Humor and Me by Bonnie Le Hamilton

 

Growing up, I was the serious one. I was the one who rarely got a joke and sometimes it was difficult to get me to laugh. I’m not saying I didn’t laugh at times, but on the whole, I was more on the side of explaining why the joke didn’t make sense or that it couldn’t ever happen instead of laughing with everyone else. And I detest puns.

These days, if someone employs a pun in their joke, I just glare at them. They are never funny and are often, well, immature.

Additionally, I’m not one to tell jokes. Or at least, I haven’t been in the past.

As a teenager, I was the butt of my father’s jokes and teasing because I always took everything so literally. (Now I know that I am on the spectrum, but back then I had no idea.)

Now, I’ve actually cracked jokes several times!

My favorite one to crack involves me asking someone if they “mind” doing some specific favor for me and when they respond, as most people do in this situation, “Sure.”

I counter with a dismayed, “You mind!”

I do this because well since I was asking if they minded doing this small thing for me, the correct response would be, “No I don’t mind,” if you are willing to do it, Not, “Sure.”

Saying Sure is actually saying that you do mind doing it, that you are unwilling to assist or help.

I’ve actually done that three or four times in the last month, which is a lot more fun then flatly pointing out they responded incorrectly, which frankly I’d have never done anyway. It used to be that I ignored this particular mistake. It’s only been just lately that’s I’ve started with the wisecracking comeback.

Right now, I would love for someone to come up to me and ask if my if I drink because I’m prepared to respond, “I drink all the time! See I even have a bottle of water right here with me.”

And I would be correct.

“Drink” is a verb meaning to ingest fluids. So, all human beings drink, even newborn babies drink! After all breast milk or formula are both liquids.

Just because society has attached a negative connotation to the word doesn’t mean that is the only meaning of it!

So, yes, I do drink all the time. In fact, I just refilled my water bottle.

Though even with those wisecracks I still don’t laugh a lot, and I have a coworker who seems to think it is his duty to make me laugh at least once a day.

He’s not always successful.

However, he is also claiming one instance that was not his doing. I mean he was trying to get me to laugh (he had a couple of our coworkers in stitches) but I didn’t laugh until another worker made a crack about my glaring at his inane puns.

Okay, that was funny, but he didn’t make me laugh, she did.

The point is that I do have a sense of humor. A weird one, but it does exist.

Of course, part of the problem is that I do take things so literally, but I’m not so sure that is the whole problem, after all, pointing out that, “Sure,” isn’t exactly the correct response to, “Would you mind,” isn’t something someone with a low IQ would do. And, as my coworkers point out all the time, I’m very smart.

I don’t always feel smart, but well, I have had my IQ tested. So that is official.

Actually, recently I came across one of those online quizzes that professed no one could pass it if they didn’t have an IQ of 160 or higher. Now I know what my IQ is, and it isn’t that high, but out of curiosity, I took the quiz.

I aced it. This means either they were mistaken as to how hard it was, or I’m smarter than that official IQ test showed me to be.

The thing is I was shocked to learn how high my IQ was way back then because I’d once taken a quiz in the Reader’s Digest which they said if you got a certain number of questions right, you were smart enough to join Mensa. I missed it by one question.

The worst part was when I discovered the answer to one of the mathematical questions, I smacked myself in the head because I should have known that!

Yeah, not smart. Even without that, I have always considered myself of only average intelligence, mostly because of the grades I managed to achieve, let alone that I’m such a slow reader, which goes to show that grades and reading speed does not indicate intelligence. Remember that as you write.

Happy writing everyone!

Of Sleep and Time Crunches by Konnie Enos

 Today is the last day of this semester and I have two finals still to do, plus finish one last assignment.

I was working on said assignment when I realized I needed sleep. It was about midnight. Yes, that's pretty late to go to bed. However, for some unknown reason, I ended up awake a couple of hours later. Since I was up, I tried to finish my assignment.

This worked right up until Jerry told me our son wasn't getting up and therefore couldn't take him to his appointment. Fun.

