May 29, 2026 · 11:22 am

Book Bonanza

Photo by Ahmed u061c on Pexels.com

Jackie Wells-Fauth

Did you know that one of Thomas Jefferson’s famous sayings was, “I simply cannot live without books.” It’s one of the few things that Tom and I can agree upon!

Did you further know that Samuel Clemens (better known as Mark Twain) read multiple books at the same time? Upon his death, he had no fewer than seven different books scattered in various rooms throughout his house, which he was reading simultaneously. Sam and I apparently share this in common—that and a tendency to shoot off our smart mouths!

I have a lot of books. Imelda Marcos had thousands of pairs of shoes. Jay Leno collects cars. Angelina Jolie collects knives, Penelope Cruz is into coat hangers, while Corbin Bernson follows my own heart and collects snow globes. But above all else, I relate best to people who have more books in their homes than they can ever possibly read. Did I mention I have a lot of books?

Now this collection is not one of Roy’s favorite things. We often go round and round about the books I am reading and leaving around the house.

“Why did I step on a copy of Famous Hauntings of Europe on the floor of the bedroom?” he will ask on any random morning.

“Oh, that’s where it went! I was reading it last night and I must have fallen asleep,” I reply.

“Okay, we will pass over why you are reading about hauntings late at night and I will remark instead that this might explain the copy of Alexander Hamilton in the bathroom,” he continues.

“Well, what am I supposed to do when I have to use the toilet or take a bath?” I ask. “Alexander doesn’t mind, so why should you?”

In order to minimize the appearance of the number of books I have, there is a wide ledge in the stairwell that is big enough to hold several bookcases and best of all, it is usually obscured by a door. (I try to always keep that door open, thus blocking the bookcases.) Roy doesn’t have to interact too much with the books, and I don’t have to keep justifying why I possess approximately a thousand books, and I still check books out of the library.

Unfortunately, this comfortable arrangement hit a snag this week when Roy decided it was time to paint the stairwell. The same stairwell with the large, accommodating ledge, which was even at that moment piled from ledge to ceiling with my books.

There were two choices: either I could clear the books out of the way, or I could let Roy do it. Now I love him very much, but I absolutely do not trust him not to pitch some of those books into the garbage if he thinks I’m not looking.

I got out three totes and began to fill them with books. Surely that would be enough. Except I filled the three totes and there were still books left…a lot of books. So, I grabbed an old laundry basket. I filled it to the top, cramming books into every crevice. That took care of a few more. In the end, I decided to stack some of them in the spare bedroom to get them out of the way. There are four stacks, halfway up the walls and there are still some books that were piled on top of the totes. I was satisfied with my work. The books were out of his way and Jessica Fletcher wouldn’t have to solve the murder case of the missing wife…and her books!

“You moved all the books yourself?” I could tell he was impressed when he came home and found the empty ledge in the stairwell.

“It was the only practical solution. If you moved the books, there would have been a divorce or a murder by book to the head,” I said. “When you’re done painting, don’t concern yourself. I’ll put the books back.”

“You want to sort them out and get rid of some?” he asked hopefully.

“No, I have some new ones that I need to add in,” I replied.

Did I mention, I have a lot of books?

Leave a comment

Filed under Humorous Column

Tagged as , , , ,

May 29, 2026 · 11:10 am

Calendar Girl

Photo by Nothing Ahead on Pexels.com

Jackie Wells-Fauth

I am a person who is devoted to calendar watching. I have to be, because otherwise I wouldn’t be able to remember what day it is, let alone the month or year! When I get up in the morning, I chant to myself, “Today is Thursday, May 14 in the year of our Lord 2026.” Okay, I don’t say, “year of our Lord” but it sounds elegant and sophisticated.

I am a devoted calendar girl. I always carry a large, book-sized calendar and when I am making any kind of appointments or plans, I have that calendar in front of me to write it all down. I refer to it fondly as “my brains.” And because of all this care and attention, I manage to make it to about half of the things I have scheduled!

I do try. I check it every day at breakfast and then hope that I will still remember that I have a hair appointment at 2:00 that same afternoon! People give me those little appointment cards, and I am grateful for them. But if I don’t transfer that information immediately to the calendar, I’m in trouble. The cards accumulate in my purse and get used to make other notes on, or to mark a page in a book, or just to pick my teeth, but I must have the appointments they proclaim written down on the calendar or I will be getting a call: “Yeah, this is the eye doctor—just wondering if you remembered your appointment that is like, now!”

