Monthly Archives: December 2025

A Matter of Time

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Jackie Wells-Fauth

My basement stairs were pretty dirty, so I finally hauled out the “big-guns” vacuum to take care of it. I was crawling down, hanging onto the railing with one hand and trying to manipulate the vacuum hose with the other.

Roy came along and watched me for a few minutes. We’re at the stage of our marriage where he doesn’t have to ask why I’m doing something—I’ll usually explain it. In fact, the more bizarre the thing I’m doing, the more likely that I will volunteer an explanation of why.

“I don’t want to fall on the basement steps,” I shouted over the noise. He nodded, that seemed reasonable.

“I could die, if I fell to the bottom, so I’m hanging on,” I continued. He nodded again.

“If I’m going to die, I don’t want to be vacuuming the basement stairs,” I concluded. This was as clear an explanation as possible, but now he looked puzzled.

I shut off the vacuum. This was an important point and I didn’t want him to miss it. “I read a book about ghosts. It said that if someone dies suddenly, they are likely to return as a ghost and keep doing whatever they were doing when they died.” He walked away shaking his head, but I am very serious.

It’s all a matter of timing. If I’m going suddenly, I want it to be from a massive systems failure while I’m stuffing myself with cookies and reading books. I could haunt a library or a sweets shop, but I’m not spending eternity sucking the cobwebs out of this stairwell!

I try to take the passage of time into consideration for a lot of things. I think it’s important to always be prepared. I love a smoothie in the morning. Therefore, I must always have a blender to make it. What if a morning dawned and my blender died? This would be unacceptable, so, in my closet, I have a brand new blender, still in the box, ready to go if my old one cashes it in mid-smoothie. It should be noted that along this line, I also have a brand-new microwave sitting on the shelves in the basement on the principle that someday, the microwave I have will cash it in. The “new” microwave is now officially four years old, but someday, it’s gonna come in handy! It’s just a matter of time.

Now, if you think my philosophy is a waste of time, you probably might have been joined by Roy in this thinking. It isn’t possible to plan for everything and sometimes, the timing is going to be off. However, I believe we might have made a believer out of Roy.

My morning is never complete without a cup of coffee. When I was teaching, the students knew that it was better to approach me with a problem after I’d had coffee. It’s all in the timing you see.

So, it was a bad moment for me when I managed to drop a cup (which didn’t  break) and shatter my coffee maker—the only one I have—on a late Saturday night. Where was my planning for time? Now, Sunday morning, I not only wouldn’t have a cup of coffee, but I’d have to wait until stores opened, to get a new coffee-maker. Why, oh why, did I not plan for this! What terrible timing!

I was in mid-meltdown over my loss of coffee time, when I looked up to see Roy standing in the doorway of the kitchen, with a sheepish grin and holding a brand new coffee maker. “Merry Christmas,” he said, handing it over to my astonishment.

Just like that, Roy understands my issues with timing. I don’t think he could have come up with a better moment to deliver my Christmas present than at the exact moment I needed a new coffee maker. Now that he understands that, I think I’ll go out and buy a new wash machine and dryer, just in case, and maybe I’ll get a new television as well…you never know!

And meanwhile, I am going to keep hanging out in tea shops and libraries, cause you know, it’s just a matter of time!

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Opulent Outlook

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Jackie Wells-Fauth

I read a long list of hints or household tips for making my house look richer than it is. This was kind of a shock, since I don’t plan to have Elon Musk or anyone of the kind over for a visit and if I did, they could put up with the squalor that is my comfortable house.

The tips were, to say the least, rather amusing. I didn’t go through all of them because there were forty-five (it takes a lot to make your house look rich, apparently), but a few of them did catch my eye and some of them made me howl with laughter, the laughter of the poor, obviously.

The first tip I would like to address has to do with my cushions. The tip is to add matching cushion covers to all of my soft furniture. If I could find cushion covers that would match, I can’t imagine why I would want my house to look like the impersonal waiting room at a large business firm. My mix of blues and yellows, grays and oranges catches the eye as you walk into my house. If I want to feel rich about this conglomeration, I would tell you that my style is “eclectic.” That sounds very snobby and upper crust, right?