I ended up driving him, which thankfully only entailed dropping him off. By the time I got home, I was dragging so I lay down to get some more sleep only to have my alarm go off because it's Wednesday morning.

I reset the alarm for an hour later and when it went off again I hit snooze. I wasn't even planning to get up until the dogs started barking and I realized they'd need to be fed plus Mabel needs her medicines. I got up to do that though I'm still asleep. 

I'd warned Bonnie that I might not be able to get to the post, due to homework and tests, but I hadn't heard from her so I have no clue if she has done a post or not. Nothing is scheduled yet, so now I'm attempting to type while fighting my eyes to stay open while I have one of those "you didn't get enough sleep" headaches. Yes, I get it. Three hours is not enough sleep.

Since I have to finish that assignment and do those finals today, I'm going to have to focus on getting more rest and getting those completed. Hopefully, next time I have to post I'll have time to write something.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

Twin Problems by Bonnie Le Hamilton

 

Several times in the last few weeks I’ve had occasion to pull up a picture on my phone that my nephew took of his mother and sent to me. On most of those occasions it went something like this:

I show the person I’m talking to the picture.

Them: That’s a nice picture of you.

Me: No, it isn’t.

Them: That’s a really nice picture!

Me: Yeah. But it’s not of me.

Them: Oh.

The only exception to this scenario is one woman who scanned the picture then faced me and said, “That’s not you, is it?”

“Good eye. It isn’t me.”

She confessed she didn’t think it was me because of the different glasses, but still, not many people noticed any differences between that picture and me. Confronted with the two of us together is another issue.

Sometimes I wonder how her family can tell us apart, but not even her husband never had any problems telling us apart.

The first time he set eyes on me, I was sitting on his couch in his apartment holding his then-infant eldest daughter in my arms, and he still knew I wasn’t his wife at first glance!

Nice.

Though I admit later visits with Konnie didn’t go so well. I can’t remember if it was May or Melinda, but prior to my visiting Konnie had warned me that this little darling only ever wanted her momma and would rarely even go to her father.

However, the second I walked into their apartment, she instantly reached for me. I gladly took her into my arms and hugged her. She was all fine and dandy with me holding her until she realized I didn’t have mother nature’s milk supply for her and she screamed bloody murder!

Another time, some years later, I’d just gotten off the phone from talking to Konnie when a few minutes before when my phone rang again. I answered and a small child happily said, “Hi, Mommy.”

Excuse me?

Talk about a heart-stopping moment!

Eventually, I got the kid to hang up and I called Konnie back.

Turns out, a certain little tyke had thought his mother had her cell phone on her while she was in the bathroom, and he’d also thought the last number dialed on their landline was that cell phone.

How wrong he was!

Again, he doesn’t make that mistake anymore. Though all of her family consider it weird when they enter a room while Konnie is talking to me with her speaker on. One time I heard Konnie giggle for no seeming reason then one of her kids said, “Oh, that’s Aunt Bonnie.”

It seems they had temporarily been nonplussed at hearing their mother’s voice coming from her phone.

I guess it was something like the time years ago when I’d been busy in the bathroom when my phone rang. I hurried to get it knowing as I did that it was Konnie. The answering machine, which was downstairs picked up first, but I got on the line upstairs and told her I was there. We talked for a while but I never went to the kitchen to erase our conversation from the answering machine.

Honestly hadn’t had time with all I was doing that day.

Anyway, when Tom got home from work, he noticed there was a message and, while wondering why there was a message when I’d been home all day, he played it.

Him: You talked to yourself on the phone?

His confusion was evident on his face, because after all, how could I manage that!

That memory is still as funny as the day it happened, but honestly, listening to that tape, the only way I could tell who was talking was by what was being said.

We’re identical after all. And our blind counselor in high school couldn’t tell us apart because our voices are so identical. Let alone that our own father could rarely manage to tell us apart until we managed to land such polar opposite husbands!

That’s not Konnie if she’s standing next to the tall one!

