If you lose a sock in the dryer

I've always wondered about this phenomenon...

What Can We Learn from Cats? 12 Furry Lessons

Cartoonist Ron Levellie copyright 2014

Cats: most people either hate or love them. The haters contend that felines ruin furniture, kill songbirds, and consider people their slaves. The lovers argue that cats control rodents, relieve stress, and cover up their poops.

I find my “spoiled brats in fur suits” brimming with wisdom. Here are some insights I’ve learned from the roguish angels:

1. If you fight with the other household cats, you won’t have energy left to ward off enemy cats.
2. It’s okay to have whiskers and pointy ears.
3. Look for a patch of sunshine, and stay there.
4. Naps are cool.
5. Don’t fuss about your food, or the one who feeds you may start buying a cheaper brand.
6. Purring will get you everywhere.
7. Master the “Shocked and Innocent Look” if someone laughs at you. Better yet, stick your nose in the air and saunter away, pretending you don’t care.
8. Naps are fun.
9. Act as if you know what you’re doing even if you don’t have a clue.
10. Convince those around you how blessed they are to live in the same universe with you.
11. Refuse to give up. If one bird escapes, climb another tree.
12. Naps are refreshing.

Similar to cats, people are a mix of aggravating and endearing qualities. When I’m tempted to dismiss a brother or sister as too ornery to tolerate, I remember how God bears with my faults and stupid mistakes. Receiving His unconditional love frees me to love myself and others, focusing on positive qualities. Now if I could only convince my husband to see the good in our kitties . . .

From My Heart to Yours: I believe God gave us pets to help us laugh more. Whether you like dogs in tutus, cats hanging by their claws from tree branches, or pygmy marmosets yodeling to their friends, observing animals is one of the most relaxing, fun activities on earth.

The above is a chapter from my humor/inspirational book, The Heart of Humor, a compilation of 45 funny stories and 15 articles, lists and links to help you add more laughter to your life. 

Did any of my cats' suggestions for a happier life resonate with you today? 

The Great Zucchini Fiasco

“How do I get myself into these fiascoes?” I mutter, as I wipe the kitchen counter for the fifth time, hoping the neon green of zucchini pulp doesn’t stain. The phone rings. It’s my eleven-year-old granddaughter, who’s the starter for our three-kid-and-two-grands Sunday chat.

“Whatcha doin’, Gramma?” she chirps.

“Oh, honey, I am up to my elbows in Zucchini bread, zucchini muffins, and zucchini mini-loaves. I underestimated how much zucchini pulp would make a cup, so I had to triple the recipe.”

She giggles before saying, “That sounds like a mess.”

“You have no idea, dear girl. I started out with a large bowl, transferred the batter to a huge bowl, and then had to graduate the bright green goo to my enormous chili pot. I ran out of flour in my canister, so substituted a chocolate cake mix for the final cup. I wish you were here to help me!”

We visit for a while, me cradling the phone on my shoulder as I fill muffins cups and loaf pans. Finally, I sigh with pleasure. “How many loaves and muffins do you think I ended up with?” I ask, mentally daring her to guess right.

Her giggle reaches through the airwaves again. “I don’t know.”

“Three large loaves, eight mini-loaves, and sixteen muffins. And there is still a fifth of a zuke sitting in the fridge wondering if I forgot it!”

I’ve often joked how I use gardening in the summer and baking in the winter as therapy, because they’re cheaper than a therapist is.  But the zucchini fiasco has me re-thinking that philosophy. I spent three hours of my time mixing and baking, another hour cleaning up, and have yet to ask forty-seven people if they’d like to adopt a loaf or a set of quintuplet muffins to make their home complete. Isn’t my time worth at least two sessions with a shrink, in an office devoid of stained green counters?

The upside is, I have enough breakfast breads to last the winter, my grandgirl and I bonded a bit, and my neglected loaf pans felt needed.

But the next time a friend offers me an 18” long zucchini, I will run the other way!

Do you like to bake? 
Have you ever experienced a fiasco similar to mine? Do tell.

How to Talk to Your Pets

 If you have pets, you know how fun and enlightening a  conversation with them can be.

