Humor Columnist Blog

The Earth Shoes

Posted on April 23, 2016 by Sheila Moss

Summer is here, time for sandals, but my favorite black pair has fallen apart. What can I do? Maybe I can look on the Internet and find a pair just like them. I search and search and follow dead links to dead websites until I finally realize that last year’s sandals have gone out of style. So, I decided to find a different pair, something similar — but different. I checked out online shoe stores and found several pairs that I liked.

I’m a sandals person. I would wear them in winter with socks if people didn’t think I was nuts. I’ve had all kinds of sandals through the years. They can be cheap or expensive, but the one thing they must always be is comfortable, the next thing to going barefoot.

I found a pair that I loved, marked down to $30. I love a bargain as much as I love sandals. Trouble is, they only came in brown. The other colors were sold out and the shoes were reduced, undoubtedly to unload the brown leftovers.

But, I still wanted a pair of black sandals.

I thought about the 70’s when we used to wear earth shoes to college. They looked like regular shoes, but inside the heels were lower than the toes. Too bad they were a fad and the company quit making them after a few years.

On a lark, I decided to type “earth shoes” into a search engine. I couldn’t believe my eyes when several places that sold them popped up. It seems the “going green” trend has created a new market and they are bringing back earth shoes. I checked them out and sure enough they were genuine Earth Shoes, just like I remembered them. I don’t remember them being so expensive, though.

“Good for your feet and good for the earth,” went the sales hype.

The defining feature of Earth Footwear is a slight angle that positions the toes higher than the heels. The angle re-distributes body weight. The inside molds to the shape of the foot and supports it. Not only that, but they are environmental-friendly, have biodegradable soles, and come in earth-friendly vegan styles.

I was sold. What’s a hundred bucks when it stands between me and saving the environment?

I couldn’t send them my credit card number fast enough. Who cares if they are the ugly duckling of footwear? It’s the way the shoes feel that counts, and “I’m saving my feet along with the earth.” I wanted to become an earthling, just like the ad said, and benefit from their innovative technology. I swallowed the media hype whole. “It’s all about being healthy, fit, and true to myself,” I repeated.

When the box arrived in the mail, I couldn’t wait to put them on. Except for the thick soles, they didn’t look too bad. But, “Ouch, what is that big lump under my arch?” My heels went down, my toes went up. I felt like I was wearing elf shoes. As I pranced about on my heels, I suddenly remembered that I was much younger when Earth Shoes went around the first time.

The company advised wearing the shoes for only one hour the first day, and then adding another hour each day after that to become accustomed to them. I didn’t have time for all that nonsense. I wore them the next day — all day. My feet were so sore that I could barely walk afterwards. I had to leave them off for a day or two. After several tries, I almost adjusted to walking around on my heels. Anything to save my feet and the earth, I thought, even if it means walking like an elf.

Posted in Fashion, Humor | Tagged Biodegradable, Earth, Earth Day, Earth Shoes, Environmental, Footwear, Sandals, Shoes, Sore feet, Ugly Shoes | 9 Comments

Square Cubicles in a Round World

Posted on April 22, 2016 by Sheila Moss

Cubicles are one of the stranger phenomena of the modern office world. In case you are not familiar with an office environment, let me explain. Cubicles are tiny fenced spaces, normally about 8X8 feet wide, surrounded by walls about 5 feet high with an opening for a door. These are designed to be ergonomically efficient and give modern day office workers a private space in which to work.

In the olden days, we did not have such luxuries. We had rows of end-to-end desks in a large room. Everyone could see every one else and if we needed something, we probably just yelled across the room instead of calling on the phone or sending an email. We could just look up to see if the other person seemed busy and wait until they were not.

Folks were chummy in the elbow-to-elbow environment. We knew our fellow workers far better than we ever cared to. Now we are protected from all of that. We have our own tiny space of real estate, a cubical of our own to call home – the ultimate workplace status symbol, a private office. Of course, it is only private for five feet from the floor and one side is half missing to make a doorway into our tiny piece of purgatory.

I’ve had cubicles of all different ergonomically correct colors. Presently I have a pink cube. Okay, it is called “mauve” in the office furniture catalogs, very chic with black files. I used to have blue and gray. That was rather nice, but mauve is the trendy new color. I even had a gold and tan hue for a while. That was rather tacky and I was glad when we abandoned that particular place for our new digs.

