The Daily Routine

My Brain, Peanuts, Has Four Eyes

Linda Vernon The Daily Routine , , , , , , ,

I broke my glasses because my brain, Peanuts, placed them directly underneath where my foot was supposed to go.

My Brain, Peanuts
My Brain, Peanuts

Peanuts and I have been wearing glasses now for 20 years due to adult onset blurriness, and you’d think my brain, Peanuts, would have figured out a way to not step on them.

But no, every once in a while Peanuts has to test me to see if I’m still paying attention (and I never am).

I don’t get it because there’s nothing Peanuts and I hate doing more than having to get new glasses.  What was Peanuts thinking?

So I got my husband, 37, to tape them back together for me, because he’s an engineer so he knows about things like that.

Except that I didn’t trust his taping judgment once he was done and added more tape myself.

So now I’m officially a nerd.

I’d take a picture to show you but I think it might be too early in the morning for that. Oh what the heck, let’s live dangerously shall we?

Me in my new nerdy glasses:

Well, wait a minute . . . let me see if I can take the picture from a better angle:

Oh that’s better.  I like this of me in my nerdy glasses a little better because you can’t really see the tape all that much.

Anyway, what were we talking about?  Oh yeah, the careless behavior of my brain, Peanuts.

So now Peanuts and I will have to stumble down to the glasses store and get those nasty drops put in.  Then once we are legally blind, we will be guided out front to pick out frames from the two or three thousand styles displayed right in front of our eyes somewhere.

The conversation with the professional four-eyes care specialist will go something like this:

Me:  How do these look on me?

Her:  Oh those look good on you.

Me:  Really?  Well how about these?

Her:  Oh!!! Those look good on you!

Me.  Really?  What about these?

Her:  Oh those!!! Look good on you.

Me:  How about these?

Her:  Oh those, look!!!  Good on you!!

Me:  And these?

Her:  Oh those look good!!! On you!!

Me:   Oh but what about these?

Her:  Oh those look good on!!!  You!!!!!

Me:  Oh, yeah, what about these?

Her:  Oh those look good on you.

Of course, we all know how this story ends.  Peanuts and I will finally decide on frames, then go back to pick them up three weeks later because their motto is ready in about an hour give or take three weeks.

Me Picking Up My Glasses:  Are you sure these are my glasses because they look horrible and I can’t see a thing.

Her:  OH!!! THOSE!!! LOOK!!! GOOD!!! ON!!! YOU!!!

Then Peanuts and I will go home and while I’m crying my eyes out, Peanuts will be eating a 1000 grams of sugar.

Until next time . . . I love you

Flipping Through The Slightly-Creepy Seventies

Linda Vernon Slighty Creepy Seventies, The Daily Routine , , , , , , , , , ,

Welcome Dear Readers!  Today, if you’re not feeling a little nauseous already, I thought it might be fun to flip through this House Beautiful Magazine from everyone’s favorite icky decade:  The Slightly Creepy Seventies!

House Beautiful 1975
Isn’t this bedroom eye-crossingly wonderful? But it needs something more, don’t you think?  To really give it that Slightly Creepy Seventies flair? Like a focal point of some kind . . . 

But what kind of a focal point?  Hm. . . .

img228
Okay! That’s what the Slightly Creepy Seventies is talking about! Because there’s nothing like the addition of a weird, eerie male bedspread model to give any 70’s decor that much needed splash of slightly creepy!

Now let’s turn to the next page shall we?  Ready?  (I’ll wait if you want to pop a Pepto Bismal.)

Overly Cheerful Family Room slightly creepy seventies
Whoa! Obviously, the Slightly Creepy Seventies had the highest tolerance for decorative cheerfulness than all the other decades put together.

Now, this room is a good example of what happened back in the 70’s when your Slightly-Creepy Seventies Interior Decorator scarfed down a big bowl of yellow chrysanthemums and washed it down with a great big pitcher of ice-cold LSD for breakfast and then rushed over and redecorated your family room while in the throws of a cheerfulness overdose.

Actually, Cheerfulness Overdose was a common problem in the Slightly Creepy Seventies.  In fact, more interior decorators were buried with huge grins on their faces in the Slightly Creepy Seventies than any other decade in history!

So I guess you could say there’s an upside to everything.

Hey!  Look what awaits us on the next page . . . 

img232
  Yes, you’re seeing that correctly.  It’s a rocking chair on the beach. And why not?  After all, life in the Slightly Creepy Seventies was stranger than it’s ever been before or since.

And speaking of rocking chairs on the beach, I think I vaguely remember a Brady Bunch Episode involving a rocking chair/beach incident: I’ll try to retell it as best I can from memory:

Mike Brady: MarshaMarshaMarsha!  Peter! Greg! Cindy! and Whatever the rest of your names are!  We’ve driven 87 hours and we are finally at the beach!

MarshaMarshMarsha:  But Dad, we live somewhere in LA.  Why did it take us 87 hours to get here?  The Pacific Ocean is just down the street.

Mike Brady:  What? 

Carol Brady:  Oh Mike, you did it again. Hahahahahaha!  You turned left when you should have turned right!  Hahahahaha! We’re not at the Pacific Ocean, children, we’re at the Atlantic Ocean! Hahahahahaha!

Mike Brady:  Hahahahahahahahahaha!

Alice:  Hahahahahaha!  I’ll lug the rocking chair down to the beach while you Bradys wait in the car and laugh.

Carol Brady:  Hahahhahaha—

Alice:  Wait a minute!  Hold the landphone! The rocking chair’s not here!  Somebody forgot it!  I’m not one to point fingers but I think it was MarshaMarshaMarsha.

Mike Brady:  Well, kids, it looks like we’re turning around and driving 87 hours home to get it.  Hahahhahaha.

Carol Brady:  But wait Mike, you left MarshaMarshaMarsha at the Atlantic Ocean.

Mike Brady:  Hahahahhahahaha!

Carol Brady:  Hahahahahahaha!

