has moved northeast. worst snow they’ve seen in years. Snow belongs in the North. By tomorrow the snow will be melted here. No need to shovel. We just wait until it melts and things get back to normal.

Copyright 2011 Sheila Moss


Posted in Humor, Southern Humor, Weather | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

From Your Valentine

pink

Why is it that we take everything that is good and try our best to turn it into something that is marketable? Take Valentine’s Day for instance. Somehow, just saying, “I love you” isn’t enough any more.

All of the hoopla started, according to legend, when St. Valentine, who was in jail at the time for marrying couples against the orders of the Roman Emperor, sent a letter to the jailer’s daughter before he was executed and signed it, “From Your Valentine.”

That supposedly started the custom of sending hand written greetings of affection, which soon led to cards with romantic poems to say what people were unable to say for themselves. The cards were called Valentines (of all things). Cards were not such a bad thing since a lot of people seem to be too embarrassed to actually say how they feel and need a poet to say it for them.

Valentines soon became more and more elaborate and were sold commercially, decorated with lace and ribbons and accompanied by flowers. When the chocolate and candy industry began to flourish with the discovery of a process for mass-producing milk chocolate, a marketing strategy associated chocolates with Valentines and packaged them in a heart-shaped box. Needless to say, the gimmick was a wild success.

Soon other commercial interests were getting in on the day. Jewelers urged you to purchase diamonds to symbolize love and purity and tried to extend the association with marriage into Valentine’s Day. Wine, perfume, lotions, scented candles, soaps, just about anything that can remotely be associated with romance, was suddenly on the market.

Department stores have racks of red sleepwear and lingerie is displayed prominently. Bakeries push sweets for your sweetheart with Valentine cupcakes and heart shaped cookies. Discount stores bloom with heart-shaped red balloons. Supermarkets, drug stores, and specialty stores all get in on the action.

Wedding chapels do a booming business in couples that want to tie the knot and say “I do” on this most romantic of days. Florists sell more flowers for Valentine’s than at any other time. One third of all roses are sold on Valentine’s Day, mostly red, and more cards are sold for Valentine’s Day than at any other time of the year except Christmas — and that isn’t even counting packaged cards exchanged by children.

So what does all this have to do with love? It seems to have more to do with merchants convincing us that we have to buy, buy, buy and not to buy is not to love. We must express our sentiment with a gift.

So, who doesn’t like flowers, cards, and candy? Not many. But don’t let the frenzy of commercialization replace what Valentine’s Day is supposed to be, the simple expression of affection for one person for another. Give gifts if you want to, or accept them for the intentions of the giver. But be sure to remember to say, “I love you.”

And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go buy some red balloons for my grandkids and a card for my honey before all the good ones are gone.

Copyright 2007 Sheila Moss
Posted in Holidays, Humor | Tagged , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

The Uncouth Tooth

I don’t know what it is with me and tooth problems lately. I’ve made about six trips to the dentist office in the last few weeks. I spend more time there than the dentist does. Pretty soon I am going to ask for a designated parking space.

It all started when I had my teeth cleaned. I always have my six month checkup so I won’t have any dental emergencies. Apparently, you can still have emergencies, regular checkups or not. Life is not fair.

I’ve already told you about the abscessed tooth that couldn’t be saved and how I had to have it pulled, so I won’t go into it again. Suffice it to say, it was grueling and unpleasant. How could having a tooth pulled be anything else? They are still trying to patch the holes I kicked in the ceiling.

The problem is it kept on hurting even after the tooth was gone. I thought if I gave it enough time, it would be okay. It wasn’t. Having a tooth ache when the tooth is gone doesn’t make sense, but you can only fix a toothache with salt water and ice packs for so long. Finally, I decided I needed to go back.

Maybe he pulled the wrong tooth or maybe it was infected?

Everyone hates going to the dentist. It must give them an inferiority complex to be so disliked. I told my dentist after the tooth pulling trip that I didn’t want to see him again for a long time. I thought I was joking, but that must have been the curse.

When you are in enough pain, however, the dentist begins to look better and better. And by the time I went back for the second round, the dentist remarkably resembled Robert Redford. Dr. Redford diagnosed my condition as a “dry socket,” whatever that is. I believe it is another word for torture.

I found out later that this is what happens when an extraction doesn’t heal right and leaves the bone exposed. Did I mention that this story was going to be gross? If not, stop reading because it is all downhill from here. How can it be anything else?

