Of Words and Surprises by Konnie Enos

 

I’ve enjoyed Reader’s Digest for well over forty years. I don’t remember the first issue I picked up, but I do know our stepmother had a subscription. One time, I picked up her copy and glanced through it, and enjoyed it so much that I got in the habit of reading it regularly.

Back then I rarely read all the articles but I did read all the humor sections and I’d read an interesting article or two. The “drama in real life” or a condensed story. I first read James Herriot in a Reader’s Digest magazine condensed story.

For years I just read my stepmother’s copies and when I wasn’t in the house for college etc. I just waited until I got back home then skimmed through all the past issues I could find.

Not long after I got married, I got my first subscription and I’ve had it ever since.

I was still only reading the parts that interested me. I’m not even sure when I started reading more but eventually, the Reader’s Digest coming in meant I was spending at least a day consuming it from cover to cover.

As the magazine got lighter (they print fewer pages in each addition now) I was able to read through them in less and less time. Now, I don’t spend a solid block of time reading it but the amount of time I need to consume each issue is only two or three hours depending on how “heavy” their articles are.

When I first started reading it, I might glance at the “Word Power” section and maybe spend a few minutes trying to get the correct meaning but often it meant that I had to “peak” at the answers. But I got older I was finding I needed to peak less often so I started marking my guesses and then seeing if I got those I guessed at correct.

Eventually, I got to where I was marking (or now that I have a digital subscription, writing down) all my responses then turning to the answers and seeing how I did. As a rule, I miss three or four of them though I do remember a few times missing six. There aren’t many times that I missed less than three nor more than five so I was always “middle of the pack” by their score chart.

I’ve always felt I was doing pretty well since I only have an average vocabulary, despite living with a living, breathing, walking, talking dictionary for all those years. (I mean Jacki did try to increase our vocabulary but I never bothered to retain anything I wasn’t using regularly.)

So what brought all this up?

I was reading my most recent issue of Reader’s Digest and finally got to the last pages where “Word Power” is. I read the caption first.

Oh, great. Science. Since that isn’t my strongest subject, I figured my limited knowledge in that department wasn’t going to help my final score. Even the proclamation that the words were also used outside of labs didn’t boost my confidence.

First word. It’s easy. Who doesn’t know that?

Second word. Well, duh.

Okay, they should get harder as we go.

Third word. Really. You’re going to make it that easy?

I continued. For each word, I either knew the answer or it was super easy to figure it out from the available choices, as in only one made sense. Then I got to one that stumped me a bit because I knew one meaning of the word, but it has nothing to do with the scientific use of the word and I wasn’t sure which of the choices to pick. I could make a case for all the possible answers being correct so I made a guess, knowing I was probably wrong because my rate of correct guesses is pretty low. The last few words I was sure I knew the meaning of.

Now I was really curious about the outcome because I had only questioned one answer. I was certain I knew the other answers, but I’d been wrong before.

I turned the page and checked my answered one by one circling each answer on my paper that I’d gotten correct. As I circled I was thinking, see I knew that, or that was easy to figure out.

Then I got to the one I did guess at. Guess what. I was right.

The outcome?

For the first time in my life, I got a full 15 correct answers. It has got to be the easiest Word Power yet. Either that or I know a great deal more “science” words than I thought.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

Apologies by Konnie Enos

Our apologies but we will be unable to get a new post up this week. Bonnie's computer issues are beyond her limited resources to fix or even replace at this time and she hasn't got the means to even write a post, let alone get it on the internet. She is looking for a temporary solution but she hasn't been able to fix it this week.

In other circumstances, I would make the effort to write something for her, but between my college classes and some pain I'm currently experiencing in my arms (I have no idea what's going on, but the carpal tunnel braces are helping), I am unable to manage it.

I will put all my effort into getting a new post up next week and then hopefully Bonnie will have found a solution, however temporary it might be, to her computer issues so she can do her posts going forward.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

 

Of Late Night Muses and Desperation by Konnie Enos

 Jerry decided to go to bed early but I was still doing school work and attempting to make sure I’d completed all I could for one day. I also knew I needed to write this post so after closing everything for school work I went searching for ideas. While I was thus engaged, and Jerry was now snoring beside me, someone knocked on our bedroom door.

Now it’s not uncommon for our kids to come into our bedroom for various reasons but while our girls will knock when it’s closed, our boys generally don’t. And at that hour it wasn’t likely to be the girls but my first inclination was they would just come in because as far as I knew it was unlocked.

Then I heard the distinct rattle of someone attempting to open a locked door.

Wonderful. He locked it and now he’s fast asleep.

Now you have to understand because I’m a full-time student I was half-buried in books for my classes, and had most of my tech around me. But most importantly was my computer on my bed table in front of me.

The first step, push my computer away from me.

The second step, make sure none of my paraphernalia is going to fall off the bed or otherwise make a mess or get lost somehow. Jerry is good at burying things under blankets, pillows, and such. Or simply knocking them off the bed. If it also ends up under the bed I may not find it for a while.

Of course, while I’m still moving things so I can get up, whoever is at the door knocks again.

“Give me a minute.”

Third step, the whole turning to get my legs off the side of the bed, sliding to get my feet on the floor, and pulling me up to a standing position. I generally manage this by pulling on the handles to my closet doors.

The fourth step, maneuver clear across the room, past two dogs who are more intent on seeing who is at the door than they are at getting out of my way so I can reach the door. I shove past them while realizing that my bladder knows I’m moving. For some reason, it thinks my moving is the time to empty. I’m hoping I’ll be able to get to the bathroom in time.