Say now, this next item looks interesting. 

img235

Her name was Betty Knowles and she lost 4 pounds and 6 inches off her waist in only eight days back in the Slightly Creepy Seventies using this lever and pulley exercise contraption. Unfortunately, once  Betty got it all set up and herself situated inside of it, she could never figure out how to get out.   Eight days later Betty was not only  much, much slimmer, but also, she wasn’t wasting valuable time breathing or having a pulse anymore. Unfortunately she wasn’t found until last week about a quarter to five.

Sure, it was a sad Slightly Creepy Seventies demise for poor Betty Knowles, but the good news is she has been chosen as the main attraction at the Smithsonian Institute’s much anticipated upcoming exhibit:  Mummified Peoples of the Slightly Creepy Seventies.

Proving once again there’s an upside to everything!

Well, Dear Readers, that’s it for today.  If you need me I’ll be down at the Pacific Ocean.  I’ll be the one sitting in the rocking chair eating a big bowl of yellow chrysanthemums.

Until next time . . . I love you

British Empire Atrocities or Happy Fourth of July!

Linda Vernon Holidays, The Daily Routine , , , , , , , , , ,

Hello Dear Readers.  It seems the cold, cruel calendar will be ushering in the  Fourth of July tomorrow and before I’ll even have time to get out of bed!  The calendar is such a tyrant.

Which  brings us to another kind of tyranny. One that we Americans had foisted upon us on the Fourth of July  200- odd years ago by the British Empire — resulting in the Declaration of Independence!

I’d look up exactly how many years ago it was,  but I think google’s closed today. . . okay, okay I’ll try . . .

Hmm. . . As it turns out google is open but judging from the answers it’s given me, everybody went home early to light firecrackers.  They must have the temps working because I asked google the following question:

Hi Google, Happy 4th! Which reminds me, what were the atrocities the British Empire inflicted on the American Colonists that resulted in the Declaration of Independence?

And here’s the answers it gave me (as far as you know anyway).

1.  The British Empire kept messing with the price of crumpets causing the colonists all kinds of unpleasant menu-planning issues.

Linda Vernon Humor Thanksgiving Pic on the Fourth of July
“You no likee potatoes?”
“No we likee them, they’re a wonderful tuber. It’s just that we are going to have to hold off on the potato trading until we can ascertain what the crumpet situation going to be. Sorry.”

2.  The Colonists did not want to be bullied into memorizing a list of all of England’s past kings and queens in American public schools.

3.  If the Colonists hadn’t declared their independence, they would have had to wake up from their siestas early (see Spanish-American War) for tea time (see Atrocities of the British Empire)

4.  The Colonists had a premonition they weren’t going to appreciate the humor of Monty Python.

5.  The Colonists picked up on the fact that the British Empire thought they wore lame clothes and were borderline dirty.

6.  The British Empire imposed a tax on Nursery Rhymes which infuriated the colonists due to the fact that none of them even rhymed very well.

7.  American Colonists were vehemently opposed to using the word “row” instead of the word “fight” like the British Empire kept nagging them to do.

Fourth of July Essay Linda Vernon Humor
“Who never did him any harm but killed the mice in father’s barn?  I hate to break it to you, Redcoat, but harm and barn do not rhyme!”
“Oh yeah, you want to row about it?”
“You mean do I want to fight about it.”
“Uh . . it’s called row, not fight.”
“Oh yeah? Well I hate you.”
“Well I hate you too.”
‘Let’s row about it.”
“You mean fight about it?”
“Shut up!”
“You shut up!”

 

Well, Dear Readers, that about does it for the Fourth of July post.  I don’t know about you, but I’m already 4th-ed out!

Until next time . . . I love you

Things That Got Flushed That Hadn’t Oughta

Quote Linda Vernon The Daily Routine , , , , , , ,

Toilet with flowers Linda Vernon Humor

I don’t mean to brag, but I have been using “the facilities” on my own now for over fifty years, and I know, firsthand, some crazy things that got flushed that hadn’t oughta.

Once, when I was four, my mother bought a batch of the most beautiful red apples you ever saw and displayed them on the table.  I asked for one, and my mother gave it to me.

I was an apple lover from the get go!

I took one bite and spit it out.

That’s because this apple was a deceitful type of apple, the kind that looks like it’s going to be delicious but, instead, tastes like dry, sandy-mush.

A couple of days later, I must have forgotten how horrible the apple tasted because I asked my mother for another one.  And she agreed, but only if I promised I wouldn’t take just one bite and spit it out. Who me?  Heavens no! Mother! Please! Don’t be ridiculous! She handed me an apple.

I took one bite and spit it out.

Even Eve didn’t have so much trouble with an apple.

Later in the week, I happened to walk by the beautiful red apples that were still sitting on the table (now we know why) and asked for another one. My mother wisely said no because there wasn’t any questions in her mind, by now, what I was going to do.

Well for some reason, I was set on it.  I began begging dramatically.  “Please Mother! Please!  I won’t spit it out! For the love of God,  I beg of you! I must have an apple if I am ever going to thrive!”

My mother acquiesced, handed me yet another apple along with a stern warning that she better not find this one in the garbage with one bite out of it.

I took one bite and spit it out.

Ok, now I had a big problem on my hands.  Where to dispose of a big, beautiful red, sandy-mushy apple with one bite out of it.  I had to think, think! And quickly before my mother discovered the truth!

I made an emergency executive decision to flush it. So I went into the bathroom, looked both ways, threw the apple with one bite out of it into the toilet and pushed down the handle.

I was amazed when it actually went down!  Fabulous!  I dusted off my four-year-old hands and resumed playing.

Later that day I happened to walk by the bathroom just as my father was lifting the entire toilet off the floor.  I was flabbergasted!  I had no idea it would “do that!”

I still hadn’t put two and two together until I saw him reach his hand down the pipe and pull out a big beautiful red apple with one bite out of it.

Uh oh . . .

