Category Archives: Humor

Re-Re-Re-Re-Re-Re: Number 6 about My Favorite Prefix

As a person who is keenly interested in discussing names and playing around with them, I was very amused by an episode of “Good Hang with Amy Poehler”. She interviewed Mike Schurr, the guy who, among other things, created my beloved “Parks and Recreation”. The two laughed about how it was Mike’s practice to come up with names for every single character in a scene. It didn’t sit right with him that the actors who made the trip across Los Angeles to work for one day on the set where they maybe had one line, to not have a name. You know, something other than “lady in clicking heels” or “male friend of other man in blue shirt who butts in line”

Of course, because they wanted to avoid being sued for using a real person’s name, they had to get creative. They had someone in the legal department regularly checking online to ensure that there was no record of anyone with the name Mike was choosing for that character. What fun that must have been, coming up with all of these names!

If you haven’t guessed it yet, the word I’m focusing on for this entry in my series about my favorite prefix of “re” is renaming.

Our dog, Radar, was named Leroy when he adopted us. This was not his original name, as the staff at the shelter he wound up at in Houston as a puppy, called him Leroy. But he wasn’t a Leroy to me. The name Leroy conjured up that old song from the 70s, “Bad, Bad, Leroy Brown”. But our Leroy was not bad. He was rambunctious for certain, but definitely not a bad dog.

We started calling him Ringo. That lasted about a week. Mr. NOA and I had been going back and forth about what we were going to name him during that span of time, and one night he suggested we name our boy Doppler. Did I mention Mr. NOA is trained as a meteorologist? I countered with the name Radar. And that was that.

If I had to choose a new name for our other GSD mix mutt, Dash, it would for certain be Tigger. When he’s outside, he jumps and pounces with glee and joy in his little puppy heart. It is the cutest thing ever. I can’t wait to get outside with him once it warms up more so Mr. NOA and I can try agility training with him. I think this dog is made for it.

A former co-worker of mine was named Mari (originally pronounced Mary). Yet, she preferred to be called “Marr-ee”. I thought that was so quirky. She told me that she answered to both pronounciations of her name, so sometimes I would teasingly call her “Mary-Marr-ee”. She was a good sport about it.

Sometimes people we know and love, or those we admire from afar surprise us by changing their names. I have zero tolerance for those folks on social media who insist on commenting that they refuse to refer to the name-changer using their preferred name. That, to me, is so childish. Not to mention disrespectful. If a person chooses to change their name, for whatever reason, the only option in my mind is to respect it. Because it’s not about us at all. Purposefully choosing to use a person’s original name against their wishes helps no one and does not change the fact that this person now has a new name.

Someone we are all familiar with has a penchant for renaming things to include his name. I’m looking forward to the day (and I do believe it will come) when someone new and actually competent will be in charge and can rename these things. These institutions.

How about you? What’s your take on renaming things, people, pets, whatever? Or maybe you’ve got a story to tell about renaming something or someone? Please share in the comments!

Here’s a sweet tune from that one-of-a kind band with a most unusual name, “ABBA”.

Re-Re-Re: Post Number Three

Historically, I’ve been more of an anti-revisiting stuff type of person. My time and energy are valuable. On many fronts, I’m just not interested in rehashing what was. Most of the time, I’m interested in moving on to the next right thing in my life. While of course doing my best to remain present in the present.

How about you?

There are exceptions, however. Some things, experiences, and places are worth a revisit now and again.

Maybe for you it’s an old sweater from your college days, or your 8th grade journals. Or an album you loved that you played on repeat in your room while deeply appreciating the artwork or lyrics on that album’s cover.

Maybe it was a food you used to love making when you came home from that soul-depleting job you had when you were 31. Mine was elbow macaroni swimming in a sea of melted Velveeta and chopped up hot dogs(in my defense, I did have small kids at the time). Maybe it’s a place, like that dive bar you and your sister went to on your first night in Wichita or that one shady little spot on your favorite lake that used to be full of walleye.

What sorts of things or experiences would you want to revisit in your life? For personal growth, or even just for fun?

When it comes to things I find value in revisiting, I instantly think of books.

As I’m currently at the tail end of a breath-of-fresh-air, collaborative, and inspirational self-help/memoir, The Book of Alchemy, by Suleika Jaouad, I’ve started to consider what to read next.

It’s probably going to be this:

Yet, as I donated a trash bag full of books to our local thrift store last week (and there’s more where that came from), it occurred to me that taking stock of the books left behind is not an unwise use of my time.

