Tag Archives: Funny

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Did that little bird peck you??!!

It is FINALLY Spring! Flowers are blooming everywhere, the scents are intoxicating, and little baby birds are hatching all over. Reminds me of a story…
Years ago I lived in Shreveport, LA. The house that I lived in had a nice, fenced-in backyard, with beautiful landscaping, flowerbeds and trees. At the time, two little toy poodles were very much a part of our family. It was Spring, and new “birth” and growth was evident everywhere! As was part of our daily routine each morning, we let the pups out to take care of “business.” Just as they stepped off the back patio onto the yard, a mama bluejay dove down from a nearby tree, and dive-bombed both of them, scaring them half to death, and startling us! We gathered both pups up and rushed back into the house. We went back out, leaving the pups inside, to investigate the situation. (Of course, we dared not step off of the patio, for fear that Mama Bluejay would dive-bomb us also!) We discovered that there were FOUR baby bluejays in various locations throughout the yard, attempting to learn to fly, and Mom and Dad were protecting them.
By now, the pups were desperate to get out in the yard, and we were trying to figure out what to do. We had plans for the day in the backyard, and knew that we needed to move the babies to a safer location. I got the bright idea that if we held an umbrella over our heads for protection, we could safely relocate each baby (using gloves, of course). Very quickly we put gloves on, got the umbrella, and went into enemy territory! As soon as we stepped off the patio, those bluejays came after us, pecking holes in the umbrella, and actually flying under the umbrella to get to us. We raced back into the house for safety, with images from Alfred Hitchcock’s movie, The Birds, flashing through our heads.
Safely back inside the house, we realized that this situation was more than what we wanted to deal with, and determined that we might need to solicit some outside help…but, who? Humane Societies were not common back then, so that was not an option. Calling the police for rescue also seemed a bit of a reach…
At this point my brain began kicking in…I thought, well if fire departments can send firemen out to climb trees to save little kitties, surely, it would fall under their responsibilities to relocate baby bluejays…So…I made the call and explained our situation. I also explained that they would not need a firetruck for this mission… Ten minutes later a huge firetruck, with sirens screaming, pulled up in front of our house, and four huge, burly fireman rushed up to our door. (So much for requesting discretion…) We all went out to the patio where I explained the morning’s “activity. ” I gave full disclosure by warning the fireman that the bluejay parents were highly agitated and would aggressively defend their babies. Being good ole’ southern boys, those firemen sorta smirked at us, a little condescendingly to my mind, and swaggered out into the yard, as we retreated into the house to watch. They had not gone two steps before Mama Bluejay chose her target well, initiated the approach, and made contact with the first fireman’s forehead. He screamed as blood rushed down his face, stating the obvious, “That bird pecked me!” The second fireman was running for his life, arms flailing about, trying to get away from Papa Bluejay. The other two fireman had played it safe and remained on the patio, trying to hide their laughter. All the while, we were standing inside the house, behind the curtains, killing ourselves laughing! And I am thinking to myself, “We DID warn you…hey, big guy, not as easy as you thought, huh?”
We got out the first aid kit, and gave the injured fireman a bandaid, while they determined their strategy. They came to the conclusion that a little more “appropriate” gear might be called for. So, they went back out to the truck (where a curious crowd of neighbors had gathered), and donned jackets and fire hats. They went back out into the backyard, and very gently and safely relocated the babies outside of the fence. Success!! We thanked them for their “heroic” actions, and expressed our sorrow that one of them had been injured during the process. Then we went out and gave explanation to the neighbors. Everyone had a good laugh!
How many times do we ignore the advice of individuals? How often do we think that we know what is best, that our way is the ONLY way? And that the other person could not possibly be right? I am going to listen, and heed, the advice that knowledgeable and experienced people give me. After all, they just might know what they’re talking about! Won’t you join me? Just for this week…
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We’re Just Going To Have To Jump Over Her!!

Last week’s post got me to thinking of other travel “experiences,” so here’s another story that you might find amusing…

A number of years ago, I worked with a national nursing home company. I was a part of the corporate team, and when we traveled, we usually traveled with the Vice President over a particular region of the country. On this particular trip, I was traveling with two Vice Presidents (they were male…which will be important to know later on in the story). We were working at a facility in Chattanooga, TN, and were staying each night at a high-rise hotel in the downtown area. My room was on the 14th floor of the hotel. As is the case many times for me in hotels, I was having a little difficulty sleeping. There happened to be a huge thunderstorm going on, and I had my curtains open, enjoying the natural “light show.” It was actually very beautiful. It was about 1:00 a.m. in the morning, and I was laying on my bed, just enjoying the show.

