October 12, 2025 · 12:41 am

Insecure in the Security Line

Photo by Connor Danylenko on Pexels.com

Jackie Wells-Fauth

Before I say too much here, allow me to state that I understand the very serious purpose of security checks at the airport. I am grateful for the caution that is used to keep me safe.

Having said that, I must tell you that security lines at the airport make me frozen with fear. I don’t know why. I’m not trying to smuggle in a weapon; I don’t plan to hijack the plane or blow it up (I’m not keen on killing myself). But suddenly, when I look into the eyes of a security officer at the airport, I remember that I still have that breath mint, wrapped in crinkly paper, stuck in the pocket of my jeans. It came from Amsterdam, and here I am, trying to get into Paris. What if it shows up in X-ray and they detain me for unlawful transport of oral deodorants???????!!!!!!

I think it’s safe to say that authority of any kind turns me into a dithering idiot and on most good days, I don’t have all that far to go to get there. I don’t need a lady eying me up and down as she puts on her plastic gloves and asks me if I want to step into a private room. No I do not! Whatever we’re going to do, we’re going to do in front of everyone! Or upon reflection, maybe not!

Generally, I am not thinking about these security lines when I get ready to go on a trip. And it seems like every time I go through one, either I wore the shirt with the studs decorating the shoulders, or I brought home a bag of trinkets in a souvenir bag that has what they described as a “suspicious odor.” I don’t tell them that the studs are really cheap plastic and the souvenir bag smells funny because it spent the night before sitting on my smelly sneakers. It’s better not to argue; just let them pat down those plastic studs or run a security wand through the souvenirs and discover there is really nothing lethal on the Paddington Bear I was bringing my grandson!

The X-ray machines are always a treat. I once heard a lady tell a TSA officer at the Denver airport as she stepped into the security X-ray, “Oh good, I’m overdue for my mammogram!” The officer was clearly not amused and so I swallowed my laugh before it could get out and meekly entered the machine without any smart comments about needing copies for my Christmas cards! The first thing you are told is not to make jokes. Unfortunately, when I am nervous, jokes just fall out of my mouth and they are wasted on people who aren’t allowed to have a sense of humor on the job.

I once set off the security alarms with a briefcase in the JFK in New York. With four security officers standing and staring at me, I went completely blank. I couldn’t remember the combination to the briefcase. I tried three times to get it right and by the time I finally got it open, even I wondered if I was smuggling in something lethal! It turned out that the marble statuette I had gotten my mother-in-law looked suspicious to the machine, but when they discovered I couldn’t shoot bullets out of it, they gave it back and left me alone to try and re-lock my briefcase with my trembling fingers!

I also get rattled when I am trying to put all my belongings into the little bins. At the Dublin airport, I needed to take off my jacket and give them the bag I had around my neck. Unfortunately, the bag was over the jacket, so when I tried to take the jacket off first, I nearly hung myself. The security fellow said with a heavy Irish accent, “Off in reverse of how they went on, Love!” I was so rattled by the accent that I asked, “Do you want anything else off?” It’s the first time I ever accidentally propositioned a security officer, but he was very nice and just shook his head.

I have been traveling with a cane for the past couple of years because I need it for stairs. It’s a pain in a security line, though, because everyone has a different procedure for how to handle it. In the Paris security line, they took it away from me completely and ran it through a special x-ray machine. I got through everything and had the rest of my hand luggage, but the cane never appeared. I asked a couple of the officers, but they didn’t know what happened to it. Finally, I saw it sitting, leaned up against a wall. Were they done with it? I don’t know. I simply grabbed it and, resisting the impulse to run like I’d just robbed the bank, I walked on down the hallway to my gate. My face hasn’t appeared on any international terrorist wanted posters for illegal pilfering of a cane, so I think I’m fine!

Okay, now I’ve had my fun and the security officers have had theirs, so I can end this little saga. And the next time I travel…I’m taking a bike!

Leave a comment

Filed under Humorous Column

Tagged as , , , ,

October 4, 2025 · 7:00 am

The Viking Invasion

Photo by Fernando Cortu00e9s on Pexels.com

Jackie Wells-Fauth

Since coming to Ireland, I have learned that the Vikings never technically invaded the island. After an attempt or two, hundreds of years ago, they left for greener pastures (or easier targets).