Some of the books I own are bona fide keepers. These are the ones I’m compelled to return to when I’m feeling uninspired or bothered by something. The ones that contain wisdom and inspire me as a woman and a creative being. The books that I can pick up and learn something new from every time, or at the very least, remind myself of a passage that struck me on the first (or even second or third) pass.

Like this bunch of mine:

Top to bottom: Bird by Bird, by Anne Lamott, Atomic Habits, by James Clear, The Crystal Bible by Judy Hall, You Are A Badass by Jen Sincero, Atlas of the Heart, by Brene Brown, The Artist’s Way, by Julia Cameron, and When We Were Invincible by Becky Kliss. A host of reasons why these are such keepers.

I’m curious: do you have books like that? Ones you can’t bear to part with because you know you’ll revisit them someday?

One experience I would like to revisit is making pottery. I recently did this for the first time, as an “experience” gift for Christmas from and with my SIL. This was a prime example of me embracing trying something new that I might suck at. I absolutely did both the embracing and the sucking. But…I enjoyed the experience. I created one potentially usable small bowl that day. Usable for what remains to be seen, but we’ll see when we go back in another few weeks for the painting portion of this experience. It turns out that one can rent the potter’s wheel. I’m thinking without any strangers around for me to compare myself to, I could eventually improve my form and create a cool, absolutely usable piece.

What experience might you want to revisit? Is there something that you’d like to have another go at?

As far as places to revisit, for me it’s Washington, D.C. This should come as no surprise to any readers of this blog who’ve been around for awhile. The thing about revisiting our nation’s capital is that there is such a vast array of things to do, see, and experience there. Only when I do revisit Washington, D.C., it’ll (hopefully) be with a grandson or two in tow. That way, I can revisit it with at least one extra pair of new, curious eyes.

I’m going to cap this blog post off with a song from The Little River Band’s Greatest Hits album, an album I played frequently as a teen in the 80’s. An album I’ll be hunting for next time I’m in a thrift store. It’s worth a revisit.

The Elephant In My Rec Room

Meet my elephant.

This elephant, aka Nordictrack elliptical machine, has been living rent-free in my rec room since 2024.

Mr. NOA and I were in agreement back then that it was time to get serious about getting exercise. Improving our health and losing weight. The year was young, and we were feeling sassy. We had such good intentions.

I can count on one hand the number of times I climbed onto that elephant and used it. Mr. NOA as well.

So, it sits there, taking up space on my dance floor. Yes, I said “dance floor”. One of my aims in this new year is to, like in 2024, improve my health and lose a bit of weight via exercise. The exercise of choice for me, I have now determined beyond a shadow of a doubt, is dance.

But this elephant is in the way. I’m not using that as an excuse to not dance in my rec room for exercise, mind you. I’ve got space in the carpeted area down there to get my groove on.

Yet it’d be such fun to have more space to dance in the tiled section of my rec room where the elephant lives.

Maybe I’ll even hang a disco ball on the ceiling for extra funsies.

It’s going to take some effort to get rid of my elephant. I’ll likely have to put this picture of it on our local social media sites to see who might want to adopt it. I won’t even charge them, as long as they commit to removing it from my dance floor and hauling it away on their own.

Looking back, it was quite the effort that Mr. NOA and I made to obtain this damn elephant. We found it on our local Facebook Marketplace. It was available for $50, with the understanding that we pick it up and haul it off. So, one winter day back in 2024, Mr. NOA and I got in our Tacoma and drove 10 minutes away to pick up our new toy. Thankfully, the young man selling it to us was able and willing to help us get it into the way back in our truck. That thing is HEAVY. The wind was whipping that cold day, which caused the elephant to move about and create some alarming noises. When we got home, both of us (or perhaps just me?) were privately bemoaning this decision (now how were we going to get it into our house?). Mr. NOA determined the best course of action was to drive the Tacoma backwards, to get it as close as possible to the door of the rec room (it’s a walk-out basement, which I love). In the as careful-as-we-could-be maneuvering of this elephant out of our truck, we still managed to acquire a ding along the side of it.

We felt a sense of accomplishment along with relief once it was safe inside our rec room. It was ready to be used to transform the two of us into more physically fit versions of ourselves.

Yet, as I stated at the top of this post, the elephant ended up being mostly ignored. And we have no good excuse.

But now it’s a new year! I’m older and wiser, and therefore more thoughtful about how I can best meet my fitness goals. With or without the elephant in my rec room, I will dance (she says with a dramatic flourish).

