Thursday, March 5, 2020

Child-Proof Food Containers?


This is hard to open, too.



Okay.  I can understand why medicine bottles are made hard to open.  Children get into everything, and we don’t want them to experiment with medications they have no business taking.  So yes, medicine bottles should be hard to open, at least for kids.

But food?  Why on earth should a jar of food be impossible to open without a chainsaw?

Take, for example, that new jar of peanut butter that you are trying to open because, let’s say, you are making lunch for a couple of kids.  You start with confidence, sure that one good twist of the wrist will loosen up the lid.

The lid refuses to budge.  You heave a sigh and try again.  The thing remains stubbornly tight.

After uttering a couple of mild curses, you bang the lid against the countertop a couple of times.  Then you try again to open the jar, with no luck.

You wrap a kitchen towel around the jar and try again.  Nothing happens.

You take a table knife and tap the entire circumference of the lid with it.  That has no effect, either.

You run the hot water in the sink until it gets really hot, then you put the jar lid under the flow and hold it there for a minute.  You take it out and try to open it again.  Try is the operative word because again nothing happens.

You try the kitchen towel and the banging against the counter tricks again.  By this time, you want to throw the damned jar out the window.

You set the jar on the counter, having decided to make baloney sandwiches instead.

After you make and pack the baloney sandwiches, you try once more to open the jar of peanut butter, just for the hell of it.

This time you manage to open it.

That is the end of this story, as far as I am concerned.

Sunday, February 9, 2020

You Know It's Time to Declutter When ...


In every life, there comes a time when one has to get rid of some of those possessions that have, over the years, multiplied like oversexed rabbits.

Oh, but all those things have a use, you say.

Yes, but have you used them at any time in the last two years?

Well, no, but I might.  You never know.

Get rid of them!

Is the path from your living room to your kitchen an obstacle course?  If your answer is yes, you might want to consider dumping that ottoman instead of having to dodge it all the time.

I have things stored in that ottoman, you say.

When was the last time you looked at any of those things you have stuck in there?

Well ...

Get rid of them, then get rid of the ottoman!

Is your closet bulging with clothes, some of which you last wore when Clinton was President?  If so, maybe your wardrobe needs a cleaning-out.

Oh, but I can’t get rid of my old clothes, you say.  Suppose they come back into style, and I lose enough weight to wear them again?

Will you wear them again, or did you get tired of them years ago?  What about the ones that are falling apart?  And then there are the ones that you never wear because you don’t like them or they don’t go with anything else.

Well ...

Get rid of them!

I can see the tears forming on the faces of some of my readers at the thought of getting rid of beloved junk that is taking up valuable space in their homes.  I sympathize because I am one of them.  I, too, share my living space with an assortment of useless items that would probably be happier in the local thrift shop.  There they could be adopted by people who would love them and care for them, or at least use them.

I am determined to rid my space of anything that isn’t contributing to the decor of my apartment, entertaining me, enriching my life, or making life more comfortable.

I’ll start tomorrow.

Monday, April 8, 2019

Observations of an Aging Baby Boomer

Aging Baby Boomer Observing

1.   
Archaeologists have discovered an "Elixir of Immortality" in an ancient Chinese family tomb. This is possibly the first example of a scientific experiment gone wrong because everybody in the grave is dead.

2.     The length of time it takes a package to reach your house is in reverse ratio to the importance of the package.

3.     Never trust anyone over 70.  We’re old enough to know all the tricks if we can remember them.

4.     Never judge anyone until you have walked a mile in his shoes.  If the shoes don’t fit, you’re screwed.  Being screwed gives you the right to get mad, which provides you with the right to search out the owner of the shoes and clobber him.

5.     Early to bed and early to rise can make a person really grouchy, especially if everyone else is having fun while you’re in bed.

6.     Yes, your dog or cat loves you, so stop wondering about it.

7.     Scientists are finally figuring out that procrastination can be good for you.  I could have told them that myself, but I kept putting it off.

