I feel crappy today.

Yes, I do believe that is the technical term for what ails me.

I jest, natch.

To be medically accurate, I have an upper respiratory infection.

It’s got me coughing and wheezing while gloopy gobs of goo fill my eyes and nose. I paint a lovely portrait, no?

Blech.

Clearly, I’m looking and feeling like poo.

Bottom line is, old PK is under the weather.

Hmmm.

The fact that I use this particular phrase so often when I feel unwell got my garbled grey matter going.

What I mean to say is, I couldn’t help but wonder where the phrase “under the weather” derived … and where … and why, you dig?

According to www.bing.com, the term is rooted well below sea level.

Apparently, the phrase "under the weather" originates from nautical terminology, referring to sailors who would seek shelter below deck during rough weather to avoid seasickness.

Well, I certainly can’t blame them. 

The description continued:

The expression is believed to have nautical roots. Sailors, when faced with harsh weather conditions at sea, would often go below deck to escape the elements. This area, referred to as being "under the weather," provided a respite from the rough seas and helped them avoid becoming seasick. 

The full term is thought to be "under the weather bow," which refers to the side of the ship facing the storm. 

Who knew?
​
Today, when someone says they are "under the weather," it typically means they are feeling ill or unwell. This idiom serves as a casual way to express that one is not feeling their best, whether due to a cold, fatigue, or other health issues. It can also imply a general sense of low energy or discomfort without specifying the exact cause. 
Interestingly enough, there are some alternate meanings associated with the expression, as well.

While the primary meaning relates to feeling sick, the phrase has also been used historically in various contexts, including financial troubles or general misfortune. However, its modern interpretation is predominantly linked to health and well-being. 

In summary, "under the weather" is a simply friendly and informal way to indicate that someone is not feeling well, with its origins rooted in the experiences of sailors seeking shelter from storms. 

Alrighty then.

Truth be told, I feel a little silly even complaining about my current state of ickiness.

Many folks have far more serious health issues with which to contend and, as always, my prayers, well wishes and good vibes go to anyone struggling with health problems far more dire than my goofy, gloopy little glitch.

So, here’s to those facing much harder hardships. Hugs and prayers to all in need.

​However, if you’re seeking me out in the next few days, please come on down and check the hull where I’ll be hunkering down. Hee!

​It’s a new day, a new month and I’ve got some new news.

Yes, I went down the redundancy route. Then again, that’s nothing new in and of itself. Wink wink.

Here’s the headline: I’m a new aunt. 

Make that great aunt. 
​
No, I’m not being braggadocios. And though I’ve always tried to be a success in terms of being a worthy branch on my family tree, I am thrilled to have sprouted a new bough in officially becoming a Bonafide great aunt. 

It’s a title I’m extremely excited to bear.

Here’s the 4-1-1: My nephew Scott a/k/a my second favorite man in the world after my son Kyle, recently became a new Daddy. Scott’s wife, my beloved niece Annie is the beautiful, wonderful and amazing new Mama.

So, I wanted to take a few moments to introduce my sister’s first grandchild to the world – and to my handful of kindly loyal readers, as well, natch.

Please join me and my fam in welcoming Theodore William McHenry to the world. His nickname is Theo, by the by.

He made his debut on this big blue marble on September 28, 2025, at 6:16AM.

He weighed in eight pounds and 11 ounces and is quite the long fellow at 20.75 inches.

There are so many reasons I’m over the moon about his birth; they include but are not limited to the following:

-He is adorableness personified. Yes, that is an objective opinion. So there. I’m attaching his photo as Exhibit A of his cute-and-cuddly factor, which is clearly off the charts.

-He’s already got a mountainous mane atop his perfectly delightful dome.

-He is the first grandchild in my sibling set.

-He, like every baby on planet Earth, is the truest, most precious gift from God because he (and they) exudes hope for the world simply by being.

Theo just arrived but he’s already spreading joy, love and hope, and he doesn’t even know it. Isn’t it amazing how much you can love someone you haven’t even met in person yet?

The reason for the delayed introduction is that Theo and co live in our state capital of Columbus. And yes, just in case you were wondering, none of us gives a darn about that team up north and/or the whole state of ichigan. It shall remain nameless for the purposes of text of this space. Hee!

Actually, I do have cousins up there whom I love very much, but you get the idea.

All jokes aside, every newborn is a gift, the most precious of all.

Ergo, to my beloved little new honey, I promise the following:

-I will always have candy and dollar bills at the ready.

