Mud Bath

I have heard that mud baths are great for rejuvenating and revitalizing the skin, total mind and body relaxation, and joint and muscle pain reduction. All the benefits of this luxurious spa treatment escaped me yesterday, however, when I took my own form of a mud bath.

That's right, just outside my front porch, I slipped in the mud and fell face down in the cold, gooey stuff. I was unable to stop the fall as my right leg slid out from under me, ultimately stretching as far as it would go before I hit the ground. When the shock wore off after a few seconds, I immediately felt the burning in the back of my right thigh, but I sort of dragged myself to the porch railing then limped up the stairs, chucking my muddy shoes on the porch before I entered the house.

What a sight I was! Mud from head to toe, I limped to the bathroom and put myself back together, but I was in pain. My dear, compassionate son, who's also a CNA, insisted on driving down from Oak Ridge (30 miles) to make sure I was okay. I was; no torn muscles, just overly strained (from never having been used, no doubt). Nothing was broken, either a testament to the soft muddy ground or my soft, flabby body. My thigh ached and I had to sit on the edge of the chair to avoid putting pressure on the bruised area. My son reminded me that he had suffered much worse traumas from playing soccer all those years.

I am better today; most of the pain has subsided and I can walk without limping. Now I can laugh about my mud bath. I don't think it's what Cleopatra had in mind. At least I can now say that I have learned to do the splits.

Don't expect pictures.

Chicken Poop and Chasing the Furniture

Don't get me wrong; I'm a fan of Craig's List (http://www.craigslist.com/). I've both bought and sold through it's venue. One can find quite a lot of terrific bargains, and it's fun to window shop as well. Of course, there are also those who believe it to be a fine, upscale mercantile through which they may sell their old, used, drooled upon, spilled on, soiled, 1990's Aztec/floral/geometric/wood-grain-like furniture for top-dollar because it's Ashley or Bernhardt and they paid $1800 for it originally. A good deal? Not so much.

But today I offer the lighter side of Craig's List: the ads that somehow make you giggle because you really don't know what in the world they are selling, or the grammar/spelling is so atrocious you actually have to read the ad to see if it's really something you want/need or not. For instance:

There's the ad selling CHICKEN POOP LIP BALM - $3. What in the world is chicken poop lip balm? I thought of my cousin Cathy (http://www.lifetimelearning.blogspot.com/) when I read this; maybe she'll know.

Chicken Poop Lip Balm is actually made of all natural ingredients (so chicken poop isn't natural?) like soy, jojoba, sweet orange, lavender, and beeswax. No chicken poop whatsoever. It goes on very smoothly with a hint of lavender aroma, and quickly works to soothe and soften chapped lips (or put it on your elbows, ankles, anywhere you want softer, smoother skin). A novelty item, to be sure, but effective and a hot seller right now.

So how did it get its name? A little girl from Kansas grew up, designed the product, and named it after her grandfather back home on the farm. Seems when she was child, every time she would complain that her lips were chapped, her grandfather would threaten to coat them with chicken poop so she wouldn't lick them. Have you tried it, Cathy?

I wondered what 5 LIGHT CANDLE OPERAS were and found someone was selling "beautiful 5-light brass chandeliers." Perhaps the seller simply couldn't spell candelabra, which is odd since in my estimation, chandeliers is a much more difficult word to spell. Or am I the one in the dark? Is candle opera an acceptable synonym for chandelier? Perhaps. I googled candle opera and received 7,410,000 results! Most that I scanned were either selling candelabra or extolling the renown of some singer I also never heard of.

Someone in the business section is trying to sell this SCAFFLE. According to The Urban Dictionary (http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Scaffle), to scaffle is to steal a small or insignificant object, or to steal something that belongs to someone who will not care upon discovering that the object was stolen. The definition denotes theft, but maybe not morally wrong theft.

"I scaffled a donut from Bob; he had too many to eat anyway."

Scaffle can also be slang or the street term for drugs and the drug trade. I don't think that's what this guy was selling. I guess a workman worth his hire doesn't necessarily have to know how to spell.

It's also very popular to sell a REFRIDGERATOR or FRIDGERATOR on the List, as well as CHESTER DRAWERS.

And for all the couch potatoes out there, one way to get your exercise is to get up and chase the furniture. You'll need this CHASE LOUNGE, of course!

And here we are: back at the poop again, poop of a different variety.

HORSE POOP FREE FREE FREE FREE FREE FREE! The writer says it's garden time, and he has a few stalls full of horse poop to give away, "if you need the poop." He cautions respondents to bring a shovel and plenty of muscle.

Like some of the ads on the List, it's getting pretty deep in here, so this is the end of this post.