That was true until my latest vacation. I had been planning the trip of a lifetime. For six years and more, I have planned to go to Europe and most of all, I wanted to visit Ireland. During those six years of planning, Roy has researched, mapped out and done a lot of legwork to decide where we were going to travel.

I would look at his research and improvised itinerary while he was busy with Sunday afternoon football. “I like the idea of spending several days in London,” I remarked.

“No, no, no! Where’s the defense!” he yelled, shaking his fist at the television. That kind of response could only mean the Vikings must be on.

“I also like the idea of ending the trip with Dublin. It will be a nice wrap-up,” I continued, glad I don’t have to travel with the Vikings.

“That reminds me,” he said. “Guess who will be in Dublin while we are there? The Vikings!”

It couldn’t be. “Tell me it’s the kind who invade countries and not the kind who play football!”

“Oh it’s the Minnesota Vikings football team. They are playing the Pittsburg Steelers in Dublin and it is just a lucky coincidence that we are going to be there too. I think we should go to the game.”

Lucky coincidence. It’s just a lucky coincidence that on the trip I have been dreaming about for years, I would have the opportunity to see the Minnesota Vikings play football. On the last Sunday of my vacation. In Dublin, Ireland! Lucky how?

I don’t believe in coincidence. I think the Vikings did this on purpose. They loaded up their Viking ship, sharpened up their weapons—or footballs and planned on invading Ireland just to put a dagger into my vacation.

The worst part is that this time Ireland was welcoming the Vikings—and the Steelers. They had up banners and signs and flags all over the city of Dublin. So, what was otherwise described in the travel brochures as a lovely old world city with quiet, winding streets, turned into a full scale flood of people in Vikings and Steeler gear and the only question you heard from a millions mouths with American accents was: Are you here for the game?

No! I was there to see Ireland. Ireland, which held off the Vikings hundreds of years ago and suddenly couldn’t hold them out long enough for me to see the city without balloon structure of every description hanging everywhere in Viking and Steeler colors. Thanks a lot, all you Irish Paddys: now, instead of old-world charm I’m going to get American football like any other random Sunday! You couldn’t have held them off for one more week?

So it was, on the last Sunday of my dream vacation, I moved as one with a swarm of American invaders to the ball park, where they fought, not with swords, but with downs and touchbacks and referees blowing whistles.

Since it was technically a Steelers home game, we were hopelessly outnumbered in the fan department, but we put on our purple and gold nonetheless and prepared to back Minnesota’s play.

And then, even worse happened: by the end of the third quarter, the Vikings were down by 15 points and their invasion appeared to be thwarted by a Pittsburg Steeler win. The least you Vikings could have done was win…or score or something! No, no no! Where’s the defense???

As is the case with the Vikings of Minnesota, they came back in the fourth quarter so hard that instead of the Steelers fans singing their victory song, there was the sound of thousands of Steelers fans holding their breath as the Vikings livened up the game by coming within three points at the final whistle.

So once again, a Viking invasion of the beautiful green island of Ireland failed, but not before it had caused my vacation to take a very weird turn. Skoll, Vikings!

Leave a comment

Filed under Humorous Column

Tagged as , , , ,

September 25, 2025 · 6:57 am

A great lady passes

Jackie Wells-Fauth

When I got married, I supposed that I would find my mother-in-law, Millie, to be irritating or at best, tolerable. We aren’t supposed to be all that crazy about our mothers-in-law, are we? That is a normal attitude towards mothers-in-law.

Except my mother-in-law was not at all what I expected. She was, at first, quiet and demure and she did not interfere at all with my marriage. I appreciated her hands off attitude, but it soon became apparent that this was not at all what she was really like. She was not necessarily quiet and demure; she was so sweet and a whole lot of fun to be around.

Her support for me in my marriage and her unwavering friendship have been of great value to me. She loved my children as well with that quiet, always supportive attitude and they grew up appreciating her kindnesses as well. Stefanie wanted her name to be Crystal–she complained to Grandma and the next thing you knew, Stefanie had a T-shirt from Grandma that had Crystal, written in sparkly crystals, across the front. Stefanie was delighted and wore it out. Tracie didn’t care so much for rhubarb kuchen and told her grandma she thought chocolate chips would be better. Grandma quietly made chocolate chip kuchen just for her (nobody else wanted it) and Tracie was charmed.

