Clip Clopping Down Memory Lane

In Third Grade, Nothing Worth Mentioning Had Been Invented Yet

Today I had to google how to get the number “6” from appearing when pushing the letter “o” key on my Zagg/mate keypad for my Ipad.

Now this got me to thinking.  If my third-grade teacher, Mrs. Buoy, would have read the above sentence to us back in 1962, I would have thought she was speaking to us in another language. (If I would have been listening, that is.)

Turns Out Mrs. Buoy Was Not Full of Hooey

I guess I thought of Mrs. Buoy (whom I loved like a grandmother) because she was definitely a person ahead of her time. I’ll never forget her saying that most of us would  be working in careers some day that hadn’t even been invented yet.  And she was right!  Unfortunately, that’s about the only thing I can remember about third grade. Aside from the fact that I loved Mrs. Buoy.

That’s because third-grade was the year I became a Horseback Riding Junky.

My Spiral into Addiction

It all began innocently enough with an overnight stay at Ann Payne’s house where I experienced my first ride on a horse named Sweetie.  One time around the pasture and I was hooked. From that moment forward, I HAD to have a horse of my own, even if I had to beg borrow or steal. (In the end I chose the latter, but more on that in a minute.)

Anyway, after that my life was reduced to a series of horse-related activities including drawing horses, dreaming of horses, staring at horses and being jealous of kids who had horses.

This is a perfect example of the horses I drew in third grade. I say perfect example because, as you can see,  I don’t draw any better now than I did in third grade.

Festering Pestering

I began my quest to get a horse by suggesting to my parents that perhaps they should buy me one.  When that fell on deaf ears, I stepped it up to logical reasoning, followed by persistent pleading; until finally I was reduced to relentless begging.

Then, a Possible Breakthrough!

One evening, I thought I had my mother convinced.  I was begging for a horse, as usual, when she finally said, “Why don’t you go to bed, and we’ll talk about it tomorrow!

TALK ABOUT IT TOMORROW!! I couldn’t believe my ears!   Suddenly, I had gone from no chance at all to a legitimate snowball’s chance in hell. I was elated, and I went to bed that night dreaming of a 35-year-old nag named, Prince, who was for sale for fifty bucks.

A Bitter Setback

Sadly, the next day, when I found out that I merely was “over hoping,”  I packed my yellow shortie pajamas into a 45-record record case and threw it out the window in a short-lived plan to runaway from home. (I forgot about it until the following summer when my Dad found it in the bushes beneath my window while he was mowing the lawn.)

A Happy — Even Though It Took Long Enough! — Ending

Nevertheless, I am happy to report that my dream of horse ownership finally did come true! I finally got my horse!  Oh sure, it took from third grade until I was 50. But better late than never I always say.

Joey a.k.a. Sedintariat

And a beautiful treasure he is too!

Until next time . . . I love you

Do Larvae Sleep? Bank on It!

Hard Working Scientists Have Done It Again!

Well, well!  Thumbing through a copy of the January issue of Scientific American in an article entitled:  Why Sleep is Good for You, it seems our industrious Scientist Community has been staying up late worrying about going to bed early.

In an unprecendented effort to dig up more work, Scientist’s have been studying the brain’s performance while sleeping and not sleeping by studying see-through fish.

Divided into Two Camps

The article goes on to say that the question of sleep has divided the Scientific Community into two camps:

Those who think sleep is good for you, and those who think sleep is even better for you than those who think sleep is good for you.

Scientists Who Stare at Fish

According to the article, a “group” (probably less than 50 but more than 25) of Researchers have been staying up late staring at some Zebrafish in the aquarium at the lab.  This is the kind of activity that just about any group can do without the need to pre-coordinate; thus making it quite popular among uncoordinated groups of Researchers.

Not as "co-ordinated" as one might imagine.

Let Sleeping Brains Lie

Basically all the researchers have to do is meet at the same time, pour themselves some coffee and shuffle over to the aquarium tank to “look” at the fish.  In this case they were looking at Zebrafish because “their larvae are transparent, which allowed researchers to watch their brains as they slept.”

Putting the “zzzzzz” in Zebrafish

For you see, it had been determined at an earlier date that Zebrafish are less active at night than they are during the day which could only mean one thing.  They SLEEP at night!
After coming to this scientific conclusion, the Researchers could have simply gone right home and written about it in their Scientific Journals. But the Researchers wanted to keep going because they just knew they were about to make a Scientific Discovery; plus they needed the hours.

Talk About Dedicated!

So one Camp of Researchers wrestled a Zebrafish to the bottom of the tank while the other Camp of Researchers held him down and dyed his neuron connections green and black.

They Could Be Dead, Sure, But Scientists Say They’re Sleeping

Well, wouldn’t you know, the Researchers soon found out that zebrafish’s synapse activity was lower during sleep.  But how could the Researchers tell that the Zebrafish was, in fact, asleep?  Because, first it started yawning and then it closed its eyes for about eight hours give or take.

These eyes have been scientifcally proven to be closed.

