Manifesting Fingernail Files

Welcome Dear Readers. Since I’m going to be on a vacation for the next couple of days, I’ll be fishing some things out of the archives for you.

Manifesting

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!

Okay, never mind 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-agey.  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

My Brain Peanuts Red Alert!!

My Brain, Peanuts, Red Alert!!!

Warning! Warning! Warning!

Errrrr! Errrrr! Errrrr!

Dear Readers, This is a 7-Points Bulletin!

If you are traveling in state of  California on freeway 101 today, anywhere between San Francisco and Los Angeles going north or south, east or west BEWARE!

Traffic may be unusually slow, possibly backed up for hours due to a Little Old Lady Granny Driver operating under the often misguided direction of her brain, Peanuts, who is going on a road trip to visit her daughter, Jackie’s family and her new grandson, Henry!

Jackie and Henry
Jackie and Henry

 

Be on the look out for and steer clear of the following:

1)

Any woman who looks old enough to receive AARP  and pre-paid cremation opportunities in her  junk mail —  and who is  traveling south (God willing, but possibly north if her brain, Peanuts,  freaks and takes the wrong exit) in a little blue car with a bumper sticker that says:  What Happens at Grandmas, Stays at Grandmas.

2)

Should you be unlucky enough to  come up behind Granny, tailgate at your own risk — as she will turn on her windshield cleaner spray (she’s not as nice as she looks) and pretend for all the world like she is simply getting the bugs off her windshield, but in reality is passively aggressively getting your windshield wet on purpose in an attempt to punish you for not driving as safely as she thinks you should.

3)

Should she suddenly slam on her brakes in the middle of the freeway, do not be alarmed, there is nothing wrong with granny’s car, it will simply mean she was listening to a CD of Herb Albert and the Tijuana brass and her brain, Peanuts, mistook one of trumpet solos for the horn of an alarmed motorist.

4)

Granny will no doubt be traveling in the slow lane, wedged between two trucks — either because she is too afraid to change lanes or because she is pretending she is in a convoy again. Probably both.

5)

If you should see this woman driving around the mean streets of some drug n’ thug neighborhood in any town between San Francisco and Los Angeles, it will not mean that Granny is trying to “score” some illegal substances.  It will simply mean that, once again, her brain, Peanuts, picked the worst possible exit to try to find a restroom.

6)

Four or five hours into the trip you may see granny pulled over to the side of the road being issued a speeding ticket. This will mean her brain, Peanuts, finally became so desensitized and bored with driving on the freeway that her brain, Peanuts, only noticed the number 88 on her speedometer when she saw the flashing red light tailgating her.

7)

Let’s just hope and pray her brain, Peanuts, had enough sense not to turn on the windshield cleaner spray!

Ny Brain Peanuts
Beware of my brain, Peanuts, behind the wheel!

Until next time . . . I love you

Trifecta 33-Word Challenge: Real Housewives of Plato’s Utopia

Welcome Dear Readers!  Well here we are at the weekend Trifecta Challenge.  This weekend we are asked to write a 33-word story inspired by the picture below:

Real Housewives of Plato’s Utopia

another-head-hangs-lowly-2_l
[ changó ] / Foter / CC BY-NC-ND
There’s Glaucon! Hi Gluacon! Love you!

He’s such a phonie!

I hate phonies!

Me too!

This puppet show is full of them.

I know!

I like your orange tan!

I like yours too!

Real Housewives of Platos Utopia

Until next time . . . I love you

My Brain, Peanuts, Remembers: Don’t Mention the Meteorite!

It all started with the Plaza Theater 

I grew up in a very small town with a population of 1,010 people.  Downtown we had three grocery stores, a drugstore, a variety store, a barber shop, a hardware store and a restaurant as well as a movie theater, called The Plaza, that showed outdated movies on Friday and Saturday nights.

The Plaza Theater Waitsburg Washington
The Plaza, where all my nightmares began

And it is the Plaza Theater, Dear Readers, that I hold directly responsible for all the childhood fears I had — which were as follows:

1)  Falling into Quicksand  

In 50’s movies, people were constantly falling into quicksand.  Consequently, any second grader worth his weight in elementary-school rubber cement could tell you that if you fell into quicksand, never, ever struggle.  You will only sink faster.  And while this seemed like important information at the time, it never really panned out as being useful in the long run.

