Month: July 2015

Baby in a Basket

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My beautiful three-week-old baby started squeaking into wakefulness as I took warm diapers out of the dryer.  I took her out of her bed, cradling her in the basket of warm cotton diapers as I walked toward the front of the house to feed her.  She got comfortable in the warmth and drifted back off. My three year-old called out just at that moment.  The brilliant sunshine pouring in glass door onto my beautiful baby in the basket was a wonder to behold as I looked back.  I got him out of bed, heading back to her.  She was gone!  I panicked!  It was no surprise someone would want her, just that that had managed to snatch her without my hearing something.  The backdoor and the glass door were still locked.  I called her name and got my little guy to help me look.  Just as I was about to report her kidnapping, the diapers moved and she wailed.  She’d moved just enough to allow a diaper to cover her.  That had to be the biggest relief of my life!

Ask Auntie Linda July, 19, 2015

Dear Auntie Linda,

My mother always compares me to my older sister.  “Betty always takes me out for my birthday.  Betty’s kids were always so well-behaved.  Betty dresses so well.  Betty is sending me on a cruise.  Maybe Mike (Betty’s husband) could find something for Joe (my husband)  to do at his company.”

Betty’s children are grown. Joe is proud of being a firefighter and doesn’t need Mike to get him a better job.  It was nice of Betty to take Mom out for her birthday and give her a cruise.  I made lunch for Mom here because my my toddlers run wild in restaurants and I only had $12 to spend and all she talked about was Betty.  How do I get Mom to quit comparing us.  It really hurts my feelings.  I love Mom but she can be mean.

Second Choice

Dear Second Choice,

I think I am being generous in saying your mother is being insensitive.  I feel sure you have told her comparisons are painful, haven’t you?  If so, don’t expect her to change.  You will only be disappointed.  It is common to be on a limited budget with wild little ones happier at home.  I’ve certainly been there.  A homemade card and a phone call make my day, especially since my children are grown and on budgets.  It’s nice that your sister can indulge your mom, but that shouldn’t make her gift more worthy.  Be good to yourself if Mom can’t manage it.

Auntie Linda

Bubba Has Shingles

Deep fried
Bubba walked into a doctor’s office and the receptionist asked him
what he had. Bubba said: ‘Shingles.’ So she wrote down his name,
address, medical insurance number and told him to have a seat.

Fifteen minutes later a nurse’s aide came out and asked Bubba what he
had. Bubba said, ‘Shingles.’ So she wrote down his height, weight, a
complete medical history and told Bubba to wait in the examining room.

A half hour later a nurse came in and asked Bubba what he had. Bubba
said, ‘Shingles.’ So the nurse gave Bubba a blood test, a blood
pressure test, an electrocardiogram, and told Bubba to take off all
his clothes and wait for the doctor.

An hour later the doctor came in and found Bubba sitting patiently in
the nude and asked Bubba what he had. Bubba said, ‘Shingles.’ The
doctor asked, ‘Where?’ Bubba said, ‘Outside on the truck. Where do you
want me to unload ’em??’

NASA’ s Chicken Gun

Scientists at NASA built a gun specifically to launch
standard 4 pound dead chickens at the windshields of
airliners, military jets and the space shuttle, all traveling
at maximum velocity. The idea is to simulate the frequent
incidents of collisions with airborne fowl to test the strength
of the windshields.

British engineers heard about the gun and were eager
to test it on the windshields of their new high speed trains.
Arrangements were made, and a gun was sent to the British
engineers.

When the gun was fired, the engineers stood shocked as
the chicken hurled out of the barrel, crashed into the shatterproof
shield, smashed it to smithereens, blasted through the control
console, snapped the engineer’s back-rest in two, and
embedded itself in the back wall of the cabin, like an arrow
shot from a bow.

The horrified Brits sent NASA the disastrous results
of the experiment, along with the designs of the
windshield and begged the U.S. . scientists for suggestions.