Nothing she did was splashy. She would come to my house and stand doing the dishes after a meal. That made me nervous, because she was a much neater housekeeper than I. She never said a word about my housekeeping, although I was amused to see her surreptitiously wiping the tops of the cupboards or swiping quickly behind the faucet, places I never got to—but she did it quietly and automatically and without critical remarks and attitudes.

She was a beautiful seamstress, making clothes for the girls, including when she and my mother collaborated in the construction of Renaissance dresses for my daughters.  She also altered just about anything. When Roy had a project, he would say with confidence, “Mom can do this.” She always did. When I could not figure out how we were even going to begin on the wedding dress Stefanie had chosen, I took her with me to Stef’s for a weekend and by the end of that time, just like that, a wedding dress was underway.

She was also a dynamite cook, with a real talent for kuchen. She once made enough for an entire wedding reception, no mean feat, I can tell you! Watching her prepare meals in her spotless kitchen was always an experience. I told her once that I had used her work–fixing and presenting a meal–to my classes as an example of visual artistry. She laughed so hard at that, as she continued to so gracefully stir and bake and boil and peel in her seamless, graceful way of presenting a meal. She once told me that she was not a very good cook, and it was my turn to laugh uproariously. She never thought of herself as talented or skilled, but she was in so many ways.

She was a wonderful painter. On one of our last conversations together, I told her my girls—who both have paintings and many pieces of artistry from her themselves, were having a lively discussion over who would get the paintings she has given to Roy and I.  She responded,  “Oh, well, that’s nothing to bother about. Once you don’t want them anymore, they may not have space for them anyway!” It was amazing that she really didn’t realize that I would lock my children out of my house before I would willingly give up her art works while I’m alive and my daughters will clear anything they have on their walls to hang her creations.

She loved to travel and was still agile at the age of 84, when she determined to climb to the top of the Statue of Liberty for the second time in her life. She made it, too, while I gave up about three quarters of the way and then cursed her for making me look bad. She just laughed and kept on going.

Millie passed away this week, and did so right where she wanted to be, in her own home. Roy and I had just landed in Amsterdam at the start of our long-planned trip to Europe. So, we began our trip by sitting in a Dutch airport, crying copiously in front of strangers. We continued the trip because so much had gone into it and I think Millie would have been sorry to be the reason we ditched and went home, but she was with us the whole way.

 I will miss Millie so much not because she was my mother-in-law, but because she was my friend, my confidante and the most human person I have ever had the privilege to know.

The world is a little poorer now, because a great lady has passed.

Leave a comment

Filed under Humorous Column

Tagged as , , , ,

September 19, 2025 · 9:27 am

Talk of the Town

Photo by Darya Sannikova on Pexels.com

Jackie Wells-Fauth

“I need to get the clothes started in the wash early, because there are a lot of them. I wonder where the dog is. She was just here. I need a new pair of shoes; these are so worn out.”

This was the conversation I was having this morning and it’s pretty normal; just what anyone would talk about…except that I was alone and talking to myself. Go ahead, try and convince me that you’ve never done that! I talk to myself all the time.

“Mrs. Fauth, who are you talking to?” a student would come into my classroom and ask. “There’s no one else in here.”

“I’m talking to myself,” I would answer defensively.

“Don’t do that; it makes you look crazy,” they would chide.

“I love talking to myself,” I told them proudly. “I am the most sympathetic listener I have.”

I’ve always mumbled to myself, so it isn’t a symptom of old age, but my students and my grandchildren definitely think it could be otherwise. I was mentally arranging the things I had to do for the day in my head as I moved around the kitchen during a recent grandchild visit.

“Grandma are you talking to me?” asked my loving grandchild.

“Oh, no, I’m just answering the voices in my head,” I said, trying to make a joke. I’m not sure he got it and I’m also not sure he didn’t contact his parents that afternoon, asking them to come rescue him from the crazy lady!

The fact remains, however, that I have whole conversations with myself and they are usually the most satisfying! I can solve all of my problems and some of those in the world, just with a quiet conversation with myself over a cup of coffee in the morning. “If they would just put a stoplight on that corner, we would have no problems, you mark my word,” I observed one morning.

The dog, who was lying on the deck beside me, picked up her head and looked around for other people. None were there, however, and she is too used to my mutterings to be too worried about it. She went back to sleep while I continued, “I don’t know what to do about that bush. Should I trim it back, do you think? No, that would ruin the looks of it.”

