WORRYWART

Once upon a time, a scorpion came to a river and saw a duck swimming near the bank. “I can’t swim,” said the scorpion. “Will you take me to the other side?” “No!” said the duck. “If I let you climb on my back, you will sting me.” “I promise that I won’t do that,” said the scorpion. 

So the duck let the scorpion hop on his back, and he began to swim to the other side. When they got to the middle of the river, the scorpion stung the duck. “Why did you do that?” said the duck. “Now we will both drown.” “Couldn’t help it,” said the scorpion. “It’s just my nature.”

The prominent theologian, Reinhold Niebuhr authored the famous Serenity Prayer: 

“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, 
The courage to change the things I can,
 And wisdom to know the difference.”

It’s that third part that always gets me, because I am a worrier. It’s just my nature!
My mother had beautiful wavy black hair, crystal blue eyes and a patrician nose. I didn’t inherit any of those traits. No, instead, she gave me the worry gene.

My mother worried when there was nothing to worry about She even worried about why she wasn’t worried. Today was always the tomorrow she worried about yesterday.

I try very hard to adhere to the advice given by Vikrant Parsai, “It is foolish to worry about something which is beyond your control---such as your life.” But it is really difficult to do so.

My friend, Barbara is also a world-class worrier. My consolation is that she has 3 children and 8 grandchildren, so she has 9 more worries than I do. However, I think she found it comforting when I suggested she not worry about the world coming to an end today, because it’s already tomorrow in Australia.

I am too busy to worry too much during the daytime, but there is nothing as aggravating as worry in the dark of night.  That’s when unsorted thoughts start churning in my mind and lead to sleeplessness. For instance, one night I lay in bed and thought, ”Where is the nearest Urgent Care Facility? What if I start bleeding, and I have to drive around looking for it? I’ll bleed all over the car before I find it.”

Shannon Celebi would admonish, “You’re worried about what-ifs. Well, what if you stop worrying?” Anticipating trouble or worrying about what may never happen reminds me of how little control I really have over future events. 

I’m going to make a real effort to change. Maybe, I should write a story about it.

Exaggerated worry in the middle of the night is like waking up with a hangover--- finding out that there was no party---and that I didn’t have any fun at all. And, I am going to try to remember that today is the tomorrow that drove me bonkers yesterday.

Esther Blumenfeld (“Do not worry about avoiding temptation. As you grow older, it will avoid you.”…Joey Adams)

A FAIR HEARING

A Fair Hearing

My attorney suggested that I review my will every five years. I agreed with his assessment and added, “It’s probably a good idea to do that while I can still hear what my family is saying about me.”

Snakes hear with their jawbones, fish respond to pressure changes, and male mosquitoes use antennae. Human ears never stop hearing. Even when you sleep, your brain just ignores incoming sounds.

I’ve always considered myself a good listener, but in order to listen carefully, one has to catch all of the words being spoken. My hearing loss was gradual, and, not being in denial, I realized that word clarity was becoming increasingly more difficult. I kept asking people to repeat themselves. I kept missing dialogue in movies and stage productions, and I often strained to hear what was being said in class.

So, wanting to get back into the conversation, I went to an audiologist who confirmed my suspicions that my ears were not filled with wax, but that I had a hearing loss that could be helped.  

Consequently, my days of saying, “What?” or “Talk louder!” are now over, because I have invested in an amazing technology called, “top of the line, digital computerized, miniature hearing aids.” These little miracles have once more opened up the total world of sound that I was missing.

Paraphrasing Ronald Reagan---He said, “Since I came to the White House, I got two hearing aids a prostate operation, and I was shot. The damn thing is I’ve never felt better.” While I don’t expect to have prostate surgery, and hope that the only shot I experience will be a shot of Scotch, I too, with hearing aids, “have never felt better!” Clarity of words is back and the stress is gone. I have always been a bit offbeat, but I no longer have to worry that people will think I am a total dimwit. 

A 12-year study conducted by the Neurology Department at John Hopkins School of Medicine found that untreated hearing loss increased the risk of dementia. It is suspected that, “becoming more socially isolated is a risk factor for dementia and other cognitive disorders.”