8.     Historical facial reconstructions are showing us, more and more, how ugly some of the famous people were.

9.     Old age is a lot of fun – for the manufacturers of canes, walkers, orthopedic shoes, and support stockings.

10.  Never sneeze at senior discounts.  Those $2 will buy you half a coffee at Starbucks.


Saturday, March 23, 2019

Training Your Human 101, by Harmony the Cat


The Professor
Lesson 1:  Treats

Harmony:  Since the time of the Pharaohs, 4,000 years ago, humans and cats have shared their homes with each other in a mutually satisfying arrangement.

Me (Human):  Actually, cats became domesticated around 12,000 years ago in the Middle East, but not in Egypt.  Egypt came later.

Yes, but mentioning the Pharaohs is a good attention getter.

Okay.  It’s your lecture.  I just thought I’d point out ...

Not while I’m talking!

All right.  Whatever.  Sheeesshh!

So obsessive!  Now, where was I.  Oh yes.  Since the time of the Pharaohs (pause, looks at human)  cats and humans have shared their lives together.  This arrangement has been highly beneficial to the cat, providing him or her with potential servants ...

“Slaves” is more like it.

... ahem ... to cater to the cat’s every whim.  To achieve this end, a certain amount of training is required.  In this first lesson, I will teach you how to obtain treats from your human.  This is a necessary skill, if you don’t want to spend your whole life eating only food that has been scientifically tested and all that rubbish so that it’s good for you, makes your coat shine, etc., etc., etc.  Bo-ring!!

Expensive, too, especially if you turn your whiskered nose up at it, walk away and let it turn into little stinky rocks!

First, you must put Plan A into action.

I can’t wait to hear this.

Plan A is known as “The Buttering Up Phase.”  This should begin as soon as your stomach tells you it's time for some treats, preferably every time the human gives any sign of getting up from a chair or a couch.  Your tactics consist of nose nudges, head butts, and leg rubs.  If the human ignores these, a love bite or two gets the message across.  Pester the human until he or she starts to yell.  If the big ox still won’t move, go on to Plan B.  Scratch the furniture and/or chew on a piece of trash.  THAT is guaranteed to get the big jerk up and heading for the kitchen.  By the way, those same tactics work when it’s mealtime, and the human is late with it.

Hmmph!

Oh, and if you're an indoor cat, there is one more way to get treats.  Wait until you know the human will be heading out the front door, sometimes with a load of garbage and stuff for recycling, other times just with those jingling things that they stick into the door to make it open.  Get right under the human's feet, ready to spring out the door.  I guarantee you the human will immediately divert you by going into the kitchen and putting treats in your dish.

You always do this when I’m in a hurry to get out the door and go somewhere or when I have my hands full.

I don't care.  I'm a cat.  Caring about human stuff is against the Great Cat Code of Behavior.

Is there such a thing?

Oops!  I think I just let out a secret.  Class dismissed.  If anyone from the Cat Behavioral Squad comes along, you don’t know where I’m hiding!



Wednesday, March 6, 2019

The Adventures of Hubert the Fly

“Good evening.  This is your roving reporter Roberta Ribbits with today’s News of the Eccentric.  I am on the corner of 239th Street and Bailey Avenue in The Bronx.  As you all know, many people eschew the idea of adopting a dog or a cat and choose instead to acquire exotic pets.  Standing next to me here is Ms. Florence Fadibber, who owns the most exotic pet of all, a common housefly."

“He’s not common.  He’s very uncommon.  If he were common, everyone would have one.”

“I’m sorry.  Yes.  An uncommon house fly.  I guess he’s in that mason jar you’re holding.  What’s his name?”

“Hubert.  I named him after my ex-husband.  There, there, Hubert.  It’s all right. Sweetie.  She’s a nice lady.  She just wants to get to know you.  N-i-i-ce flykins.”

 “Uh.  Yes.  Hello, Hubert.  Tell me, Ms. Fadibber, how long have you had your pet fly?  And what on earth made you adopt him?”

“Well, I was thinking about getting a pet, but I didn’t want to go through all the rigamarole they make you go through in shelters to make sure you’re suitable.  I just wanted to find an animal and take it home, you know?  So one day Hubert flew into my kitchen while I was making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and the rest is history.  I caught him in the mason jar, and he's been mine ever since.  I’ve had him for a year.  Right, Hubert?  Look at him.  Isn’t he just SO CUTE with those huge red eyes?  I love the way he looks at me.”