After being stabbed in the jaw with his infamous foot-long needle, I thought I would be numb and not hurt. That was the theory. But the reality is that stabbing raw nerves with an ice pick feels like being struck in the mouth by lightning — over and over. Whoever says lightning does not strike more than once has not been to Dr. Redford.

I left with the usual mouthful of gauze, a packing in what used to be my tooth, and an appointment card to come back the next day. I really hated having Robert Redford see me with no makeup, a speech impediment, and salvia dripping off my chin.

“Don’t worry,” he said, “We won’t have to go through all the numbing and scraping next time.” That was not reassuring. If it felt like a hornet attack even with the numbing meds, what would it feel like without any?

I went home to 24 hours of pill-popping misery, and then returned the next day — and again the next — for more sadistic treatments. He must have thought that I enjoy pain since he continued to have me come back for more.

By the third trip however, my sore jaw was beginning to feel a bit better. Robert Redford morphed back into Bob Newhart, looking strangely like my dentist used to look before the recent dental problems. That was the end of that infatuation.

I have no idea what sort of money all this personal attention is going to cost, but I’m sure I will hear from Dr. Newhart’s billing service. I only hope when he is on the cruise, he will remember who is paying for it and be more gentle in the future.

I’m telling you one thing, no more checkups for me if this is what happens afterwards.



Copyright 2010 Sheila Moss

Posted in Humor | 2 Comments

Severe Winter Weather Bulletin


As Issued by The National Weather Service


… LIGHT SNOW TODAY THEN AN ARCTIC BLAST LATE TONIGHT… AN ARTIC BLAST IS SIMILAR TO SONIC BLAST BUT DOES NOT COME IN FOUR FLAVORS… GET YOUR MAGNIFYING GLASS READY TO LOOK FOR A SNOWFLAKE…OR TWO.

AN ARCTIC COLD FRONT IN MISSOURI IS PUSHING SOUTHEASTWARD… MISSOURI IS NOT IN THE ARTIC… BUT COLD FRONTS DO NOT WORRY ABOUT SUCH MINOR DETAILS… LIGHT SNOW AHEAD OF THE COLD FRONT HAS BEEN REPORTED BY SNOWBIRD AND THE TV WEATHER CHANNEL WHERE WE GET OUR BEST INFORMATION…AS WELL AS BY SEVERAL SCHOOL BUS DRIVERS WHO WANT THE DAY OFF…

TEMPERATURES BEHIND THE ARCTIC FRONT HAVE DROPPED INTO THE SINGLE DIGITS LOCALLY… AS THE COLD AIR MOVES IN…TEMPERATURES WILL DROP TO AROUND -5 DEGREES BY TOMORROW NIGHT… DO NOT ATTEMPT TO GO ICE SKATING UNTIL THE ICE IS MUCH THICKER… WE TRIED IT AND LOST A TV WEATHER PERSON EARLIER TODAY…

THE BITTER COLD WILL CONTINUE THROUGH THE WEEKEND BEFORE A GRADUAL WARMUP… WE KNOW THE COLD IS BITTER BECAUSE A WEATHERMAN CAUGHT SNOWFLAKES ON HIS TONGUE TO TEST IT… RESIDENTS SHOULD TAKE PRECAUTIONS TO PROTECT LIFE AND PROPERTY FROM THE BITTER COLD…UNLESS YOU NEED A DEAD BATTERY IN YOUR CAR AS AN EXCUSE TO TAKE OFF FROM WORK…

THE NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE HAS ISSUED A WIND CHILL ADVISORY… WHICH IS IN EFFECT FROM 6 AM TODAY UNTIL 6 AM TOMORROW. IF YOU HURRY… YOU WILL STILL HAVE TIME TO MAKE IT TO KROGERS FOR BREAD AND MILK… A WINTER WEATHER ADVISORY REMAINS IN EFFECT UNTIL TOMORROW OR UNTIL THE WEATHER SERVICE GIVES UP ALL HOPE… WHICHEVER COMES FIRST…

* TIMING… SNOW ACCUMULATION EXPECTED THROUGH MID AFTERNOON… MAY WE SUGGEST CARRYING A SNOW BRUSH AND ICE SCRAPER AS THERE IS ALWAYS THE POSSIBILITY THAT WE COULD BE RIGHT FOR A CHANGE…