I have started a playlist, after all, so the wheels are in motion. It features songs that have great beats to dance to, like this one from my youth in the ’80s.

Do You Need Time?

This was the question posed by the WordPress wizards in a recent daily prompt that I didn’t respond to.

I resisted the urge, until now, to provide my response to this question.

Which, of course, was “Duh!”

This, folks, could be looked at as a dumb question or it can be looked at as a question which was in dire need of context. Or, it’s a question that stoners ask each other when their high is ratcheting up and they’re lying in the grass next to each other, waxing philosophical about it.

The argument I make here is that it’s a foregone conclusion that I, along with every other human being on Planet Earth, needs time. I think the far more pressing question for us all, is if we had the time we wanted to have, what would we do with it?

True confession from the era in which I was working full-time and raising two young kids with Mr. NOA: I would sometimes fantasize as I was driving to and fro during my workday that I’d get in an accident. Ironically, I struggle with driving anxiety, but when it was just me and the open road, the fantasy would come through, completely unbidden. The car accident I’d have would not be a major one, mind you. Just enough to put me out of commission for say, a week. A week to recover. To physically and mentally rest. To not be a responsible adult for a bit. To read books and flip through magazines. To give myself a manicure. Stuff like that. To re-charge and return back to my normal routine refreshed. As this was a fantasy, I didn’t have to consider that I might be in pain or completely immobile and unable to care for myself physically.

It’s been years and years since this fantasy has made an appearance.

Yet, I have a rather long list of things I want to do rattling around in my head if I had more time. We all do, right? I think the trick is to accept that there literally isn’t enough time in the world to do every last one of these things. To find peace with it. I believe it’s really a matter of making time for doing the things that light us up the most. The things that bring us joy and positive energy. To be intentional about it.

Writing is that thing for me. Well, the biggest one anyway. I’ve been doing a lot more of it via The Artist’s Way workbook, though not for this blog. The blog has fallen by the wayside, but that’s ok. After 8 years doing this, I’m still into it, but I know that taking a sabbatical from it was most certainly not the end of the world.

Back to what I’d do if a magic “Time Fairy” granted me a boatload of time?

A short list:

  • Learn how to play my ukulele
  • Crafting (you would not believe how many Facebook reels I have saved of various creatives showing me how to make the cutest holiday crafts)
  • Treasure hunts at local thrift stores
  • Join a book club

How about you? What would you do if time was more plentiful in your life?

Now for a song by the spectacular Cindy Lauper, who just so happened to be inducted (about time LOL!) into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame last weekend. This makes my Gen X heart so happy!

8 Bits of Joy

Early on in 2025, I published a blog post about cultivating joy. I maintain this is a worthy pursuit for me AND for you. This, combined with a blogger I’ve followed for years, who, earlier this summer, published a post sharing pictures of herself in joyful moments, leads me to want to share the things that have been providing me with joy during these last gasps of summertime.

A recent picture of me in a moment of joy at the local Rutabaga Festival!

I didn’t catch his name, but one can assume it was “Rudy”, right?!

Please do me a solid and share in the comments what is bringing joy into your life right now. I think in these times, focusing on and sharing our joys could be quite beneficial, don’t you agree?

Off I go:

  1. The charcuterie board-making class that my SIL and I participated in back in July. This brought together three things I love: creative self-expression, food, and quality time with my slightly younger sister. Here’s what I created that night:

2. Ilena Tovia, who creates video content on Facebook (and no doubt other social media outlets) of herself cooking in her kitchen. I think she can best be described as “that goofy cooking lady on Facebook”, because she has an authentic goofiness to her and she never fails to crack me up.

3. Feeling uninspired by the offerings on any of the streaming apps we have on our t.v. the other night, I clicked on an episode of “The Great British Baking Show”. After hearing about this show for years, I finally watched it. What an absolute delight! The contestants and judges were kind to each other and clearly having a ball using their creative spirits to come up with often beautiful, edible works of art. I’m not big on reality/competition shows in general, so this surprised me. I think I found my new happy show!

4. At work last month, one of our awesome volunteers randomly called to ask if we all wanted some free sweet corn. He had just picked it. We took him up on his offer, and he arrived within a couple of hours with several bags of the most delicious sweet corn I’d had all summer.