-I will always be on your side in a discussion, cheer you on in any competition and hug the stuffings out of you on any and all occasions.

-I will pray for you endlessly.

-I will love you unconditionally, always.

Indeed, this is just a little short and sweet about this little, short and sweet. 

Please join me in sending congratulations, good vibes, best wishes and most importantly love extraordinaire to Theo. 

​Old Aunt Patty can’t wait to cover you with hugs and kisses ASAP!

P.S. Happy early birthday, Sophia!

In honor and in memory ... in retrospect and in reverence ... in sorrow and outrage, we remember September 11, 2001.

For every life lost, irreparably damaged or otherwise altered that horrendous day, may we all pause and reflect on the horror, the heartache and the ensuing heroism that accompanied the savagery.

What follows is an article I wrote in the aftermath of the worst terrorist attack on U.S. soil. Suffice it to say that I, for my part, will never truly get over the atrocity.

I will never stop praying for the victims and family members of this unimaginable act of evil and I will never, ever stop being proud to be an American.  

Reflections on Sept. 11, 2001: One Mother’s Story

I will never forget the day. It was April 19, 1995, and I was working in the programming department of WKBN-TV when an urgent message from CBS alerted us that the network would be interrupting regularly scheduled programs indefinitely to cover the bombing of the Murrah Federal building in Oklahoma City.

It was unspeakable. In the days that followed, I sobbed uncontrollably at the images of innocent children and unsuspecting businessmen and women who’d been ruthlessly murdered by an evil monster.

Barring personal loss of family members, of course, the Oklahoma City bombing was the absolute worst experience of my life. I remember thinking, hoping rather, “This must be the most horrific thing I will witness in my lifetime.”

And it was … until Tuesday, Sept. 11, 2001.

On a normal morning, I would have already popped a toddler video into the VCR or flipped the television to the Nickelodeon channel for my 18-momth-old son, Kyle. But for some reason, I was watching the “Today” show when I heard someone say that there’d been reports of an aircraft crashing into one of the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center in Manhattan.

I had been in the kitchen making coffee and thought I had misunderstood the account. Disbelief turned to utter astonishment when I curled my head around the corner of the family room and peeked at the television in time to see live coverage of a second plane plunging headlong into the other tower.

As I watched the events surrounding Tuesday’s terrorist attacks in Manhattan and Washington, D.C., develop, the dismay and pure dread that filled my heart and soul were unparalleled. Like much of America and indeed, the world, I sat before my television, transfixed by the catastrophe strewn about the country by spineless, faceless, hijacking, suicidal militants.

My poor son. All he wanted was to watch that big, purple dinosaur dance around and yet I couldn’t tear myself away from the breaking news of the day. Nor did he understand Mommy’s intermittent crying for the next several days as my mind processed the inhuman reality of lost life.

Not only would we not be watching “Barney” that day, but also little else about our lives would likely ever be the same.

Like so many people across the country, I felt completely helpless, yet I wanted to do something. Anything. I found myself calling my parents, siblings, in-laws and friends. We wept together as we flip-flopped from one television news report to another, comparing stories and trying to console one another.

I decided that I wanted to attend one of the many prayer services available Tuesday night, so I joined my mother and sister at a mass at St. Christine’s Church in Austintown. The place was packed with distraught local residents searching for answers.

“I believe so many people turned out because they needed to do something and this provided them the opportunity to pray together as a community,” said Monsignor David Rhodes, pastor of St. Christine’s.

Rhodes said he believed the church was filled to capacity (approximately 1,100) because the enormity of Tuesday’s disaster made it seem personal to millions of Americans, even here in the Valley.

“I just know that this can help those victims’ families like nothing else can as they sit and wait for word about their loved ones,” said Michelle Coppola, who attended Tuesday’s Mass and planned to go to another at Our Lady of the Holy Rosary Church in her hometown of Lowellville on Wednesday night, as well.

“No one’s in a hurry to leave church tonight,” my Mom noted, when we filed out quietly.

As I drove home, I realized Michelle and Monsignor Rhodes and the rest of us were right, since every single church parking lot I passed Tuesday evening was completely filled. But Valley reaction to the terrorism did not stop there.

I spoke to Jackie Wolfe, director of volunteers at the Warren office of the American Red Cross, who informed me that literally hundreds of locals were on a quest to offer some sort of relief to victims. Even school children called in to see how they could help and people, in general, wanted to know the best course of action.

Wolfe added that many area doctors, nurses and other medical professionals had contacted the Red Cross to inquire about volunteering their services.

