Gentle Humor

Suzanne Olsen's Humor Blog – I don't offend some of the people most of the time

Month: April 2019

Cure for Restless Leg Syndrome

I’m no doctor, but as an “ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure” practitioner I spend as much time researching medical cures as any board certified physician (not really, of course, but maybe), so I consider myself a queasy expert. Or is that quasi? 

I used to laugh at the TV commercials for drugs to treat a condition I’d never even heard of called “Restless Leg Syndrome.” I thought, “Jeepers, the pharmaceutical companies have hit a new low. They’ve developed a drug for a leg twitch.” Maybe the restless leg couldn’t be controlled and started kicking the person in the grocery line in front of them, or caused men wearing suits to uncontrollably dance a jig at a meeting. I used to snicker and poke fun – until I got restless leg myself.

I’d be sitting watching TV when I got this sensation in my leg like it was about to twitch. It’s an annoying, odd feeling, not painful, just aggravating. Like the kid behind you kicking your seat on an airplane – it doesn’t hurt but it’s extremely irritating. So I’d get this sensation that my leg was going to move, and then I’d get the involuntary movement, or twitch, not really the best word but as close as I can come. The National Institute of Neurologic Disorders describes it a little better: Restless Leg Syndrome causes unpleasant or uncomfortable sensations in the legs and an irresistible urge to move them.

Each episode lasted just a few seconds, then my leg would be calm until it came back, over and over and over again. One night I timed it and I got the sensation every seventeen seconds, and it lasted until I couldn’t take it anymore and stood up. 

It started happening every night when I went to bed. I would lie there for a little bit, about to drift to sleep, and then get the sensation. It was a cycle of pre-twitch – twitch – calm – repeat until I nearly went insane. I Googled several times for a cure but all I could find were people begging for help – they’d been on restless leg medication for years, enduring the awful side effects of the drugs (flatulence, diarrhea, dizziness, growing extra toes, etc.) rather than have the uncomfortable sensations.  

Late one night, when I was at a friend’s cabin and we were planning a big day of activities the next morning, and I really needed to get to sleep but couldn’t, I got my laptop out and read through page after page of people describing their suffering and asking if anyone knew a way to help when I came across someone who said, “Do this, it works.”  I got out of bed and tried it, and it did work! 

Here’s Part A of what you do, which will get rid of the sensations temporarily so you can sleep. Stand on your left leg (use your hand to balance against a wall) and do a small figure 8 with your right leg – a tight figure 8, the tighter the better. Repeat the figure 8 twenty-five times. It doesn’t matter which leg is restless, do this on the right leg. This will probably be enough, but you can also make a small figure 8 with your right arm after you finish with your leg. 

I did the figure 8’s and got back under the covers and lay there like a kid waiting for the monster to come out from under the bed. A minute, two minutes – no restless leg. After about twenty minutes I was counting zzzzz’z, sleeping the deep sleep of the twitchless. No more restless leg that night! After that I would do the figure 8, sometimes on both legs and arms (for insurance) any time I got a the sensation. Worked 100% of the time for me. 

Now for Part B of the cure. I was happy to get rid of the symptoms but wanted to know the cure, so I Googled and found several sites that said one of the causes was a lack of iron. Someone said no matter if you think you’re getting enough iron, take a supplement. After I started taking a low dose iron supplement, I no longer got restless leg. Ever. BUT there are health issues if you take too much iron, so you should do some research about how much you need and the best ways to get it, and be sure to check with your doctor if you’re taking other medications before adding iron.

Hope this helps you guys! And remember, I’m not a doctor so check with your physician or do your homework about the iron, do your figure 8’s, and have a very rest FULL day!

A Pig Stye that Seldom Meets the Eye

When we have people over, I like my house to be cosmetically clean. By that I mean, even though my house may look spotless, I caution you to never open a cabinet or a closet door –cardboard boxes and volleyballs and unopened junk mail will waterfall out and bury you.