     My twenty-pound, orange and white cat, Rocky (shown above hugging his buddy, Pokey)clambers onto  the  love seat while I’m reading. His nose nudges my hand.  “Meowrrr?” he says.

     “What’s that, Rocky?”

     “Meowrrr?” he says again. He probably thinks I should have listened the first time, and then he wouldn’t need to repeat himself.

I force my gaze from the book to scratch his head. His amber eyes glisten with joy. I once read in a mini-paperback while waiting at the checkout counter that cats hear high tones better than low ones.

I want to make sure Rocky knows I care, so I raise my voice three notches.  “What’s goin’ on today?” I squeak.

“Meow,” he says, closing his eyes. Is he disgusted at my Minnie Mouse talk, or in kitty heaven?

Just to make sure, I switch to baby talk. “Tell me all about it, Rocks. I know you understand these things.”  

He purrs, and arches his back. Good—it’s kitty heaven. “Meow,” he answers.

“That’s wonderful,” I chirp, “I’m so glad to hear it.” I return to my book, still petting him in an absent-minded fashion. “You are so wise. You amaze me every time we talk.” 

Dog owners tell me that words are unnecessary—their canine pets can read moods and communicate with their eyes and body language. The owner of a pot-bellied pig used in therapy claims the little porker can help patients overcome depression. The day of my brother’s funeral, my uncle’s talking macaw gave me a huge release from my grief by making me laugh.

I might one day consider owning these other types of pets. But I’d hate to lose that unique ability to communicate with my cats in their own language.

The above slightly-exaggerated story is an excerpt from my book, The Heart of Humor: Sixty Helpings of Hilarity to Nourish Your Soul.  

Do you have pets? How do you talk to them? 

Have You Noticed This Shrinking Trend?

Drawing copyright 2013 Ron Levellie

While eating baby-back ribs recently, I noticed how dinner napkins are shrinking. It’s bad enough that manufacturers inject air into the napkins to make them appear plump. Now they’re decreasing their size. One used to cover my whole lap; these days it barely fits on the top third of a thigh.

Candy bars have also been shrinking with the times. Years ago, it took me five bites to eat my Gooey-Wooey bar. Today I have to get out Grandma’s magnifying glass to gaze at its loveliness before I down it in two nibbles.

And have you been as shocked as I have how ice-cream containers dwindled overnight, from half a gallon to one and a half quarts? We used to serve ice cream with our birthday cakes. Nowadays we simply wave the carton over each plate as a sweet remembrance of more generous times.

Coffee-can shrinkage is another travesty. Remember when you bought coffee by the pound? These days it comes in 12 or 13 oz. packages, for the same price as before. Soon they’ll be selling it by the cup and charging $3.50 a slurp. Oh, they’re already doing that.

TV shows take up only forty-five minutes instead of fifty-two. Today’s cars are the size of my grandson’s scooter. Even Band-Aids barely cover a boo-boo anymore.

I’m so relieved that Jesus’ love never shrinks or diminishes in strength. Jesus stays the same year after year, century after century, forever—even if my favorite pants shrink to the size of a dinner napkin.

©      From My Heart to Yours: Although I tend to base the worth of an item on its size, that doesn’t matter when it comes to problems. God is bigger than any or all of them. Next time one threatens to steal my joy, I need to remind myself of the huge, powerful hand of my Father.

The above is a chapter from my humor/inspirational book, The Heart of Humor, available on Amazon or Barnes and Noble. 

Are you bugged by this shrinking trend? What large items do you miss the most? 

Why I Feel Sorry for Modern Kids

I feel sorry for modern kids. Or should I say kydz? Today’s parents either don’t know how to spell, or they’re trying to be cute.

Not long ago, David was always D-A-V-I-D. Little Davey didn’t need to spell his name to the librarian, his Sunday school teacher, or the softball coach. Now he totes flashcards and wears a name tag day and night. It might be Dayvid, Davidde, or Daivihd. Same with a perfectly decent name like Mary. Her flashcards could read anything from Mahree to Mayrie to Mairey.

I cringe to think where this generation of creative spellers is leading us. Imagine a family singing together on a road trip. Sister starts, “There was a farmer had a dog and Bingo was his name-o, B-I-N-G-O...”

