ICONIC, IRONIC AND ALL THAT STUFF

Every state in The Union has symbols chosen as meaningful by their citizens. For instance, some state flowers have been honored for their beauty, fragrance, and forthcoming crops, such as the apple blossoms of Michigan or the peach blossoms of Delaware. People can pick bouquets of bluebonnets in Texas, sunflowers in Kansas or peonies in Indiana.

I live in Arizona where we honor the beautiful but impossible to reach white flower that blooms at the top of the 43-foot-tall-2000-pounds-full-of-water-covered-with-sharp-spines saguaro cactus. There are other beautiful flowers in Arizona, but characteristically those Arizonans who made the decision wanted something out of touch.

We also have a state fossil. It is not the Arizona State Legislature, but it is petrified wood, which is similar in makeup. The Arizona green tree frog is the state amphibian elected by school children in 1985. Kermit declined the honor, and the green tree frog (usually found in the mountains) won out over 3 toads. The children knew that if you kiss a frog, you might get a prince, but if you kiss a toad you’ll likely end up with warts. Those children are now registered voters.
Our state bird is the cactus wren, which has a white stripe behind each eye. It is the largest wren in the United States.

The Fossil State Legislature decided that Arizona should have an official firearm, and passed a bill declaring the Colt single-action Army revolver to be the state gun. Now that the Governor has signed this legislation, Arizona is the first state with a symbolic gun, so Sierra Club members are applying black eye makeup on cactus wrens. Utah is considering following suite. I don’t know why those clean-cut missionaries need a state gun, but when they ring your doorbell, it will give new meaning to the term, “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

Arizona’s official neckwear is the bola tie that is really not a tie, but a noose. The palo verde is the official tree. Palo verde means “green stick,” so Arizona has a green stick as it’s official tree. Arizona’s mammal is the ringtail, an animal no one has ever seen. It has 5 toes on each foot, equipped with sharp curved, non-retractile claws. Bigfoot was not available.

And finally, the state reptile is the Arizona ridge-nosed rattlesnake. I don’t know why they couldn’t have picked one with a regular nose, but this one is a coward who slithers away from people, emits weak venom, and has never had a reported human death on record. I’ll bet the state gun will do better than that!

Esther Blumenfeld (humming the official Arizona March Song)

MUST THE SHOW GO ON?

My friend, Jean enjoys avant-garde theatre and has dragged me to some rather strange productions. When she told me that she had tickets for a one-man show at a performance art studio, I agreed to join her, because I like her and figured how bad could one guy be?

The studio was located near some railroad tracks, and the small building looked as if it had been well shaken for many years. As we stepped inside, we were greeted with a view of assorted paraphernalia hanging from the walls and ceiling, that I assumed a performing artist might need from time to time. There were ropes, musical instruments, bicycles, whips, swords, balloons, masks, clown costumes, and a collection of extremely large paper Mache figures, which looked as if they had fallen off a Mardi gras parade float. Everything was extremely dusty.

Our seats were in the front row, because it was the only row, and I sat smack dab in the middle, facing a large, white enamel toilet that was plopped in the middle of the performance area. A recorded dirge began to play, but abruptly stopped, as the room became ablaze with light. The actor came forth, sat on the toilet and began to moan. At first I thought perhaps he was constipated, but then he began a conversation with an imaginary friend about his life. I wondered why he would be talking with a friend while sitting on the toilet.

On occasion, as his conversation became more animated, he would stomp his feet sending a cloud of dust my way. Consequently, my eyes began to water, and tears began to run down my face. Seeing my reaction, he surmised that I was inordinately taken by his performance. When I blew my nose, he, too, began to cry. That actor sat on that toilet for one hour, extremely moved by his own acting skills while delivering his lines directly to me. All I wanted to do was to jump up, flush that damned thing and get rid of him.

When the show mercifully ended, I tried to sneak out, but it was impossible, because the actor stood at the door gathering accolades. As I reached the blocked exit, he looked at me with a grateful smile. I blew my nose one more time, and blurted out, “Wow! That was really something,” as I escaped, gasping for air.

