The older I get, the more I know but the less I seem to understand.  I have countless examples of things that befuddle me, but I’ll start with the most frequent thing in my life.

               Weight.  I have grappled with my weight for the better part of thirty years now, trying all kinds of diets.  Not eating works…but that’s a difficult one to sustain, for obvious reasons.  I’ve had a great deal of success with a ketogenic diet – over the past three years, I’ve lost twenty pounds and they’ve stayed lost.

               But going the next ten pounds has been a conundrum.  I can eat nothing but salad and coffee for a day and the next day my scale tells me I’ve gained a pound.  So, in a fit of pique, I skulk off to do errands, buy a snack bag of potato chips, and sit in my car, eating furtively and somewhat defiantly, until every last crumb is gone.

               The next day, I step balefully onto the scale and voila!  I’m down a half pound.

               I’m sure there is a metaphysical explanation that would explain in metabolism, calorie burn, and chemical reactions, but…still.  I just don’t understand.

               Another thing that puzzles me is shopping cart behavior.  I assume the carts don’t typically roll themselves into strange places – unless it’s an incredibly windy day.  So it seems strange to me to see grocery carts in the middle of parking spaces, in the middle of aisles, or – my favorite – right next to the shopping cart corral.  Seriously?  We couldn’t take it six inches further?

               A couple of stores have helpfully placed large signs in front of the two rows of the cart corral – one for “small carts” and one for “large carts.”  These signs even have pictures, just in case you need them.  So I don’t understand when I see carts of both sizes in both rows. 

               I feel sorry for the employee who has to pull them out one at a time and put them in the correct order to get them back to the store so WE can use them.  Doesn’t matter if it’s snowing, sleeting, raining, or hotter than blazes, they have to correct our laziness.

               I don’t get it.

               Here’s another thing that I don’t understand – cats.  Our cat, in particular.  She’s a big girl; I bet she tops the scales at 12 or 13 pounds.  For all that, she can creep around the yard, catching mice, chipmunks, and even the occasional mole.  She is stealth, personified. 

               Anyway, she can be really quiet – sneaky, even.  So the other night, we were watching TV and we heard footsteps on our back porch.  Thump, thump, thump.  I said to my brave husband, “who’s out there?”

               He – always quick to defend our castle – called loudly from the comfort of his recliner, “Who’s there?  Hello?”

               There was no answer.  Then we heard the thumping again.  Hubby finally got up from his chair and opened the back door.  There the intruder was!  Our cat – jumping up and down from the railing to let us know it was time for her to come in.

               When we try to find her in the house to put her out, she lurks around, soundlessly, going up and down stairs and who knows where – if she doesn’t want to go out.  But let us go to bed and turn out the lights – there’s a herd of elephants coming up the stairs to our bedroom.  The squeaking and purring is amplified as she jumps onto the bed and prowls around, trying to find the best place to sleep.  Normally it’s at the foot of our bed, but that’s only after she’s tried both of our pillows and our legs.

               I’ll add it to the growing list of things I don’t understand.

               For most of my adult life, I’ve struggled with insomnia.  The good news is that it hasn’t appeared to affect my ability to live my life.  Some days I’m a bit tired, but generally, I function as well on three or four hours of sleep as I do eight.  Well, at least I think I do.  I honestly can’t remember the last time I actually slept for eight hours straight.

               The bad news is that I have a host of silly activities that I do to try to get myself sleepy.  I read.  I watch reruns of comedies on television.  I work jigsaw puzzles.  I put dishes away.  I play games on my phone.  Sometimes one of these will make me sleepy.

               But often, none of them do and so I engage in the silliest activity of all – I stew about things.  I worry and fret and generally drive myself a bit crazy.  This does not, I might add, assist me in getting sleepy.  It mostly serves to stir my mind even more.

               I try to think about things I don’t need to worry about and pleasant things.  Tonight, for example, I’m thinking about how funny it is when you go into a place and it’s not at all what you thought it was going to be.