Someone told me once that talking to yourself is not a sign of being crazy. However, if you answer yourself, then you have a problem. So, I have a problem. Because I answer myself all the time. Even worse, I get into arguments with myself…and occasionally, I lose them!

“You need to get that window cleaned, it’s filthy,” I will tell myself.

“I’ll clean that window when I’m darned good and ready and don’t tell me what to do!” I count that as an argument that I won.

Talking to myself in the confines of my own home is one thing, but I have been known to carry on conversations with myself in public places. If you see me out for a walk, I’ll usually be having a lively conversation, complete with hand gestures.

I don’t always know that I’m doing this, but occasionally, I will look up in some public place and see someone giving me a very odd stare and I’ll know that they were in on the conversation I was having about the best pain reliever to buy. Me, myself and I haven’t come to an agreement on that, so we argue it in public a lot.

The other day, I was driving the car down the street (I frequently compliment myself on my driving). On this day, however, I was having a heated argument with myself, and I don’t even remember the subject or which of me was winning. However, I was chattering away and as I raised one hand for emphasis, I noticed the person waiting on the corner for me to pass so they could walk. I quickly paused and indicated that they should go ahead. For a moment they looked at me and then turned around and walked the other way.

“Well, that was odd,” I told myself.

“Oh, I agree. What was their problem?” I answered.

Life is fun when you are the talk of the town!

Leave a comment

Filed under Humorous Column

Tagged as , , , ,

September 12, 2025 · 3:41 am

Live Long and Prosper

Photo by SpaceX on Pexels.com

Jackie Wells-Fauth

My cousin tagged me in a message concerning the fact that Sept. 8 is apparently Star Trek Fan Day. I found this to be a very exciting message—because after all, who doesn’t like Star Trek? Who hasn’t found some version of the franchise to love?

I admit it; I’ve always been a kind of a Trekkie. I don’t dress up like Uhura and attend conventions (I don’t have the legs for that tiny little skirt), but I am a huge fan of the Star Trek world anyway.

I take surveys which ask questions like: Which captain is better? Kirk or Picard? How ridiculous! They don’t even include Captain Janeway, who strode onto the bridge as the first of the female captains. The heck with those men, Kirk and Picard—the journey where no one has gone before got so much better when a woman was at the helm!

I love the imagination it took to create whole new species (all of them suspiciously  humanoid). Who can beat Klingons as warriors in battle and who has the calm reason of a Vulcan, devoid of those pesky emotions?

I know my story lines too. I can tell you exactly the first time Spock held up his hand, fingers spread in a vee and told us to “live long and prosper.” I know the exact moment when the evil, mechanical Borg were introduced to cause havoc among all the “good races,” and I was there, front and center, the first time the Enterprise went into warp drive.

I absolutely love this vision of the future created by Gene Roddenberry. But you know who doesn’t like it? You guessed it! My husband. He is so misguided he would rather watch a football game than be thrilled by the discovery of a ship, floating in space, filled with people in frozen containers.

“Oh, the show’s going to be all about cryogenics,” I squeal, all set to immerse myself in the rigors of outer space.

“The Vikings are on in ten minutes,” he responds, sitting down and reaching for the remote.

“You have to be kidding!” I simply cannot believe it. “You would rather watch the Vikings…a bunch of football players, beating up on each other than watch another exciting episode where Captain Picard and Data save the world?”

“I’d rather have the Vikings beat up on ME than watch Picard and Data do anything,” he replied.

“Some people have no imagination,” I sniff. “Well, you’ll just have to record your Vikings, because I got to the television first.”

“No way! I need to watch the Vikings live. If I record it, someone will report on what happened before I can watch it first hand,” he protested. “No one is going to report on your Star Trek show. Besides, don’t you have every Star Trek episode from every series on DVD? You can watch it anytime.”

It’s a shame. I feel so responsible that he has not learned to love all the wonderful species and exotic places that Star Trek offers. “This is a show about a world where peace and harmony are treasured,” I pointed out.

“For people who believe in peace and harmony, they have some pretty impressive weapons,” he points out as a space battle, complete with exploding space ships, proceeds. “Now, take the Vikings playing football; they understand teamwork and dedication.”

“Oh, live long and prosper,” I snarl, holding up my hand.

