Bits of Time

By Gail Cushman

Bits of Time is a compilation of Gail Cushman's bi-weekly laugh-out-loud blogs, filled with fun, laughter, and nostalgia. The series of two-minute reads glimpses the past, present, and future of life as she sees it.

In the style of Erma Bombeck and Paul Harvey, Gail Cushman reveals her take on life as a senior citizen,

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gail Cushman Books
• Release date: Dec 2, 2022
• ISBN: 9781737628866

Book preview

What Wrinkly Bits Readers are Saying:

Bob from Texas: You made me laugh and reflect. So enjoyed this one today.

Patty from Utah: I love how your bits always make me smile.

Aletha from Pennsylvania: Good read, Gail. Your blog and a big cup of coffee get me started. Good way to begin a beautiful day. Love Wrinkly Bits.

Becky from Idaho: This is just what I needed to read right now on a day when my stressors are on the brink of boiling over…thank you.

Trish from Florida: Your writing always brings a smile to my face. Thank you!

Claudia from Hawaii: WOW, how I can relate to most of your what ifs. I enjoy all your contributions as Wrinkly Bits.

Suzi from Maine: You are such a bright light in my own cold, - 6 degrees-windy-35 mph home. Although I am much younger (73) many of your musings hit home.

Marti from Idaho: Thanks for sharing this. I can’t change the past but do have some control of the future. Love your blog…puts a smile on my face.

Sandy from Idaho: Thanks for the giggle.

Barbara from Idaho: It’s so fun reading about our good ol’ days. There’s so much I’ve forgotten.

Diane from Oregon: You speak for many of us, Gail. Move over, Erma Bombeck.

Judy from Georgia: Talk about hitting the point! We could be twins.

Sharon from Idaho: Loved your blog. We can only wish for what that you mentioned.

Judy from Idaho: Your morning thoughts are funny and thoughtful. Keep them coming!!!

Gary from Tennessee: Very well written and your experience was Typical, oh, so typical!

Ken from Missouri: As always, what a great article…Erma Bombeck, Paul Harvey…you hit them both.

Delores from Arizona: Thank you. You never disappoint.

Larry from Idaho: Excellent, Gail! Keep up the good (entertainment) work.

Hanna from Connecticut: I’m still smiling, Gail. You write well and always make me smile.

Maribeth from Idaho: Thanks for another great story!

Karen from Ohio: I love reading the stories that you write. Wrinkly Bits are so funny.

Les from Idaho: I love reading Wrinkly Bits. Gail is so AWESOME!!

Lawanda from Nevada: Have new glasses! Happy to read everything you write!

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Bits of Time Copyright © 2021 Gail Decker Cushman All rights reserved. No part of this book may be part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright manner except for the use of quotations in a book review.

Edited by Words with Sisters: AnnaMarie McHargue and Anita Stephens

Designed by Design Daily Studio: Hailey Dixon

ISBN: 978-1-7376288-5-9

ISBN: 978-1-7376288-6-6 (ebook)

www.wrinklybits.com

DEDICATION

Life brings sunshine and lambs, And every day I thank my editors Words with Sisters

Anna McHargue and Anita Stephens

For bringing me both.

You never fail to delight and support me.

I appreciate everything you do for me.

CONTENTS

Wrinkles and Crinkles

Fine and Dandy

Invisible Me!

Duck and Cover

Wine Chopped

My Mother, the Original Marie Kondo

Time Marches On

Honk. Snort. Honk. Snort.

Women of a Certain Age

Here We Have Idaho

A New Man in the House

God Bless Our Daily Fix-Its

A Hot Dating Site

Hurray for Velcro!

Ten Percent Tuesdays

Phone Booth or Social Distancing Vestibule?

The G Word

Toe Fetish

Gutter Dancing

Cloudy Days

Wag and the Gang

Hair Raising Tales

Avoiding Muumuus

How to Master Password Mania

Ranting at Robos

Three-Time Loser

Bikinis and Vampires

I Should Have Listened to My Mother (Part 1)

Underwear and Outerwear

Wag, the Perfect Guest Host

Straightening Bent Nails

What Was I Saying?

An Hour in the Life

No Prods, No Pokes, No Whiskey

It’s 2020

Junque!

Look What I Got for $50

53.8 Years

Stepping into the Fire Pit

In Search of My Idaho Sky

Wrinkly Bits

Getting Rid of Gilda

The Field Marshal Returned

Ode to Zucchini

I Used to…

Hiring a Handyman

Old Friends

Lists and More Lists

Ms. M. Strikes Again

Becoming a Minimalist

Semper Fi!

