Humor Columnist Blog

Testing the Fire Alarm System

Posted on May 25, 2016 by Sheila Moss

alarm

“May I have your attention, please? May I have your attention, please? We are testing the fire alarm system. Please disregard all alarms until further notice.”

Periodically, we receive this alert over the office building intercom system. Everyone looks at everyone else and wonders what we will do if the building actually catches on fire during one of the tests when we are disregarding alarms. So far it hasn’t happened, but the first time may be the last time.

Shortly thereafter, the lights begin to flash, the sirens begin to sound, and everyone sits glued to their chair, ignoring the alarms until further notice. We are not sure exactly what the further notice will be. We hope that it is not flashing lights and sirens.

The phone rings and one is barely able to hear over the sound of the sirens blasting in the background. “What’s going on?” says the voice at the other end.

“Oh, it’s nothing, they are testing the fire alarm system.” We don’t worry about it unless we smell smoke.

Then there is a rush of air as the sprinkler system is tested. Usually this makes everyone a bit more nervous. We wonder where we will dive to get out of the flood if they decide to test with actual water. We also wonder how we can be sure that water will come out instead of air in the event of a real emergency.

After reoccurring false alarms all day, we become rather complacent. Finally the intercom announces: “We have concluded the test of the fire alarm system. Please regard all alarms from now on.” Once again we are back on alert.

For some strange reason, these tests are usually followed shortly thereafter by a fire drill. A prerecorded message comes on the intercom. “A fire has been reported in the building. A fire has been reported in the building. Please move quickly to the closest exit and leave the building. Do not use the elevators.”

We always wonder why it is recorded and who, if anyone, is actually in charge. Then we realize that no one is in charge. It is a recording to create the illusion that someone is in control to prevent panic in an emergency. How reassuring as we grab our valuables and head for the exit.

About halfway down the umpteen flights of stairs, another voice comes on. “This was a false alarm. Please return to your workplace.” So, like cattle we all turn around and go back, thinking to ourselves, “Oh, yeah, that’s what they told them in the World Trade Centers, isn’t it?”

Sometimes we actually get all the way outside before the announcement. This only occurs on days when it is pouring down rain, however. It is only after we are soaking wet that we find out that the alarm system malfunctioned and it was a false alarm.

Well, better to be told to go outside when there is no emergency than to remain in the building when there is one, we think, as we crowd on the elevators trying to get back upstairs and actually get some work done in the middle of this madness.

We have fire drills, bomb drills, and weather emergency drills. We are about due for another one as it has been a while. Oh, the joys of working in a high-rise office building. If we ever have an actual emergency, we will certainly be ready.

As far as I can remember, however, we have only had one actual emergency… ever…. and that time the alarm didn’t go off.

©2005

Have you ever been in an emergency situation such as a fire or tornado?
Was there a warning or was it a surprise?

Posted in Humor, Work Humor | Tagged bomb drills, emergency, exit, false alarms, fire alarm, fire alarm test, office intercom, sirens, sprinkler system, weather emergencies | 11 Comments

The Tradition

Posted on May 24, 2016 by Sheila Moss

familyphoto

Once again it’s a holiday weekend and once again it’s time for our family reunion. The tradition goes way back and seems to continue on year after year. When I was a child, my mother and all her siblings gathered in the summer at my grandmother’s house. It is a large family and they all tried to come at about the same time to see each other.

Finally, there were too many grandchildren to all fit into grandmother’s house, so the gathering was moved to a park where it continued for many more years. Eventually my grandmother and grandfather passed away, the children grew old, and the grandchildren became parents, but the tradition continued. The only difference was that the old people didn’t like sun and bugs and moved the gathering to a recreation hall.

It has always been a potluck dinner, with each family bringing enough to feed themselves and the rest of the entire group. It is up to the ones that live in the area to bring the “homemade” food. Those that have to travel a long way and stay in a motel buy the buckets of chicken, potato chips and soft drinks.

Since I’m one of the cooking members, the problem I have is always what to take. It doesn’t have to be fancy; it simply has to be good. Heaven forbid that you should show up with a dish not as tasty as every one else’s. It would be mortifying! Of course, some things are not to be improved upon, for example, my aunt’s coconut cream, melt in your mouth pies. There is no need to even try to top that.

