Category: Humor

A Fine Mess

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

closetI have a closet under my stairs that my husband lovingly calls “the velociraptor closet.” He insists that going inside is a dangerous adventure because the area is most assuredly filled with wild beasts that may attack at any moment. He always wishes me well whenever I daringly go into the farthest reaches of the area, assuring me that he will send for help if I don’t return in a timely fashion. The joke of course is based on the messiness of all that I have crammed inside for storage. It is quite a challenge to maneuver along the passageway without sustaining a bump on the head or a bruised shin.

I’m known as a neatness freak by all of my friends and family but when it comes to closets I fail in organizational skills. I tend to use those hidden spaces as a means of holding all of the things that I rarely use but may or may not need in the future. The only rhyme and reason that I follow in storing junk is based on where each the items actually fit and the seasons in which I am apt to want them. I have an entire section of a closet just for Christmas wrapping paper, tablecloths, and serving pieces. Several square feet of my home’s real estate holds things that I only use for one month each year.

Back in the day all of us had cameras that used film that we had to get developed and converted into photos that came inside little paper envelopes. We never knew exactly what we would get from our efforts of recording events. Sometimes the resulting pictures were hilariously awful but we had to pay for them anyway. Most of the time I never bothered to throw away the defective images. I just kept them inside those little envelopes with all of the others. Over time I accumulated boxes and boxes of photos from our celebrations, milestones and trips. After my mother and mother-in-law died I inherited their boxes as well. Now I have an entire upstairs closet as well as a cedar chest dedicated to those old pictures. Much like my mother-in-law I keep promising to label and organize what I have so that future generations will have some idea of their meaning, but I never quite get around to completing the task. I suppose that one day someone will have to decide whether to toss the lot or make an attempt at finally achieving what Granny and I never did.

I used to marvel that my maternal grandmother never gave anything away and now I find myself hanging on to so much more than I really need. I’ve got items that I haven’t used in years but for some reason keep with the crazy idea that I may actually one day find a reason for hoarding. I remind myself of a notion that a friend once mentioned noting that the messy folks who never throw anything away end up with the prize possessions of the Antiques Roadshow. I keep convincing myself that valueless items may one day be worth a fortune if I just hold onto them long enough. I suppose that I am more sentimental than I should be. I imagine my children and grandchildren cursing me one day as they attempt to cull through all of the things that I have accumulated.

I’ve tried paring down the number of books that I have but somehow I just can’t part with them even though they fill spaces all over the house and even under the beds. I find myself hanging onto worn linens by noting that they are fabulous for covering my plants during the one or two freezes that occur each winter. I have boxes of rags just waiting for cleaning projects and an array of old paint that I use to touch up knicks once in a blue moon.

I haven’t changed clothing sizes in several years so I have outfits that date back twenty years. I’ve tried making a rule that if I bring in something new I must rid myself of something old but I convince myself that I need to wait just a while longer in case an item comes back into vogue. I even have a stack of clothing that I use when I paint or use bleach. It may sit in the corner for years but eventually I pull it out and feel rather proud of my foresight.

As the year progresses I begin setting aside gifts that I have purchased for friends and family. It’s a habit that I learned from my mother but I’m not as organized as she was. When she died we found items labeled with the names of the recipients. I just put my purchases alongside the Christmas section of the closet without mention of who I want to have them. Sometimes I forget that I even bought them and they languish in limbo for years.

I’ve been getting messages from Medicare and the CDC indicating that it might be best for someone in my age group to stay around the house a bit more until the threat of the coronavirus subsides. Maybe this is finally the time to tackle the messes that lurk inside my closest and under my beds. In all honesty I’d have to wrap Christmas packages for hundreds of people to finally use all of the paper that I have. I’m thinking that if I do nothing more than toss the photographs of sub par quality I will have made a big dent in the volume. I need to tame the velociraptor closet and admit to myself that I’m not going to read the vast majority of my books ever again. Do I really believe that I or someone else might actually use those dvds?

I suppose it’s time for a change and maybe I’ll get around to making it or maybe not. It’s a fine mess that I have. I’ll think about that tomorrow.

We Will Meet Again

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

Happy Plates

I do my best to be upbeat. I try to look for the silver lining in almost everything. I suppose it never dawned on me that our national ordeal would last as long as it has even as my daughters attempted to bring down to reality. I’ve made the best of my 20 weeks in isolation and even created a game out of the whole thing but I think I need to up my persistence because I’ve wavered a bit this past week.