It’s disconcerting: I have had to rush to massage appointments in my sweaty garden clothes or the dentist’s office with sticky caramel desserts still on my teeth! This year, I even tried putting together two calendars: one for carrying with me and one for my desk at home. Surely that would make me more efficient. It doesn’t. Now, I just miss half of the appointments on one calendar (that I didn’t write on the other one) and half of the appointments on the other calendar!

My children did not inherit this problem. In particular, Tracie has developed her father’s strong sense of organization. She is, of course, using a calendar that is on-line and she refers to it as “the family calendar”—each and every time she gently (or not so gently) reminds me of an event that should be there.

“I didn’t realize that you guys were going to Colorado next week,” I whine. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s on the family calendar,” she replies (somewhat smugly I think) “Haven’t you been checking it?”

“Oh, sure! That’s right, I just forgot about it,” I say, even though we both know that I probably couldn’t find the family calendar with both hands, a flashlight and tech support.

So, I decided that it would be good training for me to try to use the calendar on my phone. Then, when I have mastered that, I could go on to tackle “the family calendar.” I got out my paper calendar and began entering events on my phone’s calendar. I was so excited when I got it all done! It was so easy! I might be ready to master the family calendar after all!

Except when I started checking events, every one of them was listed as starting at 9:00 pm. Birthdays, anniversaries, appointments of all kinds—every one was on that calendar at 9:00 pm. Well, that’s ridiculous! What good is a calendar where everything is automatically at 9:00 pm? You’d think they would have some way to set a time…oh, there it is. I forgot to make that little spinny thing turn around to the proper time. So, I spent another hour trying to make that ugly, uncooperative time wheel spin correctly. That little bugger spins really fast and now, not everything is at 9:00 pm, but there are a couple that stopped spinning at 1:00 am! And I decided I would just be fine with that!

All right. So now, between the appointment cards, the two paper calendars and the phone calendar, I’ve got my schedule all down. No more missing appointments or forgetting birthdays for me! It takes me an hour and a half to check what’s going on for any given day, and most of them don’t sync with each other, but I’m on the right track, okay?

So now, all that’s left is to tackle “the family calendar.” I either have to figure it out (without direction from the Microsoft corporation) or I have to admit that I can’t make it work. And that’s going to be a little tricky.

“Mom, I heard that you are planning to visit next month. I don’t see it on the family calendar,” Tracie said this last week.

“About that, I’m sending you a letter through the US mail complete with stamps and everything. Be looking for it. It’s called, “Confessions from a failed Calendar Girl.”

Leave a comment

Filed under Humorous Column

Tagged as , , , ,

May 15, 2026 · 7:03 am

Take a knee–please!

Photo by Ron Lach on Pexels.com

Jackie Wells-Fauth

If anyone asks you in the next month or so, what I am up to, be so good as to tell them that I am having a baby. That is all they really need to know.

And of course, no I am obviously not having a baby. But it is a better story than what is actually happening and that is knee replacement. There, you see, the minute I say knee replacement, you immediately think of some horror story having to do with knee replacement! Or if you don’t, I have a few hundred that have been related to me every time I tell someone I am having a knee replaced.

So, until the operation is over and hopefully successful, I am just telling everyone that I am having a baby. No one has horror stories about that because most old women such as me don’t have babies. It’s a simple psychological trick so I don’t have to wonder, while listening to one more sad knee replacement story, whether I should stay with what I’ve got.

I assure you, however, that I have no desire to stay with what I’ve got. Ever since the doctor gave me the sad face a few years ago, “I’m afraid you’ll be facing knee replacement—on both knees,” I have known that this day was coming.

There were some false starts. The first stage I went through was, “Oh, well, I come from hardy stock—I can make do with the knees I have.” Then my knees began to formally protest any time I climbed up steps. Okay, I’m getting my knees replaced, and I’m starting with the right one; that’s the worst.

“Oh, my grandma had her knee replaced and they put it in backward. She never did walk right after that!” Okay, I can hold out a little longer.

Next, came shots. Now, those shots did help a little bit, but after a while the knees began to send up signals that the drugs were no longer doing the trick. By send up signals, I mean they would crack and pop like a bowl of Rice Krispies everytime I bent down to pick something up. Okay, I’m getting my knees replaced, and I’m starting with the left one because it sounds more ominous.