Bosses, of course, have maintained their private offices with doors – real doors that close to hide their private telephone conversations, urgent email, high-priority correspondence and whatever it is that bosses do. Mere mortal workers continue to labor in semi-private, behind semi-walls, semi-isolated from the semi-intelligent people they work with.

Well, after a while, I’ve begun to wonder, “What’s the point?” Sure, it was nice at first to have my own place, my own little chunk of real estate in the bureaucracy. That feeling faded rapidly. Conversation with co-workers ceased. Communication depended on the telephone or the computer.

The cubical walls do not stop the noise from other cubicles, only the face-to-face interactions. We live in isolation from each other, hearing each other’s noise: keyboards clicking, music from radios, and telephone conversations. We smell each other’s coffee and micro-waved lunches, but are not interacting.

“People who need people are the luckiest people in the world,” Barbara Streisand used to sing. I tend to agree. We have been drawn deeper and deeper into our computers and further and further from each other. People are hard to know behind their textured fences. Like rats in a maze, we wander through the days.

Do we want to go backwards to the days of end-to-end desks in the large warehouse style room? Probably not. The lure of a space of our own is just too tempting. We can have an illusion of privacy whether we have actual privacy or not. We can engage in a private phone conversation, not realizing, or at least not admitting that the person on the other side of the cubicle wall hears it all.

Cubicles take considerably more floor space than desks. Why is it that we need privacy exactly? To conceal the fact that we are not always working at being productive, something that was really pretty obvious in the larger open office environment? Or so that we can work more effectively without distractions like having to see George across the room picking his nose, Susan flirting, or Richard flossing his teeth?

I can only muse and wonder at the inefficiency of so much efficiency. I marvel at the descriptive correctness of the word “bureaucracy” as it applies to square cubicles in a round world.

Posted in Humor, Work Humor | Tagged cubicles, desks, office worker, offices, private offices, social interaction, work, workers | 3 Comments

I Know I’m Getting Older

Posted on April 21, 2016 by Sheila Moss

Middle-aged woman in bathroom looking at mirror

Okay, I’ll admit it. I’m getting older, so what? My eyes are fuzzy and my roots are gray, but I’ve managed to survive and life should be all downhill from here. Remember, it will happen to all of us sometime, so here’s what you have to look forward to:

I know I’m getting older because… My idea of a gourmet meal is a broccoli casserole.

I know I’m getting older because… I get news from the newspaper instead of TV.

I know I’m getting older because… I’d rather sit it out than dance.

I know I’m getting older because… I have more invested in root canals than in electronics.

View of a retired senior woman sleeping in bed

I’d rather have a nap than an affair.

I know I’m getting older because… I’ve learned how to sleep with a snoring partner.

I know I’m getting older because… My high school reunion is too depressing to attend.

I know I’m getting older because… I eat bran cereal because it’s good for my system.

I know I’m getting older because… I’d rather have a nap than an affair.

I know I’m getting older because… My high heel shoes have turn into comfortable flats.

I know I’m getting older because… My idea of a tummy tuck is getting into jeans.

I know I’m getting older because… I always take a sweater along – just in case of a chill.

I know I’m getting older because… My crow’s feet are not on a bird.

I know I’m getting older because… I think bottled water is a waste of money.

I know I’m getting older because… I wear knee-highs instead of panty hose.

I know I’m getting older because… What I can’t sanitize I moisturize.

I know I’m getting older because… I spend half my shopping time looking for a restroom.

I know I’m getting older because… I’d rather wait ‘till the movie is on cable.

I know I’m getting older because… I volunteer to be carded – even if it’s only coke.

I know I’m getting older because… I talk on the phone to telemarketers instead of hanging up..

I know I’m getting older because… I’d like to get a face lift, but everything else sags too.

I know I’m getting older because… I have seamless bifocals to look like I don’t need bifocals.

I know I’m getting older because… I save plastic bags and reuse them.

I know I’m getting older because… I think Starbucks coffee is too expensive.

I know I’m getting older because… I remember when TV had three channels.

I know I’m getting older because… I remember history before it was a cable TV channel.

I know I’m getting older because… I don’t want anything else for my home if it has to be dusted.

I know I’m getting older because… I’d rather not have it than go to the mall.

I know I’m getting older because… I can’t reach my toenails to paint them red.