I recall the terrible year that I tried to make a cherry cobbler that was a flop. I usually make delicious cherry cobbler, but for some reason, undoubtedly just to embarrass me, it turned into water. I shudder to remember. Oh, the shame of bringing a dish not up to family standards. I really have to fix something good to try and make up for this disaster.

Every lady tries to outdo everyone else in the cooking department, bringing their best culinary delights. The table is so laden with food the legs bulge and can hardly hold it all – and that’s after everyone eats. We don’t know how it happens, but somehow the food multiplies and there is more left over that there was when we started.

Someone always brings southern pork barbecue so I usually make beef barbecue for my main dish. This sort of balances things for those with hardening of the arteries that have to forgo the traditional greasy, southern fare. Actually, there are a good many of us who need to give up the calories as well as overeating is beginning to show on bellies and buns.

My daughter makes delicious lasagna that everyone seems to like. I might just let her do that and save myself some trouble. Casseroles are always good at a social dinner. That, along with a nice salad of some sort, should be a sufficient contribution. And maybe a homemade banana pudding if the dessert gremlins don’t turn it into yet another disaster.

Whatever I decide on, I am certain to have more food to bring back home than I took. I’ve never been able to figure out why we make so much food, but it seems to be as much a part of the tradition as the reunion itself.

For some unknown reason, there is a mysterious fear of someone not getting enough to eat. That has never happened yet. But maybe I should fix both the barbecue and the lasagna, just to be sure. Wouldn’t want anyone going home hungry now, would we?

©2004

What about you? Any dinners, picnics, or family reunions for the holiday?

Posted in Family, Food, Holidays, Southern Humor | Tagged cooking, Family reunion, Home cooking, Homemade food, Leftovers, Over eat, Picnic, Potluck, Relatives, reunion, Traditions | 4 Comments

Bird Clock Revisited

Posted on May 23, 2016 by Sheila Moss

I previously wrote a column called “Singing Bird Clock.” It has remained a perpetual favorite with readers. Probably all of you already know what a singing bird clock is, but just in case, I’ll explain it one more time.

First, a singing bird clock is not to be confused with a cuckoo clock, which also sings, but is an entirely different type of clock. By the way, a clock-fixing friend of mine says that cuckoo clocks do come from Germany, but they are made for the American market not the locals. What a disappointment.

Anyhow, I just want to make it clear that we are not talking about a little bird popping out of a carved wooden clock. I’m sure, however, that any cuckoo is a cut above a singing bird clock. Singing bird clocks are usually wall hanging, battery-operated clocks with pictures of birds replacing the numbers. Every hour, you get a different bird sound.

Now I thought the singing bird clock was bad, until I found out there are much worse ones out there. Due to the success of the birds, there are now clocks that make all sorts of sounds. One friend actually confessed to buying a barking dog clock in a moment of mental fatigue. A different dog barking every hour? I don’t think I need that.

My clock, as I said, is ultra cheap – a piece of junk. An over-powering whelm of some sort must have caused me to buy it. At one time these clocks were highly advertised on television. I hate to think I was brainwashed by a TV ad, but I have a feeling that’s what happened. While newer, more expensive models have pleasant bird sounds, the piece of junk I have has birds like owls and woodpeckers.

Anyhow, my cheap-o clock stopped singing several years ago. I thought it was the batteries, but I replaced them and still not a peep. Oh well, it still kept time. I just left it hanging and decided it was really not so bad the way it was. It was sort of peaceful without the owl hoots.

The other day my cat was prowling around looking for trouble, as usual. For some reason the motion of the clock hands caught his attention and he decided to inspect it. Somehow the cat managed to climb furniture to the clock and knock it off the wall and onto the floor.

“That’s the end of the singing bird clock,” I figured. Not a great loss. I had passing thoughts of getting another one – a better one this time. But, I picked up the old clock and replaced the batteries that were knocked out when it fell, and it began to sing.

I couldn’t believe it. The cat had fixed the clock!

I returned it to the wall and it has been hooting, pecking, and singing happily ever since. The cat is quite pleased with the clock now. You can imagine what an entire chorus of singing birds does for a cat when merely the motion of the hands attracted him.

The strangest thing about this clock is that people reading my first column write me to ask where they can buy a clock like this. Some people even try to buy my clock, figuring I don’t like it anyhow. It seems that they quit making this particular hoot-owl version. Small wonder. Some folks had a sentimental attachment to it, broke it, and want another one “just like it.”