5. When I’m futzing around in the kitchen, I often want to listen to music. Lately, I’ve been telling Google to play the music of the band Lake Street Dive. The main singer, Rachel, has a voice that is just something else. She and her band do a phenomenal job of covering other artists songs as well, bringing their own twist to it. Here’s a prime example:

6. French fries. One of my all-time favorite foods. And I am quite talented at making them at home in my air fryer, if I do say so myself. I wash up two or three Russets, slice them thin-nish, plop them in a mixing bowl, drizzle some good olive oil on them, and season liberally with Penzey’s Florida Seasoned Pepper, and a few shakes of corse sea salt. Let the air fryer do its magic for about 20 minutes, and it’s *chefs kiss* perfection for this french-fry enthusiast.

7. This video I saw online last week. In my opinion, Bohemian Rhapsody is high on the list of “Best Rock Songs Ever”. If you agree and want to experience a bit of joy, I hope you watch it.

8. This song. Do yourself a favor today and take a few minutes to enjoy this video!

My hope is that each one of you reading this today will make time to ponder what is bringing you pure, unadulterated joy!

Reading and Misreading

Let me just say my love of shopping at thrift stores will never wane.

This picture is of the books I picked up on my latest trip to our local Goodwill.

I just finished the one at the top of the pile, “The Bookshop on the Corner”. It was an enjoyable read; a sweet yet meandering story of romance and friendship, riddled with phrasings I was unfamiliar with but nonetheless got the gist of. More than anything, though, it made me want to visit Scotland.

Now the question is, which book shall I tear into next? I’m partial to “Soul Pancake”, written by Rainn Wilson (Dwight Schrute from “The Office”).

If these were your books, which one would you read next?

In other news, I have a short story about one of the other things I picked up at Goodwill that day.

Even if I’m on a mission to find used books or home decor when I walk into a thrift store, I will always end up perusing the racks of clothes when I’m there. I just can’t help myself.

So, after finding the books I’m reading next and a few other random items, I mosey on over to those racks. Knowing that soon I’ll be participating in another anti-tRump administration rally/protest, I’m thrilled to see the *perfect* t-shirt for this (and future such) events.

Dear friends: the t-shirt was light blue and my size. Emblazoned with stars, it read “In My Enraged Era”. As a fan of Taylor Swift (who feels a bit too old to refer to themselves as a “Swiftie”, especially given the fact that I can’t tell you which of her albums resonates with me the most), who is, indeed, quite enraged about the state of America under tRump 2.0, it felt like serendipity.

So, Mr. NOA and I attended the rally/protest that Saturday. I, proudly wearing my cool new t-shirt and holding up the sign I made earlier that morning, was feeling pretty sassy. Having just gotten my hair chopped off and highlighted earlier in the week also boosted my sense of righteous indignation.

It was all (in my head) “I’m enraged and I’m not going to take it anymore” vibes that day.

If you look closely at the t-shirt, you’ll know where the rest of this story is going.

Later that evening, just as I was about to get ready for bed, I happened to glance down at my cool new t-shirt.

Ope! I read the shirt wrong!!!

It actually says “In my engaged era”

In hindsight, I realize this likely was a t-shirt made to be purchased by a newly engaged-to-be-married person to wear to their engagement party.

The irony is that I opened my big mouth on this blog back in January and claimed this was my year of “intentionality”. Yet, being intentional is akin to being “engaged”, right?

And I am engaged: in day-to-day life, engaged with blogging, engaged in my workplace, engaged in the relationships I share with the people I love, engaged with my creative spirit, and engaged in good trouble as an American voter. And I endeavor to maintain this engagement.

So, that’s the story of how I went from enraged to engaged.

Or maybe it’s a story of how we all see what we want to see sometimes and not what is actually there.

Or maybe it’s a lesson for me to continue to engage with my enragement as our administration continues their reckless and evil doings to the people of this country I love.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, I’m sharing a Taylor Swift song that best captures the feeling of enragement for me.

I Feel Bad about my Arms

Years ago, I started reading a book (possibly a memoir?) by Nora Ephron. When she wrote something to the effect of “I feel bad about my neck”, in that she felt it needed covering because as she’d gotten older the skin started looking crepey. I stopped reading after that line, because I just couldn’t relate. It felt like she was speaking to women “of a certain age” (aka much older than me at that time). And my neck was perfectly fine, thankyouverymuch.

Now I kinda get it. Only for me, it’s about my arms.

I was looking in the mirror a month or so ago and decided I didn’t like the appearance of my upper arms. They are flabby and jiggly and just overall unattractive. As I enjoy wearing sleeveless tops in the summertime, I decided to address this situation with intention.