"Don't houseflies only live about 3 to 5 weeks?  How did he get to be a year old?"

“It’s what I feed him.  He gets Wheaties and spinach, blended together.  I am careful to give him only the healthiest food.  No garbage for him, and certainly no feces!”

“I won’t ask how you feed him.”

“Well ... “

“I don’t want to know, really.  Anyway, our time is almost up.”

“Well, I do it this way.  I just open the jar a little, like this. ... Oh no!  He got out!  HELP!  He’s flying away!  Hubert!  Come back, Hubert!  HUBERT!!”


“Well, there she goes.  Florence Fadibber the Fly Lady.  ...  Ooh, what just landed on my arm?  (*swat*) ...  Uh oh!  What have I done?  Hubert, is that you?  Hubert? ... Uh, back to the newsroom. ... Hubert?”

Monday, February 25, 2019

Eve's Memoir

I take a Bible class every Wednesday evening.  Occasionally, we are asked, as part of the homework, to write a little story.  Last week we were asked to write an account of the Fall from the viewpoint of Eve.

In a fit of dutiful reverence, I wrote a sad, tragic account to hand to our instructor.  I can't resist, however, writing a funny version as well.  Our instructor has a sense of humor, so perhaps I will submit this to the class for some extra credit!

How I Ended Up East of Eden[1] by Eve

What was I thinking?  It isn’t as though we didn’t have enough to eat.  We had a whole smorgasbord there in Eden, made up of all kinds of food except meat.  We didn’t mind not having meat, though, because we didn’t know any better back then.  All of the animals in Eden were supposed to be friends for my husband Adam, not food.  That was before Adam got his operation where God took out a rib and made me from it.  At any rate, Adam and I more or less divided up the animal friends.  I took the cute ones and let him have the others, including the slimy ones, like the snake.  I should have paid more attention to the snake.  More about that later.

Anyway, we had a lot of trees in Eden, including a slew of fruit trees, so there was no need for me to want to try the one fruit we weren't allowed to eat.  According to what God told us, it was poison, and we would die from it.  It looked so good, though, that I never really believed it could be so dangerous to eat it.  I mean, what could one little bite do?  But God told us not to eat it, so we left it alone.  Better safe than sorry.

One day the snake came sidling up to me on his four little legs and began to talk to me.  I was shocked because I never knew we had a talking snake in Eden.

“I’m sorry.  Did I scare you?”  he said.

“Yes!”  I answered.  “What do you want?”

“I’m just being friendly.  Say, isn’t that the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil?”

“Yeah.  Why?”

"Oh, nothing.  How come you never eat any of its fruit?"

“God told us not to,” I said.  If we eat it, we’ll die.”

“Get outta here!”  he said.

“Really.  It’s true.”

“You know what I think?”  he said.  “I think you won’t die at all if you eat the fruit of that tree.  I think it will give you knowledge and you’ll be like God.  That’s what I think.”

“You really think so?”  I asked.

“Come on.  Try some.  One little bite can’t hurt.”

The thought of turning into a goddess was extremely tempting.  I had a feeling Adam wouldn’t mind turning into a god, too.

“Okay,” I said.  “But if this turns out bad, I’m blaming you.”

 To make a long story short, I took a bite of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil.  I didn’t notice any change, but it tasted good, so I brought some of it to Adam.  Being the idiot he is, he took what I gave him and ate it.

Then the effects happened, the strongest of which was that we both suddenly noticed we weren’t wearing any clothes.  Until then, it hadn’t mattered, but now it did.  We rushed around, gathered fig leaves together and made loincloths for ourselves.  They didn’t cover us very well, but it was the best we could do with what we had.

After that, Adam and I had a big fight.  He blamed me for getting him in trouble, and I blamed him for being such a moron.  He stomped off and hid somewhere.  So did I.  The snake, who was laughing like a hyena through all this, stayed where he was to try to catch some sun.