I don’t have any clocks to sell. Furthermore, I now am becoming rather fond of my clock and have almost developed a sentimental attachment myself since the cat fixed it. I’m thinking that maybe the cat and I should go into the clock repair business.

©2004

AUTHOR’S NOTE: For those who can’t read enough about bird clocks, the original bird clock column can found in my blog archives.

Posted in Home, Humor | Tagged barking dog clock, battery-operated clocks, birds, clock repair, clocks, cuckoo clock, singing bird clock, wall clock | 6 Comments

How NOT to make a Succulent Wreath

Posted on May 21, 2016 by Sheila Moss

wreath
So, you are feeling crafty, huh? Yes, I will help you make a wreath. What kind of wreath did you have in mind, dear? You want succulents. Someone else made one and you saw it on her blog. You can’t get it out of your mind? I assume we are talking faux succulents? Real ones would be a big mess. How could you keep them watered?

Okay, I’ll Google it and see what I can find. Here’s a pretty one at Pottery Barn, but it is $99! We can make it cheaper than that. A lot of cute wreaths are on the internet, but they are all expensive. Pick out one you like and we will use it as inspiration. You like the one at Pottery Barn? That figures.

Step one is to buy some succulents. Dollar Tree has some and a dollar is about what your budget can afford. I have a Styrofoam form out in the garage, and I think I have some dried moss left from my birdhouse project last year. We can run over there and pick some out.

succulents
stems

Now that you have the succulents, let’s get started. We need to take the tags off the plants. Man, these are the stickiest tags I’ve ever seen. Maybe we can cut them off next to the stem and peel off the rest. I guess we need to shorten the stems or they will come out the back of the wreath. They have wire inside the plastic. Watch out! Well, there goes my good scissors.

Now, we can glue the moss on the wreath form to cover it. Where is the glue? You don’t know? That figures. Let me find my Elmer’s glue. Why isn’t the glue coming out? Take the lid off and pour out a little. Yikes! I said a little. What a mess. Go ahead and glue moss while I try to wash off my jeans. I hope it doesn’t glue them to my legs.

form The moss won’t stick? Maybe it will be okay when the glue dries. Turn it over and do the edges. Oh no, it all fell off. You can’t put it back because it is sticking to your hands, and the table, and getting in on the floor? I think we need a different plan.

How about using a grapevine wreath? We can stick plants in the cracks between vines. I know the stems are too short. We can use a hot glue gun. See, you put a glue stick in, plug it in like an iron and let it get really hot so the glue melts. Then squeeze the trigger and out comes glue. No, not yet! Well, let it cool and we can peel it off, I hope.
layout

Lay them out the way you want them to go. Now put some hot glue on the back of this plant and I will stick it in the vines. Ouch! I said on the plant. Maybe we should have used gloves. That glue made a blister. Anyhow, let’s try another one. This time you hold it. Whoops! It got on your finger? Don’t put it in your mouth! Oh no! Now you will have a blister on your finger and your lip. Maybe we can do the others without burning any more fingers. Be careful, really careful. Ouch, ouch, ouch…

Okay, I must admit it does look pretty good now that they are all glued. Let’s not use any moss between them. The vines look good enough to me. I can’t deal with moss again.

Hang it up on the door and we will call it a day. Whoops! One fell off. Glue it back. Whoops, another one fell off. I wish we had left the stems on them. Maybe no more will fall off if no one slams the door.

Do me a favor. The next time you are feeling crafty, just buy a wreath – or call me and I will buy it for you.

-0-

©2016 Sheila Moss

What sort of do-it-yourself crafts do you make? If you have something posted, let me know. Also, what is the best ointment for blisters?

Posted in Home, Humor, Plants/Gardening | Tagged craft projects, crafts, easy crafts, Funny Stuff, glue gun, grapevine wreath, how-to, succulents, wreaths | 8 Comments

Talking Trash

Posted on May 20, 2016 by Sheila Moss

trash

I’m talking trash today. What else can one do when one is up to their chin in the stuff? For some reason, my trash men have become too uppity to take anything unless it is packaged a certain way to meet their specifications.

It used to be, when I first moved out to the boondocks, that trash pickup services wanted your business. They would knock on the door, leave flyers, and practically beg you to use their service instead of the less convenient competitors that made you drag the trashcans to the curb.

You see, in unincorporated areas we do not have such conveniences as a municipal trash service. For all they care, you can bury it in your back yard or haul it yourself. Therefore, it is up to the suburban homeowner to find a private trash company and hire them to do the dirty deed if it is done.

