Tuesday, May 18, 2010

Just a Pop Tart in a Toaster

Garfield, that nefarious feline said, "If people were meant to pop out of bed we'd all sleep in toasters." My toaster was queen size. As soon as the pop up alarm went off I hit the floor running. 

I could peanut butter and jelly, stack a double decker and diaper a derriere with the best of them. Kwan Yin had nothing on me. My other half and five little fractions were figured into the equation with seconds to spare.

The halls were monitored, lessons chalked up, the classroom decorated, and Sunday field trips planned before the lunch bell rang. But all that was back when I was a rookie freshman in the school of life. Now that I'm a senior and getting closer to graduation day I find it harder to get up for school.

The young sportster traveling down life's highway like Lightning McQueen in fast gear is gone, replaced by Tow Mater. I'm down to three gears, slow, slower and slowest. My engine is sluggish, there's rust on the frame and my tires are flat. Body parts haven't just headed south they've relocated there. With all that drag, at least it pulls the wrinkles out of my face. 

One of the things I have purposed to do is age gracefully with the ability to laugh at myself; something I did not always do in my youth. I was always a few fries short of a happy meal.  I don't know why I took life so seriously. I'm not going to get out of it alive anyhow. So, with that in mind, I tell myself I'm only old on the outside.

I've successfully ridden that menopausal bull, Hormone Hurricane, and decided to pass on a few tips to you younger gals. Menobull can't gore you but he sure can beat the estrogen out of you. Ride with care and stay on low levels. Skipping too quickly to levels of difficulty throws you for a hard landing. If you're not careful, you can lose teeth, and break bones. Do not hang on with both hands. Lift one hand in the air toward Heaven and hold on to your hat.

There is joy in the cesspool of life, but sometimes we have to pump that stinker to find it. Other times it just floats to the surface. I remember one Thanksgiving after some hard  times, my daughters were helping dress the turkey. It started out innocently discussing fashion sense for a bird on a holiday. Soon, they were down to the nitty gritty. Finding the fowl still firmly frozen in some areas, they proceeded to seek the help of a professional. This required a cavity search and rescue. Dr. David, equipped with only a sterilized hammer and chisel, and his turkey triage combined their efforts. 

With sisters grasping the legs and holding firmly while brother grappled with the slippery, iced collar, an unexpected twist separated the turkey from its neck and it flew across the room like a scud missile. The grounded bird escaped with only a fractured forelimb. That day they saved the bird with a broken wing. But I suggested they quit cold turkey.
No matter where you are on the highway of life, enjoy the ride.  Seek laughter in the scenery and joy in the journey. Whether you're nailing jello to the wall, fishing frogs from the washing machine, peeling noodles off the ceiling, or keeping the midnight watch, find the fruity filling in the toaster of life.

As for me, my pop-tart toaster mornings are more like late dinner. And the future?  Well...just depends :) 


  1. OH, can I relate. I really did laugh out loud reading this. I don't laugh out loud near enough these days, so thanks, buddy! :-)

  2. Thank you so much for sharing this with me! I'm sharing your link here:


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