Trapped Fat, COVID Curse, or Ancestral Gift?

Siri’s Serious Spelling Snafus

Talking to Grandma

What's on Television?

Why Thanksgiving Reigns

What If?

Wisdom Spots

My Life in the Fast Lane

It’s Monday!

Just Getting Started

The Joy of Letters

Acting My Age

Firing Up a Firestick

What Are You Doing Today?

Adventures with an Apple Watch

Sweeping Out the Brain Sawdust

Time and Time Again

I’m Not in Boise Anymore

Hello? May I Help You?

The Perfect Food

Such a Loser

Get Crackin’ and Start Packin’

Zipping Along

Coming Home

It’s Very Screwy

The Root Canal Saga Part 1

The Root of the Problem Part 2

My Curious Friends

New Ways to Pay

Meeting My New Friends

My Lemur Menagerie

One of Those Days

Calls, Texts, and Surveys, Oh, My!

Laughing at Rutabagas

My Biological Clock Is on the Fritz

I Can Hear It Now

Picking on Prostates

Postcards

Feeling Fine

Watching Jethro Gibbs

Where Is It?

Much Ado About Nothing

Jabbering

Side Effects I Could Live With

Up and at ‘Em

Looking Backward

Whipped Cream and Other Things

Busy, Busy, Busy

Leaps and Bounds

It Ain’t What They Call You, It’s What You Answer To

Holy Cow!

The Rest of the Story

Baby Boomers or Wrinkly Bits

Acknowledgments

About The Author

Wrinkles and Crinkles

My spouse has some difficulty walking, so in my zest for normalcy, I purchased a lift chair, which I now have coined his launch pad , thinking it would enable him to get to his feet more easily. He thought it was a good idea, especially since it had all kinds of electronic dials and buttons attached, and my husband, like many men, loves gadgets.

Besides being attractive, it has amazing features: heated seat, leg massagers, two remote controls, two cupholders, and a side pocket where he could stash whatever it is that old men like to stash. In addition, it has stain avoidance, that is, if it gets stained, the company where I bought it replaces the chair. Food, bodily fluids, snow, dog slobber, whatever. That’s good because if we happened to spill ice cream or a red adult beverage on it, no problem! A new one, defunct of ickiness, would arrive in 10 minutes flat. Guaranteed.

I ordered this marvelous chair from the store, sight unseen, so wasn’t sure exactly how it worked. So, in the interest of being the helpful and dedicated wife, I tried it out first. A plastic bag held the warranty and a set of instructions in four languages with one of them in English, but they were printed on beige paper with light green print the size of grains of sand. I tossed the instructions, wondering why a chair needed instructions, sat down, elevated my feet, and sighed contentedly. I pushed buttons and pulled levers, and my head went back, and my feet went up. My derriere began to jiggle, and my back began to feel fine. It was perfect, and he would be able to watch his favorite sports shows in comfort.

He smiled and sat down. I was excited because I knew he would love it. He had been spending a lot of time lying down, and this might get him moving a bit more. I could pre-set the derriere jiggling component, which would get his blood moving a bit. I handed him the first remote and demonstrated the leg massaging (M) and the heated seat (H) functions. He nodded and smiled. I had hit the mother lode with this gift, I thought. The second remote had two more buttons, L1 and L2, and because my husband is an overachiever, I hit L2, which logically would mean Lift, but actually meant Launch. And because his chair was still in massaging mode, it sprang him up and launched him into the air. Oh. My. Gosh. Luckily, in what looked like a football tackle, one of the male nurses caught him, and both were spread eagle on the floor. I pushed the emergency button, and a team of nurses flew into the room to assist. No one was hurt, but now I’m trying to find the instructions, and I’m thinking of buying a helmet.

Fine and Dandy

Igot up early this morning, looked out, and guess what! The sky was blue, and the temperature was a perfect 70 degrees with no wind. (Okay, I didn’t get up with the chickens, but who cares because I don’t have any chickens to get up with.)

I went on a two-mile walk, trying to get half of my 10,000 steps in and was gratified with flowers and blooms everywhere. And for the 40 minutes it took me to walk the two miles, (I’m not a fast walker, another who cares) my brain held thoughts of COVID-19 at bay. My husband has always maintained that flowers are what make us civilized, and if that’s true, Boise is very civilized, especially in the spring. Thank you, Tom, for drilling that bit of wisdom into my head through the years.

My excursion was beautiful. And, even better, the last 50 feet of my walk, approaching home, I saw more flowers, pretty little yellow things protruding from my lawn. Dandelions. Although considered a weed, I think they are simply fine and dandy, although my neighbors probably disagree. They add a lovely contrast to my now-green grass and the blue skies; and they make me happy, glad to be alive, grateful not to be sick, thankful for every blessing I have. Who knew a simple weed could offer so much?