Shame quickly set it.  I couldn’t have felt worse if I would have gunned down Santa. But that’s another story for another day.

Suffice it to say, I’ve been privy to lots of things that got flushed that hadn’t outta — but it all started with that beautiful red apple with one bit out of it.

Until next time . . . I love you

The Drawing Lady Teaches Us How to Draw Like Degas

Linda Vernon The Daily Routine, The Drawing Lady , , , , , , , ,

Dear Readers!  Good news.  I have finally managed to talk the Drawing Lady into coming by the blog again to give us another drawing lesson!    Now please remember, Dear Readers, that The Drawing Lady is a tortured artist and, as such, is as explosive as a Nitroglycerin Shirley Temple with a dynamite swizzle stick.  

Oh shh . . . here she comes, now remember what I said.

Dear Readers, today  the Drawing Lady will be teaching us how to draw just like the master artist, Edgar Degas!

Perhaps you are asking why Edgar Degas, Drawing Lady?  What not Vincent Van Gogh, Michael Angelo or Leonardo da Vinci?

Illustrations by Linda Vernon

Dear Readers.  Please do not pepper The Drawing Lady with questions.  The Drawing Lady has only recently recovered from her jump out the sixth story window of her art school.  The Drawing Lady would simply like you to draw the Edgar Degas’s Masterpiece, Two Sisters, below:

The Drawing Lady and Edgar Degas

The Drawing Lady says now you try:

The Drawing Lady draws Degas

Is this right Drawing Lady?  Is this the way you want us to draw the Two Sisters, Drawing Lady? Does this look okay, Drawing Lady?

Dear Readers, The Drawing Lady cannot answer your questions right now because she is busy pulling out her hair.  In the meantime, The Drawing Lady would like you to draw Portrait of Degas and His Friend Valerne.

Linda Vernon Humor, The Drawing Lady

The Drawing Lady says now you try.

The Drawing Lady teaches Degas

You mean like this, Drawing Lady?  Does this look like Degas painted it, Do you think we got the expression right on Valerne, Drawing Lady?

Dear Readers, The Drawing Lady cannot hear your questions right now because she is too busy screaming noooooo!  In the meantime The Drawing Lady is hoping against hope that you can do better drawing the Degas masterpiece, Uncle and Niece.

Art Student's attempt at Uncle and Niece

The Drawing Lady says now you try.

The Drawing Lady draws Degas

How’s this look Drawing Lady?  Do the fingers look right, Drawing Lady?  Do you think we captured Uncle’s expressive face, Drawing Lady?  Drawing Lady? . . . Drawing Lady? . . .   Drawing Lady?

Dear Readers I regret to inform you that the Drawing Lady has gone stalk-raving mad and jumped out the window concluding our drawing lesson for today.

The Drawing lady jumps out the window

Until next time . . . I love you, however, The Drawing Lady doesn’t love you as much as she did at the beginning of this post.

 

Ezekiel’s Weight Problem

Linda Vernon Gregorys Bible Stories, The Daily Routine , , , , , , , , ,

Welcome Dear Readers to this Sunday’s edition of Gregory’s Bible Stories. Today in Sunday School, Gregory learned about the day Ezekiel had an unusual experience.  Let’s listen in as he recounts the story for us.

Ezekiel’s Weight Problem

One day the prophet Ezekiel was relaxing down by the Chebar river in Babylonia where he was hanging out with some of his exiled Jewish  buddies enjoying some Chebar cheese when, suddenly, there was a tremendous rumble.

At first he thought it was just his stomach rumbling from eating too much Chebar cheese, but he soon realized the noise was coming from the sky.

He looked up and was amazed to see a UFBO (unidentified flying biblical object).

He fell face down and heard a voice calling him.

God:  Mortal Man stand up I want to talk to you.

Ezekiel:  Do I have to get up?  I’m really comfortable right now.

God:  I am sending you to the people of Israel.

Ezekiel:  May I ask why?

God:  They have rebelled against me and turned against me and are still rebels just as their ancestors were. So I am sending you to tell them what I, the sovereign lord, am saying to them.

Ezekiel:  Wouldn’t it be easier to just fly over there in your UFBO and tell them Yourself?

God: They are stubborn and do not respect me so I am sending you instead.

Ezekiel:  Okay let me get this straight. You, the sovereign lord, who is flying around the holy land in Your UFBO can’t get the Israelites to listen to you or respect you so you’re sending me instead, a guy who is currently unemployed, slightly overweight and living down by the river?  Do you really think I’m up to the job?

God: Just tell the people of Israel whatever I tell you to tell them. But don’t be afraid of them even though they will despise you and even though it will feel like you are living among scorpions.

Ezekiel:  Well okay,  but scorpions are my least favorite insect.

God:  Scorpions really?  That’s refreshing. Most people say spiders.  Anyway, open your mouth and eat this.

Ezekiel:  What is it?

God:    A scroll upon which cries of grief, wails and moans are written on both sides.

Ezekiel:  No thanks I’m allergic to papyrus.

God:   It’s chocolate covered . . . .

Ezekiel:  Oh in that case, don’t mind if I do!

Ezekiel ate the scroll. (It gave him hives but God pretended not to notice.) Then God’s spirit lifted Ezekiel and carried him to another spot by the Chebar River where Ezekiel resumed eating Chebar cheese and hanging out with different group of his exiled Jewish buddies.

Seven days later God showed up again

God: Okay, here’s the deal.  If I announce that an evil man is going to die, it’s going to be your job to warn him.  If you don’t warn him to change his ways and he dies a sinner, I will hold you responsible for his death but if you do warn him and he doesn’t stop sinning he’ll die a sinner but your life will be spared. Got that?

Ezekiel:  Uh . . .well . . .  uh . . .

God:  Now get up and go into the valley and I will talk to you there.

Ezekiel:  But I just got comfortable.

God:   . . . ahem . . .

Ezekiel :  Okay okay but can I at least bring my Chebar cheese with?

God:  If you must.