The upshot is that the hard work of the Reseachers paid off when the results were published in the Journal, Neuron, and the Researchers become the very first to show the effects of sleep/wake cycles and time of day on the synapses of a living vertebrate!

And if that little bit of scientific good news doesn’t put a spring in your step, nothing will.

Until next time. . . I love you

The Lighter Side of the 2012 Apocalyptic Nightmare

Getting Through 2012

I’m planning to live at least until age 90, and I better not be disappointed or there’s going to be trouble.  (What kind of trouble and with whom is yet to be determined.) Since I’m going to be 60 soon, I figure I’ve got the last third of my life still to go.  Assuming, of course, we get through 2012 OK. 

Were the Mayan’s Just Nervous Nellies?

I’m banking on the fact that the Mayans — who got us all worried about 2012 in the first place — were simply Nervous Nellie types who were an easily-embarrassed, socially-awkward group of people.  Perhaps what THEY would consider an apocalyptic nightmare, WE would consider nothing more than an awkward situation.

“Does this hat and scarf combo look like an apocalyptic nightmare? Be honest!”

Crunching My Own Numbers

I suppose this is as good a time as any to confess that when it comes to theories about time, space and things of that ilk; I prefer to crunch all my own numbers. I guess I’m just old-fashioned that way.  And my numbers don’t mind being crunched either.  They can stay flat for days and spring right back into their original shapes the minute I remove the rock.

My Trusty Fingers

I guess you could say that I like to look at numbers from a different perspective.  One in which there are no hard and fast rules.  I prefer my number rules to be easy and slow.  Which is why, no matter how many mathematicians I’m with at any given moment, I still prefer to perform all my own number crunching using nothing more than my brain, a sharpened pencil and my trusty fingers.

The Number Zero

Take the number zero, for instance.  Any third-grade mathematician will tell you that if you multiply any number by zero you will get zero.

Just for Argument’s Sake

So let us say, for argument’s sake,  that you have seven oranges.  Let’s also say, for argument’s sake, that oranges give you a rash so you won’t be eating any during this demonstration.  Let’s also say, as well, that you live in an alternate universe so as not to complicate things with the pesky laws of physics and other overly-fussy things like that. Let’s also say, for argument’s sake that oranges are dangerous.  (Sorry to be doing all these things for argument’s sake, but argument tends to pitch a fit when things aren’t done for its sake.)

Dangerous Oranges

Why are we making the oranges dangerous?  Because, Dearest Reader, we’re going to need some motivation for making them disappear.

That’s right, I said disappear! So let’s lay all our oranges out on the table.  Just in a straight line.  Nothing fancy.  Don’t let any of them roll off.  Now run and get a marking pen and next to the seven oranges write neatly: 7 x 0 = 0.  HA!!   Now, mathematically, you have zero oranges!

So where did all the oranges go?

I’ll bet you my entire life savings that some crazy, socially-awkward Mayan in an alternate universe  ate them.

But before you take that bet, be forewarned! I crunch all my own numbers.

Until next time . . . I love you

Well at Least the File Wasn’t in the Cake

I don’t know if I’m doing something right or if I’m doing something wrong when it comes to manifesting.

For instance, I am a recently converted White Cake Fanatic, and I am always in search of my next wonderfully delicious piece of white cake with white frosting.

Today when I got done getting my back adjusted at the chiropractor’s office, I was offered and accepted a piece of the most delicious white cake I’ve ever had.

It was so good, it was worth putting my back out for.  So that should tell you something (I’m not sure what, but if you find out e-mail me).

Being offered white cake unexpectedly like that made me think that maybe I actually manifested it.  Or at least my inner sweet tooth did.  Which is wonderful and thank you, Universe (Uni) for arranging that.

Then there was the manifestation that happened the other day.  37, (my husband) and I were both in need of a fingernail file.

Of course, there wasn’t a single one to be found so I made a mental note to buy some next time I was out.

I don’t know why I bother making mental notes at all since  my mental note system is horribly flawed. I think Peanuts, my brain, must be filing  my mental notes using the Dewey Decimal System — which I have always found unnecessarily confusing.

But anyway, the good news is that it turns out I didn’t need my mental note anyway, because I completely manifested a fingernail file all by myself!

For you see within the pages of this 1936 Wear-Ever new method of Cooking booklet I found at the thrift store THE VERY NEXT DAY was a . . . well guess . . . .go ahead guess!

Ok, nevermind I’ll tell you. 

A fingernail file!  I kid you not (mainly because I don’t even know who you are).

It happened while I was showing 37 the1936 Wear-Ever Cook booklet — and I was pointing out how it looked more like a 1960’s booklet rather than one from 1936, because it was turquoise and space-agity.  I should know, as I consider myself a fake expert on the subject.

37 was listening and  pretending to be interested when . . . well sir, right then and there in the center of the booklet was a fingernail file!! 

(I was even going to end that sentence with three exclamation points but when all is said and done it was only a fingernail file after all — manifested or no.)

Aren’t you absolutely floored that I managed to manifest that fingernail file so quickly and without even really trying? I know! Me too!