The Internet proved to be an invaluable tool after the attack, as panic-stricken Americans struggled to locate missing loved ones and some found their only contact with them solely through e-mail, as phone circuits were over-loaded by hundreds of thousands of calls.

The Internet continues to serve purposefully. The International Red Cross Web site, www.redcross.org, offers local information about blood drives, such as the one today in the Sharon High School gymnasium, one tomorrow set for 1 to 7 p.m. at the Evangelical Presbyterian Church in Austintown and another noon to 7 p.m. Tuesday at the Austintown Red Cross Blood Donation center in Austintown.

There are many other sites available, such as www.helpline.org, which gives hot links to associations such as Catholic Charities, the National Organization for Victim Assistance, the ABC Blood Banks and more organizations trying to help victims of last week’s terrorism. A typical Internet search yields hundreds of options for users, so surf until you find the charity which best suits you.

As is the case with that bleak day in April 1995, I don’t think any of us who have observed the atrocity of last week will ever forget it. Personally, I choose to cling to the simple words of a well-known hymn that I sang in church Tuesday night as the tears I tried so hard to fight slipped silently down my cheeks. Though I’ve sung them so many times before, I doubt they’ll ever be as poignant as they were on Sept. 11, 2001:

“Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me.”

###

ADDENDUM: I would be remiss if I didn't mention my deep despair over yet another act of senseless evil that just occurred: the murder of conservative political activist Charlie Kirk.  I am devastated, disgusted, appalled and beyond distraught. In his honor, I want to show the courage he urged us all to display by sharing that I am pro-God and pro-life.  Please join me in praying for his beautiful young widow and children. Eternal rest grant unto him, oh Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him. May he rest in peace. Amen.

In closing, God bless the police, firefighters, military members, physicians, EMTs, political activists and countless other everyday heroes who keep us safe and healthy as they reinforce our many freedoms everyday ... and, as always, God Bless the USA!

 I haven’t been blogging much lately.

Hopefully, someone out there on this big blue marble noticed.

Perhaps that’s just wishful thinking?

Hmpf.

The reason for the happenstance hiatus is so common and mundane that I’m rather embarrassed for and by myself in admitting its root cause: I just haven’t been feeling it lately. 

“It” being the desire to share my views, speak my mind – you know, use my voice. 

Sure, I’ve got as many opinions, thoughts, views, etc. as the average bear --- or homosapien, as it were. 

Heck, back in the day before a certain local newspaper unceremoniously turned me out in favor of syndicated sources, I aired my innermost beliefs in a little column entitled “My Sentiments Exactly.”  

And they were precisely that.  

My arguably entertaining/enlightening/humorous blurbs of the week did seem to appeal to quite a few of my fellow earthlings; an honor I never took for granted nor under-appreciated.  

Over the years, I have waxed philosophically over topics ranging from the serious to the sublime to the downright silly.  

But these days, I seem to be suffering from a bout of literary laryngitis.   

More hmpf.  

I’ve been letting that nasty little voice in my noggin shout through a metaphorical megaphone.  

You know the one, self-doubt though that little bugger goes by several other equally unpleasant monikers. These include but are not necessarily limited to:    

• Insecurity
• Uncertainty
• Lack of confidence
• Self-questioning
• Hesitation
• Second-guessing
• Self-mistrust
• Diffidence
• Misgivings   

Maybe it’s because here, in the land of the free and the home of the brave, where we have freedoms on top of freedoms, we have forgotten the basics.    

You know, the things we learned in kindergarten but have long since abandoned in favor of a much more self-serving collective agenda.  

At the top of the list is “The Golden Rule” -- the ethical principle of treating others as you would like to be treated yourself, and it is a fundamental concept found in many cultures and religions.  

The Golden Rule is often summarized as "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." This principle emphasizes empathy and reciprocity in human interactions. Its origins can be traced back to various ancient texts and philosophies, including the teachings of Jesus in the Bible (Matthew 7:12 and Luke 6:31).   

The concept is also present in other religious and philosophical traditions, such as Buddhism, Hinduism, and Confucianism, indicating its universal appeal.   

According to Wikipedia:
-The Golden Rule serves as a foundational ethical guideline that encourages individuals to consider the feelings and rights of others. It promotes kindness, respect, and understanding in interpersonal relationships. “By applying the Golden Rule, individuals can foster a more compassionate and harmonious society.” 

-It has been articulated in various forms throughout history. For instance, ancient texts like the Mahābhārata and the Tirukkuṛaḷ echo similar sentiments, emphasizing the importance of treating others with respect and dignity. Its enduring relevance highlights the shared moral values across different cultures and religions. 

