Tag: humor

Confessions of a 58 year old pirate!

At the ripe old age of 58, I finally achieved my goal of becoming a pirate.

Not the sea-faring, world-traveling kind. Not the eye-patch version — my eyesight is still fine. Not the wooden-leg type either, although I did break my leg a couple of years ago.

No, I’m the scurvy kind.

Yes. Apparently my vitamin C levels are low.

I take a GLP-1 medication to control my insulin levels. I should also be following a healthy diet. But me being me — which apparently means modern-day pirate — I don’t.

I forget to eat.

It’s a problem I’ve always had, even before the GLP injections. Being hypoglycemic never helped. The GLP-1 just made it worse.

And if you think forgetting to eat sounds like a good thing — it isn’t. I get severe stomach acid, my blood sugar goes wild, and I feel nauseous all day.

You would think being an adult and a mother I’d know better.

I do know better.

I just don’t follow my own advice.

When I started bruising easily and healing slowly, I finally spoke to my endocrinologist. Now I drink half a glass of orange juice a day and take supplements.

So pirate it is — at least until my levels are back to normal.

The upside? I don’t need to choose a costume for the next party.

It’s built in.

A Thousand Weddings & Other Polite Curses.



The art of wishing someone “well”


My grandmother-in-law, may she rest in peace, used to wish people she didn’t like that she hoped they would go to a thousand weddings.
On its face, it sounds like a wonderful blessing. Attending many joyful celebrations sounds delightful. Only later did I understand what she really meant: wedding gifts.
In my culture, we give cash—generous amounts of cash—for weddings and other celebrations. Going to many weddings can be a serious financial burden, and when we were a young couple, it certainly wasn’t easy.
My father likes to “bless” people with a Yiddish phrase that translates to: may you be like an onion—your head in the ground and your legs in the air. It’s especially funny once you picture it.
All these “wishful thoughts” are passive-aggressive at best, but truly hilarious when you think about them. Generations before mine used humor, creativity, and even politeness when they wanted to curse someone.
It was an art form—one I deeply appreciate.
What are the funny phrases your family used?

So we joined a committee…

We joined a committee today — a very interesting one: a committee of Turkey Vultures.

On my way to the Passenger Prince’s work, there’s a huge group of Turkey Vultures that like to sun their wings on the surrounding trees. I kept calling them a flock, but apparently, the proper term is a committee when they’re perched in trees.

I first noticed them when I started driving the Passenger Prince to work and asked if he had ever seen them. Apparently, he never had. It’s a big group of birds with an impressive wingspan — for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out how he’d never noticed them before.

What I’ve learned from being his chauffeur is that we really do notice different things. Once, we were both looking at a new car that passed by and wondered if it might be electric. I looked for the power hookup area while he looked for the exhaust pipe. We laughed when we compared notes — we were both right, just using different methods.

Ever since then, the Passenger Prince and I have been very involved in this committee. We check which trees or buildings they’re perched on, how large the group is that morning, and how they seem to be doing.

It’s a conversation that, if you’d asked me years ago, I would have laughed at the idea of having. But just like our almost forty years together, our marriage and our conversations evolve — and apparently, we even join committees.

From a Passenger Princess to a Warrior Princess

I used to be a passenger princess—and I loved it. My husband did all the driving while I relaxed in the passenger seat, helping with directions, reading a book, or scrolling through social media.

We love road trips, and I probably enjoyed them more because I didn’t have to drive. But then, the seizure came. One moment, my handsome chauffeur was behind the wheel, and the next, I became the driver—and he, the passenger prince.

Let’s just say… he hasn’t adjusted to his new princely status very well. In fact, he’s still learning the etiquette of being a proper passenger prince.

The transition from being the driver (and occasional backseat driver) to sitting quietly in the passenger seat has been a tough one for him. I’ve lost count of how many times he’s asked, “Did you see that car?” or “Why are you taking this route instead of the other one?” and plenty more unsolicited driving commentary.

What’s funny is that for years, I drove the kids around while he never seemed to care how I drove. But now? Suddenly, I’m under review like I’m applying for a chauffeur’s license.

I try to respond with humor—most of the time. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t occasionally want to turn him into a frog.

This new role as the warrior princess behind the wheel doesn’t come with an expiration date. My patience, however, occasionally does.

Here’s hoping he gives me five stars on Yelp.

Do Size and Shape Matter? In Salads—and Marriage—Maybe They Do

Do Size and Shape Matter? In Salads—and Marriage—Maybe They Do

I love salads—real salads with vegetables in them. Not the kind often served in the United States, which usually means a pile of lettuce and two or three tiny pieces of tomato. Where I come from, some of these leafy greens are considered butcher counter decoration!

My salads are filled with tomatoes, cucumbers, radishes—all chopped into good-sized chunks so you can actually tell what you’re biting into. My husband, on the other hand, loves his lettuce, and he prefers all his vegetables cut into small, even pieces. To be honest, his salads are a display of care and engineering. Everywhere we’re invited, people ask him to make the salad!

My husband is an engineer, and he looks the part—organized, symmetrical, and precise. I’m a little different. I find things that are too orderly boring and unstimulating. So, naturally, my salads (and fruit cutting) reflect that—slightly uneven and far from perfect.

That’s why I usually let him cut the vegetables and fruit—because he gets annoyed with the way I do it! Truthfully, it makes my life easier. He’s technically in charge of prep work and dinner, and I’m more than happy to do the dishes.

When he complained this morning about the “variety of styles” I used to cut the watermelon last week, I laughed and asked if it affected the taste. He agreed it didn’t—but still had to point out that he prefers even sizes.

But, as with most things in marriage, life is a compromise. I cut veggies into big chunks, and he cuts them into small, very even ones. The taste is the same, the complaints are the same—but this is our little dance, and we enjoy it.

Bread Trucks and Blood Pressure: Finding Humor in Life’s Challenges

funny. You see, I’m a Celiac — I can’t eat gluten because of an autoimmune disease. I was diagnosed with it as a “birthday gift” on my 39th birthday, and as a former carb-lover, giving up bread and pasta wasn’t easy. Back in the day, gluten-free options were hard to come by and, frankly, not very tasty. And, let’s be honest, gluten-free bread is still the size of a postage stamp.

Life these days is hectic, crazy, and sometimes full of stress. Lately, work has only made it worse. My cardiologist told me I need to lower my blood pressure. I asked him how to do that when people around me constantly annoy me and drive me crazy. I’m still waiting for a solid answer to that question.

I try not to take everything too seriously — not because I think life is a joke, but because we’re all dealing with serious things. We need to find humor in what surrounds us. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem to help much with my blood pressure.

Losing my hearing was tough. I went through the stages of grief because losing such an important sense impacts my quality of life and everyday well-being. But five years later, when people ask how it affects me, I joke that it’s actually a blessing for my husband — I don’t hear any of his annoying remarks anymore.

So, having a bread truck full of gluten following me around was pretty funny. Who knows, maybe it’ll even show up in my dreams tonight.

#GlutenFreeHumor #CeliacLife #FindingTheFunny #LaughThroughTheStruggles
#CeliacWarrior #HealthWithHumor #BreadTruckChronicles #AutoimmuneLife #GlutenFreeJourney #StressAndLaughter