I’ve found great solace working in my yard but as August dawns the heat is making it more and more difficult to get excited about being out in the jungle like atmosphere of Houston, Texas humidity. With the most recent rains that have kept the grass uncut for two weeks it feels like being in a swamp. I would not be at all surprised to find an alligator sunning in my flowerbed. Still I perform the tasks of weeding and trimming in fifteen minute increments which is akin to emptying the ocean of water one teaspoon at a time.

I’ve given up on the vegetable garden I planted. I usually have a green thumb but not so with the raised bed that I created to provide me with fresh tomatoes, squash, cucumbers and peppers. So far the insects have devoured the pepper plants in spite of my efforts to discourage them and the squash plants died. The cucumber plants were prolific and seemed to have so much promise with the profusion of blooms that popped out. Unfortunately not a single one of those blossoms bore fruit. The tomato plants were much the same. I’ll soon be dismantling the whole experiment and using the rich soil that I purchased to give my flowers and shrubs a little treat.

I started a project of relearning Calculus but frankly there is a bit too much going on in the world for me to concentrate. I’m moving so slowly through the lessons that I’ll still be in the process a year from now. Since I never like to cry “uncle” I may continue my pursuit but it’s not at the top of my list of daily routines. I find myself asking, “What will I use this for?” It makes me feel like a traitor to all mathematics teachers in the world.

I’ve made great use of my treadmill and stationary bike but I really look forward to outdoor strolls again. For now I’m not ready to brave the heat. Until it is cool again walks through the neighborhood won’t be any more pleasurable than thirty minutes of jaunting to nowhere in air conditioned comfort while solving puzzles on my phone. Last week I was number one in a competition and it all began with my daily exercise routine so it’s not all bad.

When I was still working I often dreamed of how wonderful it would be to have all the time in the world to binge watch movies and television programs. Now that I am living that reality I am growing bored of the routine of searching for new entertainment each night. I’ve watched Tiger King and all of the Granchester episodes. I’ve gone through most of what is good on Britbox and Netflix and Amazon Prime. I’ve watched The Phantom of the Opera and Hamilton. It’s all good but I’ve had my fill and can’t imagine ever wishing to binge watch again. I do however believe that Carol killed her husband.

I read a great deal. Books and newspapers and magazines always seem to be better than television. I glory in the words that take me on adventures or teach me new ideas. I have an endless supply of material to read and if I add a cup of tea to the mix I am quite content. Sadly so much sitting has led to the possibility of outgrowing my clothing so I need to be a bit more careful of that. 

Sometimes I splurge on a bit of happiness. I purchased some colorful dishes that I saw on Amazon. I delighted in the vibrance of the different hues and patterns. They look quite nice on my dining table set for a shared feast with six of my family members or friends. They provide me with an optimistic hope that one day my kitchen will again be filled with the laughter of guests.

My husband Mike and I joke a great deal. We lean toward the kind of humor that would delight the creators of Monty Python. We find laughter in the oddest things and crack ourselves up with inside jokes. I’ve always believed that a good belly laugh is the best medicine around and I rarely go a day without a dose of satire that makes me howl. I don’t expect however to be peddling my medical advice in front of the White House anytime soon. 

My most favorite activity is writing. As a young girl I always thought that I would become an author or a journalist. I went for steady work instead and became a teacher. I worry for my fellow educators because they are most certainly in for a very bumpy ride. As for myself, I’m looking forward to reconnecting with my little band of homeschooled students. I’ll be meeting with them remotely for now so I’m eagerly preparing. I’m giddy over the supplies that keep arriving at my doorstep. I have a magnetic Cartesian plane that fits nicely on my white board. I’ve found magnetic money to use with my little ones and a large protractor for my middle school students. You would think that Santa Claus had come if you saw how joyful all of this is making me. I don’t need much to get very excited.

I suppose that more and more people will attempt to get back to work. Nonetheless I don’t expect to see anything even remotely appearing normal for a time but we will get there. I’ve got my masks and my determination to be as upbeat as I can for the duration. I hope to contribute a bit of joy or humor or compassion or information to help with the cause. One day this will be but a memory and the world will find a way to move forward. That’s when my happy dishes will be waiting for my guests. We will meet again.