-The Golden Rule is a powerful ethical principle that encourages empathy and reciprocity, making it a vital aspect of moral philosophy and human interaction across cultures and time periods. 

As Emeril Lagasse would say, “Bam!”  

Ergo, I’d like to close with a heartfelt plea that we all try a little harder to be more kind, tolerant, caring, respectful and good, old-fashioned nice to one another; plain and simple.

​After all, there’s a reason the word humane begins with human, Capsice?

I was feeling a bit blue earlier today.

I was indulging in the bad habit of overanalyzing…well, pretty much the state of anything and everything.

I found myself mentally weighing worries such as the ongoing crisis in the Middle East, global housing, gender inequality, climate change, unemployment, the state of healthcare, the debate over whether Artificial Intelligence is a
Godsend or a curse, and so on. 

You know, the usual “holy crap” inducing cast of characters, er, concerns. Heavy sigh.

So, in an effort to cheer myself up, I went in search of something, anything, that might make today seem more hopeful. But instead of gazing into a futuristic crystal ball, I thought I’d hitch a ride on the retro railway.

You know, in search of positive historic milestones occurring on August 13 that might improve my mood about today…at least in terms of the date.

According to www.onthisday.com, some noteworthy incidents tied to this date include the following:

*In 1964, The Beatles’ first film “A Hard Day’s Night,” opened in theaters across America, earning rave reviews and box office success. Described as a “comedic Fantasia with music,” the film was a financial and critical success and was nominated for two Academy Awards, including Best Original Screenplay. Forty years after its release, TIME Magazine rated it as one of the 100 all-time great films. 

Essentially, everyone loved it yeah, yeah, yeah. 

*Way back in 1913 the first true stainless steel was produced by Harry Brearley in Sheffield, England when he added chromium to a steel alloy, resulting in a metal that will rarely corrode, rust, or stain. 
Professional chefs and home cooks alike continue to rejoice and marvel at this one, lo these many moons later.

*Walt Disney released its fifth animated feature, “Bambi,” based on the book “Bambi, A Life in the Woods.” The tale, as if any human on planet earth is unaware, is a coming-of-age story about the arguably most famous deer in history. It became a cinematic phenomenon.. The year was 1942 though the movie is as impactful and important in 2025 as ever.

And if you don’t cry when Bambi’s mother dies, you are a heartless cyborg, so there.

*In 1960, the Central African Republic declared independence from France. Viva la Central African Republic!

*Five years later, Jefferson Airplane made their live debut at San Francisco’s Matrix Club—and a band photo from the event that night later appeared on the front cover of their hit album, “Surrealistic Pillow” (1965). Unpopular PK take: I preferred the version of the group known as Jefferson Starship.

What can I say? I’m a child of the 1980s! 

*In 1979, Lou Brock became only 14th player in major league baseball history to reach the milestone of 3,000 career hits. 

Today that list boasts 33 boys of summer, by the by.

*Seventeen years ago today, American swimmer Michael Phelps won the men’s 200m butterfly in Beijing, on his way to setting the record for most gold medals earned by an individual athlete in a single Olympics (8)—and setting a world record in every single event.

The Baltimore kid who had been diagnosed with severe ADHD proved his English teacher a fool for saying he would never be successful. The retired athlete has co-authored several books, including “No Limits: The Will to Succeed” and a children’s book, “How to Train with a T. Rex and Win 8 Gold Medals.”

With a total of 28 lifetime Olympic medals, Phelps is the most decorated Olympian ever. He also holds all-time records for Olympic gold medals (23), Olympic gold medals in individual events (13), and Olympic medals in individual events (16). 

In your face, Mr. Mean & Inappropriate English teacher dude! MP is the GOAT.

*Finally, on this day way back in 1899, the iconic film director Alfred Hitchcock was born in Leytonstone, Essex. Known as “The Master of Suspense.” He directed some of the most groundbreaking films of all time after he moved to America—including: “The Birds,” “Rear Window,” “North by Northwest,” “Vertigo”, “Dial M for Murder,” and perhaps, most terrifying of all, (at least in IMHO) “Psycho.”

Shudder.

Arguably the most influential filmmaker of all time, he directed more than 50 movies and also hosted and produced the television anthology “Alfred Hitchcock Presents” from 1955–1965. The broadcasts simultaneously mystified and terrified viewers for its entirety.

For real, though!