I know I’m getting older because… My last fling is putting sprinkles on my ice cream.

How do you know you are getting older?

Posted in Health, Humor | Tagged ageing, bifocals, comfortable shoes, crow's feet, face lift, getting old, glasses, middle age, mom jeans, old age | 5 Comments

Chicago the Band

Posted on April 20, 2016 by Sheila Moss

concert

My phone rang. “Want to go to a concert tonight?” said my honey. This was a big surprise since we are not concert-going people.

“My boss has two tickets he can’t use.” That explained it, an opportunity to smooze the boss.

“Okay, sure, we can go,” I heard myself saying. It wasn’t until later that it occurred to me that I didn’t even know who was playing. “Oh, God, please don’t let it be a hard rock band.” Surely, his boss wouldn’t have tickets to see a rock band, would he?

Naturally, it was a rock band. Thank goodness, it was not hard rock, but an older rock and roll band popular in the youth of the baby boomer set, Chicago.

We went early to find a good parking place and get to our seats. So did everyone else. Old people don’t like to hurry.

We went through the lines where little old ladies had their pocketbooks searched. The little old ladies didn’t look much like terrorist types, so I figured officers were looking for drugs. I didn’t see anyone get busted for their arthritis medication, however.

We then watched as the old folks had I.D.’s checked to purchase of beer. Imagine the astonishment of the old people who were being carded for the first time in over 40 years..

When the concert finally started, it consisted of two groups, black guys in purple jumpsuits with electric guitars and ancient white guys with horns. The first group was a called “Earth, Wind and Fire.” They were loud, really loud. You can only imagine the size of the speakers. We sure wouldn’t need a hearing aid tonight.

The sound blew my hair straight in about 10 minutes. The level of excitement seemed to increase with the volume. Naturally, my seat was right behind John Travolta’s grandfather, who stood up and danced through the whole performance.

When Chicago, the guys with horns, came out, there was much clapping and cheering in appreciation of the band’s reputation and the standing ovations lasted throughout most of the concert. The sound was so intense it vibrated through my body and I could feel as well as hear it. By this time I knew my hearing would be gone for at least a month.

We stood up through most of the concert to be able to see, pitiful considering the price of the seats. The rock group had amazing stamina for old guys, playing all evening with only one break between bands. My stamina, on the other hand, was not so hot and my feet were killing me.

Chicago played all the old songs that they made famous, one hit after another. I must admit that they were still pretty good in spite of their age and numerous changes from the original band members.

Large screens were set up on either side of the stage to project their wrinkles in graphic detail and remind you just how long they have been playing.

They group has been making music since 1967 and has sold millions of records. They became famous in the 60’s and 70’s for a sophisticated style of playing rock ‘n’ roll with horns, creating a uniquely different jazz-rock sound that propelled them into fame in the world of pop music and eventually made them a legacy.

So, that was my exciting weekend. It’s been a long time since I’ve been to a concert, and will probably be a long time before I go again. The older I get, the less I seem to enjoy crowds and traffic, regardless of how hot the tickets are.

However, it is nice to know that a few groups from other generations are still capable of drawing huge crowds, and also that old fossils like us can still almost hold up through an entire rock concert.

Posted in Entertainment, Humor | Tagged 60's bands, Baby Boomers, Concerts, Earth Wind Fire, Hit records, Loud Music, Old rock bands, Pop music, Rock and Roll, Rock bands | 7 Comments

Hurry Up

Posted on April 19, 2016 by Sheila Moss

highway

Why are we always in a hurry? We get up in the morning and hurry to get ready for work even if it means tripping over the dog and drinking instant breakfast on the road while talking on the cell phone about things that can’t wait until we get to work.

Of course, every one on the interstate is in a hurry. Why are they in such a hurry to get to work? They must like working a whole lot better than I do. But I have to hurry even if I don’t want to so I don’t get rear-ended, dirty looks, or horns blown at me to get out of the way. Speed is often a contributor to accidents. But we speed, risk traffic tickets, accidents, and injury just because we are in a hurry.

At work, we hurry though the day. No matter how much we have to do there is never enough time. We hurry through our “to do” list to get to the next task, and then hurry through it as well. Work related stress increases chance of stroke, heart attack, and even death, but we don’t have time to worry about that as we are in a hurry.