Now, I’ve always had little upper-arm strength. I remember being one of maybe two or three other kids in middle school who were unable to do that thing where you hang by your arms on a metal bar. I also have hereditary peripheral neuropathy, which causes my limbs to frequently give me that oh-so-fun feeling of pins and needles, in particular when I stay in one position for too long.

I figured the simplest route to reducing my upper arm flab would be to incorporate doing push-ups on my bedroom floor during my regular morning yoga stretching/praying session.

Guess what? I can do up to 27 sit-ups now! Granted they are not the traditional, full-on push-ups; they are the kind of push-ups where I’m on my knees so that it’s only the upper half of my body weight in play. Then, I will do up to 4 actual, real push-ups. Well, real enough. I estimate that I’ve gone from moving 1/2 inch toward the floor to 1 whole inch since I began this routine.

This might seem quite pathetic to you all, especially if you’re the sporty type. But I see it as a baby step toward my goal of having less flabby arms and a stronger core. If I just remain consistent with it, I ought to get results.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

For your auditory enjoyment, may I present an uplifting, groovy little tune sung by a one-of-a-kind artist, Ray LaMontagne.

Cultivating Joy

It’s my birthday week and part of me wants to give myself a pass and skip publishing a blog post. Part of me wants to go on and on about how it’s my birthday week and it’s so awesome because I’ve got fun plans and Gee Whiz I made it to 58 and I’ve still got all of my original parts (minus the tonsils).

But if I’ve learned nothing about my path as a blogger, it’s that skipping one week of publishing is often a slippery slope to going another week, then another, until I’m almost paralyzed by the thought of ever writing another thing within the blogosphere.

So, here’s my post this week.

Ha ha ha!

I’m actually trying really hard not to crack here, people.

While everything in this country appears to rapidly be going to hell in a handbasket, including Mr. NOA (a fed employee) being potentially on the brink of losing his status as a remote worker, I’m doing my best to remain intentional.

As in intentional about cultivating joy in my life. Cultivating joy through action is a healthy way to give myself a positive (if temporary) distraction from the horrors of it all. I think cultivating joy is a solid form of resistance.

It’s simple things, like the banana bread (with milk chocolate chips, no less) baking in my oven right now. Spending time in my rec room organizing old photos while listening to whatever is playing on The Current (MPR’s super cool radio station that I’ve spoken about in this space in the past). Writing short little blog posts to share with you and keeping our blogging connections going within this community. Geeking out about the SNL 50 docu-series streaming on Peacock.

For shits and giggles, here’s some photos I found commemorating my childhood birthday celebrations. Left to right: my 5th birthday, my 1st birthday (no hair, didn’t care), my 10th birthday, and my 7th birthday.

I hope that each one of you finds ways to cultivate joy in these challenging times. Please share in the comments if and how you are cultivating your own joy these days. I’m always open to suggestions from you, my friends!

As you well know by now, music is a crucial ingredient in the recipe of my life. On that note, here’s my new favorite song. It’s got a melody that I love to whistle along to and the video is just so very sweet.

Story Time with Jim

Someone I admire recently gave me the nudge I needed to follow through with this plan, which had been in my head for the last couple of months, to start capturing family stories.

Thanks, Stephanie H.

I’ve had the pleasure of spending time with my almost 90 year-old father-in-law, Jim, since last month, asking him to tell me his stories. Anyone who knows this man knows that he loves to tell stories (and talk political conspiracies) about his life growing up in Mexico.

Mexico, Missouri that is.

Here’s a little tale Jim told me recently.

Jim and his friend, Jimmy, purchased an old Model A together back around 1950. My MIL, Alice, commented, as he was telling this story, “you know there was going to be trouble when you had two ‘Jimmys'”. They’d drive it to school (they were about 16 at the time), then Jimmy would drive it to his after school job and our Jim would walk to the body shop where he worked after school. Then, when his work was done, Jimmy’s sister would pick Jim up in that Model A and drive him home.

Jim said that one night, he took the Model A out for a drive on his own. It was dark inside the vehicle (no inside lights in cars at that time), so Jim didn’t see that the gas tank was leaking. Fuel pumps had yet to be invented, so the gas tank was actually inside the vehicle, on the dashboard. It had to be higher up than the engine under the hood, so that gravity could allow the gas to get into the engine.

Jim drove it a ways down the road, and when he shifted it into a higher gear, it backfired and flames erupted inside. He said he “bailed out”, thankful that he had just installed a handle inside the door, and then watched, while he was on fire himself, the Model A careen down the road, fully ablaze. He thought to himself “now I’m going to have to leave town” because he was certain that the car was going to drive itself into town and set the whole place on fire. Fortunately, the Model A crashed into a ditch before that could happen.