An actor on stage has to hear his cue. It would ruin the play if she said, “The hills are alive with WHAT?” I am an avid fan of British television shows on PBS, but in the past I had difficulty catching much of the dialogue. So, to check out my hearing aids, I surfed the channels until I found a British comedian. The good news is that I understood everything he said. The bad news is that he wasn’t very funny.

Yesterday, I dropped a pin on the floor. I could hear it drop. However, I am still looking for it. Guess my next trip will be to visit my ophthalmologist.

Esther Blumenfeld (Now I know that “Thursday” doesn’t mean, “Let’s go get a drink.”)

GAMES PEOPLE PLAY

My friend, Fay (of blessed memory) had a neighbor who was taking Tennis lessons. After the first lesson, she called Fay and said, “ We practiced our forehand swings and our backhand swings, and I did great!” The next day, Fay saw her in the grocery store and asked, “So, how did your Tennis lesson go today?” “Not so good,” said her neighbor. “They introduced the ball.”

I took Tennis as an elective physical education course in college. My fiancé had been on a Tennis team and suggested we play a match. After ten minutes on the court, he asked me, “”What grade did you get in Tennis?” 
“An A” I proudly replied. “Well,” he said, “it must have been for attendance.” I married him, but we never played Tennis again. However, once I did beat him in Miniature Golf. We never played that game again either.

I once went to dinner with friends who play Golf.  They spoke a foreign language that involved pars and tees and a Mulligan. I thought a Mulligan was a stew invented by hobos.

Pickle ball, a racket sport that combines elements of Badminton, Tennis and Ping-Pong was invented in 1965, and is one of the fastest growing sports in North America. It is recommended for people who enjoy racket sports and pickles.

For people who prefer in-door games to exercise their minds, the Chinese introduced Mahjong. The game is played with a set of beautifully colored tiles based on Chinese characters and symbols.

My Mother played Mahjong, and as a child I enjoyed building towers with her tiles. While a game was underway in our home, my favorite activity was sneaking into the bedroom and trying on the players’ hats and coats. I especially enjoyed parading around in a fox stole that still had the fox’s head attached.

As you might have guessed, I don’t play card games either. I like the snacks people serve when playing Bridge, and I know it is one of the world’s most popular card games. Bridge involves dealing, bidding, playing the cards and scoring, but it also involves card shuffling at which I simply do not excel.

When my in-laws lived in Florida, I observed normal old people turn into blood sucking, rip-out-your-throat monsters while playing Contract Bridge. Four players play the game in two competing partnerships---North and South play against East and West. 

My friend Angie is an excellent Bridge player, and went on a “Caribbean Bridge Cruise.” When she got to the table she said, “Hi, I’m Angie,” A woman already seated, scowled at her, and said, “I’m North!” At that point Angie was ready to “jump overboard.”

Chutes and Ladders is a board game for very young children. My son, Josh loved it when he was three-years old. I know that the CIA could make anyone confess anything by making him play Chutes and Ladders more than once. The only board game I ever enjoyed was Scrabble until my Father wouldn’t allow me to make up words.

When it comes to games, I am not a total WUSS! I do love playing Trivia. I especially enjoy joining Trivia teams on cruise ships.  The quiz game involves remembering arcane bits of knowledge, and nostalgic remembrances of pop culture. 

On February 5, 1965, Ed Goodgold and Dan Carlinsky wrote an article in the Columbia University Daily Spectator. In the article they asked, “Who played the old Gypsy woman in The Wolfman?” (Answer: “Maria Ouspenskaya”). And the rest is history. The largest current Trivia contest is held in Stevens Point Wisconsin at the University of Wisconsin-Stevens Point’s college radio station. I’ve never joined one of the 400 teams that participate, but if they ask, ”Which state is the largest consumer of Jell-O?” I am ready!

Esther Blumenfeld (answer----“California”

NATURE ABHORS A VACUUM

When I look into my closet and see that some of the clothes are now featured in vintage shops, I know it’s time for spring-cleaning. Oh, but it’s so difficult to discard such old friends.

Spring-cleaning can be traced to the ancient Jewish practice of thoroughly cleaning the home in preparation for the feast of Passover, which commemorates the Jews hasty departure from Egypt following their captivity.

The Persian New Year, “Norouz” falls on the first day of spring and Iranians still practice “khooneh tekouni” which translates into “shaking the house” where everything is thoroughly cleaned.