We are in a hurry to eat lunch. We didn’t eat much breakfast because we didn’t have time. Fast food is the most popular kind of eating out because it doesn’t take as long. We hurry though lunch so we can get back to work.

The same people that are in a hurry to get to work in the morning are also in a hurry to get back home at night. And we thought they liked work. But it seems they only like being in a hurry. Traffic is a nightmare with everyone rushing to get home. What do they have to do at home? Probably nothing.

We usually don’t want to take time to cook dinner. If we cook, it is most likely some of the convenience foods that are at least partly prepared in advance. These are better because we can fix them fast and get the food ready in a hurry. We can no longer imagine life without a microwave to warm food in a hurry.

What if we are in too big of a hurry to cook and decide to eat out? If the wait is too long, we look for another place. If the food doesn’t arrive quickly we mumble and complain because it is taking too long. Good service has come to be just as important as good food, and good service means timely service for busy people in a hurry.

Of course, if there are errands to do, we hurry to get them done so we can get back home in a hurry. If we shop, we do it in a hurry and complain about waiting in lines. Some stores have express lines for people who are in a hurry and don’t buy much. Nowadays, they even have do-it-yourself checkout for the people who are in too much of a hurry to go through the express lines.

We live life in the fast lane, always in a hurry. We use email and send instant messages. We don’t have time to answer the phone so we let the voice mail get it. We have rush hours, express mail, jiffy lubs, instant rebates, overnight delivery, quick shops, and speedy service. Why? Because we are in a hurry! We live in a fast age, information flies, and so do we. In spite of all the time we save, we never seem to have enough.

And that’s why I’m finished with this story now. I have deadline to meet and – you guessed it – I’m in a hurry.

Posted in Humor, Work Humor | Tagged Do it yourself checkout, Express lines, Fast Food, Fast lane, Fast Service, Hurry, Instant Breakfast, Instant Messages, Quick Shops, Rush, Speed, Speedy service, stress | 5 Comments

National Columnists’ Day

Posted on April 18, 2016 by Sheila Moss

writer

Did you know that today, Monday, April 18^th is National Columnists’ Day? No? That’s what I figured. Somehow, no one seems to be rushing out to buy flowers and candy for Columnists’ Day. Somehow, no one even seems to know that such a day exists, especially since we have so many other important things on April 18^th, like the Pulitzer Prize announcements and the due date for Income Tax returns.

It’s hard for an obscure day to compete with better known and better celebrated events.

“Did you know that Monday is National Columnists’ Day?” I asked my honey.

“National what?”

I tried to explain, but I could tell that he was more interested in what was on television. And it isn’t even football season. Thank goodness. If it was football season he wouldn’t even hear me ask.

“Did you know that Monday is National Columnists’ Day?” I asked my daughter.

“Why is it so close to Easter?” My daughter asked.

“It isn’t that close ,” I mumbled. “Easter was early this year.”

No bunny for Columnists’ Day, no basket of goodies, no candy eggs, no anything expect maybe a nod from a few columnists that remember. Mostly even columnists forget.

“Did you know that Monday is National Columnists’ Day?” I asked my son.

“Really? That’s great! Can we have lasagna?”

“Lasagna? What does that have to do with Columnists’ Day?” My son likes lasagna even better than Garfield in the comics. Any excuse for making lasagna is a good enough for him.

“I have all the stuff already,” he hinted, “the ricotta cheese, the mozzarella, the wide noodles, even the tomato sauce.”

Somehow, I think we will be celebrating Lasagna Day this year, maybe even today.

I’ll ask my grandson. He always learns about famous holidays in school. He will be excited about my day.

“Did you know that Monday is National Columnists Day?” I asked my grandson. But his face was glued to his iPad. He was in the middle of some kind of computer game. I don’t think he heard me ask. Not that it matters, he doesn’t like lasagna anyhow. He likes spaghetti with marinara, but only if the noodles are the thin kind.

Well, I have one person left, my granddaughter. She is old enough to start learning about holidays.

“Did you know that Monday is National Columnists Day?”

She squealed. Little girls always squeal. I don’t know why.

“Oh, goody!” she said. “Can we make a cake with candles on it? What’s a columnist, grandma?”

I guess I might as well give up. No one cares about National Columnists’ Day.