“My great aunt had knee surgery, and they had to go back in twice and readjust things.” No, I don’t know what that means and what’s more, I don’t want to know! I’ll just hang in there and suffer a little.

The next phase was braces. Just wear those elastic bands on your knees and everything will be fine. Except the braces wore nasty welts on the back of my legs which caused parts of my knees that had never created issues to start hurting. That’s it—I’m having my knees replaced, and I’m definitely starting with the right one because it protests more when I sit down or stand up.

“I don’t know…when my sister Carol had her knee replaced, she landed in the hospital with heart problems, and her knee hadn’t even healed yet at the time of her funeral.” Okay, if you insist, I’ll stick with the knees a little longer and put off that funeral as long as I can.

Now we are at the “I can no longer pretend that my knees are going to cooperate for the duration of my old age.” I crawled into the surgeon’s office (crawled is metaphorical—I haven’t been able to crawl on these bumpy joints since my last child left home) and announced, “Okay, okay, I give up! The knees have sued for separate living accommodations, and I am ready for them to go! Take a knee, please!”

So, in a very short time, I will be getting my knee replaced and every time I say that I am having my knee replaced, someone cheers me up by sharing a knee story.

“My uncle had his knee replaced—he’s permanently in a wheelchair now.” I don’t care! I’m having my knee replaced—I mean, I’m having a baby; and I’m definitely going to start with the left one!

Leave a comment

Filed under Humorous Column

Tagged as , , , ,

May 8, 2026 · 7:15 pm

What are the odds?

Photo by Pavel Danilyuk on Pexels.com

What are the odds???

Jackie Wells-Fauth

Picture the following: there are three very good books in excellent shape lying on the table. Two are books I own; one is a book borrowed from the library. Suddenly, from out of nowhere, a glass of iced tea is overturned. How do we know for sure which book will lap up that iced tea like a thirsty tourist? Odds are, it will be the book that isn’t mine.

I have lived with these odds my entire life. Some people call it Murphy’s Law—whatever can go wrong, will go wrong. I just call it “odds are”. And odds are if I borrow a book from the library, I’ll end up returning it explaining how that tea got on the bottom of the pages or how that mark appeared over the picture on the jacket or how there appears to be teeth marks and a bite out of the back cover. Don’t ask.

Most times the odds aren’t for anything too serious. I can live with the fact that if I drop a glass, it will break and glass shards will scatter across the floor like flour in a windstorm. But odds are that whatever was in the glass will not be water—it will be tea to stain something or orange juice to live forever in the crevices of the carpet or worse, the very last of the soda.

I’ve never had a serious car accident, but if I bump fenders against the post in the parking lot, it’s going to leave paint marks…and they will be of some garish color that I will never convince my husband came from a careless child walking by. Not too long ago, I bumped the good car (that’s right, we have a good car and then there’s my car) against a wooden work bench in the garage. Now normally, the odds would be that the car would get a serious dent, but this time, odds were in my favor and the car bore no mark. No need to mention it to Roy, right?

Except that a month later, when he moved the work bench for some unknown reason, he found it to be slightly embedded in the wall behind it. What are the odds that he will believe that the bench has been sitting there so long it just became naturally embedded? My odds stayed steady, because he had the temerity to ask me if I might have hit the work bench with his car! Can you believe it?

If I’m printing something important, odds are I’ll run out of ink or paper (probably both) halfway through. If my bank account doesn’t balance, odds are always that it’s in the bank’s favor, not mine. For a woman who figures the odds, I don’t do that well with numbers!

I realize that my little troubles tend to be pretty minor. Most of the major events in my life have turned out well, but that has allowed me to focus on the little, annoying things; like the odds are pretty good that if a light bulb burns out, I’ll have every type of light bulb in stock except the one I need. And odds are always that if I go to write a check while out shopping, I will mess up the check—and it will be the last one I had with me.

If I schedule or plan entertainment, odds always are that something will come along that pushes my schedule off balance. “No, you can’t go to the doctor for a medical emergency when I have scheduled an evening with friends. Just put some ice on that bump on your head and let’s go.” Odds are, someone out there is going to think my attitude is pretty heartless.

If I paint a room, odds are that I will run out of paint on the last wall…that is if the paint roller doesn’t break or the ladder doesn’t fold while I’m at the top. Odds are that if I really am looking forward to a meal, I will burn it and if I try a new foot cream I’ll break out in hives.