Closet stuffed to overflowing

I’m not a clutter person, but I’m both a procrastinator and a sentimental packrat. Some people sort through the junk mail when it comes every day and toss things that are of no interest. The procrastinator in me just grabs everything out of the mailbox and puts it a pile on the kitchen counter. Then I move the pile to the side counter to get it out of eyesight, and there it continues to grow like some horror movie blob. I cleaned out a kitchen drawer to put the mail in, but it’s always stuffed with last month’s junk, so when someone is coming over, I rely on a large paper grocery sack.

My friend can drop in on a Thursday and my house is a pig stye – blanketed in bills, sales flyers, assorted cutlery, clothes, junk mail, water bottles, sewing projects, pet supplies, groceries and the like. When she comes back for a dinner party on Friday night, the house is immaculate (to the undiscerning eye). She says, “Where’d you put the grocery bag?” She knows me. “In the master closet,” I reply. Sometimes she’ll go look for herself because she can’t believe I have corralled all that mess into a measley grocery bag or two. If it’s around Christmas when I’m really busy, there can be three sacks in three different closets, but never under the beds – that real estate is already stuffed to capacity.

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Easter Craziness

This Sunday is Easter, and I observe the usual traditions from my childhood, plus things that other moms were doing that sounded like they were better moms than me. That’s how the Easter Scavenger Hunt got started.

I’ll tell you about that in a second, but first the paddleball competition. I like putting toys in the Easter baskets to disguise the reduced amount of candy in there. One year I found those paddles with a little red ball attached to them with a stretchy string. The kids tried hitting the balls but couldn’t do more than two or three hits in a row. It’s really hard to do – my record is nine. Turns out my brother is a champion paddle-baller, and when he and his family came over for Easter dinner, he stood up and started counting how many times he could hit the ball before missing. He’d start out with maybe eight times, then increase it a little. My kids, not wanting to be outdone by their uncle, kept trying to get more hits. The adults sat around and counted for them. They competed against each other, and over the years they’ve gotten pretty good, but they still try to beat each other, as the video below shows. They’re so competitive! Even though both are grown, I still give them Easter baskets with paddleballs.

The scavenger hunt is a tradition I’ve reluctantly been doing for years, ever since my friend’s kids bragged that their mom hides clues all over the house to lead them to their Easter baskets. Not to be out-mommed, and it did sound like fun, I started the tradition when my kids were pretty small. What a lot of work! I’d have to wait until they were asleep to assemble the baskets (I couldn’t do it earlier because they could sniff out candy like pigs digging for truffles). I’d write the clues, making them difficult enough to provide a challenge but not impossible, then tape the clues behind lamps, under tables, in the back of books, etc.

The scavenger hunt delighted and tormented my children every Easter morning. They’d wake up at an atrocious hour yearning for candy, and find the first clue on the floor outside their rooms. It had the number 1, then “Happy Easter, Little Children!” Then they’d read the clue, something like: “Look in a place where Little Girl likes to sleep.” Little Girl is one of the ninety nicknames we have for our seven-pound dog, a black, long-haired Yorkie Poo, Shelley. Others were Baby Girl, That Thing, Poochie Hound, Little Baker, Poochums Hound – all the silly names we call her. She actually has ninety nicknames – we counted them one time on a road trip.

My kids ran side by side like a yoked team of oxen to all the different places the dog likes to sleep, pulling up rugs to look underneath, tossing sofa throws in the air. Eventually they’d discover Clue #2: “Find the place where Dad likes to read.” Their dad reads all over the house, even in the bathtub, so they’d first run to the bed and thrown back the sheets and blankets, then scurry to the sofa and toss all the cushions and pillows on the floor, next they’d dash to the bathroom and scatter magazines everywhere until finally they’d find the clue taped under the faucet of the bathtub. The house looked like thieves had ransacked it by the time they were through. The clues were designed to take them from one end of the house to the other, back and forth, to burn off some of the energy they’d get from eating all that Easter candy. It was one of the very few times that they quit fighting and worked together. My grown daughter still likes to do the hunt if she’s home, so I have to go through the process, dutiful mother that I am.