National Columnists’ Day is a day celebrated by columnists who, we hope, enlighten, entertain, and amuse their readers on a continuing basis. It is on April 18^th because that is the day that the famous World War II correspondent and columnist, Ernie Pyle, died. It is not only to honor him, but to also honor all columnists everywhere.

I looked at the dog and asked, “Did you know that Monday is National Columnists’ Day?” She looked at me quizzically. “Silly, question,” she thought in doggy thoughts. “Did you know it is also Pet Owners Independence Day?”

“It’s time for her to go to for a walk,” my honey said, putting on her leash and taking her away. Just when I was about to get her to help me celebrate too.

The cat ran out of the room before I could even ask. “I give up. I might as well go make lasagna and forget about April 18^th.” At least lasagna is appreciated around here.

I know, I’ll ask my readers. They will know what a columnist is, and will not have to be bribed with lasagna.

So, did you know that April 18^th is National Columnists’ Day? Please don’t all comment at once to wish me a happy day.

The term “columnist” often refers to columnists, bloggers and other writers of the serial essay, either in print or online. If you write, do you consider yourself a columnist?

Posted in Holidays, Humor, Work Humor | Tagged Bloggers, Celebration, Columnists, Essay, Lasagna, NSNC, Pyle | 3 Comments

Green Thumb

Posted on April 17, 2016 by Sheila Moss

My plant is dying. I don’t know why. It was so lush and green when I bought it, a beautiful hanging philodendron. It grew vines almost to the floor. Now all of a sudden the leaves are turning yellow and withering. I don’t get it. I’m not doing anything different than I ever did. Why?

I just don’t have it – a green thumb. Oh, I’ve tried, believe me, I’ve tried. I would love to be surround by green, living things. It just doesn’t seem to happen. I select my plants carefully. For a while they do okay, then one day leaves start to turn yellow one at a time. After that it’s down hill all the way.

I watch my plant die until I can’t stand it any longer, then throw it away and buy a new one to kill.

I’ve read the “how to” books. They all say how easy it is to grow tropical houseplants, how it is just a matter of light, water, and humidity, with a little plant food at times. That’s immediately before they launch into 300 pages of horticultural mumbo jumbo that would make Mother Nature afraid to bring a houseplant home.

I always buy the species that say “easy to grow.” The easier the better, I figure. But nothing is foolproof, well, maybe it is for some fools, but I can kill an iron plant.

What about cactus, you say? No one can kill a cactus. Wanna bet? I kill them with love – love and water. They look so thirsty I just have to give them a sip. They thank me by rotting off at the root. I kill jade plants that way too. Easy come – easy go.

I must admit, though, I had more success with cactus than any other plant. I had one that was very weird. It looked a bit like it had it long hair with dreadlocks. We coexisted for several years before it finally decided it was time to seek new ground, started putting out roots in the wrong places, and eventually dried up and died.

African violets take one look at me and start coughing. They need light, but not full sun. They need water, but from the bottom or the leaves will rot. They need plant food, but it has to be a special kind. They need humidity. See, I did read the book.

I once had an African violet that almost survived. I brought home other African violets for company when I heard that they are social. It grew, and grew until it was sprouting on the end of a long spindly stem several inches above the pot. It was ugly beyond belief – but alive.

So, I figured I couldn’t go wrong with a yucca plant, a native of the desert. But, it twisted and grew toward the sun. I turned it around and it grew in another direction. Soon it was twisted in a dozen directions and sadly deformed. Yes, it is alive – I almost wish it wasn’t.

The stores are now full of lush spring plants again. I’ll think of my philodendron with yellowing leaves, my twisted yucca, and my sick assortment of shriveled greenery. I will promise myself that if I get a new plant, I won’t over water; I’ll fertilize carefully; I’ll give it light; I’ll even mist it – maybe.

Who am I kidding? The plant is wilting already just because I’m looking at it. Apparently some people are just meant to have artificial plants. I wonder how long it would take me to kill a artificial silk philodendron?

Do you have success with house plants? My plants will appreciate any advice you can give me.