My new trash folks were great. They came up in the driveway right to the cans and took anything there twice a week. Even the extra rubbish from holidays or yard work magically disappeared in the early dawn unnoticed.

Then the price went up. Later the amount of trash they would collect became limited to two cans. Eventually, they only took what was in a plastic bag and only if it did not exceed a certain weight. Finally, they started coming only once per week.

The rules eventually became so numerous, that I lost track. I just started putting it out there and if it remained after a week, it didn’t meet the guidelines.

Trash that doesn’t meet the guidelines can become a real problem. There was the ceramic flowerpot they refused to take because it was too heavy. I got rid of it by smashing it into small pieces and sneaking it into the garbage a piece at the time.

Shrub and tree trimmings were broken into bits and stuffed into trash bags so they looked like ordinary trash. It was a nightmare. I finally found that the county has a recycling and disposal center. I don’t have to spend any more time breaking things into bits, but I do have to go during certain hours when they are open and haul the stuff in my car or enlist a friend with a truck.

Then the other day I made the mistake of hiring my daughter’s friend to rake up the spoiled apples under the apple tree. He bagged them and placed them by the trashcans. The trash man didn’t even give them a second glance, only the trash that met specifications was removed.

Flies gathered as the apples began to decompose in the bags and leak. What to do? Repressing my gag reflex, I double bagged them and put them in one of the empty trashcans. Apparently, specifications were not met, as they are still there. I don’t know what’s wrong. They must be too heavy. Or maybe trash bags need to be tied with a pink ribbon now.

I am simply at my wit’s end. The trashcan is full of apples and insects. I have no place to put real trash. I can’t haul the mess to the disposal center because I can’t lift the can and the bags might leak in the car.

And they wonder why rednecks have washing machines and refrigerators on the porch? This is why! The trash man won’t take it – if there is one. You can’t break it into bits and the disposal center is closed even if you had a truck and could lift it and figure out where to take it.

I’ll figure out something, don’t worry. If worse comes to worse, I’ll hire my daughter’s friend to haul them away. Actually, I’m beginning to wonder if that was his plan all along.

©2004 Sheila Moss

What do you do about your trash? If you have municipal pickup, kiss the garbage man and thank him.

Posted in Home, Humor | Tagged Disposal center, Dumpster, Garbage, Garbage can, Plastic Bags, Recycling, Rotten apples, Rubbish, Trash, Trash Pickup, Trashcans, Tree trimmings | 3 Comments

The Office Assistant

Posted on May 19, 2016 by Sheila Moss

assistant

Have you noticed how no one has a secretary any more? Now people have “administrative assistants.” I’m not exactly sure what assistants do other than what secretaries used to do – when there was such a thing. I’m not certain if secretaries became too important to be secretaries any more, or whether executives needed assistants because they didn’t want secretaries to be the only ones who knew how to use a computer.

By now, though, everyone has learned to use a computer or at least to send email, which is pretty much the only thing a computer is used for in business anyhow, unless you are an accountant and use it as a high-priced calculator. If we could simply have email, we would get just as much done and not have to waste money on operating systems for the rest of that stuff that we are not supposed to use at the office anyhow.

The transitional period was pretty confusing. There were secretaries, administrative secretaries, executive secretaries, administrative assistants, executive assistants, and executive administrative assistants. Apparently the human resources department only knew three words and just rearranged them. Unfortunately, no one could figure out who did what. Life is much more simple without secretaries around to confuse us.

Assistants are really handy to executives, though. When someone calls and the boss is not there, an assistant can talk to him or her instead. Secretaries were mostly good for typing memos and taking messages. Now there are no memos to type and the voicemail can take messages. Secretaries lost their function, and so they were promoted to assistants at the same salary.

Memos went out the window when email came along. That means that no one can say they “didn’t get the memo.” Of course, they can say they didn’t have time to check email, which is probably the truth since they no longer have a secretary to sort mail for them. You can always tell how important a person is by the length of time it takes them to reply to their email.

Assistants are a status symbol. Only important people need an assistant. Assistants can take complaint calls and talk to people that the executive does not want to talk to. Talking to an assistant is the next best thing to talking to an executive. When someone can’t get though to an executive, who else would they contact other than their assistant?