On the way home, Jean told me that she and her husband were going to take dance lessons. I called her a few days later and asked, “How did the lessons turn out?” “Not so good,” she replied. “My husband suffers from motion sickness, and the dancing made him nauseous, so we had to get our money back.” To know her is to love her.

Esther Blumenfeld (That’s show biz)

PUSH BACK

The definition for assertive is: “Having to show confidence and a forceful personality.” However in life, I sometimes have had to fake it. I have found that the older I get the more some people think that I am a push-over. Oh, have they got it wrong!

I do pick my battles carefully—I always did.  I try to listen and respect the opinions of others, and I do believe in problem solving  and  compromise, when possible. Also, I never shout at people giving them an excuse to yell back, because that’s being aggressive ( a whole other bag of worms.)

Once a year, I have an important examination of my eyes by a Retina Specialist.  He is in great demand thus the appointments have to be made a year in advance (unless a problem arises). Invariably, six months down the road, after I have made my appointment, I will receive a phone call that my appointment date has to be changed.  No problem!  And, YES! it happened again.
Consequently, I received a confirmation—-by computer, by text and by a phone call—of the date and time of my appointment. I answered them all. And, I printed out the computer information. I always print out important stuff (killing many trees.)

On the day of my appointment, I arrived first thing in the morning, and the receptionist informed me, “You don’t have an appointment in this office. The doctor is at his other office on the other side of town. I will have to re-schedule you.” I looked at her, and said, “No you won’t.  I’m not going anywhere, and I am keeping my appointment that you already re-scheduled once.”

She finally, looked up from her computer, gave me that, “You are a  Senile Old Broad look,” and slowly said, “But the doctor’s not here.” I gave her the print-out of my scheduled appointment at the present location,  and equally slowly said, “You changed my original appointment and gave me this one—at this location.This is a big practice. The mistake wasn’t mine.  Surely, there’s another specialist who can examine my eyes.” She said, “Well, Dr. So and So is in but he has a full schedule.” I replied, “Please, go tell him what happened, and ask him if he can work me in. I brought a good book and can wait all day.”

Morosely, she left her desk. After a few minutes she returned, and cheerfully chirped, “The Doctor will see you in 10 minutes.”  And he did! He was my doctor’s associate and gave me the whole enchilada exam.  All is well, and I made an appointment for next year, at the same time and at the same location, with my absentee doctor.  

When I left the office, the chagrinned receptionist looked 10 inches shorter than when I had arrived.

Sometimes, it pays to push back, and not take “No” for an answer.  However, if someone does say, “No,” I suggest that you politely say, “I understand that’s your answer. Now who can I talk to?”

Esther Blumenfeld

CLUCK--CLUCK

A chicken walks into a bar and hops onto a bar stool. The bartender says, “Wow!  That is amazing.” Then, the chicken orders a beer.  Incredulous, the bartender says, “You should be in the circus!” “Why?” answers the chicken. “Do they need an engineer?” Old joke.

If the bartender had been smart, he would have asked,”Do you want an egg in your beer?” Obviously this was a special chicken. These days that might make sense, since suddenly, chicken eggs cost as much as $8.00 a dozen and the cost keeps going up. Granted, that’s not as much as the cost of a Faberge’ Egg, which at the Faberge’ Museum in St. Petersburg, (Russia not Florida) can cost as much as $300 thousand to $33 million dollars, and you can only look at it.

I recently bought a dozen eggs for $6.95 (a bargain). When it was time for breakfast,  I had a taste for  scrambled eggs. When I cracked the first shell, to my surprise, an egg with two yolks  slid out of the shell, and into the bowl. I then cracked a second shell, and— “Lo and Behold”—two yolks slid out of that one too. Before scrambling them, I ran to my computer to ask Dr. Google if double yolked eggs are safe to eat. Then I discovered that not only are twin yolks safe, but a rare phenomenon that occurs roughly in one out of every 1000 eggs. “The odds of discovering an egg with a double yolk are about the same as the odds of catching a foul ball at a baseball game.”