All of a sudden, a strobe light near the ceiling of my room, starting going off and on, sirens and alarms began to sound, and an automated voice came over the intercom in my room saying, “Proceed to the nearest stairs and exit the building.” The voice kept saying this statement continuously, and seemed to get louder with each proclamation. Now, as a traveler, I have always prided myself in being safe. When I am assigned a hotel room, I always check to see where the nearest stairs are, and note which direction I should go if there were an emergency. In my mind, I have also gone over and over how I would make such an exit. I would get dressed comfortably (and quickly)…I would get my wallet…I would put comfortable shoes on my feet…I would check the door to make certain that it was not hot…and then I would exit to those stairs. I had rehearsed this time and time again in my head. So…the alarm was going off…and I panicked. I tried to call the desk to see if it was a false alarm, and there was no answer. I looked out my window, fourteen stories down to the street, and I saw fire engines pulling up to the hotel, and I heard peoples’ footsteps rapidly going down those stairs, and I saw people racing out of the hotel. I realized that this was real, that there was a fire, and that I. WAS. ON. THE. FOURTEENTH. FLOOR!!!

I used to sleep in a tee-shirt, so in my panic, I did not think to put anything else on…at least the most of me was covered…but I did need shoes…I could not find any “comfortable” shoes, but my high heels were laying there on the floor, so I thought, “well, that will be better than nothing.” I forgot the wallet…I checked my door to make certain that it was not hot (it wasn’t), and I opened it. Just as I opened my door, a man from across the hall opened his door. He was as prepared as I was…He had on a tee-shirt, boxer shorts, a suit coat, black socks and wingtip shoes. I was in my tee-shirt and high heels. We made quite the couple…I looked at him…he looked at me…and I said, “Let’s go!!” We joined arms and headed for the stairs. (And let’s remember that I had never laid eyes on this man ever before…) As we opened the stairwell door, we joined hundreds of people going down the stairs, trying to get out of the building before we were all burnt to a crisp! We happened to get behind a lady who was wearing a baby blue, chiffon negligee with matching slippers (with little pom-pom puffs on top of them), AND she had remembered her purse. She looked like a big ole’ ball of cotton candy floating down those stairs. We were so close behind her that her chiffon kept getting caught in our faces, and we kept having to bat it away. The other problem was that she was going too slow!! As we rounded another turn in the stairwell, I happened to look at the number on the door that we were passing. I looked at Mr. Boxer Shorts, and said, “We’re ONLY on the 7th floor!” He said, “I know! What should we do?” I looked at him with great determination, and said, “We’re just going to have to jump over her!!” She must have heard what I said, because, at that very moment, she got faster!!

We finally made it down to the bottom floor, and was about to exit, when I realized that it was pouring down raining outside, and all I had on was that little tee-shirt. The fear of actually burning motivated me to move on out into the rain no matter what!! I should not have worried, because everyone standing out in the rain was in the same situation as me…either little clothing at all, or all in disarray. We were just lucky to get out alive! I hugged Mr. Boxer Shorts, thanked him for accompanying me, and I went to find my two Vice Presidents. I was so glad to see them, and find that they made it out safely too, that I hardly minded that they continued to try and “read” my tee-shirt…We looked up, and saw hundreds of people up in their rooms looking down at us. Now, I have to ask you, what kind of person would be up on the higher floors of a hotel, look out their window, and see fire trucks, people in various stages of dress (and undress)…all standing out in the rain…and not move heaven and earth to get out of that hotel??? I found out later that when a fire is “discovered” in a hotel, the alarms only sound on the floor of discovery, the floor above, and the floor below. So, those people did not know why we were all outside!

They were able to contain the fire and we were allowed to return to our rooms for what was left of the night. The next morning I called my secretary and explained to her that we needed to make a change in my travel profile…to NEVER book me in a hotel room higher than the second floor. She said, “Oh, did something happen???”

