Tag Archives: family

December 19, 2025 · 7:19 am

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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December 14, 2025 · 10:07 am

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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November 23, 2025 · 10:42 am

Day of Grace

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Jackie Wells Fauth

As a child, I really wanted to grow up to be a ballerina. Then I discovered you had to be in top athletic shape, practice continuously and most of all possess great balance and grace and I soon got over that notion.

Although I will never dance the lead in Swan Lake, I do try to be as coordinated and careful as I can, but the older I get, the harder this becomes. And this week, I abandoned all notion that I might be considered graceful and poised.

It’s the carpets that get me. I have discovered the joys and comforts of sneakers, but the one thing they don’t like is carpet…especially short nap carpet. I tend to drag my feet a little (okay, probably a lot) and I discovered this week that the combination of sneakers, short carpet, dragging feet and lack of grace can be pretty lethal.

While walking across a short carpet, I pulled a pretty complicated dance move. My shoes stopped short, but the rest of me kept on going. This meant that I took a headlong plunge across the front of the theater at the school. Not one of my finer moments and a bit startling for the student I was coaching in oral interp.

By the time he got over to where I was sprawled, full length, I was dazed but already trying to get up. I had a bloody nose and my glasses flew off and bent, but I was able to scramble to my feet. Perhaps the worst part was that the coffee mug I had been drinking from fell from my hands and landed just perfectly to cushion the fall for my face. This sounds like it might be fortunate, but it’s not!

A coffee mug to the face at full speed tends to “knock you for a loop” as they say, so it took me a few seconds to realize I was bleeding profusely from the nose. I charged headlong into the bathroom, frightening two girls so much, I think they may have kept running until they were several blocks from the school.

Everyone was sweet and helpful, and I got ice packs and cloths and whatever I needed. I was really panic stricken because my vision was completely blurred, but this fear was allayed when they handed me my glasses. Oh, yeah, those help! My vision was still a little fuzzy, but if I set the glasses on my face at just the right angle, they still work! Hopefully I can get them straightened soon!

My most painful injury was along my side where I hit the ground, but because of public decency laws, I can’t show those bruises to anyone. The least painful, but possibly the prettiest is my eye. It developed a shiner like no other and it has been all the colors of the rainbow for the past few days.

Now, I want to just ignore the fact that I have a black eye, but when half your face is swollen and purple, people tend to notice. I tried all the regular jokes, “You should see the other guy,” or “It was a heck of a bar fight, but I won.” It still ends with me having to admit that my lack of grace and addiction to coffee collided in a bad way.

I am already starting to lose the worst of the color from the eye and even my side isn’t as painful as it was, but the fact remains that this accident happened due to my careless way of walking; time to learn how to do that all over, I guess.

The doctor may have had the best suggestion moving forward. “Go home and rest,” she advised. “Relax, read (if you can) and have some coffee…but maybe we should try a sipper cup.” Sound advice to wrap up my day of no grace!

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October 26, 2025 · 4:39 am

Gremlin Gripes

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Jackie Wells-Fauth

At this rather spooky time of year, I must tell you that I believe a gremlin has attached itself to me. And the grabby little bugger is causing no end of trouble.

On our recent vacation, we spent two nights in Dover, England, where they tell me the spirits of sailors lost in the English Channel wander the streets. I assumed these were just tales designed to enhance the city’s mystique, but now I wonder.

We spent the nights there in a charming old building along the harbor. In the middle of the first night, I awoke because the bathroom light went on. I assumed Roy was in there until I put out a hand and he was in bed.

When you’re half asleep, you really don’t reason things. I got up, went to the bathroom and turned off the light. When I mentioned it to Roy the following morning, he said, “Faulty wiring.”

So, when it happened again the second night, I said, “Roy the faulty wiring is acting up. Go shut it off.” And then it went off by itself. It continued this most of the night until finally I sat up in bed and said, “Casper, knock it off.” That was it. No more “faulty wiring.”

Since then, I seem to have acquired a gremlin, who doesn’t steal my things so much as borrow them. Every time I lose something, Grady (he doesn’t seem to like the name Casper) watches while I frantically look for it, and then, casually returns it to some obvious place where I’ve already looked.

I lost my phone while we were still in Europe, a financial disaster in any case, but also, a loss of our means of communication if we were separated. I looked frantically through every pocket, counter, crevice and my purse, a dozen times. Exhausted, I decided to search the room one last time. There, lying peacefully, in the middle of the mattress, was my phone. I could almost hear Grady the Gremlin laughing.

I said, “Go back to Dover and leave me alone.”

Grady apparently decided he would like to try out the New World, so he followed me home. In the days since I have been home, I have lost and “reacquired” about a dozen items. I could not find the best soup ladle I have ever had and tore the kitchen apart, only to discover that it was sitting ever so sweetly on top of the microwave. I didn’t have soup in the microwave, so it must have been Grady.

My best pair of sewing scissors disappeared out of my sewing bag. I searched and searched, cursing Grady as I went, and eventually ended up using the kitchen shears, which are great for cutting meat, but not so fine for snipping threads. On the second night, I put my hand in the sewing bag, and my good scissors scratched my fingers. They were perched on the top of some balls of yarn. Score another one for Grady.

The latest “Grady grab” was my calendar. I use a paper calendar, in a big purple book that can’t be missed and if I can’t find it, it’s like having amnesia. I don’t know anything that’s going on. I missed it while at the school, so I thought I had simply left it at home. I went home and looked everywhere without any success. I’d already looked at the school, so I was stymied.

Finally, given no other options, I returned to the school and started asking people if they had seen it. (Unfortunately, I don’t write my name in it.) No luck. I was frantic. What would I do without my practice schedules?

Completely frustrated, I said to Grady, “Okay, enough is enough. I need that book, or they are going to put me in the home for having lost my mind.” I walked into the theater and there was the calendar, lying right out in the open where I had frantically searched an hour before.

I have my calendar again, but I am still a little worried: Might they put me in the home anyway for talking to an invisible gremlin? I know you’re laughing, Grady, and you can just stop!

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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.

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September 5, 2025 · 10:04 am

A sticky situation

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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!

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