Assistants to higher management are called “executive assistants.” You can always tell an executive assistant because they have a wooden desk. Regular assistants only have cubicles. Being an executive assistant also means they have voicemail. Executive assistants are a great help to executive management because they defer calls from other executives, which gives the executive manager time to send more email.

Executive assistants get to tell other assistants what to do, since their boss is more important. Since executive assistants don’t have to answer the phone, they also get to go to the bathroom, a luxury not available to secretaries, when there was such a thing.

Assistants are never promoted to management positions. Forget that! They can only hope to become an executive assistant some day. They are expected to assume additional responsibility to go along with their title. They are not, however, expected to make decisions or offer opinions because that, after all, is why we have executives in the first place.

Assistants come in handy especially since they can tell the boss when there is something important in the inbox. They know this because they always get copied on everything too. Assistants are really very busy people. It’s too bad there is no longer such a thing as a secretary to help them with the work.

©2004 Sheila Moss

Go ahead and tell me why I’m wrong. I know you want to.

Posted in Humor, Work Humor | Tagged Administrative Assistant, Executive Assistants, Executive Secretaries, Executives, office humor, Office Positions, Secretaries, Status Symbols, Voice Mail | 9 Comments

See Rock City

Posted on May 18, 2016 by Sheila Moss

DSCN0266

“We need to do something different for a change,” I yawned one lazy Saturday morning.

“Let’s go to Chattanooga,” said my honey. I knew he was referring to the Aquarium.

“Let’s go to Rock City instead,” I suggested. “We haven’t been there in ages.”

“I’ve never been,” he replied. That settled it. And so began my adventure.

It was several weeks after this conversation before we could get our act together enough to actually do the deed. Every weekend, we had other plans, had something else that had to be done – or it rained.

Finally, last weekend we decided this was it. The day was beautiful, unseasonably cool and clear. It was a wonderful day for an outside adventure.

DSCN0260 Is there a person in the entire United States that has never heard of Rock City? I doubt it, especially in the South. It is the granddaddy of roadside tourist attractions built way back in the 30’s by the same guy who invented miniature golf, if you can believe that.

It became famous not so much for the location itself as for an aggressive advertising campaign. “See Rock City” was painted on the roof of barns along highways all over the South in an ingenious scheme to draw tourists off the beaten track. It worked beyond anyone’s wildest dream.

Rock City is on top of a mountain and the only way to find it is to follow the signs up a winding, curvy mountain road. Once there, a flagstone walking path winds its way through rock formations, up and down steps, and across a suspension bridge. Stone benches provide ample opportunities for picture taking.

At the top of Lookout Mountain is the fabulous view that was immortalized in the commercial advertising slogan, “See seven states from Rock City.” Well, it’s hard to know what state you are seeing, but it is a fantastic view overlooking the city and miles beyond, so why argue.

DSCN0280 On the winding trail down the mountain, there are overlooks offering a view of the waterfall that cascades from a high cliff. By then, we had become adept at pointing out interesting rock formations that looked like frogs, faces, or whatever.

Near the end is an area obviously added for drawing families with children to the tourist Mecca. Concrete dwarfs and gnomes guard the trail and a dark cave that eventually ends in Mother Goose land with fairytale figures for the amusement of the kiddies.

Okay, this is all pretty lame in these days of high tech theme parks, but everyone needs to go there at least once in a lifetime, if only to satisfy curiosity. Continuing on the stone trail, we eventually we wound up back where we had started and inside another strategically placed gift shop.

Due to the success of the barns – over 900 painted nationwide – a smaller version was created and became popular as a souvenir. The red birdhouse with black roof and white lettering is the current classic advertising scheme.

Naturally, I couldn’t pass by an opportunity to pick up a bit of Americana folk art for the backyard. Yes, I was taken for the price of a birdhouse, like thousands of others before me. You can check it out in my back yard, which now is yet another back and red billboard for commercial tourism.

Thank goodness, I don’t own a barn.

-0-

©2004 Sheila Moss

Have you ever heard of Rock City before? Have you seen the birdhouses?

Posted in Entertainment, Humor, Southern Humor | Tagged Advertising slogans, Chattanooga, Lookout Mountain, Red Birdhouses, Roadside advertising, Roadside attractions, Rock City, Rock formations, See Seven States, Tennessee, Tourist attraction | 4 Comments

The Camera Phone Photo

Posted on May 17, 2016 by Sheila Moss

baby Some people will have a hard time believing this but I am old enough to be a grandma. In fact, I just became a grandma again with the birth of my granddaughter. Now a new grandchild is a pretty exciting thing. She came three weeks early in the middle of the night, but I could hardly wait to get the hospital the next day to see her.