Ezekiel:  Say you wouldn’t happen to have anymore of those delicious chocolate-covered scrolls  would you?

God: Yes but you can’t have any.

Ezekiel:  Why?

God:  They’re too fattening.

Ezekiel:  What are you implying?  I’ve been eating too much Chebar Cheese?

God: All I can say is that last statement of yours needs no question mark.

Eziekiel:  Well!  I’ve never been so insulted in my whole life!

God:  That robe of yours is getting awfully tight . . . just sayin’.  So anyway, next I’m going to want you to  go home and shut yourself up in the house and I’ll tie you up with ropes so you won’t be able to go out in public then I’m going to paralyze your tongue.

Eziekiel:   Wait . . . is this some sort of new-fangled diet?

God:  I’ll tell you next week in Part II.

And there you have it, Dear Readers, what Gregory learned in Sunday School.  Please check back next week to find out  what God asks of Ezekiel next and whether or not Ezekiel will lose weight and overcome his papyrus allergy.

Until next time . . . I love you

 

Ezekiel's_vision
What? You want me to eat that? Well, I’d much prefer some Chebar cheese.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Uh. . . no offense, but that chocolate kinda looks like water stains.
Uh. . . no offense, but that chocolate kinda looks like water stains.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Slightly Creepy Seventies Bad Poetry

Linda Vernon The Daily Routine , , , , , , , , ,

Good news Dear Reaers!  I was milling around my favorite thrift store yesterday when I found this poetry book written by slighty-creepy-seventies poet extraordinaire, Rod McKuen — world renowned for his random-carriage-return, arbitrary-space-bar poetry!       

The Sound of Solitude by Rod McKuen
The Sound of Solitude by Rod McKuen. The inside jacket tells us it’s the most moving, private and essential collection he’s been willing to share  with his millions of readers (at only $9.95 per share)

I looked up the price of  The Sound of Solitude on Abe Books.  It’s worth a dollar.  And I got it for 50-cents! Ha ha!  Suckers! 

Okay, let’s get serious now and open to a poem at random from The Sound of Solitude by Rod McKuen: 

 After-Hours Acrobatics

I light one candle

With another’s flame

And getting up to leak

I look across at you

First of all, Rod, it is very dangerous to sleep with candles lit.  You really need to blow them out!  For heaven sakes, you’re going to burn the house down!  

Secondly, I’m a little concerned that you are leaking. I’m assuming you are referring to a shrapnel injury incurred while in the war, but at least you seem to be aware that leaking while lying down only makes things worse.  Okay, keep going Rod.

Still curled and sleeping

Coming back I start to pass

a mirror

I stop. Stand back and see me

naked in the candlelight

See? What did I tell you?  If you would have blown out those candles like you should have, you wouldn’t have that problem now would you?

Was I ever beautiful,

ever young or wise

deserving of your arms or other’s?

Tiny suggestion Rod,  Don’t you think saying: “deserving of your arms or, failing that, other’s“ would be kinder to whomever you are referring to? They might read this poem, you now.

Head-on is even harsh by candleglow

love handles bulge on either side.

 Just a thought . . . could it be that it’s your love handles that are leaking?  (I know a good Love-Handle specialist you might want to consult.)

Of what was once an unfilled frame that I hung hopes on,

never excess flesh

Oh I know what you mean! I always put excess flesh in dryer.

I look at you a second time

hoping I can dive beneath the covers

before you catch my silhouette

against the wall.

My pulse thumps loud enough

to blunt the metronome of cicada

calling to cicada,

OMG Rod!  How did you ever get yourself into such a poetic pickle?  See how complicated life gets when you don’t blow out the candles?

Now you’re going to have to call the exterminators to get rid of the cicada infestion.  I hope you’ve learned your lesson!  

(Oh and be sure to get that pulse thump checked out when you go see the Love-Handle specialist.)

Safe. I hit third base

and slide to home.

You only turn and grumble in your sleep

I do not go back to sleep

Well, maybe all you need is a few hours at the batting cages . . .

All life is spent erecting barricades

that none of us can get through

when love finally comes

And none of this would have even been an issue, Rod, if you would have just taken the time to blow out the candles.  I hate to say I told you so, but . . . well I wont’ say it, I wouldn’t want to upset you.  You might start leaking again.

Until next time . . . I love (handle specialist) you

Sports Illustrated Brings Us 1963

Linda Vernon Flipping Through Vintage Magazines, The Daily Routine, Thrift Store Finds , , , , , , , , ,

Oh Dear Readers!  Look what crossed my path yesterday at the used bookstore!

Illustration of woman relaxing on a yatch in a two-piece Swim suit circa 1963
A Sports Illustrated Magazine from 1963!  Isn’t it wonderful? Let’s flip through it together, shall we?

Here’s 1963, Master’s Champion Jack Nicklaus  singing the praises of the MacGregor Woods with their exclusive penetrating impregnation method! Wow! Now that’s impressive!

Ad from Sports Illustrated 1963 Golf Ad
Golf in 1963 was sure a lot more interesting than it is now.

The ad goes on to explain that the exclusive penetrating impregnation method was the most talked about club feature in golf!  (Well, I should say so!)  “Because it let’s you use a wood with confidence in bad lies.”  Gosh I wonder if Tiger knows about this?

 

Hey! Who doesn’t want to live in a world where shirts were only $5.00 raise your hand!

Man in car driving away
Shh . . . don’t tell Mr.Sophisticated City Dweller who is wearing his Dacron Docoma Breeze shirt that the poor country bumpkins who just got off the  b.u.s. are laughing at him not with him.

Stuffed shirts didn’t come any less wrinkle-free than in 1963 thanks to Docoma Breeze shirts boasting Grip-Tab, Dress ‘n Play, Blake collars — which only cool city dwellers could afford at $5 a pop.  And if that didn’t make a man want to drive around Manhattan, mannequin-like, in a car three-sizes too small –1963 doesn’t know what did!