“Aren’t you supposed to use more than one finger for that salute,” he asked. “What would Spock say?”

“Spock doesn’t have to live with you and the Vikings,” I grumble. “He wouldn’t be so calm and emotion-free if he did!”

Leave a comment

Filed under Humorous Column

Tagged as , , , ,

September 5, 2025 · 10:04 am

A sticky situation

Photo by Engin Akyurt on Pexels.com

Jackie Wells-Fauth

It was a tricky kind of holiday weekend. For starters, it was cooler than anticipated and yet unpleasantly humid. My daughter and her family were here, so of course, some major issue went wrong in the house because that is how my husband and son-in-law usually spend one of their visits here.

The upstairs toilet decided to spring a leak, causing it to drip downstairs…directly onto the toilet in the lower-level bathroom. What an exciting Labor Day weekend, laboring in the bathroom over a misbehaving toilet! We all avoided the upstairs restroom and made use of the lower level, especially after the upstairs toilet stopped sending down sewer showers!

We waited patiently while the two amateur plumbers removed the toilet (an event in itself), cleared away any debris, applied new adhesives and reset the toilet. Before it was finished, it was supper time and unexpectedly, as happens sometimes, I felt the need to go to the powder room.

No problem, right? All I had to do was go down to the lower-level bathroom and accommodate myself. I didn’t mention that I was going, as preparations upstairs went noisily forward with putting supper on and gathering together at the table. I gave a great sigh and relaxed for a moment on the downstairs commode, enjoying a moment of quiet in a hectic weekend.

It was as I attempted to finish and rise from the toilet that my dilemma became clear. I couldn’t get up. Something had a firm hold on the back of my shirt and it wouldn’t allow me to get up. I tried, unsuccessfully, to extricate myself, but nothing seemed to help. It was in those first moments of disbelief – I could not possibly be stuck to the toilet – that suddenly the door banged wide open, and my four-year-old grandson announced, “Hi Grandma. Whatcha doin?”

He scared the life out of me, but it wasn’t enough incentive to get me loose from the toilet. I heard voices upstairs, calling him to supper and so he turned and ran upstairs, leaving the door to the bathroom wide open.

I know what you’re thinking now: It would be so simple to call upstairs and explain my situation, whatever that was. But the fact that I was sitting there, with my sticky dilemma exposed to the world should everyone come running down, gave me pause. I didn’t want everyone to come flooding down into the bathroom while I was stuck, immovably, on the toilet!

Likewise, pulling my shirt off didn’t seem advisable because I wasn’t sure how I might get myself out of it and even if I could, I didn’t want to walk upstairs dressed basically in my underwear. I continued to wiggle and squirm and try to get myself loose, but that toilet had me in a firmer grip than the loser at a wrestle-mania main event.

It was time to take stock of the situation: I had not told anyone that I was coming down here, and I object to the idea of holding supper because someone is late getting there, so they wouldn’t be looking for me anytime soon. It also seemed unlikely that the four-year-old was going to tell them anything and even if he did, be honest; if a four-year-old were to say to you, “Grandma’s stuck on the toilet,” would you take him seriously?

I figured the older two grandsons, and their father (and maybe their grandfather) would try to get some video footage before they helped me and that thought caused me to make a massive effort and finally wrench myself loose! Heaving a sigh of relief, I washed my hands and ran up the steps, to where everyone was already eating. They nearly choked with laughter as I regaled them with my adhesive adventure.

It turned out that when the amateur plumbers applied serious adhesives to the upstairs toilet, it unknowingly dripped down through the floor/ceiling and settled a little bit on the inside of the toilet seat lid of the lower-level toilet. Now I know there were worse places (and things) that could have been glued together in that incident, but I assure you that five minutes with my shirt stuck tenaciously to a toilet seat lid was more than enough fun for me! Next time, I plan to inspect the facilities a little more closely!

Leave a comment

Filed under Humorous Column

Tagged as , , , ,

August 29, 2025 · 4:25 am

Go ahead; Bite Me!

Photo by Jimmy Chan on Pexels.com

Jackie Wells-Fauth

I would like to write an article today in praise and admiration of that most humble and small insect…the mosquito. I would LIKE to write an article in praise and admiration of them, but unfortunately, mosquitoes do nothing to incite my praise or admiration!