Speed Limit 75

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

Speed_limit_75_sign

I suppose that if my life were defined by a traffic sign people might believe that “SLOW” would perfectly capture my current situation, but I suspect that maybe “SPEED LIMIT 75” is a more accurate description. I’ve yet to modulate my daily pace, and I don’t intend to do so until I am no longer able to zip around from one adventure to another. I continually thank the good Lord for my essentially good health and for the energy that keeps me going. I’m simply not ready to sit back and be a senior citizen yet. After all most of the folks vying for the presidency are my contemporaries or even a bit older. Seventy seems to be the new fifty and I’m plan to take full advantage of whatever time that I have to still be vibrant.

I was trying to plan a visit with one of my grandsons and I outlined all of the things that I had to do for the next several weeks. “So much for retirement,” was his response and I had to laugh at my busy schedule. I still teach mathematics to young people ranging in age from seven to sixteen years of age. I’ve been relearning concepts from Pre-Calculus that I haven’t used in so long that they may as well be brand new information. Somehow I’ve been able to keep the little gray cells in my brain operating without too much effort and it feels good to exercise my mind.

I try to close the activity circles on my Apple watch most days as well. I generally keep my rusty knees working in spite of the arthritis that has made doing so more challenging than it used to be. I always feel better after a brisk walk or time spend on weight machines. I hope to keep my body working at top speed as well as my mind even though I sometime see signs that both are slowing just a bit.

I keep a regular schedule that lasts from about six in the morning until eleven at night. I have always had a difficult time sitting still and that hasn’t changed as I have aged. If anything my need to stay active has only increased over time. I suppose that from a psychological standpoint I fear that if I give in to forgetful moments or bouts of pain in my joints that I will slowly erode into a state of disrepair.

There is still so much to see in the world. I pray that the Coronavirus won’t interfere with my travel plans for the next many months. I suppose that if I have one excruciating flaw in my personality it is a tendency to worry excessively. Anxiety has followed me for all of my life, a tendency that I came about honestly from my grandmother, Minnie Bell. If anything does me in it will be my propensity to worry myself into an excitable state of mind. For that reason I keep whirring about like the Energizer Bunny. The busier I am the less prone I am to begin considering scenarios that are unlikely to happen.

Spring is coming and with it my annual cleaning frenzy. I get my garden in tip top shape along with the inside of my home. This year I plan to repaint all of my outdoor furniture before the rust ruins it. I need to clean out closets and get things in order. We’ve been misplacing lots of items of late because everything got stirred around with the Christmas frenzy. It’s no doubt time to rid myself of items that I haven’t used in years as well. Each spring I promise to simplify but never quite go all the way as I should.

Scotland is calling me, but before that I want to take a trip to the mountains with my brothers and sisters-in-law. Somehow I never get enough of those majestic scenes, just as I require a quick visit to New Orleans at least once a year as well. There are places that stir my heart and keep my should happy. Visiting them is like filling a prescription to keep me healthy.

My mother used to urge me to slow down. My teachers complained that I was always tapping a foot or wriggling in my seat. My students laughed at the way I constantly moved around the classroom. I admit to being a big gooey ball of energy that is essentially unable to just sit quietly for long stretches of time. I long ago gave up attempting to be serene. I’ve tried meditating and I just can’t quiet my mind or my body enough to hear my own breathing or heartbeat.

A colleague once offered me an energy drink. I didn’t think I needed it but I was curious to see what it’s effect would be on me. I was soon feeling like a nervous cat. If I’d had claws I do believe that I might have been able to walk up the wall and hang upside down from the ceiling. I don’t need anything artificial to keep moving. Energy is my middle name.

Perhaps the day will come when “SLOW’ will finally be my mantra. I watched my dynamo aunts eventually spend more time sitting than moving around, but they were well into their nineties before that happened. I tend to believe that I still have many 75 miles per hour days ahead of me. I intend to take full advantage of them and be thankful that I still have the energy to zip through life.

Where Did I Put Those Glasses?

