SAY WHAT?

The day my son said to me, “Mom, no one uses that word anymore,” and I replied, “I just did!was the day I decided that the art of conversation has gone the way of callused thumbs.

Tapping a text message requires no colorful language, nuance and certainly no eye contact— except with your cell phone. So, before all is lost, here are some helpful hints for the conversationally challenged:

 It takes more than one person to have a conversation, and
 It helps if one has something worthwhile to say.  “I just flossed my teeth” is not stimulating chitchat.
Some people drone on and on  because they find the sound of their own voice extremely entertaining. A drone is a pilotless missile.
Silence does not always require sound. Pregnant pause does not necessarily require delivery.

It seems as if everyone likes to talk, but few people listen. Maybe it’s because if you are the only one speaking, you don’t have to hear what the other person wants to say. Sometimes that can be a lifesaver, but on the other hand, listening can be illuminating.

I often go to restaurants by myself, and have decided that eavesdropping is okay if the speakers at the next table have turned up their volume. However, out of compassion, I did tune out one couple after the woman exclaimed, “It’s not the egg roll Harold, it’s out whole life!” Not sure I wanted to hear the rest of that.

Some people talk very fast. They are from New York. The rest of the world is not. Some people mumble. That is a great cover for being a teenager, not knowing the answer to a question or having a mouthful of pasta.

My last two hints for the conversationally challenged are:

5. Do not say, “Get to the point,” because you can’t assume that there is one.
6. Don’t start a conversation with, “How are you?” You just might find out.

Esther Blumenfeld (say what?)

YOU ARE HOW OLD!

For my recent birthday, a friend sent me a greeting card that pictured two women leaning over the hood of a car inspecting the engine.  The message inside the card said, “It’s all about maintenance.” Boy! is that true! Another card said, “Sure, you’re a year older, but things could be worse.” The inside of the card read, “You could be old and pregnant!” My friend then added, “Take Care!”  Not to worry.

I am blessed with the love of family and the treasure of friendship. I do not take any of that for granted.  Being thought of on one’s birthday is truly a gift. It doesn’t matter if the heartfelt good wishes come in the form of greeting cards, e-mails, text messages, or phone calls—being remembered is the greatest gift of all!

I have no patience with the curmudgeons who pooh-pooh their birthdays and say, “I don’t want to celebrate my birthday. What’s the big deal about getting older?” When I hear that, I always give them something to think about when I say, “I, for one, am happy that your parents had SEX!”  The visual alone will shut them up.

So, now I am a few days older than I was a few days ago.  Some say that, “Age is just a number.” Well, in my case it’s a pretty big number.  My dear husband, Warren used to say, “When you are retired, you only need to learn one new thing a day.”  That is good advice. However, I believe that one good deed a day is also a good idea.  You are very lucky if you can do this good deed early in the morning, because then you won’t have to be nice the rest of the day.

My mother-in-law always said, “If you live long enough, you’ll see everything.”  She was right. No one lives a charmed life.  Sometimes, it’s very, very hard getting from one day to another.  On the other hand, when the good times roll, life is sublime, and, if you are smart, you will discover the balance—because that’s what life is all about.

I know that there is still time for me to become a better person. It’s a worthy goal. However,  if I don’t accomplish my mission, I hope that my life will have been good enough.  A little laugh here and a little laugh there just might help—because,  when you  boil it all down—“Life is truly ridiculous!”

Esther Blumenfeld

TELL IT LIKE IT IS

I was usually a very respectful child, but once, when I sassed my Mother, she grabbed her bedroom slipper and chased me around the dining room table shouting “ Act like a lady!” The ridiculousness of this situation stuck with me, and unfortunately I have been sassing people ever since. It’s called “Humor,” and I find it everywhere.

For instance, recently, after attending a theatre production a woman in the audience said, “The best part of the play was when it was over.”

Yesterday, I answered the telephone, and a man asked for “George.”  I said, “You have the wrong number,” and he said, “Are you sure?” “No,” I replied, “but I know that no one here wants to talk to you.” You have to admit that was pretty sassy.

When driving home from a meeting, one of the women in the car remarked, “The younger members don’t want to have anything to do with the white haired ladies.” Whereupon, my friend, Paula remarked, “Any hairdresser in any beauty shop can fix that.”

Once, when I was on a cruise, a  woman at the table ordered a plate of green beans for dinner. That was it—a plate of green beans! She said, “I refuse to gain one ounce on this trip.” I just couldn’t help but say, “I decided a long time ago not to be the thinnest woman in the cemetery.”

Recently, the weather hit a record 87 degrees in February. I cautioned a new neighbor from the midwest to watch out for rattlesnakes, because when it turns hot, they come out of hibernation. At that, the man said, “I didn’t know they come into neighborhoods, I thought they just live in the desert.” For once, I was speechless. I should have said, “They think you live in the desert and they can’t read house numbers.”

Last week, another neighbor fell down in the street and cut her chin. I called her husband the next day to see how she was feeling. Her husband told me that she had needed 6 stitches. He added, “Her balance isn’t very good.” Then he told me, “Today, I had to take her to the hospital for surgery.” “What kind of surgery?” I asked. “Hemorrhoid,” he replied. Relieved, I blurted out, “Well, I guess that helped her with her balance.”

