a little self-deprecating humor

I like to poke fun at myself and I'm not alone.

I am woman hear me roar

I finally found an electric outdoor grill that is compact and cheap. This morning I put it together. Now I consider myself to be a very feminine, dignified, calm person with one exception. When I have to assemble something, I turn into a man. (Shut up about sexism, I have a lot of background concerning men and assembling things)

If there is any testosterone in me, it roars when I get out my toolbox. First off, it really takes two people to do this, assemble a grill. You have to hold onto the grill, and a part and turn a screwdriver at the same time. I only have two hands, for pity sake!

I struggled using my chin as a third hand and finally got the two back legs on. That felt good! Then I picked up a third leg. It looked different. So did the fourth leg. I looked at the carton. Front legs were on the back. Start over. My chin is really sore.

Thought you'd want to know.

I hate sneakers

When you're five feet two, and not a size six, there is no way you look good in sneakers. They are fat and chunky, they make my legs look bad. They are just plain ugly. But my doctor told me I have to walk. I tried it in my flip-flops. I didn't get very far.

I saw an ad on the internet. You can order plain old regular Keds and design them yourself. You can download your own designs and they will put them on the shoes. So I thought, why not go for fun and off-beat. I got out some old school photos and sent them on. Voila! They are a bit strange, but I think they're pretty nice.

I put the 8Th grade graduation in front. There is John Rogers, adored by all the girls. The summer following 8Th grade he asked me out. I was cute then. (See picture above.)

So now I walk in my Keds and when I get bored I look at my feet and John and I remember when. I wonder where you are John and what you would think if you knew your picture is on my keds.

Probably that I'm nuts.

eeek!

Yesterday I let out a shriek. I was on the patio. I live in a retirement community and shrieks from the residents are taken very seriously here.

I was re potting a fern. A worm crawled across my hand. I wasn't expecting a worm. It scared me. Ir scares me now.

What is notable is that I used to bait hooks with red worms. Big ones. It didn't bother me back then. But fishing didn't bother me back then either. Now I don't want to be responsible for the demise of anything that has a face. Fish have faces don't they?

Wait while I Google.

I found one fish that has a face.

I swear I love Google!

I had a aunt that had nothing but plastic flowers in her front yard. She also had six toes on each foot. Maybe I could go plastic?

Nah.

invisible thread.

I make purses. So, I use a lot of different fabrics that require using different colored thread. It's a real pain changing the thread on the sewing machine. I discovered transparent thread. Problem solved, I thought. Same thread for each purse. Only problem, you can't see it. It's invisible. You can only thread the needle with a lot of trial and error. So, that was the end of transparent thread, I thought.

I must have accidentally kicked the spool under the dining room hutch where I sew. It must have left a trail of invisible thread on it's way. Not knowing this, every time I crosses the room my foot caught on the thread and it unraveled, got tangled around my foot. I broke it off but it just kept happening. It was as if Spider man had moved in. There was thread everywhere, I just couldn't see it.

They need to put a warning on the package.

tool (wo)man

I've taken up gardening. Container gardening that is. The plastic containers I bought need holes drilled in the side to let the water out. Didn't know that when I bought them.

So I bought a little battery powered drill. At least I thought it was a drill. Turns out it is really an electric screwdriver. It has a Philips screw thingy on it that I thought was a drill bit.

I went back and bought drill bits. I bought the biggest one. It just whirled around the container's surface and didn't do a thing. Seems I need to make a little hole first with a small bit and then graduate up to a big one. Back to the store.

Oh the vagaries of tooling!

squirrlly

I really don't like squirrels. I especially don't like the one that frequents my patio. It's there because the lady next door feeds it. She went into the hospital yesterday so the squirrel got hungry. This morning he was banging on my patio door. Scared the heck out of me! I guess he thought I'd fill in. Forget it, Sucker!

I called the office. I was very diffident.

"You're going to think I'm crazy," I began. "There's a very aggressive squirrel on my patio."

"Banging on your patio door?" the secretary asked.

"Yeah!" I said, relieved.

The maintenance guy came over with what looked like a butterfly net. Rather apropos, I thought. He had no luck.

"Could you perhaps get a humane trap and maybe take it away from here?" I asked, wanting to seem very Zen and concerned about a living thing.

Translation: "Could you get him off my patio and go dump him somewhere?"

He's a rodent for Pete's sake!

(Note: No animals were harmed in the conveyance of this post.)

penny from heaven

Was out walking this morning. A lady with a walker passed me in front of the catholic church. She bent down to pick up a penny.

"Wow!" her companion said, That's good luck."

They seemed to be pretty excited about the penny.

I tried to recall the last time I picked up a penny. I may have thrown a few away out of shear laziness. Not good.

But I remember being excited about a penny. 1945 to be exact. Double Bubble or Bazooka Bubble gum. I can remember how it smelled, how it tasted and the bubbles. You tried to blow the biggest bubble possible and of course it popped in your face. That is when you used the wad to get the gum off. I guess gum sticks to gum. Dab, dab, dab...

I also recall the penny candy. My favorites were Bit-O-Honey and candy cigarettes. I had it down pat. Inhale, blow smoke, tap off the ash, just like Loretta young.

I once had a dog named Penny but that's another post.

this is war!

OK, I've had it with the squirrel. The office didn't put out a trap and the lady is back feeding it.

So the dirty rat came back with his friends.

I turned the hose on him and gave notice in case I'm reported for animal cruelty. It wasn't cruel though. Turns out the rat seemed to like the shower. I swear he smirked at me.

I thought I would be in trouble, but the secretary said,

"Put out some poison," laughing as if to suggest that she didn't really mean it.

I'm sure she did, though, and probably even hoped I took her seriously.

But I would never poison a squirrel even if it is an intriguing idea.

Don't try to act cute!

He's still there. The squirrel. He sits up with his two paws hugged to his chest. He stares. It's now a regular thing. Don't try to look cute. It won't work. I already established that I hate you. So go away. You are a rodent and rodents are bad animals. I gave you a name. It's a bad word spelled backwards. So go away and stop trying to look cute. It's not going to work