It suggested that to look wealthy, I should use trays to group décor. What décor? On the same note, it said to declutter open areas. So, I ask, what open areas?

“Hang curtains higher to elongate a room.” Does this really make me look richer or just too stupid to correctly hang curtains?

Then they got nasty. “Make your bed every day.” Let’s not get crazy here! And “Use two pillows each side for hotel vibes.” Am I really going for hotel vibes? And finally, “Tuck your throw at the foot of the bed.” This is not where I usually need a throw!

“Decant pantry items into matching jars.” Decant…what a nice, snobby word. And the bag the noodles come in will work just fine, thank you! “Use glass containers or baskets in the fridge.” Answer me one question: If I’m so rich, why am I giving tours of my refrigerator? “Wipe down cupboard fronts regularly.” I want to look rich, not obsessive!

“Keep cleaning products out of sight.” Because…rich people don’t have cleaning products? “Keep one candle, reed diffuser or eucalyptus in the shower.” There are several problems here, beginning with why would rich people invite others into the shower, how would you keep a candle lit in the shower and what the heck is a reed diffuser???

“Add a small hand towel on the basin, folded neatly.” I can’t tell you how this would make me look richer. Also, I can’t tell you how fast it would no longer be “folded neatly” at the side of the basin. I’m trying to imagine explaining to Roy, “Yes, this is a towel and no, you are not to use it; I want other people to see it, and think we are rich.”

“Move furniture slightly away from walls.” So…in the middle of the room? I like furniture placed as the good lord intended—plastered against the wall, scraping the paint.

“Keep entryways clear and welcoming.” If I do that, how will people know where to leave their shoes and coats without mine thrown right there in front of them, to give them the hint?

“Declutter one thing from every room.” This is the first really good idea I have read. And the first thing I’m going to declutter from the living room is the magazine containing the article about tips for looking richer!

I’ve given it a lot of consideration, and I’ve decided to stay with my lower middle-class house-with-a-lived-in-look-to-it status. I’m sorry if this means Elon Musk won’t consider my home grand enough to visit. I confess, however, that I would like to visit his house (or one of them). I want to look in his shower to find out what a reed diffuser is!

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An ill wind

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Jackie Wells-Fauth

Imagine me writing about wind! Wonder what gave me the idea. Maybe it was the random bit of cardboard box that slapped me in the teeth as I stepped out into the “gentle breezes” this week!

There’s an old saying that goes something like: It’s an ill wind that blows no good. Well, ladies and gentlemen, I’m here to tell you that this is, indeed, an ill wind!

I’m used to the struggles we all have with the “light zephyr” type winds that spread their teasing fingertips across our land. Okay, it’s more like a sonic boom that has the power to knock you flat! Knowing all this, however, doesn’t make me any fonder of the blast and if my wording above misleads you, I can assure you that I am taking refuge in sarcasm!

It’s not that I don’t hope. I was checking my phone for the weather (and that’s a new one for me) and all of the sudden, it flipped to a new screen which said, “sunny skies, 69 degrees.” How wonderful! I knew I was on the wrong forecast, however, when it continued, “calm winds, quiet night.” Okay, so with my great technological skills, I had found the forecast for San Diego, California. Disappointing for here, but from the sounds of it, maybe I should go there!

But back to South Dakota and the less than calm winds we are getting. I went out to get the mail the other day and this was not on the worst day. I get my mail from a community mailbox stand and when I got it out, I laid the letters on top so I could turn back and lock my box.

Immediately, the wind picked up the top letter and flipped it to the ground. I debated: did I really want to get down between those two boxes to try to retrieve it? It could just be a bill, but then again, maybe it was a Christmas card—it is the season.

Getting down on my knees in the snow is probably pretty amazing for me, but getting back up is a Christmas miracle. I had retrieved the letter, however, and it was definitely a Christmas card. Standing there, so proud of my achievement, I reached up to get the rest of the letters from where I had placed them on top of the boxes. Just as I did, the wind flipped them onto the ground beyond the mailboxes and in the neighbor’s back yard.