               (Let me digress to say that I have no idea why I’m thinking about this.)

               For example, one time I was in a restaurant and I had to use the ladies’ room.  I went in, completed my business, and returned to our table, at which we were enjoying an evening with friends.  I announced quite sincerely that I had never noticed how odd the ladies’ room was in this particular restaurant and that I thought it very strange that they had two sinks, and one was very low on the floor.

               The rest of our group immediately realized that I had not been in the ladies’ room at all – but in the men’s room.  But I spent several minutes being confused (and no, I was not drinking!).

               Recently, my husband went out to lunch with a buddy. They had planned to go to a restaurant near a movie theater but when they arrived, it wasn’t open until 11:30.  Since the movie they were going to started at 12:30, they decided to go to a nearby eating emporium, one they had never been to before.

               They walked in and clearly this establishment was very similar to a well-known chain that boasted well-endowed women in skimpy uniforms.  Taken aback, but in a hurry, my husband and his friend ordered, ate, and then left for their movie.  It wasn’t at all what they expected, but my hubby’s only comment was, “I hope they had warm coats when they left.  It’s cold out there!”

               It made me think about the time I fell and hurt my knee.  We had previously planned a trip to Florida for the holidays, but I had to use a cane, walker, or wheelchair for several weeks.  I was completely bummed out, knowing that our vacation would be ruined by having to push me around in a wheelchair.

               As it turns out, going to Universal and Busch Gardens in a wheelchair isn’t so bad.  The terrain is pretty flat, but even more striking is that people in wheelchairs get whisked to the front of the line and sit in the front row for every show.  No waiting and superb seats!  Our vacation wasn’t what I planned or expected, but turned out very well (in some ways).

               Now I’m thinking I will try to go to bed and sleep and I’m sure that won’t turn out the way I expect (or hope).  But maybe I’ll be surprised.

               Those of you who are regular readers know that I have had my share of struggles with technology.  I find it challenging to remember which “input” on the remote will get me to Netflix or the DVD player, so it’s not a stretch to imagine that, at times, my phone will completely baffle me.

               One of the features of my phone is a phantom operator that will, completely unbeknownst to me, switch my phone to airplane mode.  This means that (1) I do not receive texts or calls and (b) my texts come back as “undeliverable” and my calls go straight to someone’s voicemail.  This has happened not once, but a number of times (so you’d think I’d figure it out quicker!).  First, however, I imagine that my son – or some other loved one – is in a ditch or a hospital.  That’s after, of course, I assume that same person hasn’t charged their phone or has it switched off (that’s happened before, so….).

               But then, after some angst, I remember to check settings and sure enough, my phone is in airplane mode.  Is it something I do unknowingly?  Is there a phantom in my phone?  Who knows? What I do know is that it’s aggravating.

               The second aggravating thing about my phone is not a phantom, but a new “trend” in communication that many people use.  It’s called “group text.”  This means you can send the same message to three, six, even fifty people.  It’s a great time saver.  I don’t mind getting the first group text.  Often it includes important information about something – a person, an event, a shared activity, etc.  What I do mind is that then you are on the receiving end of three, six, or even fifty responses; responses that are usually meaningless, like “great,” “ok,” “thanks,” and most annoyingly emojis of thumbs up or happy faces.  But wait! We’re not done, because then you also receive three, six, or fifty responses to the people responding with “cool,” emojis of their own, or [shudder] GIFs.

  Just to find out your cousin was released from the hospital after spraining her ankle, you get upwards of 100 text messages.    Heaven forbid you’re waiting for a text from someone else about an important thing because you can’t turn your phone off….

The final thing about my technology that annoys me is “reminders.”  Reminders from doctors, dentists, specialists, barbers, pedicurists, manicurists, massages, plumbers, electricians, auto maintenance shops, and all manner of other places where an appointment is made.  You get the first reminder on your phone – literally minutes after you have made the appointment.