​And there you have it, friends. August 13 in a nutshell. You’re welcome, y’all! 

​It’s almost Independence Day and I’ve got a confession to make since, like one of the key figures in this famous historical narrative, I cannot tell a lie.

If you don’t get this reference, I might have to come over and chop down your cherry tree.  Ahem.

In any event, here comes the admission: I have a slight obsession with the British Royal Family.

Some of them I love, such as Prince William and Princess Katharine and their adorable brood. I am equally fond of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle and their little cutie patooties.

Oh sure, the latter two are now residents of sunny California, but I believe they remain the respective Duke and Duchess of Sussex and are still somehow in line for the throne. 

At least, I think so?

Man, it’s confusing. Another compelling argument for the abolition. I digress.

However, to reiterate, much like our first President, I’m not gonna fib. I dig Great Britain. Mostly.

That is to say, I am NOT a huge fan of King Charles or his wife. I refuse to address her with any regal title, given my continuing devotion to the late Princess Diana.

So there.

Additionally, there’s also at least one more British bloke I fancy. 

You see, I have a borderline fascination with (arguably) England’s most famous competitive eater, Adam Moran a/k/a “Beard Meats Food.” It’s not quite at the level of my utter obsession with Robert Downey, Jr. but it is, in point of fact, quite considerable.

I digress.

I tend think of England fondly as the Motherland “across the pond.” 

However, Independence Day is a significant and cherished national holiday here in the good old US of A for exceptionally good reason. It commemorates this country’s declaration of independence from British rule on July 4, 1776.

According to the Encyclopedia Brittanica website (see what I did there?) Independence Day, in the United States, is “the annual celebration of nationhood held on July 4. It commemorates the passage of the Declaration of Independence by the Continental Congress on July 4, 1776. This document announced the separation of the 13 North American colonies from Great Britain."

Here are some related facts of which you may be unaware:

-In 1870 the U.S. Congress made Independence Day an unpaid holiday for federal workers, and in 1938 it became a paid federal holiday. Also called the Fourth of July, the holiday is celebrated across the United States with parades, fireworks shows, picnics, concerts, and other festivities. Independence Day is also notable for its displays of patriotism, as many Americans commemorate the day by flying the American flag and dressing in the flag’s colors of red, white, and blue. PK Note: Same colors as the Union Jack, just sayin’.

-The adoption of the Declaration of Independence was signed on July 4, 1776 by the Continental Congress as it had voted in favor of independence from Great Britain on July 2 but did not actually complete the process of revising the document—originally drafted by Thomas Jefferson in consultation with fellow committee members John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, Roger Sherman, and William Livingston—until two days later. 

-The celebration of the declaration’s completion was initially modeled on that of the British king’s birthday and was marked by bell ringing, bonfires, solemn processions, and oratory. PK: Defeated the purpose, no? I’ll take good old-fashioned US barbecues, parades and fireworks, thanks.

-In the initial stages of the revolutionary movement, patriots used such celebrations to proclaim their resistance to the British Parliament’s legislation while lauding King George III as the real defender of British liberties. However, in many American towns the marking of the first days of independence during the summer of 1776, the celebrations took the form of a mock funeral for the king, whose “death” symbolized the end of monarchy and tyranny and the rebirth of liberty. PK note: Yikes! Seems a tad harsh.

-With the rise of leisure, the Fourth of July emerged as a major midsummer holiday. The prevalence of heavy drinking and the many injuries caused by setting off fireworks prompted reformers of the late 19th and early 20th centuries to mount a Safe and Sane Fourth of July movement. PK Note: Please be smart out there. Moderation in all things .. and perhaps it’s best to leave the pyrotechnics to the professionals, Capsice?

-Later in the 20th century Independence Day declined in importance as a venue for politics, although it remained a national holiday marked by parades, concerts of patriotic music, and fireworks displays. It continues to be a potent symbol of national power and of specifically American qualities. PK Note: Now we’re talkin’. Think baseball, hot dogs, Apple Pie and Chevrolet, to quote the old car jingle.

However, you choose to celebrate, be safe, be patriotic and as always, be grateful that we live in the greatest country in the world. 
​
God bless the USA and happy 4th of July, y’all!

I had the strangest experience at the grocery store the other day.

As I looked down and scanned the major headlines blitzed across the newspapers available for sale, I made what I thought was an innocuous remark to an elderly gentleman who happened to be standing beside me.

“There doesn’t seem to be much positive news in there today, does there?” I said, sad at the notion.

“What were you hoping for, that someone shot Trump?” he said, laughing.