They were scattered around and again, I considered how bad did I want to retrieve them. With my brand new coat’s long skirts (the reason I bought it) twisting around my legs and my not waterproof shoes wading through snow, I chased down all of those letters. Every one was an advertisement!

Oh well, at least I had the Christmas card. I put my hand down to be certain I had placed it in my pocket. In so doing, I knocked it out and the wind took it for another playful little run, with me running behind!

By the time I got it, the paper was somewhat saturated and the Christmas letter inside a little hard to read. But never fear, every one of those ads was warm, dry and undamaged. They also quickly hit the garbage!

The only other thing I had gotten in that ill wind was a couple of large rolls of Christmas paper, which I stacked on the landing to my front door, just a little above my head when I’m on the ground. I was going to fetch something else (I’m not remembering what), so I turned away just in time for the wind to blow both of those rolls of paper off, hitting me neatly in the back of the head.

By the time I got in with soggy mail and damp but dangerous Christmas paper, I was a trifle grumpy. I scraped the hair out of my face with my very best Taylor Swift gesture and said to the dog staring innocently up at me: “What are you looking at? I’ve been out on this lovely day and it just blew my mind!”

It’s an ill wind, folks! How far is it to San Diego, anyway?

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Letting it Hang

Jackie Wells-Fauth

Right now, as I’m writing, I’m looking at the wall behind my computer and I am rather proud of it. There are two framed photos, a calendar (on the wrong month) two cardboard pieces with chalk drawings and the painting I made at a painting party many years ago.

I love looking at these things, but Roy avoids looking at this wall because it offends all of his sensibilities. It’s not that he minds the things I have on the wall (well, maybe he wishes the calendar was right), it’s the way I have hung them up. I like to say that my ability to decorate a wall with artwork or pictures is somewhat random, if you know what I mean.

Where Roy will measure and estimate and carefully string up a hanger on the back of the item, I prefer the thumbtack and sticky tape method. As for placement, well, I’m a little random there as well. It’s hurtful to the eye of a man who prefers precision in the hangings on his walls.

He came out of the bathroom after his morning shower one day rubbing his shoulder and holding a framed picture that I had just hung up the day before.

“Why did you take that picture down? I want it to hang over the shower,” I whined.

“Explain why we need a picture over the shower in the bathroom, where no one is likely to notice it?”

“It’s a beautiful picture of rain on flowers; perfect for the shower,” I said. “Now why did you take it down?”

“I didn’t take it down. Your perfect rainfall picture fell on me when I got out of the shower,” he explained, handing me the picture. “What did you hang it up with?”

“That little needle, right there,” I said, pointing to a tiny shard of metal on the wall above the shower.

He shook his head, walking away. “It’s too small to hold that picture and besides, it’s way off center.”

“Well, I’m hanging it back up, so just watch yourself when you come out of the shower,” I said, defiantly.

“Just the words a fella wants to hear concerning his own bathroom,” he was getting sarcastic. “Maybe none of my relatives will have to use the toilet when they are here.”

It’s always the same. What should we hang up and where should we hang it? It’s a question that can at least cause ripples in a marriage. While I am holding the picture up approximately where it should go on the wall, he is dragging out the tape measure and sorting through his supplies of nails to figure out which one goes.

After hanging a picture recently that required him to get up and down on a ladder, he said to me, “Is this hanging evenly?”

“Yes, it looks just fine,” I answered. “Don’t worry about it.”

It seems those are exactly the wrong words to say to him about pictures. He climbed down off the ladder, stepped back to look at the picture, got back on the ladder, adjusted it (he didn’t ask my opinion that time), got down, looked again and went up for one final tweak. I’m convinced the last one wasn’t necessary; he was just showing off.

I have several more things that I would like to hang up, but I am going to wait until this latest round of marital picture hanging has faded into memory. In other words, I’m just going to let it hang!

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