Then you get an email reminder of this appointment about a week before the event.  Then (if you have one), you get a message on your landline answering machine. The day before the appointment, you get another text reminding you.

               Is there an epidemic of people not showing up for appointments? Does nobody keep a calendar anymore?

               I haven’t missed or forgotten any appointment I’ve made in over 50 years, and yet I get all these “reminders.” Most of them require me to answer (“click yes”) or even call to confirm.  For heaven’s sake, are we –as a society – really that stupid and/or inconsiderate?

               I had more to say, but I have to stop now and confirm my dental appointment on email.  And then on the text they just sent me. And then I need to take the survey on how my last dental appointment went….

               For decades now I have enjoyed doing jigsaw puzzles as a relaxing hobby.  A wonderful side benefit of this activity is that it keeps my hands busy for hours, and makes me forget all about eating chips, ice cream, and other not-so-good-for-me foods in the evening hours. 

               I typically do more puzzles in winter than in other seasons, although over the past decade, autumn has become a busy puzzling-time.  That’s due to my husband’s hobby of watching college football. While I’m all in for any Ohio State game, he will watch Iowa-Nebraska, Notre Dame-Pitt, and Tinder Tech-Sisters of the Poor if it’s college football.  Those are great times for me to sit in front of my puzzle.

               Hubby supports this hobby of mine (as always) and has provided me not only with puzzles on birthdays and Christmas, but also a fabulous puzzle board.  This board has a large surface – perfect for 1000 piece puzzles (my favorite choice).  It also boasts four sorting drawers to keep pieces separated and out of sight when not in use.

               For years I have used this board on a card table, either in the room where my husband is watching sports or in another room in front of a small tv (where I can enjoy Hallmark movies or DVDs while puzzling).

               This year started out amazingly well.  My husband had purchased a Jane Austin puzzle for me.  The picture included the various homes and buildings from her works as well as all the main characters from her books. The back of the poster had a key to each figure, describing their homes as well as their attire.  I was so excited about this puzzle that I chose to work on it as my first endeavor in 2023!

               Unfortunately, we had not yet set up the card table for my work.  Having just moved back into our family room after some renovation work, I was using our pub table to work on the puzzle.  When we wanted to use the pub table, I just moved the puzzle board to the bench in front of the loveseat.  [This bench is used a footstool/coffee table until we find a replacement.  It’s a bit low for a table but perfect for resting your feet.]

               Several evenings after I started the puzzle, I was making dinner and hubby was setting the table.  Suddenly I heard a large cry from the family room.  I went to see what had happened, and my dearest had placed the puzzle board on the bench but didn’t realize there was a book on the bench.  [It had only been there a few weeks, so totally understandable.]

               This caused the board to tilt to one side and the puzzle began to slide off.  I had completed about 2/3 of the puzzle and half of it had slid to the floor.  My husband was appropriately contrite and I helped him pick up the pieces and straighten the board on the bench. We then returned to our tasks.  I wasn’t upset, because, after all, it was only a few hundred pieces.

               As we were bringing dinner to the pub table we heard another crash.  Coming into the family room, we saw our cat leaping away from the puzzle board, which she had apparently jumped up on. This action tilted the board the other way, and now the other half of the puzzle was on the floor.

               I won’t go into the strangeness of this, just let me say that we have never seen our cat jump on this bench before, or, in fact, go anywhere near the loveseat. 

               Now my puzzle had about 60 pieces put together, in three different places.  I sighed and the next day began working on the puzzle again.   Hubby fetched the card table and we set it up safely so that this would never recur. It went a bit faster and I soon had 2/3 of it (actually more like ¾ of it) put together.

               The next night I accidentally left a drawer pulled open.  As my husband was carrying something into the room, he ran right into the drawer, knocking the whole board askew. Only a few pieces fell off, but I began to suspect that my 2023 puzzling was going to be less than relaxing.

               It’s done now, by the way. I hope to start the second puzzle of the year next week.  I’m thinking a 50-piece puzzle might be better.  Any thoughts?