Throughout our lives, people are placed in our paths. Some can help, support, motivate, love and make your life better. Others can slow you down, make you wait, keep you from attaining the goals that you have established for yourself. Still, there are others that can hurt and destroy you…suck the very life from you, and make you miserable. There is one key factor in this equation, and that would be you. You have the choice to allow those people to harm you, slow you down, help you, or love you…it is all within your power. I am going to either lead, follow, or simply get out of the way, but I do not intend to slow anyone down…or let them slow me down…I am going to love, support, inspire and motivate! Won’t you join me? Just for this week…

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It’s Dangerous in There!!!

When my little niece (Elizabeth, who has now become a lovely lady with children of her own) was learning how to use the potty, it was a nightmare for her. She would get so upset when “the time” would come, and she did NOT want to go to the bathroom. My brother finally asked her why she got so upset when she needed to go potty. She looked up at him, with those big, beautiful, blue eyes, and said, “Dad, it’s DANGEROUS in there!” We all got a good laugh at that, and eventually, she got the hang of it and overcame her fear of the bathroom. So here is this week’s story…

I was on a business trip with a friend and we had quite a layover in one of the major airports. Not wanting to “just sit,” we had walked over the entire length of the airport two or three times (several miles it seemed…); had eaten as much food as we could possibly hold; and had “window-shopped” as much as we could. (Neither one of us are much on shopping to begin with….) It got a little closer to the time for us to board the plane, and I thought that maybe I should visit the restroom one more time before getting on the next flight. I asked my friend if she would mind watching my stuff, and off to the restroom I went.

Now, airport bathrooms have changed over the years, and the “improvements” that have been made are always a “challenge,” depending on which airport you are in. The first improvement involved providing different seat heights for the toilets….some sit tall, some are short, some are in-between. There’s nothing more comforting than to rush into a cubicle, thinking the seat is at a certain height, and realize (when you hit the seat a little harder than anticipated) that you picked a cubicle with a “short” toilet. Then came the plastic rotating seat covers…did you rotate the plastic before you sat down…after you sat down…where was the button to initiate said rotation…and HOW would I know if they were just not recycling the same piece of plastic over and over to save money…I came up with a solution for that problem: mark an “x” on the plastic seat, press the button to rotate the seat cover, and look to see if your “x” came around again. (Now before you think that I have lost my mind and have a germ phobia, let’s look at this rationally…have you SEEN the people who fly on planes nowadays???? I need not say more…) Then came the paper seat covers. Great idea, I thought! So, I got the seat cover in place, turned around, unzipped my pants, and just as I was about to make contact with the seat….SWOOOOSH!! The toilet had automatically flushed itself and I no longer had a paper armor against the germs of society (the flush took my paper seat cover with it…). I stood up and tried to figure out how to “outwit” the toilet…So, this is what I did: I unzipped my pants, assumed the position and got ready to make contact. At the last minute, I slipped the toilet seat cover into place, and hurriedly sat down before the toilet flushed. SUCCESS!!!

Now that I had conquered the challenges within the cubicle, I was ready to face the remaining few…the automatic soap dispenser, the automatic water dispenser, and the automatic hand-drying options…Now, you need to know up front that there is something really goofy with my body (no snide remarks from those who know me really well…). Apparently, I do not have within my chromosomes the exact chemistry that will respond to, or activate, any type of “automatic” dispenser. It is indeed an effort to get anything to work for me, and I usually end up having to make numerous attempts at different sinks. I went to the first soap dispenser….no matter what I did, what motion I performed with my hands….no  soap. So I went to the next sink…same thing…a lot of motion and activity on my part, but still no soap. (Please understand that I have to complete this same exercise in EVERY airport bathroom that I visit…) I moved on to the next sink with even MORE enthusiastic motion and play of my hands…STILL no soap. I moved to the final sink. That was when disaster struck…the soap dispenser not only worked, but it was a super sonic dispenser! The flow of soap squirted out, shot completely OVER the sink, and landed directly on the front of my pants! I looked down and all I saw was a great big wad of white soap beginning to ooze slowly down the front of my pants. Of course, I panicked and thought, “get some paper towels, and DO IT NOW!” (I did mention that the paper towel dispenser was “automatic” also; didn’t I?) I waved my hands across the sensor. It did nothing! I tried two hands, wildly motioning in the senseless attempt to just activate it. STILL…nothing!!! I went to another dispenser…nothing. I was wild by this time because the soap had spread on my pants down to the crotch area. I began dancing and moving my body all different ways in front of the sensor to JUST GET SOME PAPER TOWELS!! By this time, I had drawn a crowd, who could not figure out if I was having a seizure of some sort, or that I was just a really weird air traveler. In a way of explanation to my “audience,” I was uttering under my breath as I was dancing…”soap”…”flew out of dispenser”…”on my pants”…”got to get it off”…”doesn’t work for me.” I finally realized that I was not ever going to get a paper towel, so I ran back into a cubicle to get some toilet paper. Wiping rapidly, I attempted to remove the gummy soap from my pants. The toilet tissue, being dry, began rolling into little balls and STICKING to the soap that was STICKING to my pants. It was time to wet the paper towel and see if that would help.  Guess what? The water dispenser was “automatic” also….On the fourth attempt, at the fourth sink, the water began to flow. Others began to help me. THEY were able to get some paper towels, and we made a valiant effort to remove all of the particles that had become a permanent part of my pants. Everyone, including me, eventually accepted defeat and gave up! As I was leaving, I noticed a woman having a little difficulty of her own in getting the paper towel dispenser to work. I leaned over and confidentially whispered, “you have to dance!”