“My gosh, no! I’d never wish that – on anyone!” I said. 

His remarks and demeanor bothered me more than I can accurately articulate. Frankly, I was rather appalled.
He continued to probe.

“Well, what news are you hoping to see?” he inquired.

“To be honest, I’d like to read news about peace. You know, for all of us. Everywhere.”

“Well, then, that’s what needs to happen to get it!” he gruffed.

Now, I like to think of myself as fairly versatile with vocabulary. You know, a bit savvy of speech, as it were. But this allegedly witty wordsmith had nothin’. 

I was so taken aback that I should’ve been emanating those truck warning beeps.

So, I just sort of stared at him with my mouth agape. And suddenly, I was filled with tremendous sadness. 

Deep, heavy sigh.

Admittedly, I tend to be a bit of a Pollyanna. I’m one of those annoying humans who just wants everyone to get along.

Sure, it’s a pipe dream. But I guess I’m just deeply hopeful of heart.

What can I say? I’m the sort of gal who likes happy endings, 

You know, like when E.T. goes back to his home planet in “E.T.: The Extra Terrestrial” or when Buttercup marries Wesley in “The Princess Bride” or when the Rebels defeat the Empire in the “Star Wars” anthology.

Okay, you get it.

Not only do I want to see the good guys win but, ideally, I’d wish there to be no bad guys at all. I suppose you’re starting to see how I earned my “Patty the Pollyanna” moniker.

Hmpf.

To quote John Lennon, “You may say I’m a dreamer but I’m not the only one.” 

As you likely well recall, he was quite the peace pursuer himself. 

Either way.

Since I believe so vehemently in the power of prayer and the concepts that: 1) good overpowers evil and 2) love is stronger than hate, I’ll end with the wise words contained within the Prayer of St. Francis:

Let there be peace on earth
And let it begin with me.
Let there be peace on earth
The peace that was meant to be.
With God as our Father
Brothers all are we.
Let me walk with my brother
In perfect harmony.

Let peace begin with me,
Let this be the moment now.
With every step I take
Let this be my solemn vow;
To take each moment and live
Each moment in peace eternally.
Let there be peace on earth
And let it begin with me.

And on that note, peace out, Peeps -- figurately and literally, me hopes!

​There’s a debate that’s been going on for many, many years. Perhaps decades. Shoot, I don’t know, maybe even centuries?

It has to do with pain tolerance and who does it better, men or women.

Hmm.

There’s a long-standing claim in relation to this matter that maintains the following:  If men had to go through childbirth, humanity would become extinct.

Clearly we gals came up with this one, I suspect?

Either way, if I’ve heard this assertion once, I’ve heard it a thousand times — and I am, for once, NOT exaggerating for a laugh. Not that I’m above that sorta thing. Making y’all smile and chuckle, kinda my jam.

I digress. 

I think it’s fair to say we women make this bold statement all the time. And men scoff at it, well, all the time.

But the reality is, there’s really not ever going to be a way to gauge who the true pain primaries are, now is there?

Because the point of contention (in my humble and often flawed opinion) is this: How does anyone ever really, truly understand how much something physically or emotionally hurts another human being?

Sure, there are parameters, measurements, guidelines and what not. Heck, there’s even that silly smiley face chart thingy-ma-doodle that goes from grinning to downright Mr. Yucking you right out of the doctor’s office.

I hate that chart. I find it inane. Not insane. But yes, inane. You know, silly. Insipid. Pointless. 

In fact, I find it sort of ridiculous when someone asks me to measure my pain, period.

“On a scale of 1 to 10, Patty, how much pain are you in?”

Um, I don’t know … 6.725?

What the heck kind of question is that? Even if I tell you I’m at a level of 10, that could totally be a 4 for you. Or a 76.
I mean, some things just aren’t that easy to gauge, and pain tolerance / level is right up there at the top of the list.

It’s so personal and subjective. Not to mention the cornucopia of factors at play.

Where is the pain? Is it aching or throbbing? Is it stabbing or pulsating? Does it start then stop then start again like your old Chevette in the 1980s?

UGH.

It reminds me of those ridiculous word problems we had to figure out on those rotten timed tests we were forced to take in grade school that not only never made sense to me but also that I almost always missed.

“If a train traveling at 65 mph leaves New York at 7 p.m. and arrives in Pittsburgh at 10:15 p.m., what was the color of the carpeting in the dining car?”

Wait, what? Um, gray?

