Category: Humor - trish hermanson

How I Survived a Woman's Worst Disaster

10/5/2018

The worst disaster in womanhood befell me. My purse wore out and I couldn’t find a replacement. That’s the-end-of-life-as-we-know-it for women, because we depend on a well-organized handbag as the repository for all we need to make it through the day.
     For years, I’ve relied on fanny packs, one after another, slung over my shoulder to hold everything I needed to survive. But when I visited my usual vendor to replace my bag, the clerk informed me: “We don’t carry those anymore.” At another store I found only one model, but it was the size of a cooler. I drove home and consulted with my style-savvy daughter. “Fanny packs? The world has moved on,” she said.
     Nobody warned me.
  My life with handbags has always been checkered. As a young tomboy, I couldn’t imagine why I’d want such a frilly box. Finally when I was 10, my mother decided it was “time” and forced me to carry a pink atrocity to school. All the way there, I swung it around my head. The thing didn’t survive.
Somewhere along the way, I fell in step with the rest of girlhood and selected my own tote. But never one of those little clutch bags like the Queen of England rests on her arm; that’s not me. I owned a cavernous basket-weave when I was single. When my date arrived to pick me up, it wouldn’t fit in the front seat of his VW Beetle. That relationship didn’t last. Through the years, whatever bag I carried, it carried my purse-onality, as comedian Anita Renfroe says.
     With my recent purse crisis, my style-savvy daughter knew of a brand that fits my quirks, so I snagged one the next day. I organized everything into all the little pockets and exhaled that my life could go on.
  You see, I can’t organize or control the world around me, but now at least I can find my lipgloss.

Really? Deadly?

8/10/2018

   This sign that I spotted in Washington struck me as overly dramatic: “Falling Can Be Deadly. Please Stay on the Trail.” So if I leave the trail, I’m in danger? And if I stay on the trail, I’m safe? If only life were so simple.
Here are signs others shared with me that made me chuckle:    Molly wrote about a large billboard in Utah that announces, “Stop and Eat and Get Gas.” No thank you.
     Pat says an Oklahoma sign warns, “Hitchhikers may be escaping inmates.”
     Terry laughed about the name of a South Dakota graveyard: Canton Lutheran Cemetery. To be buried there, how do you prove you’re Lutheran?
     In the Utah desert, Julie drove by a wooden sign proclaiming, “Forrest Gump ended his cross country run at this spot.”
     I puzzled over this sign beside a Colorado parking lot: “Caution - Children Ahead.” Am I supposed to watch that I don’t harm them, or that they don’t harm me?
     Whatever signs cross your path, I hope you never have a deadly fall, that those who hitchhike into your life aren’t convicts, and that you don’t come across children who harm you.
  And perhaps in today’s heated political climate we could all use this Nebraska sign promoting civility: “When push comes to shove, don’t.”

How Long Is Your Trail?

6/1/2018

After I wrote about signs that made me chuckle, some readers responded with their favorites: Stan said that a huge truck stop sign in Missouri announces “Clean Restrooms. Kids Eat Free.”
     Rachel said that when she lived in China, a sign in English in a grocery aisle announced “Inflated Food.” The section was filled with puffy bags of chips and other snacks.
Mary told me about a Florida church sign designed to keep people from parking in a certain area: “Thou shalt not park.”
     Ruth wrote about a Colorado mountain pass sign: “Watch for Avalanches.” Are we supposed to stand there and wait for one?
     I noticed a restaurant named “Re-combobulate” in a Washington port town for those who had just stepped onshore and were trying to get their land legs back.
     One sign in my neighborhood always offended me: “Slow Children.” How dare they say that about my kids.
     A fence company sign: “Love Your Neighbor, But Don’t Take Down the Fence.”
     And a discouraging marker along a path my daughter and granddaughters encountered: “Too Long Trail.”
     I hope your trails are never too long, and that you find plenty of humor along the way. For more laughs, check out my children’s book that discloses the key to developing a positive self image. “Hooty McTooty Discovers True Beauty” takes kids and adults on a wild ride with a chicken who thinks a makeover will change her life. “Hooty” is geared for preschool through third grade and is available here. It’s free for Kindle Unlimited members.

Signs of the Times?

4/20/2018

This sign behind a supermarket loading dock cracked me up: “Pickup Location.” Is this a dating service?
Other signs that have made me chuckle:
On a Texas interstate, a sign for an upcoming “Safety Rest Area,” then neon yellow signs warning “Watch for Rattlesnakes.”
Outside the entrance to a memory care unit: “Future Resident Parking.” You think I’ll park there?
In a women’s restroom: “I childproofed my house, but they still get in.”
A Colorado sign warning “Post No Signs. Underground Irrigation.” They broke the rule to announce the rule.
A sign for those who don’t want to hurt their dogs’ feelings that they are “owned”: “Dog ‘Guardians’ - Dogs Must Be Leashed…”
     In Washington, “The Northwest Man” store with a “Sale” sign. I can buy a Northwest man on sale?
An Alabama church for those offended by other congregations: “Perfect Alternative Baptist Church.”
Motivation to stop at a South Dakota drugstore: “Coffee 5 Cents.”
  Upon entering Louisiana: “Welcome. If You’re Here to Commit a Crime, Turn Around.”
Two Mississippi stores adjacent to each other: “Guns and Ammunition” and “Sewing Circle.”
A sign in a New Mexico canyon: “Rocks Falling.” Should I duck?
A rest stop sign extolling Wyoming’s “vast seas of grass,” while the turf next to it was artificial. What happened to the real stuff?
     And a sign at the drop-off area at an elementary school: “Hug & Go Zone.” We could all use a zone like that before we leave the house in the morning.

Genius or Dimwit?

2/9/2018

A full-page advertisement one page over from the newspaper comics caught my attention: pay $55 and learn if I carry the seeds of genius. Find out whether I can join the ranks of Mozart and Rembrandt and Jefferson and Einstein and Newton. All I need to do is pay $55.
Hmm. I’ve fallen for promises before. For instant wealth. Quick cures for health. And helpful hints to happiness. I know how well they worked. And now it’s genius?
I may not be the brightest bulb in the pack, but I could picture a lot of dollars flying out of a lot of pockets for this one. If I pay $55 to learn whether I’m a genius, I must be a dimwit because there aren’t any short cuts in life. It’s a matter of putting one foot in front of the other.
I turned back to the comics. More enlightenment there.

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