I finally came out of the bathroom and headed in the direction of my friend. She took one good look at me, and those soap-gummed pants, and asked “What happened to you???” I just looked at her and said, “The bathroom has become a very dangerous place….”

There are people in our lives who have fears, whether actual or perceived. At times, we may dismiss those fears as being “silly” or unfounded simply because they are not our fears. As a result, we are not compassionate, patient, or understanding. I am going to be more understanding and tolerant of those who express concern or fear over events, tasks or actions that they face. I am going to provide the necessary support to assist them in facing their fear, and let them know that they are not alone…that I am there with them. Won’t you join me? Just for this week…

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But it’s NOT for me!!!

Sorry I am a little late this evening. It has been a busy week, but a good one. This week’s story includes some “sexually explicit” references, so I am giving everyone fair warning. If you are easily offended by the idea of older people being sexually active, or actually having sexual needs, this story will probably offend you…SO STOP READING NOW!!! However, if you are a healthcare professional in aging services, or if you are a mature adult who understands “where you came from,” you are going to appreciate the story…laugh quite a bit at my expense…and maybe , just maybe…you will get the message I intend.

When I first started working in a nursing home, to say that I was naive would have been a huge understatement. My father was a minister (yes, that does mean that I was a “preacher’s kid…”), so I was raised extremely conservatively in a very small southern town. When I graduated from high school, I attended a small Christian college for the next four years. Once I got the much desired college degree, my first job was that of Social Worker in a nursing home. I was ready to solve all of my residents’ problems, and meet their needs. I was enthusiastic and ready to put my education and knowledge to the test.

I have never understood why people think you stop loving once you get older. If you have loved someone for most of your life, have enjoyed kissing, holding, and loving them, why would you stop as you age? I would think, that for most people, love only grows stronger and becomes more precious.

One of my female residents was still having sexual “urges,” but did not have a “partner” to help fulfill those needs. As a result, she was continually injuring herself using assorted items. As the social worker in our building, figuring out a solution to this problem fell on my shoulders. In my innocence, I came up with an answer immediately – she needed an “item” that would be both safe and hygienic. So…off to the “adult book store” I went…

I walked up to the counter, and in a nice voice, uttered these words…”I would like to buy a vibrator.” And then it hit me….so I said very quickly, “But, it’s NOT for me!!!” The man looked at me as if to say, “Sure, lady, they ALL say that…” (wink, wink…) I hurriedly completed the purchase and left the building as quickly as I could.

Now, if anyone had seen me entering, or leaving, that store, they would have made an assumption about the kind of person I might be…a pervert, a porn lover, a “deviant.” And every assumption would have been wrong! I was, indeed, an “innocent,” simply trying to take care of a resident in my facility. Whenever I tell this story, people look at me and ask, “Surely you were not that innocent?” And the answer is always, “Yes, I was!”

Why is it that people are so ready to find fault with others? Why do we judge so harshly and quickly? Why do we jump to conclusions so easily, and not give people the benefit of the doubt? In fact, why are we “looking” in the first place? People are so busy looking at everyone else’s “yards,” that they fail to take care of their own “backyard.” I have trouble enough keeping my own life straight, walking in the light that I have been given. I have neither the time or expertise to tell people how they should live their lives. I am going to try really hard to take care of my own backyard, and let others take care of theirs. Won’t you join me? Just for this week….