I love the summer, but at about this time, when I am nursing the 910th mosquito bite of the season, I am ready for a good frost…something that will offer warm days after it but will kill off the mosquitoes! Of all the beings God put on the earth, this is the one I can’t quite reconcile myself to!

If a person is walking in the early morning, especially after a rainstorm, your walking companions are sure to be mosquitoes. If anyone saw me waving my arms and screaming at nothing, “Get off me! Will you get away from me?” they would have one of two reactions. First, if they are from this area, they would know I’m talking to mosquitoes. If they are not from this area, they might just assume I am the local harmless madwoman. And with enough mosquitoes around, it might just be both!

What is there about that dratted insect that causes it to go straight for the face? My grandson was here for a week and on the first day, he had four bites on his cheeks and one on his eyelid! Poor child looked like he had been in a street brawl!

I slap the most mosquitoes from my face and especially do I despise the hardy little varmints who try to crawl under my glasses. I have deformed, defaced and downright ruined more glasses while going after mosquitoes crawling under them than I can count, and a lot of times by the time I tear off the glasses, scream, “I’ve got you, you little devil!” and slap myself in the face, that is all I’ve accomplished—a slap in my face! The mosquito is flying away, laughing, “No, no, it is I who have got you! Thanks for the blood donation—happy itching!”

And therein comes my next complaint—what is there that effectively stops a mosquito bite from itching? Usually, by the time I realize I am scratching a mosquito bite, I have successfully removed one layer of skin—at least. Nothing I have tried has made a difference, and I think I’ve tried it all. I have slathered myself with enough oatmeal paste to feed a small nation and I have tried myriad types of jellies and creams and only succeeded in greasing myself up like a pig in a wrestling competition.  None of the treatments I have tried have stopped the itching.

In order to distract myself from my latest set of bites (seven of them on my feet, no less), I looked up information about the mosquito. Only the female “bites” apparently, but she does it so she can develop eggs. That means that miserable witch is using my blood to make MORE mosquitoes! Whatever they use it for, they draw blood with the precision of a needle and the skill of a surgeon. They live about 30 days, which is just 29 and three quarters too long, and best of all, while they are digging around in our blood vessels, sucking blood which would make Count Dracula proud, they are able to share all the nasty diseases they are carrying!

It said in the article that mosquitoes can be “controlled” with insecticides, or by destroying the areas where they breed. I am sure that the scientists out there know what they are doing, but I have to say that nothing is so satisfying in controlling a mosquito as the “slap, slap” of my hand, producing a squashed insect! I know that makes me bloodthirsty but look who I’m fighting.

I suppose, since I have nothing praise-worthy or admirable to say about the mosquito, I should end this article. But let me say in closing, “Mosquitoes: we are bigger than you and sometimes even smarter and besides all that, winter is coming; so why don’t you just bite me? Oh, wait! No, I take it back! ‘Slap, Slap’ I don’t mean to actually bite me, ‘Slap, slap, slap…”

Leave a comment

Filed under Humorous Column

Tagged as , , , ,

August 23, 2025 · 7:39 am

The Walkabout

Photo by Nataliya Vaitkevich on Pexels.com

Jackie Wells-Fauth

Because of all the health issues I’ve had and the health issues I would really like to avoid, I’ve come to the sad conclusion that I must stay physically active.

So, a few years back, I decided it was time to institute a daily walking program. I call it my “walkabout” because that sounds so much more fun and elegant than “the daily trudge.” In Australia, a walkabout is a hiking trip through the bush country—or so I understand. I can pretend I’m there and I feel so important!

It starts with the daily argument my body has as I am dragging it out of bed. Let’s see: whose turn is it to hurt today and turn the walkabout into a limpabout?

“The left knee has been hogging the headlines for hurting now for four days. I think it’s time to let the right ankle have a turn at hurting,” I will hear them say as I pull on my old clothes and my walking shoes.

“Well, okay, but don’t forget that the upper body has a lot of neat pains as well. The shoulders can make walking unpleasant and there’s nothing like a good headache to create just the right amount of strain.”

Once we have determined what is going to create the walking problem, it’s time to select the correct brace. An ankle brace or a knee brace? Is it a sling we need for an arm that’s out of commission or do we need a neck brace to be on the safe side? I have a collection of braces for various body parts that would put a hospital to shame and pretty much every day, I need one (sometimes more) for the morning walkabout.

