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December 7, 2001 - Relxaing by Candlelight & Definition of Old
Welcome to 2TheHeart's Funny Friday, to start your weekend off with a chuckle!
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This week we have a funny "shorty" from Mike Segal that I am
embarrassed to say I can actually relate to, and a hilarious story of a bubble bath gone awry by Leigh Anne Jasheway! Enjoy and have a great weekend!
"The Definition Of Old"
by Michael Segal
When I was a little boy, I saw so many old people around me--people who were 30 years old, 40 years old, even 50 years old. How did I know when a person was "old?" That was simple. I watched people all the time and when a person would sit down and make a noise (like a sigh or a grunt), I knew they were old.
Now I am much wiser, much more sophisticated, and yes, much older as I noticed approximately five years ago I too started making noises when I would sit down. However, even though I am making moans and creaks as I sit, I am loving life more and more as each day passes.
(c) copyright 2001 by Michael Segal
msegalhope@aol.com
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"Relaxing by Candlelight"
by Leigh Anne Jasheway
You can't believe everything you see on TV and in the movies. For
example, babies DON'T turn into teenagers overnight because it moves the story along faster. Most old houses AREN'T haunted and the best way to check is NOT to go into the basement in your underwear. And just because it looks relaxing and sexy, taking a bubble bath by candlelight CAN ACTUALLY increase your stress, instead of vice-versa.
I found the last one out the hard way. It had been one of those days. You know the kind I mean: The phone rang at 3:30 a.m. and when I picked it up, a fax tone screeched in my ear. Four hours later, I went out to my garage to recycle the newspaper and discovered my car had a flat tire AND the water heater was leaking again. Later that evening, one of my dachshunds decided to eat my tulip bulbs instead of dinner. One of those days. That night I decided what I really needed was a long, hot bath. And not just any old bath, I thought to myself, I want candles, lots of candles.
Quickly I gathered up all I could find and marched into the bathroom. Now, I've learned enough about bathing by candlelight to know that for a relaxing bath, the best scents are lavender or ylang-ylang, but as usual, I had to make do with what we had around the house, which was: two vanilla votives, a cucumber pillar, and the nubs of two pumpkin-pie scent tapers. Unfortunately, I don't own one of those fancy new tubs with a wide ledge where you can grow plants and cool freshly-baked pies, so I put my candles on the back of the toilet and lit them. Then I ran the bathwater. So far, so good. I looked under the sink for bubble bath, but the closest I came was toilet cleanser, so I headed into the kitchen for the dishwashing detergent. It promised to make me smell like a mountain spring and leave no greasy residue. Good enough for me. By the time the water was deep enough, a few of the candles had started to drip on the toilet seat (ever notice how that never happens in the movies and on TV?). I chose to ignore this minor detail and got into the tub. Aaah. The water temperature was perfect.
I closed my eyes and pretended to be in a fancy health spa somewhere in the desert. I took a few deep cleansing breaths. The smell was a little overwhelming, but I had managed to leave my troubles outside the bathroom door for a minute and I was bound and determined to enjoy my small victory. Suddenly I smelled a different aroma. Kind of woodsy, with a hint of barbecue. I opened my eyes slightly only to see that the hand towel hanging next to toilet had caught fire! In a flash, I jumped up out of the tub and tossed the towel into the bath water. Fortunately, my quick thinking put the towel fire out. Unfortunately, as I flung the towel in the tub, it ignited the shower curtain and a red-hot hole had started melting it's way through. Then, the smoke detector went off. My heart started racing. I yanked the shower curtain off the rod and stuffed it in the tub. That worked pretty well except for the fact that the curtain rod ripped out of the wall and sheet rock spilled all over everything. Then I ran naked down the hall, grabbed the smoke detector, and took it into another room where there was no smoke for it to detect.
Unfortunately, as I stood naked except for a few not-strategically-
placed dishwashing liquid bubbles, waving my smoke detector back and forth, my next-door neighbor walked past my front window. He pretended not to notice me, but I know better. I'm pretty sure that I'll be featured in the next quarterly subdivision newsletter, under the category "Neighbors To Watch Out For." I headed back to the bathroom to survey the damage. The smell was really not relaxing now. If they have a candle with that smell, it's probably called "Honey, I Burnt Dinner, Including the Salad." The toilet seat was covered with candle wax and sheetrock dust. The tub was filled with semi-burnt bathroom accessories. And the candles had blackened the wall and the underside of the medicine chest. This never happens in the movies! So here's what I'm thinking. The next time I'm in the mood for a nice bath, I think I'll use a flashlight. It's got to be more relaxing.
Leigh Anne Jasheway
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The Letter Box:
Maria,
I loved your story! That was wonderful, with a great tongue-in-cheek delivery. I also love seeing how you're diversifying as a writer - your comedic piece was a great delight. Now whenever I see an elephant's posterior I'll think of.....well, not you personally, but your story! Thanks for a big smile this afternoon...
Anne
OhAngel!com
Maria,
I loved your story!~ For a minute I thought I'd wrote it and forgot because it sounded just like me! I started collecting ducks many
years ago.....and if I never see another duck it will be too soon.
Like you, they all came from friends and family! Then I started
collecting Angels and I stopped the Angel giving in the budd before it took over my house. (I never want to get tired of Angels....and
they don't collect dust...haha) I sent out bulletins telling
everyone....."I'm not collecting ANYTHING anymore!" You know, we are certainly blessed with people that love us....so that is some compensation to me when I'm begrudgingly dusting! haha
Sue Henley
doupray2@charter.net
Maria,
Your story was so funny - it reminded me of myself! I found myself collecting things and swore I wasn't a collector. However, each one does come with a special memory and I cherish my collectables.
Barb
Hi RoseMarie,
Boy oh boy girl, what a great story and......I'm with you! One
would have to be nuts not to go mad for cookie dough, any kind. And who doesn't go mad for chocolate chip, peanut butter and best of all, oatmeal, nuts, M and M's, raisins and cholocate chips. Umm umm umm! You have just sent my old mouth into a frenzy of enzymes reaching out over the satelites to your house.
Unfortunately trying to show off my one-armed culinary talents in the kitchen ends up in unspeakable messes on my kitchen floor.
Therefore, because I spent years and years in the scouting program, the yearly jaunt from door to door selling cookies sadly became just a part of life, an awful pain in the leader's butt, and still is I see.
And my dear RoseMary, here is where our taste buds part company. Any figment between Girl Scout cookies and that which comes out of Grandma's kitchen is purely coincidental to my way of thinking. I spent too many years eating the unsold boxes until they became merely a cookie jar treat for unwary neighbor kids after awhile. But.......because I am a loyal old Girl Scout, never let it be said that I don't still buy a couple boxes from neighbors and grandkids each and every year. Com'on over RoseMarie, they're still sitting in the freezer and they're all yours.
Kath
bigskyadj@in-tch.com
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