* MAIN IMPACT… ONE INCH SNOWFALL EXPECTED… TRAVEL PROBLEMS AND DELAYS CAN BE EXPECTED ACROSS THE MID STATE SINCE SOUTHERNERS HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO DRIVE IN SNOW…WHETHER THERE IS ONE INCH OR SIX…

* OTHER IMPACTS… SINCE WE HAD TO BACK DOWN ON THE SIX INCHES OF SNOW PREDICTED EARLIER (DRAT IT) WE ARE HAPPY TO HAVE SOMETHING ELSE TO RANT ABOUT… WIND CHILL VALUES TONIGHT WILL FALL TO FIVE DEGREES BELOW ZERO… THAT IS *FREEZE YOUR BUNS OFF* COLD…IN CASE YOU DONT KNOW… WIND CHILL ADVISORY IS IN EFFECT NOW… SO IF YOU HAVE ANY PLANS CANCEL THEM AND MAKE A POT OF FIVE ALARM CHILI INSTEAD…

PRECAUTIONARY/PREPAREDNESS ACTIONS…

A WINTER WEATHER ADVISORY MEANS THAT PERIODS OF SNOW WILL CAUSE TRAVEL DIFFICULTIES… BE PREPARED FOR SLIPPERY ROADS AND LIMITED VISIBILITIES… AND USE CAUTION WHILE DRIVING… IF YOU ARE INCAPABLE OF USING CAUTION… STAY OUT OF THE WAY OF THE OTHER DRIVERS WHO PROBABLY CANNOT USE CAUTION EITHER…

A WIND CHILL ADVISORY MEANS THAT VERY COLD AIR AND STRONG WINDS WILL COMBINE TO GENERATE LOW WIND CHILLS… WIND CHILL IS DIFFERENT THAN TEMPERATURE… SO DONT GET MIXED UP ABOUT IT… WIND CHILL WILL RESULT IN FROST BITE AND LEAD TO HYPOTHERMIA IF PRECAUTIONS ARE NOT TAKEN… THIS MEANS STAY INSIDE… IF YOU MUST VENTURE OUTDOORS…MAKE SURE YOU WEAR A HAT AND GLOVES… ALSO WEAR CLEAN UNDERWEAR IN CASE YOU ARE IN AN ACCIDENT AND HAVE TO GO TO THE HOSPITAL.. (OUR MOTHER MADE US SAY THIS…)

THANK YOU FOR READING THIS SEVERE WEATHER ADVISORY FROM THE NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE…WE ARE SORRY THAT WEATHER PEOPLE DO NOT KNOW HOW TO USE THE SHIFT KEY AND MUST WRITE IN ALL CAPS… IF IT IS SNOWING WHERE YOU ARE…SEND IN A PICTURE SO WE WILL KNOW WHAT TO PREDICT IN OUR NEXT WEATHER ADVISORY…


Copyright 2010 Sheila Moss

Posted in Humor, Weather | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Without a Leg to Stand On

Hospitals, I hate ’em. I was an unwilling victim who held off as long as possible. But, my knees were giving out fast. My doctor had advised me years ago that I needed a knee replacement surgery. But as long as I could walk, why do anything so radical?

Finally, however, about 10 years ago, I got to point where I knew I had no choice. Every step was painful and I had already resorted to using a cane to be sure I didn’t take a tumble. How could I do my work, keep house, travel, shop when I was so limited?

Well, at least it is fixable, I thought. So, I granted my orthopedic surgeon his wish and consented to surgery.

“Which one do you want to have done first?” he asked. He advised me to do one and then in six months to do the other. Two surgeries? I don’t think so.

“I want them both done first,” I replied.

“Both? That’s really hard,” he replied. “You won’t have a leg to stand on.” (Doctors do not make very good jokes.)

Any surgery is hard, I figured. I’d rather do it in one giant swoop of pain and get it over with. Besides, I have things to do, places to go. I can’t be laid up twice.

So, I talked him into it, telling him that I would go to a rehab hospital after the surgery was over.

Somehow, I expected the surgery to caused very little pain and that I would be back to normal in a matter of weeks.

So, on the scheduled morning, I reported to admissions for duty. They sped me into the operating room so fast that they hardly had time to get the IV started. They didn’t really need to worry. I was not going to change my mind at that point.