"Stop moving!" I'm not moving, I'm just making a face!" "Stop making a face, you'll just sink faster!"
“Stop moving! You’ll sink faster!”
I’m not moving, I’m just making a face!”
“Stop making a face, you’ll just sink faster!”

2)  Contracting Leprosy

I suffered from eczema as a kid, which might be why contracting Leprosy was a huge fear of mine. After watching the horror that Ben Hur’s sister and mom had to go through when they ended up with leprosy, well, I lived in constant fear of getting Leprosy and having to be sent away from home to live in a leper colony — even if it was in the beautiful Hawaiian islands.  This was before Hawaii was a state.  (Note to self: Jeez I’m old!)

Linda Vernon Humor, My Brian Peanuts Remembers
“Stop making a face, you’re just going to make it spread faster.”
“I’m not making a face.”
“Yes you are.”
“No!  I’m smiling, you wanna to see?”
“Oh good heavens, NO!”

3) Falling into the Alice and Wonderland Hole

I thought Alice in Wonderland was horribly scary complicated by the fact that Alice was a complete air-head who didn’t seem to be bothered at all by the fact that she had fallen into a deep, dark hole populated by drug-crazed weirdos in a nightmarish world of high strangeness. This troubled me deeply.

Alice didn’t even have the sense to worry about getting back home. Oh no! Instead, her overriding concern was finding a bunny with a pocket watch.  I had to ask myself why?  And I”m sorry to say my question fell on deaf bunny ears, Dear Readers.

"Plus her air-head was too big for her body!"
Alice’s air-head was too big for her body

Anyway, after seeing Alice in Wonderland, I became seriously worried about falling into the Alice and Wonderland hole.  And for awhile there, my mother had to check out my room to make sure it was Alice-in-Wonderland-hole-free before I’d go to bed.

4)  Being Pulled Underground by Aliens

I remember watching a horribly scary 50’s sci-fi movie about people who would just be walking along, minding their own business, when suddenly, the earth would open up and an alien would reach up and grab onto their legs and pull them down into their underground base (that no doubt led to the Alice and Wonderland hole).  In the 50’s, this movie chilled the bones of the second-grade, movie-going public of which I was, unfortunately, a terrified member.

"You want me to stop at the store and get a loaf and a can of tuna . . . got it . . . Oh and honey, I'm going to be a little late, I've got one thing left in my in basket and then I'll be home."
” . . . a loaf of bread, a quart of milk and a big juicy second-grader. Okay, honey, got it . . . I’ve only got one thing left  in my in-basket and then I’ll be home.”

The Strangest Day of All

Here’s a strange incident from my childhood for which I blame my imagination in conjunction with the Plaza Theater movies I watched.

In second grade, Becky Kenny invited me to come over to her house after school. I got to ride the school bus which I remember looking forward to with excitement.

"Yay!  We get to ride on a rollar coaster." "No it's a school bus, Linda." "Who cares?  It's gonna be F. U.N.
“Yay! We get to ride on a roller coaster!”
“No it’s a school bus, Linda.”
“Who cares? It’s gonna be F.U.N.”

Somehow, I got the idea that a meteorite had gone through the roof of Becky’s house the night before. But that I was under no circumstances to mention this knowledge because the Kenny’s didn’t think anyone else knew about it and didn’t want anyone to find out for some reason.

"Hey!  Where're we goin'?" Becky Kenny's house, but mums the word!"
“Hey! Where’re we goin’?”
Becky Kenny’s house, but mums the word!”

So we rode the school bus out to Becky’s house.  When we got close to her stop, Becky stood up and so did I, but the bus driver slammed on his brakes so hard  that Becky lost her footing and slid nearly the full length of the bus — under all the bus seats — and came to a stop neatly beside the bus driver.

I didn’t say anything, Becky didn’t say anything and the bus driver didn’t say anything.

We got off the bus and Becky’s mom met us at the front door to warn us not to go upstairs.  Of course, I knew why.  It was because of the meteorite, naturally.

And there you have it, Dear Readers, I hope you enjoyed the very first installment of My Brain, Peanuts Remembers.

Until next time . . . I love you (and whatever you do don’t mention the meteorite!)