I really don’t think I would have had any better luck if I had been born in another time. Odds are if I had married a king, it would have been Henry VIII, or if I had climbed to the top of the highest mountain, odds are there would already be a flag planted there.

If I had been one of the travelers heading west in the pioneer days, odds are I would have been with the Donner party. I’ve never been able to decide whether it would have been worse to die and be eaten or to have to survive that way. Odds are, the Donner Party didn’t feel too lucky either way!

By now odds are that you are really beginning to be irritated by my whiny little rant, so I’ll have to cut it out now. But I’m telling you, odds are as soon as this gets in print, I’ll have thought of twenty more things that didn’t go in my favor! I have to go now anyway to return that book to the library. Odds are the librarian won’t believe that those pages are just naturally brown and stuck together!

Leave a comment

Filed under Humorous Column

Tagged as , , , ,

April 24, 2026 · 8:44 am

Goliath Awakens

Photo by Koufos Spiridon on Pexels.com

Jackie Wells-Fauth

It had to happen. My peaceful, lazy existence over the past few months had to end sometime and this weekend was apparently the start of a new era at our house.

Between some health issues and a busy work time, Roy has left household projects pretty much up to me for the last few months. And I will admit that those “projects” have consisted only of the things I had to do. I like to call my attitude laid-back, but in reality, you’d probably label me lazy. Knowing that about myself, perhaps I should have searched for a lazy partner, but I like my choice—except when he decides to do a project. And even worse, when he decides I need to help.

That is how this weekend went. I have stacked, piled and otherwise mis-located the materials from three rooms of the basement. I had to do that in order for some work to be done in the laundry room and the two bedrooms. However, now the disorder is clogging up the family room and even worse, the weight room. Roy’s sensibilities are offended by this disorder, but up until now, he really wasn’t up to doing anything about it.

I believe the expression “Goliath awakens” had new meaning in our house. Roy had put up with the mess in the basement as long as he was willing to. He appeared in the bedroom doorway where I was contemplating the quiet and considering how many hours I could spend doing nothing.

“I want to do some work on the basement and I need your help,” he announced.

“Oh sure. I have a million things to do, and you think I should just drop everything and help you,” I snarled.

He looked at my prone position on the bed and my empty hands and replied, “I think I can live with myself.”

So down to the basement I stomped. And he was clearly determined to start a fight. His first question was, “What do we have down here that we can throw away?”

In my house, those are fighting words. Obviously, everything I have down there…for instance the three boxes of papers that came from my father, aunt and grandmother (all deceased for some years) is very important. Perhaps, among the old receipts, empty bank books and long-paid bills, there could be the deed to a forgotten gold mine. I can’t throw those things away!

He gritted his teeth and put them on the storage shelves. Then he picked up two garbage bags. “Are these both just garbage?”

One bag contained the remnants of the quilt my grandmother made me as a girl. Someday, I’m going to reconstruct it. I snatched that bag away and made a grab for the other one.

“You said this dehydrator hadn’t been used in years and might not even work anymore,” he said, holding onto it. “Or did this belong to your great uncle Harry and can’t be touched.” Sometimes he can be so ridiculous. I don’t even have a great uncle Harry!

It was a long afternoon. Instead of relaxing and enjoying the peaceful atmosphere, I was in a death battle with a man determined to throw away things like the crumpled remains of a Halloween decoration I haven’t put out for Halloween in 20 years. When it was over, the storage shelves could once again hold everything we were saving and he could use his weight room without having to squeeze past the Christmas decorations.

He was in a much better mood, but I wasn’t. He interrupted my favorite activity—doing nothing—for my least favorite activity—throwing away junk I have accumulated over the years. Goliath had truly awakened, but that in turn had awakened Hera—the most vengeful wife in mythology!

“I’m going to walk the dog,” he said, “you want to join us?”

“No!” I snapped. “I’m very busy right now. I have a column to write.”

He didn’t ask what it would be about!

Leave a comment

Filed under Humorous Column

Tagged as , , , ,

April 11, 2026 · 3:51 am

The Beauty of Beauty

Photo by Nestergrapher Nedie on Pexels.com

Jackie Wells-Fauth

When I was much younger and stewing about whether or not to try applying makeup, I remember my grandmother saying, “Even if you put lipstick on a pig, underneath, it is still a pig.” I understood that she wasn’t trying to call me a pig, she was trying to say that my looks (be they perfection or the portrait of Dorian Grey) ultimately didn’t depend on what I wore for makeup.