What followed can only be described as a blur of pain and nurses between naps. They say the mind forgets what it does not want to remember. It must be true. I only remember that I had to stand up the next day on the flaming sticks that used to be my legs.

After three days, the doctor said I was being released to rehab. Released? I could not possibly get in the car and go to another hospital. I guess they were smarter than I thought as paramedics arrived and took me in an ambulance.

So, I spent 10 glorious days in a rehabilitation hospital where they put me through hours of rehab, doing exercises in a gym-like therapy room that I called the torture chamber.

The rest of the time I spent sobbing and begging for pain meds. Finally, the rehab doctor had mercy and upped my meds to control the pain better. I was pretty loopy most of the time after that, but managed to learn to wheel myself up and down the halls of the hospital pretty fast, especially when the nurse was chasing me with a dose of milk of magnesia.

Eventually, I learned to use my flaming legs and was released to go home — home sweet home. I was still laid up for several weeks in bed.

When I went back to my regular GP for a follow up, he was not pleased with all the drugs I was taking and cut me back drastically. So much for my drug-laced dreams.

I have two ugly scars and a mind full of painful memories, but it’s over. I’m now a bionic woman with knees that can set off metal detectors from 50 feet away.

Whatever happened to those visions of flowers, cards and looking cute in pretty nightgowns? It was nothing like that, I’m here to tell you. In fact, the only good thing about it is getting it over and moving on with life.

It’s good to be back in the land of the living.

Copyright 2010 Sheila Moss

Posted in Health, Humor | Tagged , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

The Dog Ate Saran Wrap

Gizmo is really a good dog most of the time. He’s a 15 years old Sheltie who long ago outlived most of the other dogs of his breed. He spends most of his days napping and dreaming. His arthritis prevents much running and playing, and we don’t think he hears or sees too well either.

Here lately, he really has us worried as he won’t eat. He just doesn’t seem to like his dog food any more. People food is another story. He is the world’s biggest moocher when anyone is trying to eat. But the vet said, “No people food,” as it isn’t good for him.

The other day I was fixing dinner. I warmed up some corn on the cob in the microwave by wrapping it in plastic wrap. When I unwrapped it, the wrap accidentally fell on the floor. The moocher is always around when there is food present. Before I could pick it up, he grabbed it.

I tried to get it away from him, but he ran. I yelled for my honey to stop him, but before he could tackle him and pry open his mouth, the plastic wrap was gone. The dog swallowed it.

Oh, no! What to do? The dog ate Saran Wrap. I couldn’t believe it! He will not eat his dog food but he will eat Saran Wrap? The corn didn’t even have butter on it.

Fortunately, he had an appointment at the vet the next day anyhow. He seemed perfectly fine and a little proud of himself for fooling people and mooching something he wasn’t supposed to have.

We Goggled “Dog ate Saran Wrap” on the Internet to see how dangerous it was. Surprisingly, he is not the only dog that has a taste for plastic. A lot of dogs apparently do this. Usually, however, the plastic is wrapped around food like fried chicken, and the plastic is simply incidental to the snack.

We seem to have the only dog that eats plastic wrap by itself, without butter.

Basically, there are three things that can happen, none of them pleasant to talk about. But since we are this far in the story, I might as well tell you. The dog can throw it up, it can pass through, or it can wad up and cause a blockage that has to be removed surgically.

“Watch the dog to see if it acts sick or lethargic,” advised the Internet. Oh great, this dog always acts that way. At his age, he is not exactly a bundle of energy. I felt really bad. Giz had made through thick and thin to live to a ripe old age and now I had probably killed him by letting him eat plastic wrap.

Apparently, Saran Wrap didn’t agree with the dog because by the next morning, he coughed it up and the crisis was over. Thank goodness. At his age we were not sure if he could go through a surgery.

My daughter took him to the veterinarian the next day and told him what had happened. The vet normally would not laugh at something so potentially serious, but since things were okay now, he could see the humor. He could not understand why a dog would eat Saran Wrap and turn up his nose at dog food either.

Anyhow, there is a happy ending. The vet prescribed a special food that is for dogs that have been sick. It is high calorie and palatable. The dog loves it and gobbles it down as if it is people food. In fact, when we give it to him, we have to stand guard as the cats come around and try to eat it too.

Now when he mooches, we just give him his own special food and he thinks he is getting a treat — one even better than Saran Wrap.

Copyright 2010 Sheila Moss



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