Category: Uncategorized

A scientist, I am not! Words of wisdom are usually passed on by those who have already screwed up. I am certainly no exception. For example:

Have you ever wondered what would happen if you removed a can of soda from the refrigerator and dropped in on a tiled kitchen floor?

When burning questions like that pop up, you can find the answer one of two ways. You can EXPERIMENT by dropping your own can of soda on your own kitchen floor, OR you can RESEARCH your question and ask others who may have already completed research in this important area.

I suggest RESEARCH and I know the perfect person for you to interview first ………………. ME!

When a soda can slips from your hand and falls to the tiled kitchen floor, it EXPLODES and sprays sticky Coca Cola from head to toe and ceiling to floor,,,,,,,,,,, into the crack between the refrigerator door and freezer door, under the stove, and even in between the pages of the cookbook you were preparing to use. The spray is even strong enough to fly into the next room, falling onto all those surfaces and soaking into all those little cracks and creases.

The only thing to do is grab a mop, paper towels, spray cleaners, maybe even a bucket of paint and a paint brush for the walls, and go to work. During this frenzy of cleaning you will probably hear tiny little ant voices in the distance saying something like “COME ON BOYS, FREE DRINKS, FOLLOW ME!”

After the kitchen and surrounding rooms are cleaned, throw yourself, completely dressed into the shower because you will surely be a sticky mess. By the time you’ve showered, the kitchen floor should be dry and you can perform the Cleanliness Test, which everyone knows is to walk on your floor with bare feet. If you don’t stick, it’s clean.

I’ve just completed the first portions of this exciting experiment, now it’s time for my shower, followed by the Cleanliness Test. (And there’d better not be any bugs in there looking for refreshments!)

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Gram use’ta say

“You can never over use Thank You or Please.”

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AFTERGLOW
©Richard L. King
From the book Memories & Time

Dried kisses
remain upon his lips.

Ravenous memories
devour his waking hours.

Radiant visions persist,
dictating his demeanor.

Melodic words linger upon his ears,
igniting his imagination.

Luxurious scents
linger upon his pillow.

Elegant footprints
adorn his garden path.

Moon rising over the Atlantic
…he awaits the anticipated return.

Through it all he remains
.… lost in the afterglow.

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Gramps use’ta say
©R.L.King2012 #214

About: Aging

 “Live like life’s expiration date is imminent.
Soon enough you’ll find out, ….it is! ”

Does 10:30 p.m. qualify as being the middle of the night? If you’re retired, I’m sure it does. The other night I was soundly sleeping and softly snoring (my sweetie will get a kick out of the SOFTLY snoring part) when my phone rang. Now we all know when the phone rings in the middle of the night, its bad news, VERY bad news,

I grab for the phone, answer, “Hello” and hold my breath. The voice on the other end says, “Hello, this is the Port Saint Lucie Sheriff’s Department.” OH NO, IT’S THE POLICE! This is much worse than I imagined. My mind is whirling a million miles a minute. This is bad. This is very bad? Someone is seriously injured. Someone has been in an accident and been KILLED. This is horrible. Why are they calling me on the phone? For news like this they should be knocking on my door. They should be asking me if there’s someone they can call. They should NOT be giving such heartbreaking news over the phone.

Wait! What is the voice saying? It sounds like a recording. IT IS A RECORDING! The Port Saint Lucie Sheriff Department is telling me that I can take my expired medications to the nearest Walgreen’s Pharmacy for disposal. And, just to make sure I understand how this is accomplished, they leave a phone number for me to call with any questions.

WHAT THE HELL? THEY NEED TO TELL ME THIS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT? I DON’T THINK SO! The police are supposed to be our friends. Well, MY friends do NOT call me at 10:30 and scare the daylights out of me. So, I decide that I’ll just call the good old Port Saint Lucie Sheriff Department back and tell them so.

I had to get OUT of bed, turn on a light, search for my glasses and hunt for a phone book. When listening to the ‘medication disposal advice’ I was too astounded to think clearly enough to write down the number they were spouting. Besides it was dark (I’m sure I mentioned the time).

I actually gave thought to dialing 911. Someone had called 911 from McDonalds recently because they were out of McNuggets. This was a much more serious emergency than that! But, I kept my composure, looked up a non-911 number and called. I told the nice young lady that answered that I had just received a call from the police and that it scared me half to death and if it was a joke, it certainly wasn’t very funny.

She wanted to know who called me and what did they say? I’m sure she was thinking that I’ve received a prank call and she would be able to deny all responsibility. BUT, that was not the case. I explained that the Sheriff’s recording has called me to give me a lesson on how to dispose of expired medication. That turned the tide. She was very apologetic and said she would look into it immediately.