NASA responded with a one-line memo —

“Defrost the chicken.” (True Story)

Vagina, Boobs, and Poop (Part 5)

Reblog of #5 in a 12 part series

lbeth1950's avatarNutsrok

surpriseThis post has nothing to do with Vagina, Boobs, and Poop.  I am doing a post on crazy things my mother has said and done and wanted to see if this garnered interest.  Mother is sensitive about her age and height, so I can’t mention the fact that she is past eighty, and “not tall,” but besides that, has said and done some interesting things.   (Links to part 1,2 &3 below)

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Three short letters by a bereaved father

Reblog from Jill’s Experiences

Jill's avatarJill's Experiences with Mental Health , Stigma, Alzheimer's Disease, Grief & Grieving & serenade2seniors

3 Alec

Three short letters by a bereaved father.

The first, he wrote to our son after he had done the worst thing a child could do and ended his life.

“Dear Doron,

Of course we miss you terribly. But, we are relieved that you have found eternal peace. You bore your suffering bravely and you did all you could to continue living. But, when you realized that your suffering had to end, you took the only way out. I love you and want you to know that both your mother and I forgive you for taking our son away from us.״

Your father.”

״Dear Doctors,

“I thank you for all you tried to do for my son. Hopefully, in time, human knowledge will progress to a position where seriously ill psychiatric patients will be able to be helped. Unfortunatelyyou failed to give me or my son the feeling that you…

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Response from Gipsika

Poor ol’ Paddy o’Brien was found lying in the meadows out cold, with a broken bronze statuette next to him that had clearly been used to bash his lights out.
The local paper reported the first known case of a knick-knack Paddy whack.

http://skrikvirniks.wordpress.com/

Check out Gipsika’s blog

Really, Really Bad Joke

A frog goes into a bank and approaches the teller. He can see from her name plate that the teller’s name is Patricia Whack.

So, he says, “Mrs. Whack, I’d like to get a loan to buy a boat and go on a long vacation.” Patti looks at the frog in disbelief and asks how much he wants to borrow.

The frog says “$30,000.” The teller asks his name and the frog says that his name is Kermit Jagger, his dad is Mick Jagger, and that it is OK, he knows the bank manager.

Patti explains that $30,000 is a substantial amount of money and that he will need to secure some collateral against the loan. She asks if he has anything he can use as collateral.

The frog says, “Sure. I have this,” and produces a tiny pink porcelain pig, about half an inch tall. Bright pink and perfectly formed.

Very confused, Patti explains that she’ll have to consult with the manager and disappears into a back office.

She finds the manager and says: “There is a frog called Kermit Jagger out there who claims to know you and wants to borrow $30,000. And he wants to use this as collateral.”

She holds up the tiny pink pig.
“I mean, what the heck is this?”



The bank manager looks back at her and says,
“It’s a knick knack, Patti Whack.
Give the frog a loan.
His old man’s a Rolling Stone.”

Reading

I can’t remember not knowing how to read.  Long before I started school I recall sitting under the kitchen asking my mother how to spell words out, then laboriously reading the “”story” back to myself.  My older sister played teacher and apparently did quite a good job with teaching reading.   We’d pour over the discarded school books my aunt, the school teacher, brought us, delighting in doing the lessons.  It was such a surprise to later be assigned some of those same texts in school.  I was particularly amused by the first grade primers that incorporated pictures into sentences, such as ,

See theimage.  See the image swim!  It seemed so ridiculous to think a kid could manage words like “see” and “swim” yet not be able to master “duck.”

Since nobody asked me, I lumbered along with the rest of the class.  We were supposed to read aloud to our parents every night.  There was no way that was going to happen at our house.  I rarely made it home with my book.  If I had, my mother would have had to caught me.  The minute we got in and had a snack, we watched the last fifteen minutes of cartoons and hit the door, not making it back in till Mother made us come in for supper.