I was always inclined to go with answer “C” on the multiple choice when I filled in the bubble with my No. 2 pencil. 

And while we’re at it, how come it always had to be No. 2 pencil? Did school administrators and teaching staff members have something against the lead in a No. 3? Sheesh.

In the interest of full disclosure, I had no idea how many types of standard lead pencils exist, so I did a quick dig that led (hee!) me to an article posted on www.mentalfloss.com explaining how pencil makers manufacture Nos. 1, 2, 2.5, 3, and 4 pencils. These are, apparently, the most commonly used pencils worldwide. The higher the number, the harder the core and the lighter the markings. 

Sorry for going down that rabbit hole but I was always pencil pensive.

Anyhoo, I just think things like assessing how much something physically hurts one homosapien vs. another is like asking if Leonardo da Vinci was a better painter than Pablo Picasso. No easy answer. #TooCloseToCall

PS -- My opt is for DaVinci, just sayin’!

Suffice it to say, only YOU can prevent forest fires — and / or know how much something hurts YOU.

But one thing’s for certain; if another human is in pain, the least we can do is try to lessen it for them in some way if we are able, Capisce?

​Here’s wishing you all a multitude of happiness and less than zero in the pain game, friends!

Hi. I’m Patty and I have a confession to make.

I am what you’d call an “exact change” kind of gal. 

​In fact, I’m quite partial to those little copper cuties we call pennies.  Well, that’s what we call them for the moment, anyway.

Now then, I address my atypical affection because of the recent controversy, or hullabaloo, if you will, over the U.S. Mint’s decision to eliminate my precious penny.

Not to be confused with “Penny, Penny, Penny” from television’s “The Big Bang Theory.” 

I digress.

Recently Emma Lawson, the Texas A&M University Division of Marketing and Communications Director, penned an intricate article on the pros and cons of obliterating my beloved little copper coin right out of existence. 

Her article was coined (as in “of a phrase”) “Costs and Benefits of Eliminating the Penny.”

Sorry, did I mention I love puns even more than I love pennies? I digress times two.

The piece detailed how the U.S. Mint confirmed that it will indeed stop production of the penny and has made its final order of penny blanks.

Sigh.

It’s a matter of public knowledge that President Donald Trump announced his intentions to cease production of the penny in February.

His argument includes the fact that it costs the United States two cents to create, well one, effectively. He deemed it “wasteful” on his “Truth Social” site. Then, in early May, U.S. Sen. Mike Lee, R-Utah, and Sen. Jeff Merkley, D-Ore., introduced official legislation to end production of the coin.

Hmm. Well, at least the right and the left agree on something, at least theoretically?

Raymond Robertson, director of the Mosbacher Institute for Trade, Economics and Public Policy at the Bush School of Government and Public Service at Texas A&M University, said the move to eliminate the penny has a variety of possible benefits for the government and consumers alike.

“For every penny that the United States government prints, we’re actually losing money. So, it’s a net cost to the federal government,” he said. “Another big issue, of course, is that we rely less and less on cash, as now we’re moving to a cashless society. People use credit cards and debit cards and so on. So, the penny is actually not being used as much.”

By the by, am I the only one simultaneously frightened, amused, perplexed and confused by the notion of a “cashless society?” Quite ominous sounding, no?

Moving on.

According to an Associated Press report, there are around 114 billion pennies in circulation in the United States. 

Sheesh!

Advocates of the penny point to its usefulness in charity campaigns and say the coin is more cost effective compared to the cost to print a nickel. 

Amen to that. I’m all about giving my spare change to charitable and other non-profit organizations, especially veterans' groups, so whenever presented with the option, I gleefully comply.

But back to the matter at hand, it seems putting out pennies might nick nickels, so to speak. 

“As we increase our reliance on nickels, because they’re going to be the smallest unit, it actually is going to increase costs for the government,” Robertson said. “So, it’s really not clear how much cost savings the government will realize by eliminating the penny.”

Robertson estimates creating a nickel can ultimately cost the United States 14 cents.

Those who advocate for the penny’s elimination argue that stopping the penny’s production could save the Treasury an immediate $56 million and make accounting easier for the U.S. economy. There are some case studies the U.S. government can look to for eliminating the penny. Robertson said Australia and New Zealand have already eliminated their smallest coins with no apparent negative economic impact.

“However, one thing that’s important about eliminating the penny is that the United States has not eliminated a coin in currency since the late 1800s, and back at that time, it took an act of Congress to do it,” he said. “This might be an example of the president testing the limits of presidential power relative to Congress.”