 

Don’t Worry Honey! Kent’s Micronite Filter makes cigarettes good for you!

Blah Blah
This Kent ad is the very first and the very last ad to utilize the phrase “refines away”.

Apparently back in 1963, the key to smoking fun was getting the cigarette to have the mildest taste of all!  Kent was hoping that smokers wouldn’t put 2 and 2 together and realize that the mildest taste of all would be not smoking any cigarettes at all.

 

Question!  What’s more fun than shooting guns with daddy?   Shooting guns with daddy in the house!  What else?

Father and Son unpacking Daisy BB Range
Run for cover,Sis! Look out Spot! Whoops sorry, Dear!

What better way for  fathers to bond with their sons and to teach their sons to grow up to be men than by shooting bb guns with them in the house?  Oh sure, a few of mother’s prized figureens may have to be sacrificed, and little Suzie’s buttox will probably never be the same — but it’s a small price to pay for teaching little boys what it really means to be a man — 1963 style!

Now then wasn’t that fun?  I hope you liked our little foray into the world of 1963, Dear Readers!

Until next time . . . I love you

Big Bucks Barbie

Linda Vernon The Daily Routine , , , , , ,

Hello Dear Readers!  For those of you who just woke up from a coma, congratulations!  You’re just in time for Christmas!!  Don’t worry if you haven’t got your shopping done yet.  I haven’t either and I haven’t even been in a coma.  So while I’m out shopping, here’s a little Christmas shopping story about the year my daughter wanted a My Size Barbie!  

Big Bucks Barbie

One year my daughter asked Santa for a “My Size Barbie.”  A “My Size Barbie” is a Barbie doll that has been fed huge amounts of hormones at the factory causing her to become the size of Daryl Hannah.

Picture of My Size Barbie in a Blue Dress   Daryl Hanna on Red Carpet

To ensure that “My Size Barbie” would be in stock, I went to the toy store early.   I approached the Barbie aisle and was about to ask where I might find The Big One, when I tripped over a humongous box containing “My Size Barbie” nearly breaking “My Size Arm.”

The adrenalin rush I experienced from the fall enabled me to heft the package containing The Incredible Babs onto my cart, but not being Arnold Schwartzenegger (or even Maria Shriver), I wasn’t strong enough to maneuver the box so that I could see the price tag.

I inched my Barbie-burdened cart to the checkout stand where it took four of us to hoist The Big Gal onto the scanner, and I mentally noted that perhaps some low-fat Barbie cuisine would make an apropos stocking stuffer.

Being an alert consumer, I had estimated the price at around $40, $50 or maybe even $60.

“Do you know how much this is?” I asked the clerk.

“I’ll let you know in a sec, hon,” she said as she fired up the jaws of life to help her run Buxom Barb over the scanner.

As I waited for the price to appear, I recalled a Christmas of long ago when I had received a Barbie Dream House.  My mother had lovingly assembled it all by herself.  It had taken her the better part of the Kennedy administration.

Barbie's first dream house
Assembles in four years

That had been my favorite Christmas and I owed it all to my mother and to my Barbie.  How ironic that this Christmas I would be giving my daughter The Mother of All Barbies.

“Excuse me ma’am? The “My Size Barbie’ is $128.  Did you still want it?”

One-hundred and twenty-eight dollars!  Suddenly everything began to move in slow motion.  I could feel myself turning white . . . then red . . . then green . . . like an aluminum Christmas tree on a rotating stand.

I looked at the clerk, then back at the 20 or so people waiting in line behind me.  They were all staring at me and sighing a lot.  Maybe they were thinking that I shouldn’t let my daughter down for a few lousy bucks and that I should forget the expense because, after all, it was Christmas.  Finally, a gentleman from the back of the line offer his advice:

“Move it lady!”

Then the clerk from the neighboring checkout stand shouted over, ” My niece has one of those and they can  wear the same clothes!” And then, just to bring it on home, she added, “I think she comes with an entire wardrobe!”

The clerk and I quickly tried to figure out how many outfits were included, but that information was on the opposite side of the box and somebody else was using the forklift.

In the end, I paid with a check so big it would have made “My Size Barbie” proud.  And as the crane lowered The Ultimate Barbie onto the roof of my car, I knew in my heart I had made the right decision.

“A little to the left!”
When Christmas morning came, my little girl would open her very special present, and the wonder and joy that is Christmas would be captured again for one brief, shining moment.

I say brief because the day after Christmas, I made “My Size Barbie” go out and get a job.

Until next time . . . I love you

A Visit From the Toaster Reviewer Gal!

Linda Vernon The Daily Routine , , , , , , , , , ,

Welcome Dear Readers!  Today the Toaster Reviewer Gal was kind enough to drop by the blog and leave a copy of the cover letter she wrote for a Toaster Reviewer job she is hoping to get.  Let’s take a look at it, shall we?

Position Applied for:  Toaster Reviewer 

Dear Hiring Manager:

Your posting on LinkedIn for a Professional Toaster Reviewer recently caught my eyes, perked up my ears and blew my nose (jk).   I think you will find that I am an exceptional candidate for the position of Toaster Reviewer.

While I have been temporarily out of work for the last three years (don’t ask), I have still managed to stay on top of my game in the field of toaster reviewing.

You see, I currently own and operate a Hamilton Beach SmartToast Extra-Wide Slot 2 Slice Toaster with Tongs, upon which I keep my Toaster  Reviewing skills as sharp as a butter knife by making toast each morning and recording all my thoughts and feelings about my toasting adventures in my journal entitled,  “Scraping to Desired Lightness” (which is currently making the rounds at various publishing houses on the island of Guam, btw).

As an accomplished Toaster Reviewer, many of my reviews can be found on many high-level consumer review toaster websites such as:

Google Toast (www.googletoast.com)

So You’re Going to Have a Piece of Toast (www.soyou’regoingtohaveapieceoftoast.com)

Unplug the Smoke Detectors Kids!, Mommy’s Makin’ Toast! (www.goop.com).