The next question is where to walk. The health recommendation to keep all the body parts moving is to walk at least 30 minutes. My own health recommendation is not to walk on any major highway, because getting hit by a vehicle would mess up my walkabout a great deal. That does, however, limit my walking choices. I have determined that if I walk twice around the little housing area where I live, I will meet the recommended time. In order to do that, I have to walk by my own house several times and it’s always a temptation to just give it up and drag myself back into the house for a second cup of coffee.

If I can resist the temptation to cut the walk short and just tell everyone I did a full 30 minutes, I find that it’s upsetting for the neighborhood dogs to have me skulking by their houses several times. We have reached an understanding, though—I’ll stay off their lawns and they won’t sound like they are going to eat me! It’s a satisfying arrangement for all of us—especially me!

Weather becomes a real issue when it comes to the walkabout. When I was younger, I walked in any weather, usually very early in the mornings, because I had to get to work. Now that I’ve retired and regained my senses, I find walking at 6:30 in the morning, in the dark, in a snowstorm, to be a little too much. I do still try to go as early as possible because I have discovered a correlation between the time of day and my ambition: the later it gets, the less I want to walk!

So I aim to get in a full walk; except if it’s too hot…or too cold, or too sunny…or raining…or foggy. Foggy is the worst because that messes up my glasses and I can’t see where I’m walking.

I decided I needed a way to walk even when the weather is not cooperating, so I invested in a treadmill, which frequently doubles as a clothes closet. They say that is not as good as walking outside, so I do try to make it a walkabout in the great outdoors, because saying, “I went for my morning walkabout on the treadmill”—really loses a lot of glamour! But, if the weather’s too bad, or I’ve waited too long, I clear the hangers off the treadmill and go for my “walkabout” there!

The end result of this is that I still wake up in the morning wondering what things on the body are going to complain, but I’m assured by every medical source I’ve checked that it would be worse without the walkabout. So, if you see me out there trudging down the road, looking like I’m really not enjoying myself—I’m not, but I’m at least pretending I am in the bush country of Australia and doing something elegant!

Leave a comment

Filed under Humorous Column

Tagged as , , , ,

August 15, 2025 · 7:45 am

My hoarder tendencies

Photo by Ron Lach on Pexels.com

Jackie Wells-Fauth

I spend too much time trolling the internet, but once in a while, I run across something that gives me pause. And I feel I should take a few moments to respond to the particular article I read this morning on Facebook.

The article is entitled “30 Things You Don’t Actually Need (But Still Keep anyway.)” Now, as a borderline hoarder, an article like this attracted my attention. I was prepared to indignantly reject all of them, but to my dismay, several of them hit home.

Number 1 item that you don’t need but have kept anyway, is totally bogus. “The box your phone came in.” Not guilty. Half the time, I can’t find my phone itself; how in the world could I keep track of the box?

Number 2 – “Candles you’ll never use.” Spoken like people who have never had a power outage. If you did, you would be grateful, sitting there in the dark in July, trying to read by the Scents of Christmas candle.

Number 3 – “Chargers for devices you don’t own.” Guilty, because I don’t know the ones that I do still need from the ones I don’t need any more and they are tangled together in the drawer like illicit lovers who don’t tell each other’s secrets.

Number 4 – “Crusty nail polish from three summers ago” …does petrified nail polish from 20 years ago apply here? Asking for a friend.

Number 5 – “That stack of ‘just in case’ paper bags.” Okay, mine are plastic, not paper and it’s not so much a stack as an explosion in the making.

Number 6 – “Clothes you don’t love but feel guilty tossing”. Come on, who doesn’t have hangers full of poor choice purchases in the back of the closet? We are all guilty of this one.

Number 7 – “The one earring is missing its mate.” Not earrings (I am too cowardly to pierce my ears) but socks and every plastic container and lid that have gone into my cupboards.

Number 8 – “Takeaway menus (we use apps now)”. Sure we do!

Number 9 – “A random key that opens nothing”. One key??? How about a boxful?

Number 10 – “The fancy mug you’re scared to use.” Okay, if I use the Star Trek mug too much, it won’t do the transporter thingy when it’s hot, anymore!

Number 11 – “The mystery cable you’ve had for years”. That’s right, I have one and I’m going to find out where it came from if I have to get Jessica Fletcher, Columbo and that guy from Midsomer Murders to do it! It’s probably a murder weapon from some cold case!