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

glassesI am still able to pass my driver’s test without the aid of glasses. When I drive I have no difficulty reading the signs and keeping an eye out for problems on the road. When it comes to reading however I’m as blind as a bat. Without the aid of magnification I’m as blind as a bat. Everything on a written page literally looks like a barcode making me think of that poor fellow in an episode of The Twilight Zone who after becoming the last human on earth consoles himself with the thought that he will just read all of the books in the library until his own demise. He’s actually looking forward to living alone and having unfettered time to enjoy his favorite hobby of reading. He gathers a stack of volumes with the intent of settling down with the company of good stories when he drops his glasses and hears them shatter. The look on his face when he realizes that his situation is hopeless has stayed in my mind since I first saw that heartbreaking story.

Back then my eyes were like those of a hawk. I had no trouble with eyesight and never considered that I might one day require some kind of assistance just to be able to read a label. I first noticed difficulty discerning letters on a page when I was in my forties studying for my masters degree, In between the reading for my job and the additional load for my classes my eyes were in a constant state of fatigue. Before long I realized that I was continually squinting and holding things as far away as my arms were able to reach just to make out the print. I knew I needed to submit to seeing a doctor to find out what was happening.

I wasn’t surprised at all to learn that I had become farsighted. The doctor prescribed the lenses that I would need and I purchased a rather expensive pair of glasses that made all of my problems disappear. Unfortunately I had to remove my eyewear for all of my regular activities save for reading, so I was continually misplacing them. Not having grown up with poor eyesight made it challenging to remember to keep my glasses at hand. Eventually I lost them somewhere and given what I had spent on them I was reluctant to rush out to replace them. Instead I tried on some reading glasses at the drug store until I found a pair that made everything clear again.

I’ve never spent more than twenty dollars on my lenses but I’ve learned from experience that I can’t be foolish enough to depend on a single pair. I’ve noted that they often have a tendency to break so I carry a little repair kit, but my biggest problem is leaving them somewhere and not knowing where it was that I set them down. Now I have additional pairs of glasses stashed everywhere in case of an emergency. I’m not about to be like that poor man who for all intents and purposes became blind because his source of eyesight was destroyed.

I’ve tried a number of remedies for keeping track of those devilish pairs of eyewear that seem intent on hiding from me. I’ve tried to wear them on a chain or a leather tether around my neck but they get in the way and detract from the overall look of my fashion. Besides I suppose that they think they make me look like an old lady as if nobody would otherwise notice that I am seventy one years old. “Vanity thy name is Sharron.”

I once purchased a cute little pin that allowed me to wear my glasses on my lapel whenever they weren’t on my face. That system didn’t look half bad but the critters somehow fell off without my noticing and left me in a real pickle when I needed them. I’ve found the best defense is to always have an heir and a spare at hand so most of the time I have glasses strategically posted in various rooms of the house, in my purse, inside my car and even in our travel trailer. I won’t go on a long trip without having extra pairs just in case. In spite of my best efforts I somehow I still find myself seeking a store where I might replace the ones that have somehow escaped from me. I usually end up paying far more for the new glasses than I would otherwise do because I am desperate and can’t actually see what they cost before I buy them.

I suppose that the day will eventually come when I will need to wear bifocals or some such thing. Then I will have to keep up with my eyewear all of the time. I’m hoping that having to wear them during all of my waking hours will do the trick but I worry that I won’t be as vigilant as my husband who gets by with his single pair of glasses with no trouble whatsoever. When I think of how often I misplace my phone I feel certain that I will somehow find a way to lose even a pair of glasses that I am supposed to wear all day long.

Wrinkles on my skin and aches in my knees are just a couple of reminders that I am growing old. So far I’ve been able to push back on becoming less and less energetic but my eyes remind me that time will take its toll in spite of my denial. Of late I’ve had to wear my glasses when cleaning so that I don’t miss dirt and grime that fades away without benefit of magnification. I worry about becoming like my grandmother who shortly before her death no longer noticed that her milk had curdled or that a foreign object was in her food.

Pride goeth before the fall. I suppose it’s time to make regular appointments with an ophthalmologist and maybe even purchase some bonafide glasses with a spare to be certain that I never lose the remarkable gift of sight. For now though I’m doing quite well with the cheap pairs that have become regular features wherever I go. For the time being I’m trying to remember where I put the brand new ones that I recently purchased. I suppose I should go look for them.     

