Tag: humor

Would You Rather

Would you rather have a wooden nickel or a Yankee dime? For some reason I always thought both terms meant roughly the same thing—fake money. Surprise, surprise! They don’t.

In the United States, a wooden nickel is a wooden token coin, usually issued by a merchant or bank as a promotion, sometimes redeemable for a specific item such as a drink.

A Yankee dime is a quick, innocent kiss. A peck. A child-like term used by/for children in the Southern United States. (More common in countryside-raised, ‘older’ southern families). Often it’s used as payment for a service: “I’ll give you a Yankee dime if you’ll bring me a glass of lemonade.”

Now that I know the difference, I think I’d prefer a Yankee dime to a wooden nickel, but I guess it depends on who’s offering.

My cousin, Effron White wrote a song about a Yankee Dime. I vaguely remember having a conversation with him about the meaning of the phrase back when we were kids. But we never discussed wooden nickels. I’m blaming him for my lack of understanding.

Here’s his song. Enjoy!

https://youtu.be/i01XuwYXpW0

Peace, people!

Maggie May, the Movie

Today as I was out running errands, the Rod Stewart song, “Maggie May” began playing on the radio. Of course, I know every word and sang right along with him.

During the third verse, it occurred to me that I’d like to know the rest of the story. How’d Maggie lure him away from school? Did his father really make a living out of playing pool? Just how old is Maggie anyway?

I propose that the song be made into a film. Give us the whole saga, backstory and epilogue included. I’d pay money to see that. How about you? Is there a song you’d like to see made into a movie?

https://youtu.be/fD_6KqP7K0g

Over Exposed

Thursday evening Studly Doright and I rode to dinner on our respective motorcycles. We’d bought mine secondhand from a man in Panama City and spent Wednesday cleaning it up, checking it over, and airing up the tires. The bike isn’t pristine, but it’ll do nicely.

So, tonight was my maiden voyage on my 400 Yamaha Majesty. I got all ready to ride: helmet, gloves, long pants, and boots. It was so hot outside Studly said we could dispense with our riding jackets since we weren’t riding very far.

Off we went, Studly in the lead and me following at the prescribed distance. The first few miles of riding was on a gentle, two-lane backroad where I got to know the bike, noting where the mirrors needed to be adjusted, and the handlebars raised, and just generally remembering how to ride. All was good.

Until, that is, we merged onto a four-lane road where the speeds were considerably faster and my shirt, which I’d forgotten to tuck in began rising to expose my 63.75-year-old, lily white belly. At one point my bra, in all its grandmotherly glory, was in danger of being exposed.

I held my arms as close to my sides as possible, but not so much as to impede my ability to ride safely. People were passing us in cars, slowing down, it seemed to see how much higher my shirt might climb. I could almost sense their phones being set to camera mode so that my less than flat stomach could be captured for posterity.

So, in the next couple of days if you see a photo on the internet of an almost elderly woman riding on a white mega scooter with her even whiter belly reflecting the sun in all its glory, it might be me. I’m hoping it isn’t, but it just might be.

Definitely Not Me

Peace, people!

Journey into Trumpland

Studly Doright and I drove southwest to Panama City yesterday afternoon to pick up my new-to-me Yamaha Majesty. The nearer we came to our destination, the more prevalent were the signs supporting the re-election of Donald Trump.

Neither of us was surprised. This part of Florida is notoriously ultra conservative, and any Liberal voters are reluctant to advertise their support for a Democrat lest there be nasty consequences.

As Studly and the seller loaded the bike onto the trailer I visited with an older couple out walking their dogs. The woman was a talker.

“We moved here from Asheville, North Carolina,” she told me at one point.

“Oh, I love Asheville!” I said.

“Oh, you wouldn’t now!” She replied. “It’s all hippies and liberals.”

I smiled and winked. “I adore hippies and liberals. In fact, I’m a liberal myself.”

Now, this little woman who’d been amazed that her yappy little dog had taken a liking to me suddenly closed up like a clam. One would have thought I’d grown horns and a tail.

Fortunately Studly had the bike loaded by then and we made our escape. I had images of villagers chasing me with pitchforks and torches. Fun times.

I can’t imagine how wild it’s going to get between now and November. Those pitchforks I worried about might become reality.

I’m not sure why Biden scares anyone! Crazy people.

Peace, people!

Points of View

He thought her lovely

Yet too stubborn to be tamed

His heart seemed shuttered

She feared he’d control

But desired him at all costs

Her heart was open

One passionate night

Lovers standing on the brink

Which way would they fall?

Okay, I started to look for photos of human couples to accompany this honestly awful bit of poetry, but adding the cats seemed to make it all better.