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I Miss Old-fashioned Panty Lines

I wish we’d go back to the old-fashioned panty lines, you know, the ones under each cheek. I don’t think they were any worse than these new ones that I see all the time on the rear ends of the women who wear thongs.

Wait, weren’t thongs supposed to eliminate panty lines? No longer just for pole-dancing strippers, they are a way for women to get rid of those hideous, outrageous, horrible indicators that we wear underwear? How come men go around sagging their pants showing their boxers, and we have to wear hiney floss?

A couple of my friends started bought thongs right away and tried to convince me to. “No panty lines!” “You’ll get used to it!” So I got a thong to wear under a slinky dress for a dance. I was miserable. You know that feeling when the elastic in your granny panties starts to wear out and they don’t want to stay at the bottom of your bottom? The thong was worse. It was like stagecoach bandits – they ride up behind you and wipe you out.

Not only do the thong lines show, some women like to reveal their “whale tail” above their pants on purpose. When I see a whale’s tail I have to wonder – are the women doing it to be sexy, to excite guys, because it takes ZERO effort to turn a guy on. Their default state is like a shaken can of Pepsi – they’re always ready to spew.

Don’t believe me? Ray Romano, the comedian, has a whole routine about one of his fantasies while he’s taking a shower. One morning he saw a woman in a grocery store parking lot, and she bent down to pick up something. That’s all it took. A woman in the distance bends over and that evening he’s in the shower popping the top off his Pepsi! If you think you need a whale’s tail to attract a guy, you don’t understand men. It’s more of a challenge to keep them at arms length. Ask any married woman.

For those of you who have gotten used to thongs, don’t fool yourself – you still have panty lines, just in a different place. As for me, I’d rather go commando and not be in pain.

My apologies for planting THAT image in your head.  

Facebook Scares Me

Facebook scares me. I don’t log on very often because there is too much junk to wade through, but Facebook lets me know when someone posts a picture with me in it. I dare not log in when I have things to do because I get sucked in to the black hole of all those millions of posts.

As I scroll through the darling pictures of people’s kids and grandkids, dinners they just had, people having fun in the tropics, there are several posts that will say something like: THANK GOODNESS WE HAVE TRUMP IN THE WHITE HOUSE TO CLEEN UP THE SCUM FROM THE PREVIUS ADMINISTATION. All caps, misspelled words and giant type to make sure they get the message through.

It’s always the same people, and they’ll all against similar things. And their friends are the same ones who comment on each other’s posts, egging them on. They seem like they’re poking hard at their keyboards, like it’s the eyes of the politician they hate at the moment – I picture them like the Three Stooges poking at each other’s eyes when they were mad, with the receiving Stooge trying to block by putting his hand up sideways. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, I just went to YouTube to find a clip. There’s a block about 45 seconds in. 

There’s a picture of this scary-looking structure with a caption: “First completed section of President Trump’s wall. It’s beautiful.” And another, “Seems clear to me – Mueller quit digging when all his tunnels led to Obama and Hilary.” These aren’t really that mean, but I can’t bring myself to put those other quotes on here. They’re way beyond politically incorrect – down right hateful.

Tried to find some mean quotes from the left but gave up. Here’s something else scary I found, though: A picture of a muscled, tattooed man with the caption: ‘Love hot #romance? Get your hands on Bear Whiskey for only $1.99 in ebook format for limited time!” I’m not familiar with these books but the guy probably appeals to some – if you like those mountainous, glossy muscles covered in tattoos. Not really my favorite look on a guy. You know what my fantasy man looks like? He’s average size, no six-pack but no gut either, no defined muscles but looks healthy, like he could fight off a mugger if he needed to, absolutely no ink on his skin anywhere, he’s shirtless, wearing only faded cutoffs that are just on his hips, not way low so he has to shave his hairy parts down there, and not way high like a Speedo. Hmmmmmm.