The next day, I cracked two more shells and found that they also had double yolks. There are many superstitions about double yolked  eggs, but I will adopt the one that says that my $6.95 eggs will bring me good luck. So far, I haven’t burnt the toast, so that puts me way ahead in the good luck department.

So, okay, why are eggs, double yolked or not, so expensive? Sadly, its due to an outbreak of Avian Flu that requires farmers to destroy whole flocks, even if just one hen tests positive. Also, a ban on selling eggs from traditionally caged hens will exacerbate the situation. In my state (Arizona) regulations took effect on January 1, 2023 that, in the name of humane treatment, egg laying hens have to be kept in cages with at least a square foot of usable floor space. Until now, hens were crammed into cages much smaller than that. Also, in 2025 all major producers must go cage free. So depending on how many eggs you eat, the cost of a single egg could go up as much as a cost of a single shrimp. Some other states are also joining Arizona’s lead.

Some companies such as Costco and McDonalds have begun to demand cage free eggs, and some big producers such as Hickmans may be egged on to walk on egg shells, and go along if they don’t want egg on their face— and prices will invariably go up. Consequently, when you go to the market, you may discover that a broasted chicken is cheaper than purchasing a dozen eggs.

Perhaps, we will finally discover the answer to the age-old conundrum:

“What comes first—the Chicken or the Egg?”

Esther Blumenfel

GOOD NIGHT--SWEET DREAMS

Sigmund Freud in,“Interpretation of Dreams,” wrote that dreams are “disguised fulfillments of repressed wishes,” and his theory contributed to the rise of dream interpretation. Scientists do know that just about everyone dreams every time they sleep, whether they remember it or not, but the bottom line is that while there are many theories, there has been no single consensus on why we dream.

According to Kendra Cherry in “Verywell Mind,” researchers have found that the nine most common dreams involve: 1. Dreams about falling, 2. Dreams about being naked in public,
3. Dreams about being chased, 4. Dreams about losing teeth, 5. Dreams about dying,
6. Dreams about taking a test, 7. Dreams about infidelity, 8. Dreams about flying, 9.Dreams about pregnancy (not necessarily in that order.)  There are lots of dream interpretation books, but some modern theories suggest that dreams may have a biological component such as sleep position.  

All I know is that I rarely remember my dreams, but when I do they don’t seem to fit into any category. For instance, I have an artist friend who has beautiful dreams in color. When I was a deadline writer, she would describe these beautiful panoramic dreams, while all I remembered was dreaming words in black and white going through my brain on a stock market ticker tape.  All night, words were passing through my mind, and NO! I never recalled any of them.

However, this morning, I woke up and my dream was so vivid that I remembered all of it, and maybe I have discovered a new category for analysis. What do you think?  Here it is:

I’m backstage waiting to give a speech. The audience are getting settled into their seats. I begin to  pull my speech notes out of my briefcase, and find that my notes are out of order as I pull out various Bloody Mary drink recipes,  which are interspersed with my notes and blank plastic sheets. I proceed to put my speech into order while throwing Bloody Mary recipes and plastic sheets onto the floor.

In the meantime, a woman, in charge of the event, goes to the microphone on the stage, but there is no sound. She calls out to the sound technician to fix the problem, and he shouts out that he is a member of the union, and is allowed a break. Finally, she threatens him with her umbrella, and he goes to the stage and fixes the mic.

The audience is grumbling. I go to the stage, and they give me a smattering of applause.  I begin my talk by giving them a recipe for making Bloody Marys.  THEN I WOKE UP.

I don’t know why I had this dream. I don’t know why I so vividly remember it. I wasn’t falling. I wasn’t naked, No one was chasing me, I had all of my teeth, I certainly wasn’t dying or taking a test, and I was neither flying  nor pregnant.  I wasn’t even upset during the dream or after I woke up—-and I slept like a log.

And, to top it off—I don’t even have a repressed wish to drink a Bloody Mary. Oh, Sigmund, where are you when I need you?

Esther Blumenfeld