I always thought that this clever saying was hers, but I have learned over the years that “putting lipstick on a pig,” is a popular saying, meaning you can’t hide things with some elaborate cover; the lipstick isn’t going to fool anyone.

This attitude, however, has stuck with me over the years. I will never be a raving beauty, and I’m good with that. I don’t know if I’ve always felt this way, or if I just started to develop this attitude the older I got and the more I looked at the worship of beauty in the world.

You are looking at a woman who personally flunked the “tissue test.” My teeth are not as white as a tissue, but then, I don’t hold tissues in my teeth, so it’s probably all right. I don’t have a skin regimen to perform for hours nightly. I splash a little soap and water on my face to remove the excess sweat and dirt, and I call that good.

I was never any good with makeup. I tried mascara when I was young and by the end of any given day, I resembled a raccoon with a snub nose. Lipstick (when I did try to decorate the pig) came off in splotchy patches the first time I drank anything and getting that greasy stuff off of my dishes dampened my enthusiasm for it. Besides, I always used the wrong colors and had a kind of “here comes Jackie’s lips,” motif going, so eventually, I chucked the lipstick tubes and the mascara brushes.

As for wrinkles—facial or otherwise—I have ‘em and I have no idea how to stop them, so I just tell everyone my face is full of character. I went to college with a girl who woke us all up in the middle of the night, crying because she had gotten hemorrhoid cream in her eye. As we were flushing her eyes with water, it occurred to me to wonder how she had gotten hemorrhoid cream there (it just seemed like a long way to miss the target.)

When I asked her, she stared at me in shock. “Well, it’s a well-known treatment to prevent wrinkles, didn’t you know?”

No, I really didn’t know. In fact, I still don’t know what the philosophy was for putting a medicated treatment intended for the lower regions of the body on your face. I didn’t ask any more questions and I have never learned the theory behind it (pardon the pun), but I have spent some hours awake in the night with my imagination working on the problem. I’m sure it couldn’t be as fantastic as I imagine!

Put that together with the question of why a girl that age was concerned about facial wrinkles and it seems like she might have gotten an overdose of worry about her beauty. I would say you’d make a fine start on the wrinkles scrubbing that cream off your face!

Then we come to “inner beauty”. Now, I’m a firm believer that some people look a lot prettier on the outside than they sometimes are on the inside. However, I also know that no matter what I look like on the outside, I am not always so pretty on the inside, either. Occasionally, I have the inner beauty of Belle, from Beauty and the Beast. Other times, however, I’m just the beast—everywhere!

I’m not really sure where I am wandering with this particular train of thought. It just always amazes me what we can do to enhance our appearance, but whenever I see a carefully and attractively put together woman, I always think of another saying my grandmother used to repeat to me, “It is not always necessary to gild the lily.” I like that—I’m a non-gilded lily!

Leave a comment

Filed under Humorous Column

Tagged as , , , ,

April 3, 2026 · 2:27 am

Except for the pain

Photo by Towfiqu barbhuiya on Pexels.com

Jackie Wells-Fauth

Before I begin, I would like to state in no uncertain terms that I am grateful beyond words for the fine medical care available in Miller. Not only the doctors, but the long-suffering hospital nurses and aides who have to put up with me the most—especially when I am in pain! Thank you all!

And my pain is the topic of my column this week. Not that there’s anything funny about that, but sometimes my adventures with it bring their own comic relief. Without that, it would really be…well, a pain!

My medical woes come from an unpredictable, incapacitating pain in the joints. It’s never brought on by any trigger; just a random, happy notion that can hit anywhere from my jaw to my toes. Its favorite target, however, seems to be a knee or a hip—either one on either side will do. Just so my leg is immovable without a considerable amount of bad language and pain.

Now, these attacks appear to be random, but I don’t think it’s such a happy accident that they like to hit late—after medical office hours and especially long after Roy has gone to sleep.

I’ll wager some of his least enjoyable moments in married life are when I pull him from a sound sleep with the loving words, “Roy, wake up; I’m in terrible pain!”

“What shall I do?” comes the sleepy voice from the dark.

“Take me to the emergency room or shoot me; right now, I don’t really care which you choose!” I lied. I do care, but I always like to make sure he has options.

