Hysteria leads to empty shelves and no toilet paper

coronavirus
Yikes! Empty shelves!

All I wanted was toilet paper…

It’s been a few years since I did on-the-spot reporting for a newspaper.  So while this is for my blog and not the local paper, I did have some fun.

Today I was so happy to put my freshly-earned journalism degree to work. LOL. It wasn’t my plan at all. But the excitement took me “back to the day,” and I relished it – for the most part.

I had a front-row seat to the hysteria of the Coronavirus hype. In my own neck of the woods – or concrete city – whatever.

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The icky little spider – a song parody

The icky little spider – a song parody by yours truly…

Icky little spider
The icky little spider that invaded my office. Excuse me, for the photo is fuzzy… I was way out of my comfort zone taking this shot.

“I don’t like spiders, man, just because they are sneaky – they just really scare me. They are hairy – ugh.” – Tom Holland

The icky little spider

The icky little spider climbed up my office wall.
Dropping down its web, it freaked this writer out!
Out came a bat to smash that thing away,
And the icky little spider got up and ran away.

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Do your knees say no?

Do your knees say no?
What does ice cream have to do with knees? Read on…

 My knees. And how the only way they do not fail me is by providing fodder…

Do your ears hang low, do they wobble to and fro?

It was a warm, sunny evening.

Peacefully sitting in the yard, that obnoxious song blared from the ice cream truck. It rambled up the street, with kids running out their doors, clutching dollar bills, screaming, “STOP!” Decades ago, I was doing the same thing; running, screaming “STOP,” clutching a quarter in my hand. That was back when my knees worked and a quarter bought more than 15 minutes in a parking meter.

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A funny thing happened… how I survived my most embarrassing moment

A funny thing happened
All I needed for a day of workshop sessions.

A funny thing happened… my most embarrassing moment. Ever. I learned to really appreciate this quote:

“That which does not kill us, makes us stronger.” – Friedrich Nietzsche

Ah, yes. The famous quote. By this standard, I am Wonder Woman.

I’d like to add my own quote:

“When your life flashes before your eyes, stupid quotes and clichés race through your head.” – Lynne Cobb

I recently had the privilege to attend the Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop (EBWW). It was a dream come true. Erma was my favorite – my inspiration as a young writer. I was beyond giddy to attend.

Earlier this year, I kicked off the New Year by attending a local writers’ workshop where we discussed the importance of writing goals and pushing ourselves out of our comfort zones. It was there I took a short survey that revealed my “word of the year,” which was brave.

Go big or go home.

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The top ten symptoms of “Erma-titis”

Erma-titis
It’s my understanding that tiaras will be worn.

“Erma-titis.” I’ve got it. Bad.

It’s a total self-diagnosis. A few hundred people get it around this time of April, about every two years.

“I really can’t tell that you are excited…” – My husband

From the moment I started reading newspapers in the morning – so, basically, many moons ago – I’d always read Erma Bombeck’s column. When I was a local columnist, and a reader wrote that I reminded her of “a young Erma Bombeck,” my heart soared and my ego inflated! Someone compared me to Erma! Whoa!

So this week I get to fulfill a dream and attend the Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop, affectionately called, “Going to Erma.”

“He who laughs … Lasts.” – Erma Bombeck

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Shear terror – true confessions of an Army wife

 

Shear terror
Shear terror – I only use safety trimmers these days.

Shear terror – an ironic play on words. I submitted this piece to the Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop pre-conference writing contest. Alas, it was not, a-hem, cut out to be a winner. I did however, want to share it, as many other contestants have shared their “losing” submissions. Sure, I was a little disappointed to have been trimmed. Maybe I missed winning by a hair! Who knows? But, after last week’s very somber post, I thought I’d lighten the mood and post one of the funniest stories I have about being a military wife. 

ZZZvumm. The sound still haunts me.

I was a young, newly-wed Army wife. We had just recently moved to our new duty assignment. Money was tight, and we looked for ways to save our pennies.

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Naked and afraid to eat

Naked and afraid to eat
My sweet hat and sunglasses from Italy will provide me, um, cover…

“Clothes make a man. Naked people have little or no influence on society.” – Mark Twain

Well, Mr. Twain, I beg to differ. Little did you know that we’d have naked dating shows, naked real estate shows and naked survival shows. Oh, and naked restaurants. I’m thinking naked people do have a wee bit of influence these days.

Oo la la! France is on my bucket list of travels. Food, wine, fashion and sites –  oui! I am looking forward to seeing more of the country than I saw recently, which was the inside of an airport on a layover.

Naked and afraid to eat…

But, one place I will definitely avoid is the new, all-nude restaurant. (Don’t believe me? Google it. I can’t be responsible for the spam bots, okay? Okay!) Hey, if I plan to drop a boatload of money on clothes in Paris, I want to show them off. Right? I mean, I’m all for themed-restaurants, but who comes up with the idea that people want to eat when they are nude? I’m thinking they aren’t going to be famous for their wings, ya know?

My mind goes places. Places I don’t want it to go… like to pre-teen immaturity when I hear “naked.”

So, please bare with me while I have a little fun.

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When Turkeys Fly – Thanksgiving Disasters

When Turkeys Fly
This turkey was not harmed in the writing of this post.

It’s hard to believe another year is drawing to a close. And of course, this is the time of year we are most sentimental with memories of holidays past, like when turkeys fly.

The past few days, I have to admit that I have been getting a kick out of reading about Thanksgiving disasters.

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Love is a battlefield – midlife style

I have the power…

Love is a battlefield…

So, I am standing in line at Trader Joe’s. As usual, my quick trip yielded a cart and a half of food, water and wine. I think maybe their carts are too small.

Anyways, I am making small talk with one cashier, when another one walks up and starts chatting and bagging my groceries.

The piped-in store music had Pat Benatar’s Love is a Battlefield playing, and of course, a few hours later, it is still on loop in my head.

“I always loved her voice,” said one of the cashiers. “And she’s right – love is a battlefield!”

Me, laughing, responded by saying, “In my world, it’s only a battlefield when it comes to TV remotes and thermostats.”

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The battle of my weather-predicting knees

Aging knees
Rain or snow coming? Just ask my knees.

“Your middle name must be Grace,” she surmised, placing bandages on my scraped-up knees.

“No, it’s Catherine,” I replied, unwrapping the lollipop she placed in my skinned-up hands.

It took me a few decades to realize that my friend’s mother wasn’t really trying to guess my middle name.

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