Though I admit, Dad had no trouble knowing it was me when I was entering the kitchen at a time when a meal didn’t need to be cooked or dishes didn’t need to be done, because at least once it was him who announced to the rest of the family, “Bonnie’s baking!”

Causing a stampeded to the kitchen while I’m still pulling the flour out!

And it's not like Konnie can’t bake. I have no idea why he could make that distinction, because, like I said, most of the time, he couldn’t tell the difference at all.

Such is life as identical twins. Just remember this the next time you have such characters in your WIP.

Happy writing, everyone!

Of Obstacles and Stress by Konnie Enos

These past two weeks have been interesting.

First, our internet went down. Our investigation of the cause told us we were the only house affected. (It appeared that the wires connecting our house to the provider were down.)

Cue calling to get repairs done because three of us had homework assignments due. That and what hot spots we have in the household could not handle the load necessary for even one college student.

After two days of less than a desirable response from our internet company, they have become our FORMER internet company. We know have their biggest competitor. Better customer service, much lower price, and faster speeds. Should have switched sooner.

Now the issue is our former company is refusing to cancel our still not repaired or otherwise working internet service. So I guess I’m reporting them to the Better Business Bureau. (Making it difficult/impossible to cancel service is illegal.) And I still have to get them to cancel.

New problem. After all this, I discovered I was out of one of my medicines. I have a mail-order pharmacy and I was sure I had ordered the refill. So I called.

Yes, I had ordered it but someone had incorrectly marked my last bottle as a 90 day supply (the amount I normally get) but for some reason for several months, they could only legally send me a 30 day supply. The lady I spoke to could correct the issue and get me some pills sent out ASAP, but that would still be about a week.

She kindly suggested talking to my doctor about getting an emergency supply.

Now next problem. My daughter had already been trying to get an appointment but always got their answering service and still has had no response. We assumed they’d taken a week off or something and by this time it was Friday afternoon, July 2. I was pretty sure they weren’t going to be in the office for a few more days. I’d have to wait.

What medicine am I out of?

My high blood pressure medicine.

Nobody in my family wants me to stress out trying to get our former internet provider to cancel out service while I don’t have my blood pressure under control. I haven’t even reported them to the proper authorities yet.

Then with all this going on, my kids have all expressed concern about my husband’s health and how it appears to be affecting his driving ability. None of us are suggesting he stop driving. We are suggesting he have a complete physical to see if they can determine the cause of this very recent issue.

But Jerry, being Jerry means he now refuses to do any chauffeuring. Now since Melinda has a license, this shouldn’t be an issue, but, as noted above, she has been trying to get ahold of our doctor because she has all the symptoms of her thyroid being low, again. So she hasn’t been driving for a couple of weeks due to an extreme lack of energy. That and taking multiple naps a day.

Okay, two down for the count. That leaves me as the designated driver. This meant I got to ignore my homework for four hours last Thursday so I could take Tony to his appointment, at the DMV.

(I took some reading with me so I wasn’t ignoring my homework.)

The good part is he finally passed his driver’s test and I’m no longer the designated driver.

He is, however, not sure about the situation because I’ve already taken full advantage of the opportunity.

Saturday, our normal day for our weekly shopping trip, Melinda was, as usual, exhausted. Jerry was, now par for the course, refusing to drive anywhere. (I didn’t want him doing the shopping anyway.) And I had a homework assignment due that was, well, raising my blood pressure. In the end, I finally turned it in with an obvious error because no amount of trying to find the answer helped fix the issue. But of course, when the store was opened, I was still struggling with it.

On Monday, because we’d not gotten a few things on Saturday (some of it intentional because if we’d gotten the ice cream on Saturday it’d have been gone by Monday, and I wanted ice cream to celebrate my birthday) neither Melinda nor I were up to a store run, so we sent Tony again.

He has yet to be forced to take any of his non-driving siblings to an appointment but that’s more because they haven’t had any since he got his license. He can see that one coming and is not happy.

So that’s how my last couple of weeks have gone.

How’s your life going?

Smile. Make the day a better day.