The next day there was an apology letter in the newspaper, addressed to any of the Saint Lucie County residents who had been awaked by a recorded message. The person who programmed it to make calls had gotten confused about the distinction between a.m. and p.m.  Oh dear ……………. They don’t know day from night and they’re protecting us?

I’M GETTING A DOG!!!

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Gram use’ta say

“It is said, there are two rules on winning an argument with a woman.
Neither works.”

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 I live in a senior citizens condominium community where everyone owns their own unit. We all pay a monthly maintenance fee which I consider to be very reasonable and which has seen minimal increases over the years. That fee is to cover the expense of hiring all the service personnel required to keep the community looking really nice. In addition, our monthly fees pay for garbage removal, cable TV, water & sewer and probably several other things that I’m forgetting to mention. Our entire complex is magnificently maintained. The lawns are mowed weekly including edging and trimming, the trees and shrubs are trimmed on a regular basis and replaced as needed. The trash dumpsters, which are emptied on a regular basis, are all contained inside of concrete walls which for the most part are well hidden by shrubbery. In short, we live in our own little piece of paradise. It’s a place that I’m proud to call home and show off to my snow-bird friends who visit each year.

However, there are times when I get frustrated about some of the individuals who also live here. The majority of them are kind and caring people who don’t cause any problems and don’t spend all of their time complaining. But there is that very tiny minority of them who seem to live only to make life as miserable as possible for everyone else.

At our annual owners meeting those are the people who get up to speak and when I say speak, I mean bitch. They can’t seem to find anything about living here that pleases them and rather than simply ask a question about whatever is bothering them they tear into the manager or the attorney or a member of our Board of Directors, who incidentally are not paid, but volunteer for that position.

I’m of the belief that they are the same people who can’t or won’t pick up after themselves. Likely it is they who go to the pool and move the furniture around to suit their needs then just get up and walk away without putting it back where it belongs. They are without a doubt the same people who use the various floating devices provided for everyone’s entertainment then, rather than put them back in the containers provided for that purpose, simply throw them in that general direction, leaving them for someone else to pick up.

They’re also probably the same people who bring beer to the pool and sit around drinking it even though the rules prohibiting that sort of thing are prominently posted. Maybe they are the ones who bring their grandchildren to the pool, but can’t be bothered enough to supervise them properly. Running, screaming, jumping in the pool or babies in diapers are not proper use of the community pool in a senior citizen community and those rules are also posted for all to see. We purchased our unit in a senior citizen community for a reason and it wasn’t to listen to someone else’s misbehaving grandchildren.

Geeze-O-Pete, hope I haven’t just turned into one of the very people I’m complaining about…

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Gramps use’ta say
©R.L.King2012 #401

About: Life’s Lessons

  “They’s some things best left unsaid,
but it’s damn hard
figurin out which ones.”

By:  Donna Hale Chandler

I may have won the Battle of The Bugs a few days ago but I just don’t see a quick end to the Battle of the Sparkles. Actually I brought on my own grief by forming a bad habit several years ago when my children were small. I was working full time, and time for cleaning, laundry, etc. was severely limited. The bad habit has to do with the dreaded chore of doing the laundry. I found that you can be finished with all those dirty clothes in half the time if you just throw everything in together…. whites, darks,….. makes no difference. Just make sure you push the cold water button. Nothing fades, nothing shrinks, all is right with your world… USUALLY!

Once on New Year’s Eve I donned a nice sparkly top and celebrated with my sweetie and my friends. All was well, until laundry day rolled around. The pretty, festive, sparkly top needed a bit of attention. I read the ‘care’ label which instructed me to wash separately on the gentle cycle. So, as had been my habit, I ignored the label and in it went with the rest of the clothing to be washed.

Who would have ever guessed that ‘sparkles’ actually jump from article to article, either while sloshing in the washer or tumbling in the dryer? Who would have ever guessed that those pretty sparkles could come off of that nice top and attach themselves to EVERYTHING ELSE?

I then had very fancy, sparkly sheets, sparkly pillow cases, sparkly socks, sparkly jeans, sparkly towels and even sparkly wash clothes. .

I was afraid that for many months I would need to sleep with a mask over my eyes or the bright lights from the sparkles on the sheets will keep me awake.

Fortunately my sweetie was a good sport because his clothing was in the wash too giving him several nice sparkly pieces of clothing.

****Fast forward several years, we’re sitting in the doctor’s waiting room. As I cross my legs to get more comfortable, I spot it — a sparkle on my ankle. Now where did that rascal come from? I point it out to my sweetheart and we both started to giggle making those around us wonder if we might be dangerous or simply ‘off our rockers’.  ******

Moral of the story, joy and laughter are all around if we only open our eyes to see the sparkles of each day.

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Gram use’ta say

“Senior citizens should be required to wear name tags,
so I’ll remember who I’m talking to.”

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