Brother interrupts, “That’s not right. Kevin has a dog named Bingo and they spell it B-E-E-N-G-O-U-G-H.” Family bonding takes a huge step backwards.

Or what about Sunday school songs? The leader steps to the podium and charges into, “The B-I-B-L-E, yes that’s the book for me…” when a redheaded girl in the front row corrects him.

“We don’t spell it that way anymore,” she says. “We use the new spelling: B-Y-E-B-I-L-L.” He stumbles off the stage, his hopes for a shining career as a song leader dashed.

I know, I know. Embrace progress, move forward, don’t dwell on the past, change is good, etc. I agree. But please don’t tell me I’m going to turn on the T.V. one day and hear “M-I-K-K-E-E  M-O-W-H-S!”  

 (Drawings copyright Ron Levellie)

Do you have an unusual name? How about your kids?  

The above story is a chapter from my second book published by Elk Lake Publishing,  

The Heart of Humor: 60 Helpings of Hilarity to Nourish Your Soul. 

 

It’s a Small(er) World

I noticed the other night at supper how napkins are shrinking. It’s bad enough that they fluff them with air pockets to make them look plump; now they are decreasing their dimensions.  One used to cover my whole lap; now it barely fits on the top third of one thigh. If they keep this up, I’ll need half a package at each meal. 

Candy bars have also been shrinking with the times.  It used to take me five bites to eat my 100 Grand bar; now I have to get out Grandma’s magnifying glass to see it before I pop it into my mouth in one nibble.

And have you seen how the ice cream containers went from half a gallon to 1.5 quarts? We used to serve ice cream with our birthday cake; now we simply wave the carton over each plate as a sweet remembrance of the way things were.

 

Coffee can shrinkage is another travesty.  Remember when coffee was sold by the pound? Now it comes in  12 or 13 oz. packages, for the same price.  Soon they’ll be selling it by the cup, and charging $3.50. Oh, they’re already doing that!

TV shows now take up only forty-five minutes instead of fifty-two. Today's cars are the size of my grandchild's scooter. Even Band-aids barely cover a boo-boo anymore. 

I'm so relieved that Jesus' love never shrinks or diminishes in strength. Jesus stays the same year after year, century after century, forever--even if my favorite pants shrink to the size of a dinner napkin. 

The above is an excerpt from my second book, The Heart of Humor: Sixty Helpings of Hilarity to Nourish Your Soul.

What have you noticed shrinking in your world? 

Chimpanzee Roller Derby vs. A Business Meeting

I hate meetings. Oh dear, perhaps hate is too strong a word. I detest, loathe and gnash my teeth at the thought of them.  I’d rather watch the Chimpanzee Roller Derby Queen Pageant than attend a meeting.

            Yes, I understand their function: get Dennis, Rachael, Twila, Bob and Kate together in one place to discuss a few matters and make decisions. It saves time and creates unity, right? Well…

            The last time the leader of a group I belong to called a meeting, our agenda had only two items. We needed to decide what day and time we’d have our monthly meetings, and discuss what we expected to accomplish in the group. Trouble was, none of us could agree on a meeting day and time to have our meeting-planning meeting.  But that’s okay with me. It saved me suffering through another meeting.

            My husband once spent ninety minutes listening to grown men on a church board discuss what type of pencil sharpeners to put in the Sunday school classrooms, and how much they’d cost. A year and a half later, the classrooms remained sharpener-less. Not only did I feel sorry for all those kids with dull pencils; I could have found a household chore or two for my honey to do in that ninety minutes he wasted.      

"That is so funny, dude!"

I'd like to form a No-Meeting Club, created for doing away with unnecessary meetings.  We’ll meet once a month to tell horror stories of lengthy, inane meetings we’ve attended. We’ll take turns pontificating on the virtues of a meeting-less society. Then we’ll discuss everyone’s thoughts, hashing over ideas for, say, thirty seconds. After that, we’ll concentrate on something significant and edifying.

            Our only rule will be: No pouting or food throwing if the chimp you’re rooting for doesn’t win the pageant.

Do you have an inane meeting story to share?