When I told my practical friend Perry, the engineer what I had said, he said, “If it was a matter of balance, she would have been better off keeping the hemorrhoids.”

Ask, and you just might receive.

Esther Blumenfeld (“Philosophers are good at parties, but not at cleaning up after.”) Lorrie Moore, A GATE AT THE STAIRS

LOAD UP AND STOW

In his Tucson Daily Star Column (April 16, 2023) Tim Steller writes that the “Storage Business is Hot!” He then describes the storage unit that his parents had rented when moving out of their house, and tells of a large hunk of tree root that had been stashed away because his Dad thought at some time he could use it.

The Public Storage Rental Industry has experienced a huge boon in recent years. The latest estimate for the business is $2.915 Billion—a 2.1% increase from 2019. A good slogan for a storage facility might be: “We Love Your Stuff More Than You Do! ” A bad slogan might be:
“Stop Buying So Much Stuff!”

A  few nights ago, I had dinner with a couple who bemoaned the fact that after their move to a smaller home, they now had belongings, that they had collected from their extensive travels, stored in three different storage facilities. Recently, they had gone to visit one of the storage lockers in order to examine several boxes filled with valuable hand-woven blankets— only to discover that their precious stored items had served as a fifteen year MOTH! Smorgasbord. The blankets and the money paid for their storage all landed in a dumpster.

My Father stored papers in the basement of our home until it was time to move on.  He discovered several boxes of mold. No wonder that our basement had that pungent smell for all those years. When my parents moved to a Senior Residence, they rented a Storage Unit where Dad kept lots and lots of newspapers, that contained articles about him or other stories of interest. “Someday,” he planned to cut them out to preserve in a scrapbook. That day never came. In one swoop those papers landed in the Recycle Bin.

Moving on, means moving forward, and letting go of the, “I don’t need it, but I want it” attitude. Is it really worth paying $300.00 a month for the wood saw embossed with, “I Love Minnesota,” or the collection of prom dresses from 1950, or the sterling silver tray that none of your kids want—now or never—no matter how many times you ask them.

My motto is, “If you can’t use it—lose it!” Either donate or sell those items before you die, because chances are they will be dumped. Be smart.  Save the money you’d use  on years of  storage. Sell what you can, and take a world cruise with the money saved.

When I moved to my apartment from a big house, I left my over-sized furniture with the new owners, because they loved the 25-year-old tables and leather sofas and chairs. I then gave my son and daughter-in-law whatever they wanted (almost)—remembering what my Mother always said, “ It’s better to give with a warm hand than a cold one.”

I kept the furniture that fit into my new life style as well as a few things that had sentimental value for me.  I also purchased a few new pieces of furniture. New can be fun!  Now, it is a delight to visit my son and daughter-in-law, and and see how much they cherish and enjoy the items from my home and life.  

I also find pleasure by knowing that my donated items will go to families who could otherwise not afford to purchase them. That’s a win-win all the way around, and for me it’s also nourishment for the soul.

Esther Blumenfeld

SO WHAT'S NEW?

I don’t understand people who never read newspapers. One of my greatest pleasures is rising early in the morning, grabbing a cup of coffee and perusing my daily paper. I start with the weather and the comics, browse sports, read the editorials in depth, and then I study both national and local news.

Some people tell me that newspapers are passé, and that they get their news off of their computers. I do that too, but AOL news is very different from what I get from my morning paper. I must admit that some of the story headers are enticing, but here are some actual headlines I copied off of my computer. Here’s all the news not fit to print:

    “Liven up your potato salad.”
    “Toupee rumors false.”

I didn’t read those stories, but I hope that the chef’s toupee didn’t fall into the potato salad.

    “Age women shouldn’t wear bikinis.”

With some women that age is never!

    “Lady Gaga wears penis shoes.”
    “Attractive use for using old cans.”

Perhaps, the story could have been combined, if she had strapped on a couple of tins of “heavenly original” Chock Full O’Nuts.”  

Then AOL gave us some investigative journalism:

    “How does your mop stack up?”
    “5 cupcake mistakes you are making.”
    “Depressing news about beer.”
    “5 signs your husband may be a psychopath.”

Obviously, some husbands already depressed about their beer become more psychopathic with each cupcake blunder. Some other stories seem to be related to one another:

    “Best diet if you’re short on time.”
    “Pillows look good enough to eat.”
    “Reason fruit is exploding in China.”

Makes sense to me. If you are in a rush in the morning, just take a bite out of your pillow, eat a piece of exploding fruit and you are on your way to losing that excess weight starting with your head.

I almost read the story, “Starbucks sued over dwarf firing,” because I didn’t know that Starbucks kept cannons on their patios. Then I saw:

    “Dad faints during birth.” He was probably only expecting the removal of a gallstone.

I turned off my computer when I finally read:

    “Rapture rumors prove false.”

Oh, heck, I have to empty the dishwasher after all.

Esther Blumenfeld (“Runner forgets one crucial step.” Lace up your shoes, Dummy!)