Here we are again folks with episode 20 of Soup ta Nuts. With Real Life Stories from behind my bifocals. In this episode I’d like to begin with sharing the secret to living to an old age from the lips of a 100-year old women, and then a story about how things are not always as they seem. I’ll share with you my story about my experience that I have aptly named The Wild Girdle blues, (I should write a song about that one bet you didn’t know I was a musician too eh?) It’s about how I made out trying to fit my body into one of those girdle contraptions (guess for the younger ones call them Spanx) And I’ll finish off with Four worms and a lesson to be learned!!!! Holy cow! You won’t want to miss this!
So let’s get on with it. Here, I guess, is the secret of old age from the lips of a 100-year old woman
A 100-year-old woman was asked what she thought contributed most to her longevity. “For better digestion, I drink beer. In the case of appetite loss, I drink white wine. In the case of low blood pressure, I drink red wine. In the case of high blood pressure, I drink scotch, and when I have a cold I drink schnapps.” “When do you drink water?” “I’ve never been that sick!” Hahahaha…really…I wonder what I could use instead of beer? More wine? How about pink wine? hahaha
You know sometimes Things Are Not Always As They Seem as it would seem in the following: A man and his dog were walking along a road. The man was enjoying the scenery when it suddenly occurred to him that he was dead. He remembered dying, and that the dog walking beside him had been dead for years. He wondered where the road was leading them. After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along one side of the road. It looked like fine marble. At the top of a long hill, it was broken by a tall arch that glowed in the sunlight.
When he was standing before it, he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that looked like mother-of-pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked like pure gold. He and the dog walked toward the gate, and as he got closer, he saw a man at a desk to one side. When he was close enough, he called out, “Excuse me, where are we?”
“This is Heave, Sir,” the man answered.
“Wow! Would you happen to have some water?” the man asked.
“Of course, Sir. Come right in, and I’ll have some ice water brought right up.”
The man gestured, and the gate began to open. “Can my friend,” gesturing toward his dog, “come in, too?” the traveler asked.
“I’m sorry, Sir, but we don’t accept pets.” The man thought a moment and then turned back toward the road and continued the way he had been going with his dog. After another long walk, and at the top of another long hill, he came to a dirt road leading through a farm gate that looked as if it had never been closed. There was no fence. As he approached the gate, he saw a man inside, leaning against a tree and reading a book.
“Excuse me!” he called to the man. “Do you have any water?”
“Yeah, sure, there’s a pump over there, come on in.”
“How about my friend here?” the traveler gestured to the dog.
“There should be a bowl by the pump,” said the man.
They went through the gate, and sure enough, there was an old-fashioned hand pump with a bowl beside it. The traveler filled the water bowl and took a long drink himself, and then he gave some to the dog. When they were full, he and the dog walked back toward the man who was standing by the tree.
“What do you call this place?” the traveler asked.
“This is Heaven” he answered.
“Well, that’s confusing” the traveler said. “The man down the road said that was Heaven too.”
“Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly gates? Nope. That’s Hell.”
“Doesn’t it make you mad for them to use your name like that?”
“No, we’re just happy that they screen out the folks who would leave their best friends behind.”
Of course this wee story is not real, but the message is. Always look for the truth even if it otherwise appears different or perhaps hidden.
Now on with The Wild Girdle Blues my real life story from behind my bifocals. My hubby (now wasband) and I were invited to go to a wedding next month. Clem isn’t the fancy kind so we don’t much go anywhere where I have to get all gussied up, but this was one of those times, and I knew I’d have to put on a dress.
The last time my varicose-veined legs were sticking out for the world to see was when Clem and I threw a surprise anniversary in the barn for my out-laws. Boy time flies by, already five years ago. I wanted to wear my coveralls, being barn and all, but Clem insisted I wear a dress, ‘to look like a lady’, he said.
That was not a day I wanted to remember, so when it was all over, I threw that darn dress in the bottom of the old rotting cedar chest the out-laws had given us when Clem and I were churched. So this was a day it had to be revived from that musty old place. Other than a few wrinkles, it looked in good shape. The only thing out of shape was me.