Scotland’s cleaning is December 31st, on “Hogmanay,” a practice also found in Ireland and New Zealand. In Greece, it is traditional to clean the house before Great Lent, which is called “Clean Week.”  And in North America and Northern Europe, March is always a good time for spring-cleaning, because doors can be left open and high winds can blow dust out of the air. I tried that on a windy day in Arizona, and a cloud of dust blew in, and decided to stay.

Chicagoan, Ives W. McGaffey invented the first vacuum cleaner in 1868. It was called the “Whirlwind,” but the person using it had to manually turn a crank while pushing it around the floor.

Roseanne Barr said, “I’m not going to vacuum until Sears makes one you can ride on.” But, there’s so much more to spring-cleaning than vacuuming the rugs. It involves delving into places you didn’t even know existed in your home. 

My Uncle decided to clean out the crawl space in his basement. His four teenaged sons had used that space as a dumping spot for broken sports equipment, pizza boxes, aluminum cans, old shoes and other disgusting disposables. He took one look at the pile of junk, closed the trap door and decided that his kids had found a creative way to add insulation to the house.

When cleaning out cupboards, I usually find something that I have to ask myself,
“What is this?” and “Why did I keep it?” I have a friend who says, “Don’t throw it away. It might be a collectors item.”

This year when I cleaned out my freezer, I found frozen sauce in a plastic bag. I still don’t know if it was meant for meat or for ice cream.  Maybe it was a collector's item.

 A sure rule of house cleaning is; “When washing windows, the spot is always on the other side of the glass.” And, it’s always a good idea to check the date on   swollen canned goods.

Cleaning out office files is most difficult. I’m fairly organized, and claim that I know where everything is---whether I do or not. I know that important stuff should be kept, but then invariably everything is important. 

Being condemned to spring-cleaning is much like the Greek Gods condemning Sisyphus to eternally roll a rock uphill. Every time poor Sisyphus got to the top of the mountain, he had to watch that heavy stone roll all the way back down again.

Joan Rivers had it all figured out. Rivers said, “I hate housework. You make the beds, you wash the dishes and six months later you have to start all over again.” 

A friend told me, “Spring-cleaning won’t kill you!” But, if it does, I won’t have a chance to tell her she was wrong. So, if I put it off long enough, Spring will be over. There’s always next year.

Esther Blumenfeld (“My idea of housework is to sweep the room with a glance”)
Erma Bombeck

MY NEMESIS

MY NEMESIS

Where  is Sherlock Holmes when I need him? 

There are so many mysteries in life, but, so far, I have been able to solve some of the minor ones. For example;  rarely do I loose my house keys, because I put them into the little dish placed next to the front door of my apartment. I don’t have a Smart Phone, but I do have a little Dumb Flip Phone who always joins my keys in the little dish.

However, on the rare occasion that my Dumb Phone didn’t end up in the dish with the keys, I can always call from my Land Line and say,”Where are you?” The Dumb Phone will buzz and let me know where it is hiding, and  happily, so far, the buzzing has never come from the inside of my refrigerator. I consider myself an organized person (other than my filing system) and I am very neat.  So, what’s the problem?

I am convinced that my James Moriarty Washing Machine has a criminal cycle. Yes, my arch enemy is definitely my Washing Machine. It looks so innocent, just standing there, but in the running of a cycle, on purpose, it  manages to swallow one of my socks—not a pair of socks—but a single sock, and it keeps mocking me at regular intervals as it runs and shakes and finally stops, and challenges me to, “Catch me if you can!”

My Clothes Dryer is not an accomplice in this demonic crime, because the sock never seems to make it that far. I know because first I stick my head into the Dryer and then into the Washing Machine. After that, I look down the sides of the Machines where I see no missing sock. Then I look all over the floor because socks have been known to run anywhere.  No Luck!

The Washing Machine seems to taunt me because each time it hides a sock—it’s never a sock that matches the last one that has disappeared, and it leaves a lonely single sock of a different color.  I guess I should be glad that my Moriarty Machine doesn’t choose to devour a towel or a sheet, but always picks on the little guys.

Invariably, when I wear my sneakers, someone will say, “Do you know that your socks don’t match?” And, I will smile and reply, “Of course I do.  I have another pair just like them at home.”

Esther Blumenfeld