Posted in Humor, Plants/Gardening | Tagged African violets, Cactus, Green Thumb, Greenery, Houseplants, Philodendron, Plants | 12 Comments

You Know You are on a Diet When:

Posted on April 16, 2016 by Sheila Moss

You are on a first name basis with the diet plan industry.
Your refrigerator is empty except for diet cola and lettuce.
The harder you try NOT to think about food, the hungrier you become.
That was dinner? It was more like a snack.
You dream of an ice cream sundae and weigh yourself when you wake up.
You’re confused by terms like low cal, low carb, low fat, and low cholesterol.
You wonder why broccoli and carrots can’t be fattening instead of potatoes and corn.
You wonder what idiot tried to invent diet pizza.
You’ve eaten so many carrot sticks that you’re growing a bunny tail.
You lick the lid of the yogurt container.
You drink black coffee – you don’t like it – but you drink it.
You set speed records getting out of the supermarket before you are tempted.
You suspect that low cal really mean low taste.
You’re starting to feel paranoid about the bathroom scale.
You even feel guilty when using sugar substitute.
If this is food is so healthy, you wonder, why do you feel so bad?
When you look in a mirror, you see two eyes, two ears, and two chins.
How are you supposed to exercise when you are too tired from not eating?
Your vocabulary has new words like antioxidant and nutritional value.
You only eat foods with the two magic words “low fat.”
You wonder why it’s so easy to gain it but so hard to lose it.
You thought soy was animal food until you read the ingredients.
You’d sell your soul for a dish of guiltless ice cream.
If your ideal calorie intake was any lower, you couldn’t eat at all.
If someone asks how are you, you say five pounds lighter.
You consider it a compliment to be called skinny, string bean, or Boney Maroney.
You’re offended when no one notices the pounds you’ve lost.
Your bathroom scales and mirror are liars conspiring against you.
You are a one-topic wonder….. dieting.
You wonder who the idiot is that invented soy sausage and turkey bacon.
Okay, so you’re a little grouchy, so what?
You’d like to kill that person popping popcorn.
You wonder if ice cubes have calories.
How can a meal so small be called healthy?
You wonder who the idiot is that invented veggie burgers.
Your diet plan is to get finished with the diet.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Yes, in case you are wondering, I’m on a diet. This is my first day, so I haven’t had time to get grouchy yet. Have you ever been on a weight-loss diet? Any advice for me?

Posted in Food, Health, Humor | Tagged Calories, Diet, Exercise, Fattening Foods, Low Cal, Low Carb, Low fat, Sugar Substitute, Veggie Burgers, Weight gain, Yogurt | 13 Comments

I’m Not Fat, I’m Super Size

Posted on April 15, 2016 by Sheila Moss

burger

Did you hear about how obesity could soon be the leading cause of preventable death? Yeah, over one-third (34.9%) of U.S. adults are overweight.

Here I thought I was being really smart by not smoking and remembering to fasten my seat belt. but now they’ve turned the tables on me. If smoking does not do me in, I’ll be done in by my very own fat.

What’s a couch potato to do? Do you suppose I’m actually going to have to get off my bottom and exercise? Sweat? I much prefer setting in front of a computer and reading about exercise. The mere thought of exercise out wears me out.

Wasn’t it enough of a shock when McDonald’s quit super sizing their fries? Now, I suppose, I not only can’t have super size, but I really should not be having any size. I’m supposed lay off the junk food and eat more healthy food – gross stuff like vegetables and skim milk.

I’ll admit I’ve put on a few pounds in the wrong places lately, but I was hoping no one would notice. And if they did, I was hoping they would be too polite to mention it. Now here it is on the front page of the paper. The whole world knows that big buns come from bad diet and lack of exercise. It’s downright humiliating.

Of course, it’s not as if I don’t know better. It’s just the snacks and extras that are killing me. Oh, gosh, I said it again. They really ARE killing me! It’s not just a figure of speech any more.

Maybe I should just get out that aerobic exercise video and dust it off if I can find it. It did have some pretty good exercises on it. That might be better that walking since it’s easy for me to find an excuse not to walk – it’s too cold, too hot, raining, or dark. The weather nearly always cooperates to help keep me fat.

But heart attack, diabetes, stroke? I don’t like the sound of it. Maybe I should skip that ice cream after dinner and those weekend breakfasts at Cholesterol Barrel. It’s gonna be hard. I’m too used to indulging myself and being lazy. And the longer I wait, the harder it seems to be to get started.