Then comes the whole procedure of getting me to the car…down the front steps and into a vehicle…hopefully without bending my leg too much. He has learned that there is no possible way to do this gently, so he assists the best he can and when necessary, bends the leg for me. I’m always glad when he does that. “Oh! My Lord! D**m it! Thank you so much, dear!”

Now one of the first things I ever noticed about Roy was that he is always very dapper in his appearance. He’s always dressed appropriately and neatly for whatever errand he is on. That’s why it has to be so hard for him to take me to the hospital in the middle of the night, because my nightwear is not exactly designer and I am not inclined at those moments to get changed.

Mind you, at that point, I don’t care if I walk in dressed like Lady Godiva; I just want to get there. But Roy does care and he knows I will care later, so he tries to drape my pajama rags around me as best he can and away we go.

Once we get to the emergency room, his job kind of slows down. He knows from vast experience that the medical people are going to take good care of me and that once I stop screaming that “somebody please for the love of heaven do something about the pain or hit me in the head,” (I wonder how often that appeals to them) he can relax.

The problem, of course, is now, he’s up in the middle of the night, with a day’s work ahead tomorrow and he has to sit around and wait for me to finally decide that I’m going to live yet another day because the aforementioned fine medical care takes care of the problems.

A lot of times he’s a little out of what has happened. This last time, they asked if I had vomited. At the same time, I said, “Yes,” and he said, “No.”

I turned to him showing him my gown and its suspicious stains and said, “Stay away from the small wastebasket in the living room. You won’t like it.”

He cares so much. He is so diligent about getting me there, but he is also in need of his sleep. However, I don’t worry about him so much anymore. The first time I was in, he sat in a very comfortable chair near me and just as I was really freaking out about the pain and keeping him up, I distinctly heard a snore come from directly behind me! I was getting what I needed, and he was getting what he needed. That’s fair.

Every time I have one of these midnight adventures, I pray it’s the last one. I’ve learned enough about the problem, though, to know it might not be; and that’s okay, I guess. After all, I have the best ambulance driver in the world and the best care for the problem. I think I’ll live to fight another day!

Leave a comment

Filed under Humorous Column

Tagged as , , , ,

March 21, 2026 · 4:21 am

Eating My Way to Health

Photo by Valeria Boltneva on Pexels.com

Jackie Wells-Fauth

Before I begin today, I should probably mention that I understand and appreciate the benefits of good health. I also know that human health depends on several things: 1) genetics, and mine are pretty good; 2) attitude, which can sometimes not be as beneficial as it should be; and 3) eating habits.

I’m well aware that many of my health issues come from what I put in my mouth and also, how much of it I put in there. It isn’t that I don’t try. It’s true, there are times when more Hostess Twinkies are consumed in this house than any fresh fruit. But then, there are times when I really try and I really want my health to be good.

In that frame of mind, I did some research. Now, I did this research on the internet, so everything I tell you here should be taken with a grain of salt (which I understand is also bad for you). The internet does not have a degree in nutrition, so proceed with caution. I did find some of the ideas interesting, however.

For instance, it is apparently a myth that you must cut out certain foods in order to lose weight. What a relief! I have heard of the keto diet, the Mediterranean diet and the lo-carb diet. All of them are rejected by me because of one word: diet. I haven’t been able to remain on an eating diet for more than the time it takes me to discover that there is a stray Tootsie Roll stuck in the couch cushions. Diets do not work for me, so I’m glad to hear someone agrees with me—even if it is the internet. The only food I have ever successfully cut out of my diet is liver—and that is an action I do not regret!

Apparently, in the healthy eating world, you should not snack between meals. I am here to tell you that the only reason I get up every morning is in anticipation of whatever snacks I have lined up for the day. Meals, fine, but what have you got for those long hours in between?

When they get into types of food, it always upsets me, because they usually attack my favorites to begin with. I switched from regular soda to diet, only to discover that what diet lacks in calories, it makes up for in other undesirable things. So, I switched to fruit juice. Nothing wrong with that, right? Wrong. Fruit juice is apparently, in many ways, worse than soda. They suggest sparkling water as a lovely alternative. I have tasted sparkling water, and I would just as soon dip my glass in the toilet, which is also probably not very healthy!