While Robertson predicts prices ending in .99 will be rounded up one cent, leading to higher costs for consumers, he also said it’s a good move for streamlining costs.

“Prices are hardly ever rounded down, so that means people are probably going to end up paying more when they go to the grocery store,” he said. 

To be fair, I do that all on my own when I go in for a single item and come out with three bags filled to the brim with everything but the kitchen sink. Some people over share. Me? I over buy.

Ah well, I for one will be holding onto several of these beloved little wonders for nostalgia’s sake. And heck, who knows? Maybe becoming collectors’ items will bring them back worthiness and then some?

Penny for your thoughts on that one; hee!

It is my Pop’s birthday today. It would have been his big 9-0. 

Hard to believe he’s been gone more than five years already.

Heavy sigh.

However, in his honor, I thought I’d try commemorating the day with some silly fare that I thought he might have enjoyed, being that he could be something of a prankster himself. 
​
So I went in search of intel on the history of the ever-popular “Dad Joke” phenomenon.

I wound up locating an article entitled “The History of Dad Jokes: From Ancient Times to Modern Day.”

Wait, what? Like the cave dwellers were etching puns in stone or something?

Hmm.

Either way, the evolution (see what I did there?) of the trend intrigues me. 

And though it may seem unlikely, Dad jokes evidently do date back to primal civilizations.

According to https://honesthistory.co: “The Greeks and Romans loved to tell silly jokes and puns, many of which would be considered dad jokes by today's standards.”

I assume this might be because the collective tone portrayed fathers as authoritative yet affable. 

Anywho, as many of us know, back in the Middle Ages, jesters and minstrels would entertain kings and nobles with puns and riddles. But what a multitude of us might not have realized is that a slew of these quips were apparently aimed at fathers and were designed to be silly and lighthearted Dad jabs. 

Sorry, gents.

Either way, by the 20th century, dad jokes really started to take off. With the rise of radio and television, comedians like Bob Hope and Milton Berle became famous for their cheesy one-liners and puns. Many of these jokes were simple and predictable, but they always got a laugh. And by the by, Dad often took on the chin therein.

The term "dad joke" itself didn't become popular until the 1980s. According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the first recorded use of the term was in a 1987 article in the Chicago Tribune. The article described dad jokes as "unfashionable, uncool, and somewhat embarrassing."

In the 21st century, dad jokes have become a cultural phenomenon. They've been the subject of countless memes and viral videos, and they even have their own holiday (which is celebrated on August 16th). But why are dad jokes so popular?

There's no denying that dad jokes are cheesy and predictable. But that's exactly the point. According to psychologists, dad jokes work because they're "benign violations…they violate our expectations in a harmless way, which makes us laugh.”

There you have it.

In addition, dad jokes are a way for fathers (and other authority figures) to bond with their children. They're a way of saying, "I'm not just your dad, I'm also a person with a sense of humor."

Indeed.

In closing, here are a few silly samples to peruse; giggle and groan at will!

​• Why don't scientists trust atoms? Because they make up everything.
• I'm reading a book on anti-gravity. It's impossible to put down.
• Did you hear about the restaurant called Karma? There's no menu, you get what you deserve. (Okay, now this one, I love!)
• Why don't eggs tell jokes? Because they'd crack each other up.
• What did the janitor say when he jumped out of the closet? "Supplies!"
• I used to play piano by ear, but now I use my hands.
• Why did the bicycle fall over? Because it was two-tired.
• I'm addicted to brake fluid, but I can stop anytime.
• Why did the tomato turn red? Because it saw the salad dressing.
• What do you call fake spaghetti? An impasta.
• What do you call a snobbish criminal going downstairs? A condescending con descending.
• I'm so good at sleeping, I can do it with my eyes closed.
• Why did the chicken cross the playground? To get to the other slide.
• What do you call a can opener that doesn't work? A can't opener.
• What do you call a group of cows playing instruments? A moo-sical band.
• I told my wife she was drawing her eyebrows too high. She looked surprised.
• Why do seagulls fly over the sea? Because if they flew over the bay, they'd be bagels.
• Why did the scarecrow win an award? Because he was outstanding in his field.
• Why couldn't the bicycle stand up by itself? Because it was two-tired.
• What's the best thing about Switzerland? I don't know, but the flag is a big plus.
• I'm a big fan of whiteboards. They're re-markable.
• Why did the coffee file a police report? Because it got mugged.

Oof.
​
I’ll leave it on that nutty note---while wishing a happy heavenly birthday to my Pop!