Vintage Cartoons

We found these vintage cartoon/poems among my late uncle's possessions as we sorted through the remnants of his and my aunt's estate. I've never seen anything like them before, and find them most interesting, if not entertaining.

I've tried to research their origin to no avail. I've seen similar cartoon pages, but nothing quite like these; and most of the ones I've run across have been printed in black-and-white, with or without poems, mostly without. They probably also pre-date these quite a bit, perhaps the early 20th century.

So, where did these cartoons come from? Some sort of book or magazine? When were they published? By whom, and who is the artist/poet?

Why did my uncle keep these (besides the fact that he apparently kept EVERYTHING, down to dime store receipts and operator manuals from appliances long since discarded)? Did he find them personally significant, some sort of commentary on his own life or emotions? Did he just find them humorous, nothing more? Could it have been my aunt who saved them, and not my uncle? If so, the same questions apply.

If anyone knows anything about the origination and history of these or similar cartoon pages, please comment. It's a mystery I would like to see unraveled.

Have a blessed day!

Your Kingdom for a Gallon of Gas

Most of you who know me know that I am only in my early-50's. I've worked hard to get here, and I am glad to be the age that I am. It comes with certain scars, but also with some degree of wisdom, experience, and grace borne simply from having maneuvered the seasons of my life thus far.

That being said, I am not anxious to rapidly advance in age; time moves all too quickly as it is. I'll patiently work with it and wait it out, even though there are still some perks ahead it seems. Well, I've already joined AARP, as its qualifying age was lowered to 50 many years ago, and one need not even be retired to join. Some restaurants offer senior discounts, most of which start at age 55 or 60, so this looms in my not-so-far-off future.

Many grocery stores, too, offer senior discounts. Kroger, for instance, offers seniors age 60 or older a 5% discount off their grocery bills every Wednesday. No ID required; no verification requested. None of the red tape in which I would assume one becomes entangled when applying for, say, Medicare. A happy event to be afforded an additional 5% off your grocery bill . . . unless you are without question or the raising of an eyebrow mistaken for 60.

Needless to say, I was a bit taken aback when I saw the senior discount ring up on my register receipt this morning. I am so far from 60! I didn't know whether to be insulted or grateful for the additional $4.14 discount. Obviously, the young man behind the register must have granted the discount to my husband who accompanied me on the shopping trip, and not to myself, for I have been told I don't look a day over 45.

Yes, I estimated, the discount was for my poor dh (who is 2 years my junior); he is surely the one who looks 60. I, therefore, accepted it without comment and with the poise of a barely early-50's woman. And although dh didn't mind the affront too much, he likened the aging of humanity to save a dollar to the trading one's kingdom for a gallon of gas!

Have a blessed day!

When the Bee Stings....

When the dog bites,

when the bee stings,

when I’m feeling sad,

I simply remember my favorite things,

and then I don’t feel so bad.

This song was written for such a day as yesterday! Alas, Julie Andrews, or rather Maria VonTrapp, I am not; so I just cried.

I woke up feeling quite ill, and the nausea lasted for at least an hour. Managing to pull myself together and walk out the door at 8:30 a.m., already half an hour late for work, I picked up my very large traveling coffee mug by the lid--which to my dismay was not screwed on--and was splattered with 20 ounces of hot coffee, as was carpet. On to change....

At work, I am currently doing a large scanning project to close out our year-end files. Shortly into the day's scanning, a jam somehow caused the scanner drivers to disappear from my computer. The restore disk didn't work--oh NO! Some time-consuming web research finally led to a download link for new drivers. So, by 11:00 a.m., I was at last able to resume my work.

At least my husband picked me up on time. Unfortunately, though, unbeknownst to us, there was a large bee (or giant killer vampire wasp) in the van. I suddenly felt a little prick on my neck, then some severe itching, but saw nothing but a little red welt. Hmmm, where did that come from? As I brushed my hand against my neck, I was struck! The big, killer, vampire wasp of a bee stung my finger and sent flames of fire through my fingertips. DH stopped the van so I could jump out, and there it was--sitting on my shoulder. Quick as a fox he brushed it off and crushed it beneath his boot. Thank Heaven for steel-toed work boots! Oh, the pain....

A little benzocaine and a few tears, and the trauma subsided. I needed a rest.

I think I'll join my cousin Cathy in Australia.

http://lifetimelearning.blogspot.com/2008/07/junosmoms-no-good-very-bad-night.html

Have a blessed day!

Coffee with a Cream Chaser

As you all know, my son Aaron is now in Clarksville, Tennessee, at Master's Commission. Here is a video of their initiation. Each student apparently has one of him or her doing this: swallowing a scoop of coffee grounds followed by a dry creamer chaser, and then throwing up! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh, college life!

Click on the link to see the video. Enjoy!

http://myspacetv.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=18446441