It is important not to eat too much processed food. I did some looking to see what counted as processed food. My biggest heartbreak there was peanut butter! Who knew that the most delicious bread spread in the world is considered a processed food! I just can’t believe they got that right. Another processed food they warned against was frozen pizzas and TV dinners. When I read that, I felt terrible, because I love those and they are so easy. Thank heavens they didn’t mention pot pies; I guess I can still have those, huh?

There were a couple of pieces of good news. They debunked the idea that sushi is diet food. For me, sushi definitely IS a diet food because I’d rather go without food than eat it!

The other piece of good news had to do with lettuce salad. Now, I eat lettuce salad when I am trying to be good, but I can never say I enjoy it. Imagine my surprise, then, to hear that the dressings that are put on lettuce salad have more calories than a doughnut! You know what this means, of course. If I’m eating the same calories anyway, I’m definitely eating the doughnut! I just didn’t know that it would be considered healthier than lettuce salad! Yay!

I was excited to see that late night snacks are permitted because that is my favorite. I was not so excited to see their suggestions for a late-night snack: yogurt or pistachios. That’s a hard no on yogurt and as for pistachios, they aren’t bad, but they aren’t going to hold me over until morning! I need a hearty late-night snack, like a bologna sandwich—or wait, I know! Peanut butter! No, that’s not right…maybe a diet soda or…

I put the computer away and got up to leave the room. “Where are you going?” Roy asked.

“Downstairs to find my Twinkie stash. This healthy eating is gonna kill me.”

Leave a comment

Filed under Humorous Column

Tagged as , , , ,

March 13, 2026 · 12:22 am

Saving Daylight–Bah Humbug!

Photo by Ruslan Sikunov on Pexels.com

Jackie Wells-Fauth

I’m sorry if I am a little grumpy this week, but I am definitely missing sleep and it’s all the fault of whoever decided to save daylight – or steal it, as the case may be!

Now before some well-meaning soul attempts to justify the theft of this time by explaining why daylights savings time is important, let me tell you that I know all about the reasoning behind it and I still continue to insist: my body doesn’t buy it.

You wouldn’t think the theft of one hour would be such a big deal, but it throws everything else off: instead of going to bed at 11 pm, I’m now trying to go at 10 pm—or is it12 midnight? I am so tired, I can’t work it out. In any case, when I get up in the morning after this yearly raid of time takes place, I know that my morning light is gone and my body is grabbing for the covers, lobbying for one more hour in bed!

The first evening of the switch is also disconcerting: “I want to remember to watch my favorite Sunday night show. It will be on at 7:00,” I tell my husband.

“It WAS on at 7:00, that was an hour ago,” he replies.

“What? It can’t be! The sun is still up! Darn it! There’s nothing good on at 8:00,” I whine.

“I’m glad you feel that way, because it’s already 8:30.”

“I do NOT like this sudden evening light,” I proclaim. “There’s evil in it. God wouldn’t want me to miss my favorite shows.”

“Well, don’t worry, it will be black as pitch when you get up in the morning, so there’s your darkness,” he really means to be comforting.

“First, they keep it light so long in the evening, that I miss my television show and now you’re telling me that I’ve lost my morning sun (isn’t there a song about that?). There is just no end to the bad news. And it’s all because of the nefarious one-hour theft of time.”

Roy goes back to his reading—without the aid of a lamp. He’s heard all of this whining and complaining and drama before, so he recognizes the futility of continuing the conversation.

It does offer one benefit: I can say to anyone who asks: “Yes, I was going to get that room painted, put in some time at the gym, finally clean that closet that is spilling out into the hall, get my life together, etc., but someone stole the hour I was going to use for that, so, those things will just have to wait.”

It’s a sure thing that for the next week, I will be dragging and tired and grumpy as my body struggles to add one more brick to the wall of reasons why I don’t get a good night sleep. By the end of the week (which is Friday the 13th by the way) I will have adjusted somewhat, and I may even start to like that extra light time in the evenings, but the abrupt theft of time is still traumatizing.

There really ought to be some sort of compensation for having to go through this. They should set up stations throughout the country containing soothing aid for those going through the daylight savings change. Maybe they could have coffee and cookies and dare I suggest—extra naps for the first few weeks? Just something to acknowledge how hard this is on the citizenry. Maybe I would be more receptive to the change if I was holding a glamour cup of coffee and a few sugar cookies—and some chocolate chip cookies—oh, and maybe a brownie or two! Yes, I very much like this idea; perhaps someone could suggest it to the legislature?

