Archive for the ‘Humorous’ Category

What goes Bump in the Night


2013
02.06
I’m tired this morning for two very dumb reasons.  Here is my life:

First of all, I realized recently that one of my holes had grown closed.  Pierced ear hole, thank you.  Yesterday morning I was able to force my thick, original stud in my right ear. Ouch! I went to put any earring in the left ear and the only earring that I could get to go in was a very thin gauge post, almost like a needle.  I poked and poked and pushed and forced and finally essentially re-pierced my ear.  The squeak and pop when it poked though made my daughter Emily woozy.  I had to sleep on that big earring all night and it was a giant pearl.  It was not in the least bit comfortable.  Nor did it match my jammies, it was too dressy.

My throbbing ears woke me up at 3 a.m. and I heard a very strange noise, potentially in the house.  The house and the street were dead quiet except for a very faint strange “ffffssssshhhhh”.  That’s what woke me up, it was a sound that I was not used to.  So I sat up in bed and then accidentally on purpose rustled around to accidentally on purpose wake up Mike, my husband.  What follows is an actual conversation that Mike and I had.  

Mike:  “What’s the matter?”
Me: “I hear something!”
Mike: “What?  I don’t hear anything.”
Me: “Exactly!!”
Mike: “All I hear is the furnace running”
Me: “I’m telling you it’s something.”
Mike:  “Well, let’s narrow this down.  Do you hear the furnace?”
Me: “No, duh!  What do you think I am, stupid?”
Mike: “What does it sound like?”
Me: “fffsssshhhh”
Mike gets out of bed to feel the register to see if the heat is coming out.  It is.  I state that maybe the furnace isn’t working.  He is not amused and gets back into bed.

(FURNACE SHUTS OFF)

Mike: “Do you still hear it?”
Me:  “Yes, I am going to go search.”
Pause
Mike:  tone, less than amused  “Yeahhhh, you go do that.”

I searched the basement, looked at the furnace, the hot water heater, the sump pump and the water softener, which seemed to be making a faint “fffssshhh”.
I returned to bed.

Me: “Well that solves it.”
Mike: “What was it?”
Me: “It was nothing.  But I still hear it.”
Pause
Mike: “Now I hear it.”
Me: “What is it?”
Mike: “Nothing.”
Me: “Oh, that explains it.”
Pause
Mike:  “Well, it sounds like in the fall when they have those big machines out in the fields drying the corn”
Me: “Do they do that in February in the snow?”
Mike: “No”
Me: “Well, I guess it’s not that.”
Slight pause
Mike: “No”
Me:  “Hmm, must be nothing then.”
Mike: “Yup”

20 Minutes later

Mike: “I think it stopped.”
Pause
Me: “I still hear it.”
Mike: humpf
Me: “Oh, you are right.  I don’t hear it anymore.”

30 minutes later

Me: “Sorry you can’t sleep”
Mike: “That’s okay, what’s sleep anyways?”
Me: “My ears are throbbing”
Mike: “Go to sleep!”

At around 4:30 we both finally fell asleep to have the clock wake us up at 5:30 to start another day.  Good thing I’m already a natural beauty because if I was in the need of beauty sleep last night was not the night to get it.  My ears are still throbbing.  And now I need a nap.

On the Origins of Kork


2012
07.03

I’ve been thinking lately about my American-ness; who I am and why my ancestors came here.  I guess that’s what you get when you go on ancestry.com and see the places from which your ancestors came.  Don’t get on their site unless you can handle the truth of history.  It may make you change how you think of yourself.  Genealogy is not a sport for the weak.

When I first began my research I started to feel a little bit sad and depressed that I was not just one nationality; for example, I wanted to be like one of my best friends who is 100% Norwegian and whose family has been here, in the New World, for several generations.  I mean, as I dug into my genealogy I began to feel like some sort of a hodge-podge of peoples.  Many of my ancestors can be traced back to the 1790’s here in the States; in short, I am not a newbie or a pureblood.  I’ll get over it, but as you can tell, it has not been easy for me.

What am I, you ask?  Well, I am English, Irish, Scottish, and I think a little German.  Check back with me later in the year because I am planning on having one of those DNA tests done to figure out exactly who I am.  Those tests seem like some sort of strange voodoo to me, but if they can tell me that I came from a certain region of somewhere then maybe I will know who I am.

As I write this Blog post, I am touring the American West: Denver, the Grand Tetons, Yellowstone and soon, Mount Rushmore.  It doesn’t get much more American than that, does it?  Being here has increased my feelings of pride for this beautiful country and it has left me quite emotionally touched.  Some may say mentally touched, I don’t know.

Looking out over these rugged lands, these beautiful and dangerous mountains, I am comfortable in my air-conditioned mini-van.  I have food in the cooler and iced cold Coca Cola ready to quench my thirst, should I have one.  When I get to the Motel 6 someone will have “left the light on for me”.  No snooze in a covered wagon for me!   I have the Freedom to choose a Holiday Inn if the Motel 6 seems a little questionable, too bad the pioneers did not have such a luxury.  God Bless our freedoms!

The pioneers who came this way 168 years ago had none of the luxuries that I have to comfort me.  The only thing that they really had was a faith that everything would work out for them in the end.  That faith sustained them and helped them through conditions that we can only imagine.  I mean, can you wrap your mind around walking behind a covered wagon from St. Joseph, Missouri all the way to Sacramento, California in the blazing heat?  Heck, my kids get mad if I make them walk from the far side of the parking lot into Wal-Mart, for goodness sakes!

In addition to their faith that all would be well, the pioneers believed in the principle of self-reliance, that age-old idea that God helps those who help themselves.  Where has that sentiment gone?  Do we really take care of ourselves anymore, or do we rely on a government or a state to do it for us?  We have a safety net, even the most poor and destitute among us do.  The pioneers did not, yet they forged ahead.

If those folks got out into the middle of the prairie and were hit by a tornado, a fire or a massive snowstorm, it was up to them as to how they were going to muddle through it.  Often there was no use trying to “call” for help (Verizon service could only have been spotty at best in 1844) because there was no help to be had for hundreds of miles.  However, they had the independence and pluck to persevere.

The pioneer’s traits of self-reliance, independence and intestinal fortitude, otherwise known as chutzpah (check back with me to see if I find Jewish roots) are the qualities that I most admire; I’d like to believe they are traits that I possess.

Thinking of those pioneers, it’s no surprise then that it has slowly dawned on me that maybe I do know who I am after all.  This trip has helped me to understand that it won’t matter what the results of the DNA test are; in fact, on second thought I might not even take it at all.

What should have been obvious to me all along is that I am an American.   I have come to understand that no matter what my ancestors’ origins were, I have become, to the very depths of my being, an American.  I don’t really need to search for my identity in a foreign country. This is who I am and this is where I belong.

I am celebrating, on my most favorite holiday of the year, America and my blessed American-ness.

God Bless America on its 236th birthday!  May we always know who we are.