A Treasure Trove

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

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There is no telling what might lie inside the folds of a woman’s purse, particularly when it is a rather large one. In my own case a handbag becomes a repository for all sorts of “just in case” provisions. Of course I carry the usual suspects regularly like wallet, phone, keys, reading glasses. For quick trips I don’t need much more than that, but if I’m going to be away from home for a time I need to include some ibuprofen just in case my knees begin to ache or I feel the threat of a migraine. I almost always need a comb to rearrange my fine hair that blows into a kind of bird’s nest at the slightest provocation from wind. I generally include a pair of sunglasses to shade my eyes from the bright rays of the sun and then there’s a tube of lipstick to brighten my countenance after a long day.

In truth I prefer the “less is more” version of packing a purse these days. It’s uncomfortable to lug a heavy load around as I do my errands. I find myself cleaning out extraneous items more and more often but when I was younger my purse was akin to a hardware store. I never left home without a repair kit for my classes and a sewing kit to men loose buttons or an unexpected tear in my clothing. I carried a little notebook for writing down things that I wanted to remember or lists of things that I needed. I toted tiny cans of hairspray and a little pouch filled with first aid items. I’d bring along my checkbook and a supply of pencils and pens. In winter I included gloves and chapstick. If the purse was large enough I might even bring a book or my laptop. Like a girl scout I was ready for virtually anything.

When I was still a fledgling mom I’d have toys and bags of snacks inside my purse, maybe even little bottles of water or milk. I’d bring extra changes of clothing for the little ones just in case of an accident. My bag was like a magician’s prop, holding anything that would feed or entertain my girls. There was no telling what may lie inside.

I used to go to the movies with my mom. She was from the old school when twenty five cents got her a ticket and a little snack. The ever rising prices of things astounded her and so she found ways to save on the cost of entertainment by getting me to hide candy and such in my purse. In between her own handbag and mine we were able to bring in some rather amazing things. On one occasion she asked me to stow away some fried chicken and two cans of Coke in the folds of my handbag while she smuggled in homemade popcorn. I have to admit that there was something rather exciting about the adventure of it all and we no doubt had the best food of anyone in the theater.

After 9/11 it became less and less acceptable or advisable to carry half of a household inside a purse. I’ve lost cans of hairspray, pocket knives, nail clippers and all sorts of things during searches. I’ve learned to carefully check the contents of my purse before leaving home lest I lose something that I value. Some places insist on clear bags or pocketbooks so small that only the most essential items will fit. I don’t grumble too much because it’s all in the name of safety but I sometimes worry that I’ll get caught short in an emergency situation.

I honestly don’t know how men get by with only pockets to hold their essentials. I suppose it works because their clothing is made quite differently. I have few outfits with sewn in pouches large enough to carry even the most basic things that I need whenever I leave home. My keys would take up most of the room and my phone would undoubtedly fall out of my jeans and trousers. My dresses have no compartments at all. To eliminate purses the fashion designers would have to rethink the way they make women’s clothing. It would be revolutionary and perhaps not so popular among the ladies.

I’m a fan of nice purses but I draw the line after a certain price. I’ve been in stores where the handbags cost more than my refrigerator, and while they are lovely I can’t imagine making such an investment in an item that I will probably want to replace within a year. Besides, I don’t want to be lugging something around that makes me a target for thieves.

My favorite purse of all time was one that my husband bought for me in Estes Park, Colorado. We found it in a little shop called Craftsmen in leather. The owner designed and made each handbag with magnificent skill. It was a thing of beauty that I treasured and it lasted far longer than any such item that I have ever owned. Sadly a leaky ink pen did a number on it one day, damaging the color and suppleness of the leather. When I returned to the little shop in hopes of replacing it with a new one, I learned that the man who had so lovingly crafted fine objects had retired and sold the place to new owners. The newer proprietors had kept the name of the store but filled it with horrid manufactured pieces that did not come close to the quality that I longed to find. I still dream of one day finding another purse like that one on ebay.

I suppose that like most women I enjoy a cute and comfortable pair of shoes and a nicely made purse but these days I find that I am more and more able to fit whatever I think I may need into a smaller and smaller parcel. I’ve lightened the weight on my shoulder and opted more and more for practicality. Still, there is nothing like a truly fine purse. It creates a kind of signature for an outfit and helps to define a woman’s personality. Even better is that looking inside of it can a be a real treasure hunt.