I need to do it. It’s do or die – er – there’s that word again! No more fried foods. Low fat dairy and yogurt instead of ice cream. I know what it takes. It’s just that I have this aversion to working out when I’ve already been working in all day,

I know all the good excuses. “I can’t help being overweight.” It’s not what I eat; it’s how my body metabolizes the food that matters.” “Going without food gives me a headache.” “I get tired.” “I get grouchy,” and on and on. You don’t buy it, huh? I didn’t think so. I’ve let myself slip into bad habits, being too busy to eat right and too tired to exercise.

The thought of death by obesity is not a pleasant one, though, especially since it’s preventable. I’m going to start tomorrow. Why not today? Well, maybe someone will come along with a magic pill to make people lose weight and stop smoking. In fact, there was another article right next to the first one. That sort of timing can’t be a coincidence.

A new pill for those without willpower is expected to be released in two years. In the meantime, news reports say that the public will be educated that calories do count. Calorie counts will be shown on food products and nutritional values on restaurant menus. It seems there is a conspiracy to make us healthy and take away our fat grams. But a truly dedicated couch potato never gives up hope.

Okay, make mine a veggie burger and soy shake, and super size it!

Posted in Food, Health, Humor | Tagged Aerobics, cholesterol, Exercise, Fat, Fried foods, Junk food, Lose weight, Low fat, Obesity, Overweight, Snacks, Super size | 9 Comments

How I Learned to Type

Posted on April 14, 2016 by Sheila Moss

typewriter

In the olden days before personal computers, we learned to type on a machine called a typewriter for lack of a better name. You may have seen one of these in a museum or your parents may even have one in the back of the closet somewhere.

Back at the dawn of civilization, typewriters were not electric. You had to actually push the keys down hard enough to raise a bar with the letter you wanted to print on the paper. If you wonder how we every got anything done – we didn’t.

Then there was also the problem of errors. If you made a mistake, you had to stop and erase it with an ink eraser. It was better not to make errors. I was never much good at anything that involved a physical skill. I don’t know if it was a mental block or if I was just a klutz, but I suspect that it was the latter.

Mrs. Towery, one of my worst teachers ever, was a typing teacher, which didn’t help my self-assurance much. I was quiet as a teen, believe it or not, and being in a class where I felt less than competent made me even more so. I dreaded it when the teacher looked over my shoulder to scrutinize, and I made even more errors that had to be erased with the dreadful ink eraser.

Then someone invented this wonderful paper called “easy-erase.” A mere touch with an eraser and the error rubbed away. It didn’t help accuracy much, but it improved speed tremendously. Ol’ Mrs. Towery didn’t know about easy-erase paper as she didn’t get out much. It was a godsend for fingers like mine that hit the wrong key on a frequent basis.

I clicked along, kept a low profile, and tried not to erase any holes in the paper that Mrs. Towery could circle with her red pencil. Usually, I was last to finish and turned in my assignment when the bell rang. The problem with “easy-erase” was that it was also “easy-smear,” especially when the ink was fresh.

One morning, Mrs. Towery stood in front of the class, her scow deeper than usual as she held up a smudged and dirty paper with a large “F” on it. “This is the worse looking paper I’ve ever had turned in,” she said to the class. Then she dramatically handed it to me so everyone could see who did such sloppy work.

I couldn’t believe it. My paper was clean when I handed it in. Then I realized – I was last. It was on the top of the stack. She must have smeared the ink while handling the papers. A sudden surge of adrenaline courage hit my brain. “My paper didn’t look like that when I handed it in.” The classroom was as quiet as the day after school lets out for summer break. The class stared at me in disbelief, waiting for my impending death.

Mrs. Towery was enraged. “What do you mean it wasn’t like that?” she hissed, furious that a student would defy her.

“I used easy-erase paper and mine was on top. You probably smeared it yourself when you graded them.” The silence was dizzying.

Mrs. Towery went right on handing out papers. She knew. I knew, and the class knew too. I was an unofficial hero for a while.

I eventually learned to type with enough practice. Easy-erase paper went the way of the dinosaur about the time auto-correcting typewriters came along. I don’t know what ever became of Mrs. Towery. I can’t help but wonder if she went to her grave still thinking that she could humiliate kids into learning.

Wouldn’t she be surprised to know that I not only can type, but also turned out to be a writer in spite of her and due to capable teachers who use praise and positive feedback to teach.

Mrs. Towery, wherever you are, this is for you: fdsajkl; fdsajkl; fdsajkl;

How did you learn to type or key? Have you ever had a teacher like Mrs. Towery?