But my accomplishments do not end there.  I also offer exceptional attention to detail and come to the position with my private list of some of the most powerful toaster-review adjectives in the Toaster-Reviewing industry today–which I have gleaned over the course of my career as an international Professional Toaster Reviewer Career Gal!

As a Professional Toaster Reviewer Career Gal, I have written these e-books, which are, unfortunately, only available on Amazon Guam, but still!

Toaster Book one

 

Toaster Gal Book two

Toaster book 3

My accomplishments and qualifications are further detailed in my hard copy resume which is on it’s way to you via the Guam postal service.  Please disregard the burned edges, frankly the Hamilton Beach SmartToast Extra-Wide Slot 2 Slice Toaster with Tongs, still has some bugs that need working out in my professional opinion as a Professional Toaster Reviewer Gal (see above).

In closing, I am as thrilled about being a part of your Professional Toaster Reviewer team as you must be at receiving this cover letter from me.  (That’s  a Haiku, btw!)

Please contact me at my earliest convenience, and I look forward to our mutual admiration.

Sincerely,

Everybody’s Favorite Toaster Reviewer Gal!

And there you have it, Dear Readers, and I don’t know about you but I think she’s got a pretty good chance. Especially if there’s an opening in Guam!

Until next time  . . . I love you

 

 

Gregory’s Bible Stories: What God Hath Whittled

Linda Vernon Gregorys Bible Stories, Sunday School Dropout Bible Stories, The Daily Routine , , , , , , , , , ,

Welcome Dear Readers to this week’s edition of Gregory’s Bible Stories. Today in Sunday school Gregory couldn’t wait to get home to tell everyone about what he learned about the Garden of Eden.  Let’s listen in, shall we?

Gregory's Bible StoriesWhat God Hath Whittled

When last we left God, He had just finished making Adam out of dirt.  Adam turned out great, much better than the dust bunnies God had made the previous day — which even He had to admit didn’t resemble bunnies that much.

dust bunnie or unicorn duck
“Hm . . . maybe I should call them Unicorn Ducks instead.

Then God put Adam in the Garden of Eden that God had just planted all by Himself.  He tried to elicit Adam’s help, but Adam was horrible at taking initiative. God wanted to fire Adam and replace him with someone more competent but He came to this conclusion only after He had used the last of the dirt for potting soil.

After watching Adam live in the Garden of Eden ad nasuem, it soon became apparent to God that Adam was a bit of a mess cat. It wasn’t long before Adam had overrun the pond with dirty dishes, strewn banana peels everywhere and overflowed the laundry hamper with dirty fig leafs.

Then the Lord said, “It is not good for the man to live alone.  I will make a suitable companion to help him.”  To which Adam replied, “Hallelujah!”

So God made a quick trip to the Soil-Eleven and got some more dirt and formed all the animals and birds.  Then He brought them to Adam to see what Adam would name them.  Biblical Scholars believe the conversation might have gone something like this:

God:  So, Adam, what do you want to name this really cool animal thingie I just made that has a tail like a beaver, a bill like a duck, webbed feet and this really cool spiky-thing in the back that has poison in it?

Adam:  Kitty.

God:  Kitty.  Really?  That’s it. Kitty?

Adam:  Kittypus?

God:  That’s the best you can come up with?

Adam:  Don’t you like Kittypus?

God:  Not really.

Adam:  Is it made out of  dirt?

God:  Actually I made this one out of Playdough.

Adam:  How about Playdough Pus?

God: Okay, but only if you’re sure it won’t get mangled in the translation thousands of years from now.

Adam:  I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life — except that I hate the taste of apples.

When God realized that none of the animals was going to be a suitable companion to help Adam, He decided using dirt as a construction material just wasn’t cutting it.

But hey! Speaking of cutting it . . . –why not cut a bone out of Adam and use it to make his companion? (This was way before baling wire had been invented.)

The Lord posed this question to Himself out loud but quietly so Adam wouldn’t hear Him. But Adam did hear and tried to run away by running  around and around the Tree of Knowledge.

God tried explaining to Adam that it wasn’t going to do any good to run away because the question was rhetorical, but Adam didn’t know what rhetorical meant as, up to that point, anyway, he couldn’t stand the taste apples.

Finally, God stuck His Almighty Foot out and tripped Adam and Adam fell down into a deep sleep.  Then God thought, what bone can I take out of Adam that he won’t miss?

Then God snapped His almighty Fingers. He would take out Adam’s middle ear bone, the stirrup.  But when God went to take it out, He saw that Adam had broken it when he fell — so God had to put a cast on it instead.

Then God remembered how much fun it had been making Adam’s ribs.  All He had to do was put the mud in His hands, close His fist and Voila!  All you can eat ribs!

So the Lord God decided to use Adam’s rib to make a companion for Adam. He figured Adam would never know the difference anyway, because as much as God was loath to admit it, it was beginning to look like the Tree of Knowledge was kind of a lost cause on Adam.

So God pulled out one of Adam’s ribs and began whittling away everything that wasn’t a woman . . .

Well that’s all Gregory had time for today, Dear Readers.  Please check back next week to find out what exactly it is that God hath whittled.

Until next time . . . I love you

Just us Playdough Pusses

God Removing Adam's Rib Coloring Page
God Removing Adam’s Rib Coloring Page

 

The Bible According to Gregory: Satan Tests Job

Linda Vernon Sunday School Dropout Bible Stories, The Daily Routine , , , , , , , ,

Welcome Dear Readers to this Sunday’s edition of Gregory’s Bible Stories.  Let’s listen in and see what Gregory learned in Sunday school this morning, shall we?

Gregory of the Bible According to Gregory Linda Vernon HumorSatan Tests Job

Job was a biblical character who lived in the holy land of Uz  believed by scholars to have been located somewhere over the rainbow — providing there had there ever been enough moisture in the holy land to form a rainbow.