I was trying to remember everything I wanted to take, the potted plant for my daughter-in-law, and the picture album with pictures from the baby shower that I had intended to take before the baby came, but didn’t.

It wasn’t until we were almost to the hospital that I realized that I had forgotten the most important thing – my camera.

Not to worry, says my honey, he has his cell phone. He knew that it would come in good for something one of these days. Men love gadgets.

“But, you can’t take good pictures,” I nagged.

“Well, you don’t have any other choice,” he retorted. Good point.

So we went in to see the new granddaughter who was, of course, the cutest baby in the hospital. We didn’t check out any of the other babies, but we didn’t need to as I can attest with grandparental certainty that no other baby could possibly have been as attractive as our own.

Grandma was thrilled because she got to hold the small bundle of joy. I think the baby likes me already because she stopped fussing when I held her. Of course, Honey had to hold her too. He was certain that she liked him the best. Fat chance!

cell phone So where was this phone? I needed a picture of this precious child to send to the relatives. First picture, he cut off the top of her head. I knew he couldn’t take pictures. Second try was a picture of his finger. Several more shots that didn’t come out but were not his fault because, “She moved.” He finally managed to make a decent picture.

We said our farewells and left empty handed except for the picture on the phone. When we got home, I asked honey to email the picture to my computer so I could see it again and email it to the relatives in other cities.

He piddled with the phone for a while and couldn’t remember my email address. More piddling and he couldn’t get it to send. Finally, I gave up and went to bed. He was still fooling with the phone. Just as I was falling asleep he announced proudly, “I sent it! It will be in your email tomorrow.” “Good,” I mumbled as I turned over and fell back asleep.

The next morning I checked my email and the picture wasn’t there. “Where’s the picture?”

“Well, I sent it,” he replied defensively.

If it hasn’t made it overnight I sort of doubt that it’s coming. Why do I have a feeling that he didn’t get my email address right?

“Maybe you could resend it.” I suggested. He got out the phone.

“There is something wrong with it. It won’t turn on.”

Naturally, the stupid phone would pick this very moment in time to go haywire. I really hate gadgets.

“I’ll go to the phone center tonight and get it checked,” he said. The phone center couldn’t fix it either, naturally, so the company is sending a new phone. The picture is supposedly still on the computer chip, but I doubt that we will ever see that picture of my granddaughter while she was still in the hospital.

All that technology, and I still don’t have a picture. I have a feeling that if I depend on his phone, she will probably be in college before I get one.

Posted in Humor, Technology | Tagged Baby, Camera, Cell phone, Grandaughter, Grandchild, Grandmother, Hospital, New born, Pictures | 11 Comments

Of Boys and Red Balloons

Posted on May 16, 2016 by Sheila Moss

balloon

It all started when I walked in and found that the store had sprouted a forest of helium balloons overnight. I was an easy mark and quickly joined the hoards of impulse buyers. Who could resist the shinny, dancing globes?

“I must have one,” I thought. “No, I must have two, one for each of my grandchildren.” I felt rather silly in the checkout line with two balloons floating over my basket, but after all, the balloons were for sale. How else could you buy one?

I’ve never been able to figure out just how they get the helium in those silvery mylar balloons. They then seal them closed and fasten them to the string with a plastic clip. The balloons are then anchored with a plastic disk on the opposite end of the string, making them too heavy to float away if the young owner lets go of the string.

The balloons floated around cheerfully in the car as I drove home. One was bright metallic red and the other was pink with X’s and O’s decorating it. They were so pretty I was almost sorry I didn’t get one for myself.

My granddaughter is only five months old, and I knew this would be her first balloon. Babies like looking at bright objects. I knew she would become excited when she saw it and smile her toothless smile.

“Who are those balloons for?” asked my grandson when I drove up in the driveway, already anticipating my answer.

“One is for you and one is for your baby cousin.”

“Can I have the red one?” He eagerly claimed his prize and I went inside the house. It was hardly any time at all until I heard screams of anguish. Oh, no, what’s wrong? I went to check and found my grandson holding an empty string and looking skyward. The string had come loose from the balloon and it had zoomed away to freedom in the upper stratosphere. He sobbed helplessly as he watched it go higher and higher.

