Of Falling Silver and Glass

Late one night while I was emptying my dishwasher, a couple of forks slipped out of my grasp and hit the floor with a loud clang. Normally, I would have been annoyed, since I was anxious to get this done and get to bed. However, I found myself laughing hysterically, struggling not to wet my pants. I thought back to a similar situation years ago in a different kitchen.

In 1988, I was attending the Wyoming Lions Summer School for the Visually Impaired on Casper Mountain. After supper one night, I volunteered, or was chosen, for dish duty. After accumulating a neat pile of dry plastic glasses, I was reaching for a wet one when my arm brushed the pile hard enough to set it off balance. Glasses flew everywhere, hitting the floor with a loud clatter.

The normal human reaction in this situation is to be mortified, but having always enjoyed the sound of disaster, it was all I could do to keep a straight face, especially since others were laughing. The staffer in charge of the kitchen knew I’d just completed a music therapy internship. Not known for a sense of humor, he said, “Is that what you trained for at Villa Maria?”

I should have said, “No, I trained as a music therapist, not a dishwasher.” At the time, I couldn’t say anything, speechless as I was with mirth.

Isn’t it frustrating when you think of something you could have said in a particular situation? Of course that’s better than regretting something you said but still…

So what’s the point of this post? Again, I’m speechless with mirth and have no idea. Maybe years from now, I’ll have a better answer to that question.

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Author Abbie Johnson Taylor

We Shall Overcome

How to Build a Better Mousetrap: Recollections and Reflections of a Family Caregiver

That’s Life: New and Selected Poems

My Ideal Partner: How I Met, Married, and Cared for the Man I Loved Despite Debilitating Odds

Click to hear an audio trailer.

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A New Me

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Recently while my homemaker from the local senior center was cleaning, she found plaster falling from the ceiling near my kitchen door. Apparently, it had gotten wet. This could only mean one thing. My roof was leaking again.

Why didn’t I see this? Well, with my limited vision, I don’t see things unless they’re close to me. Although I walk by my kitchen door every day, it never occurred to me to look up.

When my homemaker pointed out the offending area, I saw it, and it looked awful. I could just reach it by standing on tiptoe, and when my finger touched the spot, more flecks of plaster went flying. Yuck!

My roof was replaced in 2008 when I bought the house, and I was assured it would last at least thirty years. It wasn’t even ten years old. I called the same roofer, and after taking a look, he reported that the material he used was only supposed to last ten years, and it was aging. Like me, I thought.

As long as I’m getting part of my roof replaced, why not have my me replaced? Maybe I could get a younger me who can see, a me who doesn’t recoil at the prospect of dealing with contractors and insurance bureaucrats, a me who doesn’t hate being around any kind of construction, a me who can drive and not rely on others to get me everywhere, especially in winter, a me with more confidence when walking in treacherous conditions and less fear of falling on ice, braking bones, and ending up in a nursing home.

When I suggested as much to a friend though, she pointed out that with better eyesight, I might not like the way the world looks. It also occurred to me that with no disability, I wouldn’t earn income from social security. To make car payments and support my writing habit, I’d have to go back to my forty-hour-a-week job conducting activities with nursing home residents who fell on ice and broke bones.

Although the other features of a new me would be nice, this investment will have to wait until I get the roof fixed. Apparently, although my homeowner’s insurance will cover fixing the plaster on my ceiling, it won’t cover the replacement of part of my roof unless the damage was a result of a storm. Hmm, maybe with a better me, I could get up on the roof and make it look like storm damage.

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Note: After I wrote the above, the insurance adjuster came and said that a piece has fallen off the roof, so it’s definitely storm damage. Whether it’s the type of storm damage my policy covers remains to be seen.

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Author Abbie Johnson Taylor

We Shall Overcome

How to Build a Better Mousetrap: Recollections and Reflections of a Family Caregiver

That’s Life: New and Selected Poems

My Ideal Partner: How I Met, Married, and Cared for the Man I Loved Despite Debilitating Odds

Click to hear an audio trailer.

Like me on Facebook.

 

More Humor from Italian Mother-Daughter Duo

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I’ve Got Sand in All the Wrong Places

By Lisa Scottoline and Francesca Serritella

Copyright 2016

 

This is Lisa and Francesca’s latest collection of pieces on pets, dating, and other random topics. They span one year of their lives, Lisa’s in Philadelphia and Francesca’s in New York. Not all the essays are funny. Francesca and Lisa both write about a time when Francesca was mugged and how it affected both of them. Also, Lisa touches on hate mail.

If you were to ask me which one of these pieces was my favorite, I’d tell you they’re all great. I loved Francesca’s account of staying with friends in a rented beach house with a burglar alarm that went off whether you were going in or coming out. Lisa’s description of how she tried to make butternut squash soup reminded me of why I don’t cook very often. I could relate to the title. Whenever I visit a Florida beach with my brother and his family, I always get sand in the wrong places.

This book is available as a commercial audiobook with the authors narrating it. It gives a book a nice touch when you can hear the authors read it. According to the acknowledgements section, Lisa and Francesca love recording their books. I love hearing them. Whether you listen or read, I hope you will also enjoy this book.

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Author Abbie Johnson Taylor

We Shall Overcome

How to Build a Better Mousetrap: Recollections and Reflections of a Family Caregiver

That’s Life: New and Selected Poems

My Ideal Partner: How I Met, Married, and Cared for the Man I Loved Despite Debilitating Odds

Click to hear an audio trailer.

Like me on Facebook.

 

Essays Insert Humor in Daily Life

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Meet Me at Emotional Baggage Claim

by Lisa Scottoline and Francesca Serrintella

Copyright 2012.

 

This is the fourth book by bestselling mystery writer Lisa Scottoline and her daughter Francesca Serrintella. It’s a collection of essays, written either by Lisa or Francesca that reflect on weight loss, shopping, animals, mother-daughter relationships, and other topics. Anecdotes about Lisa’s mother, affectionately called Mother Mary, add to the mix. In the end, they each share their hopes and dreams for the other. The book includes photos with captions.

I laughed at many of the pieces here like Francesca’s account of a problem she had with a furniture store while arranging to have a table delivered to her New York apartment. Lisa’s essays about her foot surgery reminded me of when I had a colonoscopy, and the gastroenterologist, after noting my age, said he hoped I was just as beautiful inside as I was outside.

While reading about Mother Mary, I thought of the song by The Beatles, “Let It Be,” in which Mother Mary always has an answer. This Mother Mary didn’t always have an answer and could be cranky. Francesca’s explanation of what she calls grandmother whispering reminded me of many times when I worked with nursing home residents suffering from dementia.

This book inspired me to try some humor writing of my own. Will see what comes of it. Meanwhile, I plan to enjoy Lisa and Francesca’s latest collection, I’ve Got Sand in All the Wrong Places.

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Author Abbie Johnson Taylor

We Shall Overcome

How to Build a Better Mousetrap: Recollections and Reflections of a Family Caregiver

That’s Life: New and Selected Poems

My Ideal Partner: How I Met, Married, and Cared for the Man I Loved Despite Debilitating Odds

Click to hear an audio trailer.

Like me on Facebook.