I know this column has been very bizarre, but living through the daylights savings time change is also just a little bit bizarre. Isn’t this sort of like time traveling? People like my husband just don’t understand it—they adjust so seamlessly, but not me. And the worst thing Roy should have done right now is try and cheer me up about it.

“You know, you get this hour back when the fall comes and we go back to regular standard time,” he observed during the worst of my ravings.

“What! They can’t! By then, I’ll be used to a lot of light in the evenings, and I won’t be able to adjust! Why are they doing this to me????!!!!!”

Happy Daylights Savings Time everyone. By this time next week, I might even mean it!

Leave a comment

Filed under Humorous Column

Tagged as , , , ,

March 6, 2026 · 10:35 pm

In the year 2525…

Photo by http://www.kaboompics.com on Pexels.com

Jackie Wells-Fauth

I will admit that I have always looked on home communication systems (AI systems) as a challenge: What can I possibly do to mess them up?

“Hey Siri, what was my nickname in the seventh grade?”

“I am sorry, I do not have enough information to answer that question.”

“Uh huh, not as smart as you thought, are you, Siri?”

“I am sorry, I do not have enough information to answer that question, Red Top.” I will admit that one was a little unnerving! I’m glad I didn’t ask it how much I weigh or what the nuclear launch codes are—a couple of things, I wouldn’t want it to go looking for!

Climbing on my usual soapbox, I profoundly object to the fact that we are working on machines to not only dry our hair and cook our food, but to anticipate our every wish and answer questions that we did not necessarily intend for them to even hear.

I have been in homes in which the Alexa or Siri or whatever AI systems, have been installed. Okay, it’s nice to be able to tell it to turn off the lights, because I am getting too old and arthritic to want to do the “clap on, clap off” thing any more. But when I step in something unidentifiable and shout, “What the heck was that?” I am not really looking for Alexa to give me a list of vivid possibilities, “Milk, mashed potato, cat pee, feces….”

I’m uncomfortable with any device that can engage in conversation with me, but now I’m told they can actually drive me to the store and then comment on which dress looks nicest on me; that is a little too far. That is when I start singing that old 60s song, “In the Year 2525.” We’re getting there!

This week, I saw an advertisement for an AI system that will literally insult you if you ask it to. Truly! That is the limit. We have rampant hunger, disease and war in the world and you think the biggest problem is that I need help with being insulted! As my husband said, “Then what am I good for?”

It’s probably jealousy on my part, but I hold the hand phone responsible for a lot. You can pay for anything with it, order movies with it, start your car with it, make lists and calendars on it, check your mail deliveries and know just when packages and food will arrive at your door. Considering I spend half my time looking for mine, this could be a problem!

My favorite of all the recent innovations, however, is the camera that is in the doorbell. Now, for the past 30 years, I have struggled to find a way to make a doorbell work in my house. We have tried system after system and we still find ourselves telling people, “You may want to knock—that’s where you rap your knuckles on the wood—our doorbell is taking the week off.”

BUT if your doorbell works properly, you can attach a camera that, with the proper set-up, will show you your own front step! I suppose this is intended so that we are able to watch what’s happening around our property when we are miles away. We will know about but can’t help it if the outdoor cat gets sprayed by a skunk or it rains on the shoes we accidentally left outside. I think it would be most useful, however, for telling you if someone (or something) undesirable is outside when you are at home.  It could sound some sort of alarm telling you to stay away from the door!

For myself, I don’t need the camera, since when I’m away, I don’t want to worry about the house, and when I’m home, I have few enough callers that I never contemplate not answering the door…except for the time the guy was standing outside my door with an ax. I admit, I didn’t answer that call, but then again, I didn’t need a doorbell camera to tell me that!

I know, I know, these things are the wave of the future, but I will admit, I’m not all that impressed. I went shopping for a new stove recently. I saw stoves that adjusted their heat, could be set to turn on at a specific time, and had burners for boiling and burners for melting and burners for frying. There were stoves that told you when the bread is done and how many minutes they suggest for a good casserole. But me? I went looking until I found one with four burners, four knobs to turn them on and without the ability to utter a word when I’m cooking! It would be wrong for an appliance to swear!

How do you like them apples, Siri?

“I am sorry, I do not have enough information to answer that question, Red Top.”

Leave a comment

Filed under Humorous Column

Tagged as , , , ,