Meow, people!

I Didn’t Write Anything Today

Instead, I found things that made me laugh. Enjoy.

Cartoonist Gary Larson always comes through in a pinch, doesn’t he?

Peace, people.

Conversation with Alexa

When I realized I could create a playlist on my Amazon Echo I became pretty excited. First, I named my playlist “Leslie’s Jam,” then I tried to figure out how to add songs to it. The conversation went something like this:

Me: Alexa, add “Lay, Lady, Lay” to Leslie’s Jam.

Alexa: I’m sorry, I can’t find “Lay, Lady, Lay.

(Now, I know this is a blatant lie. She plays “Lay, Lady, Lay” for me every morning.)

Me: Alexa, add the song, “Lay, Lady, Lay” to the playlist, Leslie’s Jam.

Alexa: Jam—a sweet spread or preserve made from fruit and sugar boiled….

Me: Alexa, stop.

Me: Alexa, add the song, “Lay, Lady, Lay” by Bob Dylan to the playlist Leslie’s Jam.

Alexa: I’m sorry. I don’t know what you mean.

Me: Alexa, forget about it.

Alexa: What would you like me to forget about?

Me: Leslie’s Jam

Alexa: Jam—a sweet spread or preserve made from fruit and sugar boiled….

Me: Grrrrr.

Finally I realized I needed to ask for the song to be played. and during that song tell Alexa to add it to my playlist. It took forever to add ten songs to Leslie’s Jam, but now it’s done. My next playlist is going to be “All About Rodeo.” Let’s hope Alexa is more cooperative this time around; although, it’ll be interesting to get her take on rodeos in general.

Peace, people.

To Smirk or Not to Smirk

What does the word “smirk” convey to you? If a character in a book smirks at something said by another character how do you feel about the smirker?

Am I wrong to feel that “smirk” has a negative connotation? And what would be a more pleasant word to use when one character is mildly put off or even amused by another character’s words?

I need help here, because I don’t want to use the word “smirk,” yet all of its synonyms are even more off putting: simper, snigger, leer. Ugh!

How about a smirking smurf?

Surely “said” is a better choice. Right?

Peace, people.

No Group for You!

I’ve been posting a lot of music-centric stuff lately-either because I’ve been garnering inspiration from certain tunes or just because it makes me happy. Regardless of how downright gritty or lonely our lives might be right now, music always has the power to lift us up and take us away for awhile.

When I post something about a group or performer, inevitably I’ll get a comment from someone who was fortunate enough to see that act in person. I’m always so jealous.

Growing up in the Texas panhandle without much money, I didn’t always have opportunities to see artists perform live. I’m grateful for the ones I did see: Huey Lewis and the News, Three Dog Night, the Cowsills, Foghat, Marshall Tucker Band, Garth Brooks, and The Chicks among others, but I’ll always wish I could’ve seen The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, The Eagles, Chicago, and Justin Bieber. (Okay, I threw Justin in just to see if you were paying attention. I have no interest in seeing him; although, having once been a teen-aged girl, I get it his appeal.)

What group or artist have you dreamed of seeing live but never had the opportunity or the means to do so? What’s the best act you ever saw perform live? Did you ever do anything crazy to get tickets? I mowed lawns for two months to save up for Huey Lewis—and I was a grown woman.

Most importantly, do you think we’ll ever get to go to concerts again?

Peace, people.

Wednesday Morning Eagles

It’s 7:17 a.m., and I’m still in bed. Alexa is playing an Eagles’ playlist just for me, and I’m singing along. The cat has taken refuge in the hallway, watching me with a wary eye, while my bed has become my own private time machine.

I remember singing along to “Take it Easy” from the backseat of our family’s car when I was 16 or so, and begging my parents to not change the station to a country channel. And when “Witchy Woman” played, everyone had to be quiet so I could try to understand the lyrics. What was that woman up to? No good, that’s what.

A favorite Eagles’ song? I can’t name just one. That would be like saying I have a favorite child or grandchild, or even a favorite husband. But, I do know the songs I enjoy singing along with the most.

“I Can’t Tell You Why”—my voice blends beautifully into this one. At least in my mind. Reality is a different matter.

https://youtu.be/mseS0C421cU

“Witchy Woman”—howling along.

https://youtu.be/nc0988XxoXI

And “Peaceful Easy Feeling”—nobody sings this as well as I do. That’s a blatant lie, but a relatively harmless one as lies go.

https://youtu.be/n-0lRkuNyj0

Young and innocent. Ha.

What a great way to start my day, right? Now, back to writing and editing and cursing a lot. Here’s hoping your Wednesday is good, though.

Peace, people.