Oops, lost my train of thought. While I was looking for spite from the left, I got a smile out of some of the videos of really cute animals.

I also found this video that I really liked – you may have seen it already because it’s probably made the rounds, but it’s worth watching again.

Now I think I’ve done enough work for this day, I’m going back to YouTube to watch crazy dog and cat videos. My favorite! Enjoy!!

No Wonder We’re Fat – We Eat Like Livestock

Ever been in a restaurant that serves fresh bread, and you eat it all and ask for more? When your belly starts pooching out, do you unbutton your pants? When your food comes, are you still hungry enough to eat it all, and do you control yourself, even though you really really want to lick the plate? Do you unzip your pants all the way down and then feel in the mood for a little something sweet? When your dessert comes, do you hold your fork up to stab any hand that comes in for a sample before you eat every crumb all by yourself? Do you say, multiple times, “I’m stuffed” then, if there’s any bread left, do you reach for it saying, “I really shouldn’t eat this, but?” After you ask the waiter for more butter, do you finish off every piece of bread, even if it’s several slices? 

Then you’re just like me. I curse myself on the drive home. “You big fat cow,” I scold, “you eat like a pig!” Well you know what? I was right! 

We eat like livestock.

Most big commercial ranchers want their animals to get fat in a hurry, so they feed them spaghetti, corn chips, cakes, cookies, pizza, dinner rolls, crackers, dressing, cereal, popcorn, bagels, and muffins. Well, not exactly in those forms, but with those main ingredients – corn and other cheap grains that quickly fatten up their cows and pigs before they’re sent to the grim reaper. 

“Oink Oink!”

Grains are actually unnatural food for livestock, and unnatural for us – it’s part of why we’re always hungry even when we eat a ton of food. Look at any cow in a field and what are they eating? Just plain old grass. That’s what their bodies were designed to eat. But commercial farmers can’t have millions of cows stinking up long stretches of freeway if they’re spread out in lush green pastures. Many cows spend at least some of their time gorging on grains in feedlots and slurping up medicine because they suffer all kinds of health problems from what they’re given to eat.

Natural foods for human are meat, fruit, nuts, and vegetables. Cave people weren’t tempted with all those aisles of grocery shelves jammed with grain-infested snacks and convenience foods. They picked some berries, ate some nuts, killed a wooly mammoth every now and then. Our food today has been engineered with tastes so addicting you live for your next bite. Just like a smoker, once you get hooked on grains, it’s dang near impossible to quit.

Just like cockroaches – grains are everywhere, especially in all our favorite foods. Don’t believe me? Look at the ingredient list of any food you crave and I bet you’ll find wheat, corn, barley, rice, oats, or rye in some form in the ingredients. Not just obvious things like bread, cereal and pasta. Grains cover corn dogs and fried chicken, they’re in gravies, soups and sauces – places you don’t think about.

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So Many Lists, So Little Time

Do you ever feel completely overwhelmed by all the things you have to do? Do you ever make a list to get the things on a piece of paper and out of your head, and then lose the list? Do you spend half the day looking for the paper instead of doing the things on the list that really ought to get done?

I do. Right now I’ve finally found my nice long list but instead of doing any of it I’m writing this blog post – which is also on the list but way down. The first item is to go outside, look for ants to see where their coming into my house so I can seal their tiny gateway with caulk. Then I’m supposed to clean toilets (oh boy!) rake debris out of my beds (we are very messy sleepers). Not to mention rake debris out of flower beds, give the dog a bath (stinks to high heaven), clean the fish tank, mop the kitchen floor, design a website for my brother, write a blog post….

There are not enough hours, and I get nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. Yet, when I find an old list (while I’m looking for my current, lost list) in the pile of papers I need to sort through in my office, I see that most of the things on the old list did actually get done. Sometimes I’ll go ahead and draw a line though each item, even though the list is two years old, because it gives me inordinate satisfaction knowing that I got all those things accomplished.  

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Copyright © 2019 by Suzanne Olsen