Of course, I would have been a teensy more excited about manifesting it, if it didn’t make me slightly sick to my stomach to find a fingernail file in a cookbook.  But still . . . I’m manifesting stuff aren’t I?  And that’s the important thing.

Until next time. . . I love you

Word Swirling


Peanuts, my brain, and I have finally come to an agreement on two things.  We are going to  1) write on this blog each day and 2) go for a walk each day.

Unfortunately, Peanuts is a little confused about the difference between writing and walking.

While walking, Peanuts is a veritable word magician.  Arranging words in the cleverest of ways, coming up with funny, original concepts left and right; and then whipping them all together with hearty doses of unusual nouns, sparkling verbs, and to-die-for adjectives.

Peanuts often ends up with a swirl of words the world has never seen the likes of which!  (That last sentence  being a perfect example!)

On any given day, you might see Peanuts and I  walking down the street mumbling, “Oh that’s good, I gotta remember that!” And then repeating some catchy phrase over and over inwardly (trying not to move our lips lest we be mistaken for crazy) and doing a fine job of  it too, until Peanut’s gets distracted by  running  into a telephone pole and lets go of the idea completely.

At this point, all  I can do is watch  helplessly as the perfect word combo floats away to  Cosmic Essay Limbo, where all the good little essays live, huddled together, in a cruel parallel universe where prepositions are panned, adjectives are illegal and verbs just rub everybody the wrong way.

Sigh. . . If  Peanuts would simply pay attention to where Peanuts is walking instead of trying to write essays on the fly, there would certainly be a lot fewer distractions going on in the way of stumbling, fumbling and mumbling.

Of course as soon as we get back, and I am seated at the computer keyboard, Peanuts has already punched out for the day, and I am left nothing but Peanut’s involuntary functions with which to slap together some sort of wordage for this blog.

Don’t get me wrong, slapping together wordage is one of my favorite things, but it’s even more fun when Peanuts is actually involved in the process and not wandering around up there in the attic folds sifting through old memories.

Sometimes I think Peanuts just doesn’t give a flying fig about me.

I’m warning you, Peanuts, if you ever become vegetative, I’m unplugging on you so fast it will make your wordage swirl!

Wait . . . what’s that?  Oh, Peanuts has just checked in with me.  Peanuts says instead of saying, “Peanuts doesn’t give a flying fig about me”, I should say, “Peanuts doesn’t give an airborne artichoke about me.”

That Peanuts! It’s that kind of writing that makes me forgive Peanuts every time, no matter how mad I get.

Until next time . . . I love you

Hyper Fitness

I was standing behind a lady in line yesterday who was wearing a jacket with the word “Hyperfit” written on the back.

Correct me if I’m wrong (not really), but isn’t something that is a “hyperfit” seem like it’s going to fit 1) so snugly it will hike up in all the wrong places or 2) keep wandering around in places it was never meant to go?

Either way it sounds like it’s going to be annoying, doesn’t it?

Hey, I  just looked up Hyperfit on The Goog and guess what?  It’s a fitness center! A fitness center that has an adorable skull and crossbones for a logo. Go look! (But come right back I’m not finished with you yet.)

Now don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I don’t want to pay big bucks (plus soul) to work out until I drop dead as much as the next person. But apparently you have to “try out” for the privilege of doing this at Hyperfit USA. They make it abundantly clear that this is not a gym for the faint of heart (muscle).  No siree Bob.  These people mean business people!

Ok, so let’s just think about this for a minute. (This would be an ideal time to throw that load of laundry into the dryer, get more coffee and come back while I think something up).

Ok, you ready now?  I didn’t think of anything while you were gone, but I did look at the Hyperfit USA website a little more and here’s some actual comments from their “What People Are Saying”  link:

“If you want to have someone dedicated to seeing you reach your goal, Doug is the man you want to talk to.”

That’s probably because Doug likes to sit at the juice bar and watch people exercising.  This guy has seen so many people reach their goals, he’s completely lost count.

“This place will get you into the best shape of your life, unless you were a professional athlete.”

In which case this place will get you into the worst shape of your life.

“. . .  It would be impossible to not enjoy working out here, aside from the brutality of the workouts, but that is what really brings everyone together anyway . . .”

That’s because the emergency room is a great place to bond with people and make new friends!

  “. . . Great training, great people, great facility, great results.”

Membership also includes unlimited use of the word “great” which is great!

”  . . . HyperfitUSA is a collection of some of the best people you will find anywhere . . . “
If you don’t count the Smithsonian Institute, that is.
“Hands down, the best gym around for miles . . . “
You could go five miles in any direction and NEVER find a gym as good! So just forget about it already.
“Head and tails over any “regular” gym.”
Uh . . . that’s probably because people at “regular” gyms don’t have tails . . Hello!
“No spandex and hair fluffing here…HYPERFIT is the best.”
Oh sure there are people who wear spandex, and there are people who fluff their hair, but absolutely no people who wear spandex AND fluff their hair at Hyperfit USA. Thank goodness!
I’m going to go fluff my hair now.
Until next time . . . I love you