Job was always extremely careful when it came to ticking off the Lord. So much so that when any of his kids thew a party, Job would spend the next morning making sacrifices to the Lord just in case one of his kids might have inadvertently insulted the Lord after one too many fig wine coolers.

Cut to the Lord’s Heavenly Conference Room where The Lord was having a meeting with various heavenly beings one of which was Satan himself:

The Lord:   Did everybody get their handouts on Sacrificing Do’s and Don’t’s and does anybody have any questions?  Yes, the heavenly being with the horns and the name tag that says Santa.  What’s you question, Santa?

Satan: Yeah, my name’s not Santa, by the way, it’s Satan, that’s a typo I caused to happen. Bwahaha!

The Lord:  I don’t get it, what do you mean by typo?

Satan:  It’s a . . .  oh never mind.

The Lord: So what have you been up to, Satan?

Satan:  Oh you know, walking here and there, roaming around the earth and holding Idle Hands Workshops for the aristocrats, the usual.

The Lord:  Well that’s just super! Say, did you happen to notice my servant, Job, he’s like the best worshiper I’ve ever had! He never does anything evil!

Satan: Yeah, that’s because he’s got 7,000 sheep, 3,000 camels, 1,000 head of cattle, 500 donkeys and lord only knows how many cats.

The Lord:  That’s not true.  I have no idea how many cats he has.

Satan:  Bwahaha!  There you go again with your sense of humor!

The Lord:  My sense of what?

Satan:  Never mind. Say, I’m just wondering . . . what about testing Job to see if he would still be such a Goodie-Two-Shoes if his life suddenly became a living hell. I could help you out with that.

The Lord:  Well . . . . .

Satan:  Ah come on!

The Lord:  Well I guess, but only if you promise not to hurt Job. You know how hard it is nowadays to find a good Job.

Satan:  Bwahaha!  You crack me up!

The Lord:  Am I to understand that is your awkwardly worded request stating your desire to be cracked up?

Satan:  Say will you look at that! It’s half-past eternity already.  Where does the time go?  I gotta skedaddle.  See ya around, Lord.

Sometime shortly thereafter the following events took place:

Job’s children were having a feast at the home of his oldest son when a servant came running up to Job, huffing and puffing:

Servant:  We were plowing the fields and got attacked! All your donkeys were stolen and all your servants were killed!

Job:  But they didn’t kill you?

Servant:  Yeah . . . (still huffing and puffing) . . . except for me.

Job:  Oh great you’re the only slave I have left?  And you’re not even in that good of shape.

Then another servant came running up to Job, huffing and puffing.

Servant: Lightening just struck all the sheep and shepherds and everyone was killed but me.

Job:  Hmm .  . . I’m starting to sense a pattern here.

Just then another servant came running up to Job, huffing and puffing.

Servant:  Your children were having a feast at the home of your oldest son when a storm swept in and blew the house down and killed them all.

Job:  Except for you . .

Servant:  Yeah, how’d you know?

Job:  Lucky guess.

After that Job tore his clothes in grief and shaved his head which was the standard biblical procedure when someone a) broke a new pottery water-carrying vessel  b) misplaced their dreidel or c) had all their children and animals slaughtered by Satan.

This is about the time the Lord turned on his Heavenly Conference Room hidden earth video camera and observed Job when he said, “I was born with nothing and I will die with nothing.  The Lord gave, and now he has taken away.  May his name be praised!

In spite of everything that had happened, Job did not sin by blaming The Lord.

It’s a good thing too since Job had nothing left to kill.

And there you have it, Dear Readers, what Gregory learned in Sunday school this week, come back next week at this same to so see what new bible lesson Gregory learned about!

The Lord's Heavenly Conference Room
The Lord’s Heavenly Conference Room

Linda’s Bedtime Stories for Grown-up Children

Linda Vernon The Daily Routine, Trifecta Writing Challenges , , , , , ,

Kerplink!

Marlene Frappuzio –the bestselling author of “The Wind Only Blows on Thursdays” — sat at her keyboard, fingers poised, waiting for an idea.  Any idea.  Having already spent the advance for her much anticipated, but as yet unwritten, sequel to “Shut the Window!”  Marlene was desperate for an inspiration, desperate for a plot, desperate for a drink of water.  Marlene took a drink of water.  One desperation down, two to go.

“Hey, honey, I’m organizing my vitamins!” Howard Frappuzio, Marlene’s awkward husband, announced, walking into the room.  He was holding a shoebox full of vitamins and accidentally tripped –sending hundreds of vitamins flying everywhere.

Marlene stifled a scream of frustration — one that bordered on hair-raising, but stopped just short of blood-curdling.

“Sorry dear,” Howard was on his hands and knees now picking up vitamins one by one and returning them to the shoe box.  Kerplink, kerplink, kerplink  . . .

All that kerplinking suddenly inspired a revolutionary idea to pop into Marlene’s mind — an idea as welcome as a sign on a long stretch of deserted highway announcing: All you can eat buffet! Restrooms open to the public!

That’s it! Marlene would write about murder by way of vitamin overdose! Oh sure, it was only a crude notion of a plot now, but it just might work.  She’d have to try a little experiment first, however.

Kerplink . . .  “I’ll get out of your hair, honey,  just as soon as I’m done picking up these vitamins.” Howard said.

* * *

Marlene pushed her chair back from the dinner table and contemplated her dead husband, Howard, as he lay face down in his cream of mushroom soup — which had been iron-fortified to the point of death — and dialed 911.

“Hello?  Yes, I think my husband’s dead!  Send someone over!”

Marlene bent down and began picking up vitamins.  The murder she had just committed was perfect!  Perfect except for one thing.   She really should have waited until Howard was done picking up all these vitamins.   kerplink . . . kerplink . . . kerplink . . .

* * *

Linda Vernon Humor Trifect Writing Challenge

Gregory’s Vacation Bible School: Jesus and the Pool at Bethesda

Linda Vernon Gregorys Bible Stories, Sunday School Dropout Bible Stories, The Daily Routine , , , , , ,

Welcome Dear Readers to this Sunday’s Edition of the Gregory’s Bible Stories! This week Gregory is still away a Vacation Bible School  learning about biblical swimming pools. 