Number 12 – “Freebies you didn’t ask for.” But those are the best ones!

Number 13 – “Manuals for electric appliances you don’t own anymore.” Well obviously, because that one drawer in the kitchen needs to be overstuffed with something!

Number 14 – Gift bags you plan to re-use but never do. But they are great for holding other gift bags you’re never going to use!

Number 15 – Souvenir key rings from places you’re never going to remember. None for me—Refrigerator magnets; there’s my guilty pleasure. People entering my kitchen must guess what color the refrigerator actually is under all those magnets!

Number 16 – Stickers you’ve never peeled. Please, I have a four-and-a-half-year-old grandson; all my stickers are peeled and on the wall, as God intended!

Looking at this list (and there are many more) I can see I may be a little overstocked at my house. I suppose I should start cleaning things out or maybe I could apply to the television show Hoarders and let them do it for me!

Leave a comment

Filed under Humorous Column

Tagged as , , , ,

August 8, 2025 · 12:29 am

Dancing in the Rain

Photo by Pu00e9ter Ku00f6vesi on Pexels.com

Jackie Wells-Fauth

This has definitely been a tricky summer for rainfall. First, I was afraid there would be no rain, and now, it looks like the best way to get rain is in a deluge. A summer of contrasts, to be sure. Now I love the rain, just not inches of it in minutes! It can be very inconvenient—not to mention dangerous.

All this leads, of course, to what I want to talk about now. We were driving home from the cities, and I didn’t check the weather. I have always had a kind of contempt for those phone apps where they send a picture of the weather radar. Why not just find out what the weather will do in the old-fashioned way—by waiting for it to happen?

Okay, so I was wrong. Our sunny drive home from the cities was rudely interrupted by a set of storm clouds, building in the sky ahead of us. Roy was sleeping and I was driving, so I didn’t bother to check his phone radar. Those clouds were to the north, and they were far away. No problem, right?

Except that I drove into overcast skies with alarming rapidity. Then, before I knew it, there were sprinkles on my windshield, enough for an occasional swipe of the windshield wipers. After that, lightning began to appear in the sky ahead of us. What happened to my sunny day?

Sure enough, the light sprinkle turned into a heavy rain and then a downpour and then a deluge. I drove, cursing, keeping my eye on the taillights of the car in front of me and hoping no one was coming up too fast behind me. Roy, awakened by my whining, advised that perhaps we should pull over. Good idea.

We pulled into a farm driveway, hoping for a break. It didn’t help. The rain was coming down in sheets, blown across the roads and fields by an incredibly strong wind. We knew this couldn’t last forever (or so we hoped) and sure enough, within about ten minutes, it had let up somewhat. Not enough for me, but for Roy, it was important to get his pretty little car away from there before hail set in.

“I’m not driving in this,” I stated, my teeth still chattering.

“Then let’s switch; I’ll drive,” he said.

“I’m also not getting out in this,” I declared. There is the dilemma: how do we switch places with our old bodies in a car with bucket seats and a nervous dog in the back?

Roy began this little dance in the rain by laying his seat down completely and sliding into the back with said nervous dog. It was then for me to drag myself, bad knees and all, across the console and somehow, into the passenger seat. I was midway across when it occurred to me that I should have removed the water bottles from the console!

With every joint I have popping, I began to think that maybe getting out and getting wet wouldn’t be so bad. The rain increased at that moment just to convince me that somehow, I was going to have to complete this weird, car version of Twister without the benefit of leaving the car.

I somehow got my butt on the passenger seat, but with the seat still in the reclined position, I couldn’t brace myself to get my legs over. I ended up laying back against the dog, with my knees in my nose, so that Roy could climb over the driver’s seat and get behind the wheel.

He had already gotten the car in gear and was headed down the road, still in heavy rain, when I finally got all of my working parts in some semblance of the way God intended and left the dog to her backseat alone.

I’m trying to take comfort from the fact that at my age, I was actually able to complete that little dance with only minimum damage to my body and a complete loss of dignity, but I’m afraid that this is just one more grudge I have against the wild rain antics that this summer has presented.

May you all stay dry and upright through this summer. And would someone please show me how to put that weather radar app on my phone?

Leave a comment

Filed under Humorous Column