I get the door unlocked and Tony walks in. He has a transportation issue and wonders if he can have our car tomorrow.

I aim for the bathroom as quickly as I can. “Someone has an appointment tomorrow so no. Talk to dad.” I shut the bathroom door and quickly take care of business while he wakes Jerry up enough to talk to him.

That solves Tony’s issue and Jerry went right back to snoring.

It did not solve my issue.

I still have a post to write. My idea bank is too low to tap and my muse likes abandoning me when I need them the most. I decided to check just one notification on Facebook.

I don’t know why I even attempted that. It is never just one notification. Facebook is nothing more than a rabbit hole and sensible people should avoid it when they have deadlines to meet. I suppose this means I’m not sensible.

Now, a couple of hours later, I’m officially up way too late again. I weighed my options.

Option one, get right to bed and wake up by five so I have time to write and post before this has to be up. The downside is this means not getting enough sleep.

Option two, quickly figure out an idea and write a post then go to bed, preferably after I also set it up so I can sleep until seven or even seven-thirty. Might not be enough sleep but certainly more than getting up at five.

Thankfully desperation seems to help the muse do its job.

Thus inspired I begin typing. Fortunately, I know touch typing and my words per minute are decent. I can fill three pages in about half an hour as long as my muse is still cooperating.

Now it is closer to the morning than the middle of the night and my head doesn’t like the fact I’m still awake. Though I’m almost free to get some rest.

All I have to do now is choose a title, choose a picture to accompany it, edit the whole thing so it makes sense, then get it scheduled to go live at the appointed hour.

It’s wonderful how desperation can inspire you to work quickly.

Oh, happy day of birth to my beautiful new granddaughter, Aria Danielle Plagmann, born Monday, October 11^th.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

Long Hair and Other things by Bonnie Le Hamilton

(Bonnie is still having computer issues so she finally set this to me so I could post it. I had to take time from my school work to do so. Again, sincere apologies for being so late.)

A couple of times in this last week, I went out with my hair down, and both times someone commented on my beautiful long hair then asked how I take care of it.

Huh? What is so hard about taking care of long hair? And my hair isn’t that long; barely even past my shoulder blades, not to my waist, yet. I believe Konnie’s hair is longer, and I know that one of her daughters has way longer hair!

But the point is, it doesn’t require special care beyond putting it up in a braid or ponytail at night. Washing might take a little more shampoo, but it's still shampoo. And it’s still conditioner too. Why would anyone think it takes special care to have long hair?

I have had both long and short hair, and I have seen no difference other than ponytails and braids are out when your hair is short.

Honestly, asking about how to take care of long hair is as ridiculous as asking, “What’s it like to be a twin?”

No. It's worse. Because anyone can grow their hair long or cut it off short. I’ve had both hairstyles, anyone can. But I can’t know what it is like not to be a twin, because no matter what, I am a twin.

I’ve said this before.

I do have other siblings, but my relationship with them, somewhere in there, includes that I have a doppelganger right in my own family. It includes that someone else in my family shares my exact same birthday.

I’d say about the only people who see me as a unique individual don’t know about Konnie.

Sure, we have different personalities and different temperaments, but we are alike in so many things. And let’s not forget the mirror opposite part.

We are so alike that growing up I couldn’t stand when Mr. Rogers sang, “You are special, you’re the only you, . . .”

Hate to break it to you, sir, but my look-alike is sitting next to me.

Of course, Mr. Rogers couldn’t see through the TV and I don’t think he ever dealt with the issue of identical twins. At least I don’t remember any such episode. Then again, I didn’t watch Mr. Rogers that often because I hated that song!

Sure, there is only one Bonnie, but Bonnie and Konnie look an awful lot alike!

Which reminds me of a story I once read in Reader’s Digest. It was about a set of identical twins who both worked for the same company (ergo they wore the same uniform) and at one point some tourist quizzed both of them on their upbringing, where they were born and such, and he insisted they memorized rote answers to the questions because they said the same thing!

They were identical twins.

Konnie and I can do share vital stats. Ours were identical until we graduated from high school and subsequently got married and started having children. But come on, we were born in the same hospital, in the same town, on the same day, to the same parents! We also went to all the same schools, right up until Konnie switched colleges, but we didn’t start attending college at the same time because I stayed home for a year after graduating from high school to help out while our stepmother went back to school to become an RN.

But, since we were behind in school, that meant for the twenty years of our life our information was pretty much identical unless you count that we didn’t take all the same classes.

And we did have different experiences.

It was Konnie, not me, who had trouble with her locker mate in seventh grade; my problem that year was an over-amorous 9^th grader who seemed to think both of us were me until he finally saw us together!

In 8^th grade, the issue was a guy I knew saying hi to who he thought was me, and of course, Konnie ignored him. I’ve told that story before.

And that year I also had trouble with a teacher, who insisted on assigning seating, and refused point-blank to change from an alphabetical arrangement when that put me in the back of the room!

He insisted that since I do wear glasses, I shouldn’t have a problem seeing from back there. I tried to point out I was the shortest student in the class, but he refused to listen to me. That is until he caught me leaning out into the aisle to see what he was writing on the board.

Not that he figured out the issue even then. He didn’t get it until I pointed to row in front of me, saying, “They’re all taller than me!”

And my classmates took my side.

Anyway, happy writing everyone!