I stayed hidden until evening, which was when God always came to visit us.  I could hear him coming as usual.  Boy, was I scared!  I didn't know how God was going to react.  After all, He was the Supreme Being, and we were just a couple of jerks that He put together from some dust and a rib.  And He did warn us not to eat from that tree.

Of course, we had to come out from hiding and Adam had to admit what had gone down.  You can't hide from God, and you can't lie to Him, so you might as well give up and take your lumps.  Adam blamed me.  I blamed the snake, as I had said I would.  God took away the snake's legs and told him he'd have to crawl on his belly from then on.  It served that sneaky little reptile right.

God warned both Adam and me about all the hardships we would be living from that point on, then He made us each some decent clothes and shooed us out of Eden.  Ordinarily, I love to get a new dress, but this was my first one, and the circumstances didn't warrant any kind of celebrating.

After God closed the garden gate on us, I suddenly remembered that I had left my purse behind.  I turned around to go back in to get it, but the entrance was being guarded by a scary-looking angel.  He didn't look like the type who liked to fetch things for people, so I left it alone and walked away with Adam.



[1] East of Eden is a novel by John Steinbeck, for those of you who don’t remember this.  I thought it would be funny to include a reference to it here.  ... Well, it seemed like a good idea.

Saturday, February 16, 2019

Sweepstakes Shmeepstakes!

Have you ever received one of those pieces of mail inviting you to enter sweepstakes and possibly win a humungous sum of money?  Of course, you have, unless you have been living in a cave without a mailing address for the last 40 years.

After years of tossing those envelopes into the trash unopened, have you suddenly decided to enter one of the sweepstakes and give yourself a chance to become an instant rich person without having to work for the money?

I have news for you.  Not only do you have a minuscule chance of winning anything, but it takes a genius to fill out one of those entry forms.

DISCLAIMER:  All names have been changed, to protect the innocent, the not-so-innocent and anyone else who feels guilty.  If there is any resemblance to any corporations that have ever been in existence, don’t blame me.

Picture this.  You have just received an envelope in the mail from the Sweepstakes Division of the Chimera[1] Corporation. 

The envelope is thick.  For some silly reason, this gives you hope.  If the Chimera Corporation took the time to stuff your envelope like that, it must mean you are a winner, right?  You picture a big factory room full of tiny envelope stuffers, working frantically to overstuff enough envelopes to go out to all the winners of the world, one of which is you.  What humanitarians they must be because you are sure the Chimera Corporation is underpaying them.  Otherwise, how would they have enough money to give out to the winners of the world?

You open the envelope and pull out a load of papers.  Every one of these is covered on its entire surface with print, pictures or both.  The bright colors cause you a 30-second attack of blindness before you are able to focus on any of them.  The cover letter is littered with exclamation point warnings, such as “You might be a winner!”  “Don’t miss the deadline!”  Don’t lose your chance to win $348,000,000 in cash every year of your life!”  This puts the Greed Center of your brain on red alert, which is why the Chimera Corporation paid some advertising person to compose that letter in the first place.

Actual instructions are hard to find in the mess.  What you do get are warnings to follow the instructions.  This forces you to actually read everything in the packet, which is something you rarely do with anything, let alone junk mail.

You waste about an hour of your life sorting through the whole mess, finding stickers, pasting them on what looks like the application form, seeing the return envelope and pasting another sticker on it, etc., etc., etc.

Finally, it looks like you have a precise, correctly presented application.  You put it in the enclosed self-addressed envelope marked "place stamp here."  You dig through your desk drawers looking for a stamp.  You find an old, unused "forever" stamp with Elvis Presley's picture on it.  You put it on the stamp corner of the envelope and write your return address on the other edge.

You put the application in a mailbox on the way to church to light some candles.




[1] One of the definitions of chimera, according to the Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary:  an illusion or fabrication of the mind, especially : an unrealizable dream

ADVENTURES IN SLOPPY HOUSEKEEPING: DUSTING THE FURNITURE

I don’t know what prehistoric housewives did to keep dust off their furniture if they had any.   If they did anything at all, it must have b...