Although Tom’s reference to a civilized society referred to flowers, I can’t help but wonder why dandelions aren’t members of the most-favorite flower category. They are bright and soft with no thorns, and grow without any work, like fertilizer and weeding or even water. Give them an inch of dirt and they show up without any provocation. Dig them out, and they come back. They are true loyal perennials and I, for one, think they should be given more credit.

My grandfather, vintage 1886, loved dandelions. He had five acres on Maple Grove (wouldn’t that be worth a pretty penny now) and raised all his own meat, fruit, vegetables, and DANDELIONS. He used his grandchildren (my brothers and me) to pick them by the basketful, and he cooked and aged them until they turned into an exceptionally fine wine, so he said, although it was off limits to those of us under the age of 10.

It has been difficult to be caged up all these weeks, but we should all keep our eyes open for the beauty in our lives, appreciating something we thought was nothing. I think I’ll take a basket with me on my next walk, mimic my grandpa, and dream of dandelion wine.

Invisible Me!

It started with the ears and has worked its way down to the rest of me. When my kids were little, they ignored me and the clean your room and pick up your toys phrases didn’t make the trip from my mouth to their ears. Now that they’re grown, they are more polite about it, but mostly they don’t answer my questions or heed my warnings. My teenaged grandchildren have their eyes glued to something electronic that cancels grandma’s presence.

When I taught school, my students ignored me with, What homework? You didn’t say anything about homework. It was like they were 100% deaf, or I was 100% mute.

My first experience with being invisible was when my husband and I bought our first car together. We were both about 25 and entered the dealership together armed with a list of questions. I read each question clearly, and the salesman looked at him and shrugged his shoulders as if to say, What’s that noise about? then continued his sales pitch as if Tom had entered the dealership alone, somehow not seeing that I was waving my hands in front of his face, like Pick me, pick me until of course I pulled out my checkbook to write the check for the car. Then I became a lady who was both visible and important.

In my 40s, it was the various appliance repairmen. I would call, make the appointment, meet them at the front door, and tell them what was wrong. They, in turn, would say, Is your husband available? If I said no, they would politely tell me that they would call him and give him the details. It was as if I was incapable of understanding a faulty filter or a kinked hose.

When I hit my 60s and the hair began to change color, store clerks didn’t see me patiently standing in line to buy their wares. Restaurant servers appeared to have no idea I was waiting. After other guests seated in my vicinity were acknowledged and served, only then did they approach me. Did you want something, Ma’am? to which I would answer, Oh, no, thank you, I’m just trying to keep this chair from flying to the ceiling, but never mind about me because I can hold it down for a while longer.

I appear to have substance when I look in the mirror, but maybe it’s my imagination, although one time recently I looked in the mirror and saw my mother staring back at me.

Yesterday, though, while driving, someone gave me the finger. I was so excited, I was seen, not invisible! Unfortunately, I do not know why the someone decided to acknowledge my presence, as I wasn’t near his vehicle; I was in a different lane, two car lengths behind him. Maybe he didn’t like my car. At any rate, I felt validated. Maybe I’m not invisible after all.

Duck and Cover

Ihaven’t done the earthquake jitterbug since 1983 when I was on the second floor of my old high school. My Marine Corps training drilled earthquake instructions into my head (for air raids, as well as earthquakes), and I remembered the words duck and cover, but I didn’t have anywhere to duck and school desks weren’t much good for cover, so my fellow teachers and I grabbed hold of the doorjambs, watching the walls shift and crack, all the while hoping the building didn’t collapse above or below me. I am here today because it didn’t.

Flash forward to this week. Because I’m still under COVID house arrest, I was home and had just frosted a chocolate cake for my neighbor’s 80th birthday when the Earth started to dance, but the words duck and cover screamed back at me the second I felt the ground move in Idaho’s surprising 6.5 quake. I hightailed it to the nearest doorway, which was in my bedroom, and held on for dear life. After all, the doorjamb worked back then, why wouldn’t it work now?

The problem: I have a very large metal star attached to the wall leading to my bedroom. And, by large, I mean an eight-point star that is 8 x 10 feet and weighs over 100 pounds. It took three people and three ladders to hang it. But it’s shiny and pretty and fills up the wall of the vaulted ceiling in my living room, and it gives me joy to look at it.

For those brief seconds that seemed like hours, the walls, the windows, and the floor waved at me, but then I heard a clanging noise above me. I