It was clear from the start that the darn dress had shrunk in that old chest, as it would hardly go over my head, and it got stuck on my chest, and no amount of teasing and coaxing would convince it to go over my belly let alone my hips. I barely got the darn thing off.
This dress fitting brought to mind when I was going to my first prom. My mother had bought a new dress for me, sort of tight, but I thought if I wore it around the house it would stretch, somewhat like tight jeans. I had to get into a pair of silk stockings, the kind with the darn seam going up the back (for those of you who remember). Now the only way to hold them up was a garter belt, or a girdle and I knew the only way I was going to look decent was to get into a girdle. I realized this was not going to be an easy task, because with a body like mine, (I was a wee bit chubby at the time) you grunted, heaved, held your breath to the count of fifty, laid on a bed and wriggled, trying to get that boomerang elastic thing on. Mission accomplished meant you looked like you had a skinny tummy and hips, but the extra few pounds went to your chest to make you look like a muffin top in a Triple E. Sometimes those spare pockets of fat rocketed up to your chin. That’s how we women developed the double chin. Now if it went south, it squeezed out below the girdle itself. I was the only gal in town with rolls that hung down to her knees.
Now add that to the problem of pulling on those darn stockings. I had to roll those dainty things down so I could insert my calloused feet into them, but first I had to bend over to reach my feet. I was lucky to be able to breathe let alone twist around to make sure that black seam was straight. That all finished, I felt great. Do you know where they came up with the idea for the barbershop red-striped flagpole? That was from me. They copied that design from the red welt marks left around my legs when the elastic in the girdle broke loose from the pressure of trying to hold the whole of me in one shapely place. To top it off, those darn stockings stayed hooked to the girdle. They wrapped around my legs like a spinning top while my toes bore holes through the soles of the stockings.
It was those darn stockings that left those welts after they exploded and went airborne from the sheer speed and landed, along with that elastic torture chamber, on the chandelier. I let out a gush of breath and tore a hole in my prom dress. When I looked up, I saw two brown things hanging from the underbelly of the light. It reminded me of our pet cow Crocket just after she had been milked.
I knew then I had to do some major overhauls to the prom dress, but considered myself lucky when I examined myself in the mirror and realized I still had my teeth. That memory was too much! I couldn’t face another trial like that, so I declined the wedding invite.. It seems the only thing I can fit into now is the ear rings I wore in high school. And how was your day?
Now here’s a lesson you can learn from four worms. A minister decided that a visual demonstration would add emphasis to his Sunday sermon. Four worms were placed into four separate jars. The first worm was put into a container of alcohol. The second worm was put into a container of cigarette smoke. The third worm was put into a container of chocolate syrup. The fourth worm was put into a container of good clean soil.
At the conclusion of the sermon, the Minister reported the following results: The first worm in alcohol . . . Dead. The second worm in cigarette smoke . . . Dead. Third worm in chocolate syrup . . . Dead. Fourth worm in good clean soil . . . Alive. So the Minister asked the congregation, “What did you learn from this demonstration?” Olive was sitting in the back, quickly raised her hand and said . . . “As long as you drink, smoke and eat chocolate, you won’t have worms!” That pretty much ended the service!
I’ll finish off this episode with a Quotes: I’m not sure where I heard this but thought it great… LIFE ISN’T ABOUT WAITING FOR THE STORM TO PASS…IT’S LEARNING HOW TO DANCE IN THE RAIN !
We cannot direct the wind, but we can adjust our sails.
I’d love to hear from you and if you’d like to send us an email to firstname.lastname@example.org and leave us a comment we’d love to hear from you and as our gift to you, I’d like to share a free book I wrote called “Flying By The Seat of Your Cans” 101 Law of Attraction Tips to Lead a Joyful and Abundant Life and Fulfill All of Your Personal, Professional and Financial Goals. If you would like to be part of our show by sharing a real life story of your own with our friends, please go to email@example.com and send us an email. If you would like to be interviewed live, we would so like to hear from you too. Meanwhile, take care…keep smiling until the next time. Bye for now