Promises were made to replace the balloon with another just like it. After all, it wasn’t his fault that the balloon detached itself from the string. Another trip to the store, another balloon purchase, and smiles were restored. Unbelievably, however, the second balloon also failed to survive. It too escaped its string and a second balloon went to eternity before
making it inside the house.

“This is getting ridiculous,” said my daughter holding up the two empty strings. “I’m going to complain.” She took the empty strings and my grandson, and shortly thereafter came home with yet another balloon. “They replaced it because it was defective,” she said, “but the sales person had a hard time not laughing.”

Since the balloon was replaced for free, my grandson had decided to upgrade to a Scooby-Doo balloon, slightly larger, and slightly more expensive. Little did I know that balloon buying was going to become a full-time affair.

We finally learned that a balloon string is not to be trusted. Scooby-Doo was held by the balloon instead of the string until he was safely in the house. Two lost balloons are enough for one day.

For some odd reason my granddaughter’s pink balloon was fine. It seems that only red balloons are defective. Maybe it’s something in their genes that make them restless.

If you should see a shiny red balloon floating in the clouds, please wave as it passes by. It is an escape artist that has renounced its home to wander the world and explore high places.

One day the grandchildren will also break their strings and go off into the world to find a life of their own.

Maybe the loss of a balloon is not such a big thing after all. However, from now on I think I’ll just stick to buying clothes, books, and teddy bears.

Balloons are way too complicated.

NOTE: Has anyone else had a bad experience with balloons, or is it just me?

Posted in Family, Humor | Tagged defective balloons, escaped balloons, grandchildren, helium ballons, lost balloons, metallic balloons, mylar ballons | 4 Comments

Dumbness Survey

Posted on May 15, 2016 by Sheila Moss

cabin

According to an article in the local paper, southern states are some of the dumbest states, ranking in the bottom 10 of 50 states in a survey about education.

Oh, please! Do we really need a survey to tell us how dumb we are? Actually, we have always done a pretty good job of maintaining our reputation of stupid good ol’ boys and gals without any survey folks from Kansas sticking their noses into it.

It seems that the way these surveys measure dumbness is by how much money a state spends on public and secondary education. Tennessee was on the bottom of the pile according to the percentage spent per amount of personal income, ranking all the way at the bottom.

Maine, Yankee territory for sure, is deemed to be the smartest state because they spend more money than any other state on education. Now to my way of thinking at least, it just might be that it takes more to money to educate a hardheaded Yankee, but they didn’t even consider that possibility.

If you spend a whole bunch of money per pupil on education, it just stands to reason that students will learn more according to most people’s logic. If the three R’s are any indicator, the survey folks may be right since we are near the bottom on two of the three R’s and low on the other R.

Money spent on education, however, is certainly not the only indicator of how dumb or smart a population is. There are so many other factors to consider with education, for example, teacher dedication, innate learning ability, motivation to learn and parent’s involvement in education, to mention a few.

Some folks seem to think the way to measure dumbness of the South is not by the amount of money spent on education, but by other things, such as the amount of personal income spent on pickup trucks, the ratio of people vs. coon dogs, whether people listen to country music or public radio, or even how many people still have their natural teeth.

Now for those of you who are laughing up your sleeve, don’t laugh too loud. There were four other southern states in the bottom ten keeping Tennessee company: Mississippi, Louisiana, Oklahoma and Alabama. You are probably nodding your head in agreement that these states are pretty dumb too.

Well, explain this. Western states also turned out as pretty dumb with California, New Mexico, and Arizona also apparently spending less on education than their eastern counterparts. The other two, and last of the cheap spenders in our bottom ten list, are Alaska and Hawaii.

Remember, we are not talking about total amount of money spent here, but the amount spent relative to personal income. Unfortunately, there is only so much money in the pot and sometimes states choose to spend it on other needs, such as healthcare for the residents or social services. Does that really make us as dumb as the survey would suggest or merely indicate that some states have other priorities or necessities?

Besides, even if we are dumb, so what? The South has lived with this image for long that we have learned to capitalize on it and make it into an asset. Fact is the redneck image, car racing, football and the country music industry are some of our biggest assets, bringing in big bucks to the new South.

We have learned to do more with less. Great strides have been made in economic development, industries love our lower taxes, and Yankees just can’t seem to leave the cold North and move to the sunny South fast enough.

I think we are just not quite as dumb as some surveys would have people believe.