As Jim was flailing about after bailing out of the Model A, there was what he called a “tramp or a hobo” walking along who quickly threw off his coat and covered Jim with it to extinguish the flames.

This could be known as the story where we all thank that unhoused person for saving Jim’s life. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have met Alice or fathered 3 kids. I wouldn’t have met Mr. NOA and we wouldn’t have our kids together. Our grandson wouldn’t exist.

So, thanks “Mr. Hobo”, and Merry Christmas to you, wherever you are.

Grateful State of Mind

The Thanksgiving holiday is upon us! In honor of that, I’d like to take a moment today to talk about gratitude.

I recently found myself reading Brene Brown’s “The Gifts of Imperfection”. In it, she talks quite a bit about gratitude. She found in her research, which largely consisted of one-on-one interviews with people who practice “wholehearted living”, that practicing gratitude was a major component of these peoples’ lives.

This made me remember that many years ago, I bought myself this little book by Sarah Ban Breathnach titled “The Simple Abundance Journal of Gratitude”. It’s a journal to capture what you are grateful for each day for one year. I missed days or even a week or two here and there, but for the most part I wrote down my gratitudes daily. I still have this journal, and I’ve been reading through it.

Reading my entries reminded me of the sweet and simpler times when our kids were young. I recorded such gratitudes as having a nice, long phone conversation with my mother-in-law, having our checkbook balanced correctly, having Mr. NOA come home earlier than expected from work, and the simple joy of watching our oldest chasing a butterfly.

One of many lines from “The Gifts of Imperfection” that ring true to me as I ponder what I’m grateful for right now is “it seems that gratitude without practice may be a little like faith without works-it’s not alive”.

Makes me think I ought to start a new gratitude journal right away.

So, here I go with a few of the things I am truly grateful for these days:

It goes without saying that what I’m the most grateful for is my friends and family and the strong bonds we share.

Yet, there’s lots of simple things I am grateful for too.

Like:

Having an array of sweatshirts, comfy pants, and fuzzy socks to wear when I’m chilly.

Working appliances. I can bake a cake if I want to. I’m able to do my laundry without having to drive to a laundromat, rolls of quarters weighing down my purse.

Having a job that allows me to help my fellow community members in a concrete way.

Dogs I love who do silly things like run in small circles and bounce up and down with happiness. At the moment, we are dog-sitting for our daughter and her fiance (did I tell you they got engaged over the summer? Yet another gratitude).

Our Radar and his friends Dash and Max (aka Radar-ling, Dash-ing Ding-Dong, and Sir Maxwell Butterball)

The music of Brandi Carlile. She is often my go-to when I’m putzing around the house or making supper. The woman can sing anything.

The teachings of Brene Brown. As a former social worker (still one at heart, for sure) and a writer, I appreciate her wisdom so much.

Family movie dates. We caught the movie “Twisters” in the theater together last summer. Next up is going to be “Wicked” next month.

Words. The ones that are strung together in the form of song lyrics. The ones I read before I go to sleep at night. The ones that come out of the mouths of the people I love. The ones I use to express myself in writing.

Laughter-or more specifically, the things that get me laughing. I get one of the local papers delivered weekly, and something in last week’s edition had me and Mr. NOA cracking up. The following question was asked of the kindergartners at the elementary school: How do you cook a turkey? A few of their responses:

From a kiddo named Emmett: I will go in the forest and shoot a turkey. I will find him on a tree. Before I cook the turkey I need to get the meat out by cutting his skin off. Cook the turkey at 40 degrees for 40 hours. The turkey is done by checking the grill. When it’s beeping I take the turkey out. I will eat hot sauce with my turkey. For dessert I will eat Halloween cupcakes.

From a kindergartner named Cheyenne: Go fishing for a turkey. Put it in the oven when its like super hot, or just a little bit hot. Just for 5 minutes. Actually just 2. Put gloves on and grab it out of the oven when it’s done.

And from a tyke named Jasper: You got to get a turkey from the garden shed. Then cook it with the oven for 30 hours. You can have squash and mashed potatoes with your turkey. You eat it with a spoon and a fork. For dessert, I would eat Gushers.

Let’s all be grateful that these kindergartners aren’t in charge of our Thanksgiving dinners, right? We’d end up with our houses burnt down or salmonella poisoning if that were the case!

I hope you, my readers, will take a moment to ponder what you’re grateful for right now. Sharing in the comments would be appreciated too, as always.