It’s “Hey Rene J” Today!

White ceiling paint showed up on my purple Duluth Trading Post overalls. A nice big smear which I couldn’t remove for thirty minutes. Paint never comes out. This did!

I offer the little yellow bottle of Carbona, that of which I have no idea when or where it was purchased, though its promise of removing wine stains is a probable cause for the acquisition. I scrubbed out the paint with the tiny pellets and water, and voila!

It was a Martha moment.

This had me chuckling…because it speaks to my my dental check-ups or any medical appointment, with which I have riddled the month of June.

I’m not canceling though. It’s called, ”self care.” (Thank you, Palysun!)

Whilst watering plants and cleaning the birdbath yesterday, I ran into a horseshoe stake in the middle of the yard and gashed my leg. It hurts. I knew those stakes should have been pulled when I mowed last week, but I was too lazy to do that. Thus, I have paid the price, and I’m hoping I peaked in my stupidity.

Of course, I followed up the gash with some fun ceiling painting leaving my neck stiff and kinked. Perhaps I haven’t peaked yet?

When you get to have a mammogram, here is a jovial little game to play.

First, after the incredibly swift reception, when you are ushered to the ”spa-like” room while you wait for twenty minutes, make eye contact. Perhaps have jovial conversations, as all of the magazines have been removed in the past three years from waiting rooms, thus, keeping you in the dark on Hollywood’s machinations.

When the technician announces you from the farthest-most point in the area, stand up loudly and state, ”I won!”

If you don’t get smiles, at least you know you’ll be the conversation at dinner for somebody.

Every time I have painted a ceiling, my neck gets kinked, I end up wearing a pain patch to bed, and I vow to never paint another ceiling. So far, I think I have had to make that vow seven times.

Painting is an enjoyable job for me, rather therapeutic. However, craning the neck to accomplish it is undesirable. I’m not as limber as I once was? After I paint two more ceilings, I will once again pledge to avoid this task.

Things are looking up!

My sister and I were enjoying our time together pre-wedding day, when suddenly, I realized I didn’t have an item of clothing I thought I’d left at my brother’s home. The ensuing texts gave us some good laughs. Here is our in-depth conversation.

Those fancy pants traveled there and back again without being worn. And they weren’t in a hangar or on a hanger. Let’s blame swype for that error!

I think the name of the hole-in-the-wall place near my bro’s is CKs. I recognize the waitress from my many stops for a burger, and this last visit, I think she now knows I am a sister, not a girlfriend.

The place is simple with excellent food, and home of the famous ”Duke.”

The Duke is a huge serving of beer in a large vessel. Ice cold. My sister and I ordered one a couple of years ago, but I learned we were served in the great outdoors and couldn’t get the ”true” version, which I was given last week. It’s a lot of beer. More than I consume in a year.

Thankfully, he lives within walking distance of this establishment. There’s probably another ”Duke” in my future!

Who has the same instructor for four years in grade school? Who gets to meet that teacher 55 years later? My little grade school had its first reunion for all attendees of St. Joseph’s Grade School, and my favorite teacher in the whole wide world was there. Marya.

I just wanted to have her all to myself to tell her what an impact she made on my learning, my self-esteem, my life. All of us there wanted to do the same! She was a youthful, amazing nun, and she gifted us all with a desire to learn. Six of the top ten students in my graduating class were those she educated. That’s something big.

It was a beautiful ending to a week of Midwestern medicine. My jaws are aching from talking so much, my belly from laughing more heartily than I have in years, and my heart from those we have lost throughout the years.

Shakespeare nailed that one. ”Parting is such sweet sorrow.” I’m sure my musings will take me back to many stories shared this past week. Join me for the ride!

Anyone recognize the signs? I know my family does!

When I was about five years old my own grandmother gave me a nickel and my sister a dime. I proclaimed, ”That’s not fair.” Apparently I had a knack for finance? Anyway, Grandma says to me, ”Life’s not fair.”

Early lessons stick with you!