Jesus and the Pool of Bethesda

It was time for the Annual Jews and Sabbath Potluck dinner and Jesus (who always got invited to everything) decided to attend.  Nobody knows what dish Jesus typically brought to these things, but chances are he just whipped up something Johnny on the spot.

Anyway, in order to get to the potluck, Jesus had to pass by the Jerusalem Sheep Gate behind which the sheep who were going to be sacrificed lived.

In biblical days people were cruel to sheep and kept them for the express purpose of killing and sacrificing them.  Unlike today, where people only keep sheep for the express purpose of killing and eating them.

While Jesus was walking past the Jerusalem Sheep Gate, he happened to look over and right next to the sheep gate was the Bethesda Memorial Healing Pool.  The pool had five porches upon which lay a lot of unhealthy people waiting to take a dip.

Some of the people were blind, some of the people were paralyzed and some of the people had a really bad case of eczema (sometimes called Leprosy).

This might be a good time to explain that the Bethesda Memorial Pool could cure disease if (and that’s a big if) you were lucky enough to be the first person to jump in the water after a heavenly angel would pop down and stir it with a Heavenly Egg Beater.

After that, the first person to jump in would get healed and everybody else was up the Bethesda Pool without a paddle until the angel with the Heavenly Egg Beater made another visit.

One man had been waiting in line to jump in the water for 38 years.  (It’s not as bad as it sounds because he was waiting in line while lying on his bed.)  Jesus saw him he asked, “Do you want to get well?”

The man answered something to the  effect that yes he did but he was too paralyzed to be the first one in the pool after the Heavenly Egg Beating.

So Jesus just cut to the chase and said to the man, “Get up, pick up your bed and walk.”

Jesus curing my by Bathesda Pool
“Get up, pick up your bed and walk.”
“Uh . . . are you sure, that’s not going to wreck my back? I’ve been laying down for 38 years.”

Now Jesus was telling the man to pick up his bed and walk, and this was a task that was considered work which was completely against the law on the Sabbath.

And sure enough, first thing Monday morning, the cured man was in deep trouble with the authorities for aimlessly wandering around carrying his bed on the Sabbath. (After 38 years laying by the pool, he couldn’t remember where he lived).

Authorities:  Who told you to carry your bed around on the Sabbath? You’re supposed to be resting.

Cured Man:  Sorry, I don’t remember his name . . . I’m terrible with names. I never forget a face though! 

Later that day while the cured man was praying in the temple (probably for directions back home), Jesus recognized him and said:

“Listen, you are well now, so stop sinning or something worse may happen to you.”

Jesus must have been wearing his monogrammed robe because the cured man ran right to the authorities and told them the guy who cured him was named Jesus.

So the authorities hightailed it over to Jesus and demanded that Jesus explain to them why He had worked a healing on the Sabbath.

Jesus answered by saying, “My father is always working and I too must work.”

This really made the authorities mad.  Aside from thinking that Jesus and His Dad were Sabbath workaholics; they were also completely put off by the fact that Jesus said his Dad was God.

Naturally this made the authorities want to persecute and  kill Jesus even more than they already did.

And the cured man who was wandering around carrying his bed on the Sabbath?   Rumor has it he put his back out from hauling his bed around everywhere and ended up right back at the Bethesda Pool.

Robert Bateman (1836 - 1889) (Artist,
“Hey wait a minute . . . did I grab the wrong egg beater again?”

And there you have it, Dear Readers, I hope you’ll come back next week for another installment of Gregory’s Bible Stories

Until next time . . . I love you

Putting Procrastination to Work for You

Linda Vernon The Daily Routine , , , , ,

Are you one of those people who goes to pay bills but can’t find your letter opener so you search the house for hours until, duh, you finally remember you left it at the neighbor’s house so you dash over to get it and end up sitting down for coffee and then 17 cups later you are on your way back home when you discover that your friend’s ducks are running amok (the very same ducks you said you’d look after while they were on vacation) and by the time you get them under control and lined up into neat little rows it’s  time for bed and you think sadly to yourself that, once again, you accomplished nothing and that none of this would have happened if you had simply used your finger to open the bills?

Welcome to the world of procrastination!

As we all know, procrastination occurs anytime you find yourself thinking up things to do to get out of the things you think you should be doing.

Procrastination always gets a bad rap.  And not just because nothing really rhymes with it, but because people have been conditioned to view the habit of putting off today what they can do tomorrow as an undesirable character trait.

I, for one, am saying pooh pooh to this notion and furthermore, I am going to climb out on a limb and beg to differ. (A little trick I learned in the circus.)

Speaking from personal experience, the act of  tackling a desired task first thing in the morning and then  finishing it before moving on to the next task is futile.

OK, I’ve never actually accomplished anything first thing in the morning, but if I did, I’m sure the only word to describe it would be futile, or failing that, a different word —  which I’ll figure out later (so get off my back about it, will ya?)

My point is this. If Mr. Procrastination has moved in and won’t get off your couch, then by all means put him to work like I do.

For instance, let’s say I want to write an essay.  I simply make that my official goal for the day by jotting it down.  The mere act of jotting down the goal gets my creative juices flowing and, before I know it, I have thought up a million and one other activities to do like mowing the lawn or de-linting my sweaters in order to put off accomplishing writing an essay.

Do you see how simple this is?

Oh sure, maybe I haven’t written that essay, but at least if anyone drives by my house, they won’t catch me standing neck high  in grass wearing a balled-up sweater.

The only downside to using procrastination to get things done is that you have to be happy with accomplishing everything BUT the desired accomplishment.

But this is easily overcome.  With a little practice, a lot of cherry pie, and hours of electronic Solitaire, you’ll be putting the PRO in procrastination before you know it!

Until next time . . . I love you