Category Archives: Humor


We just moved to a new neighborhood a few months ago. My husband walks the dogs every morning and evening so he has had a chance to meet many of the neighbors. Zelma, who lives around the corner with a very gentle German shepherd, Greta, invited us to her New Year’s Eve party. We changed our plans to have our annual dinner at the Tarpon Lodge so we could attend Zelma’s party and meet some of our neighbors. This decision was NOT a mistake.

This crowd was mostly retirees that have wonderful stories about their travels, cruises and adventures which I always love to hear since I’m not a big traveler myself – and they loved telling them.

Zelma was a gracious host with enough food laid out to feed an army battalion. She made it a point to make us feel welcome and spend time talking with us and introduced us to her other guests. I thoroughly enjoyed hearing about her latest cruise to the Mediterranean before she excused herself to check on her pulled pork.

One of the guests we met was Katherine, a snow bird from Montana. A snow bird is one of those delicate creatures that have a house here in Florida, but keeps one up north because for some strange reason, they can tolerate the ice, snow and freezing rain, but can’t seem to take the hot summers here. Katherine has long, LONG hair, kind of a left-over hippy hair and she used to live in California, but now lives in Montana. I’m not sure what happened in California to transform her from a “groovy, love and peace” California girl to a rather Annie Oakley kind of gal, but she took great pride and was kind of preachy in telling us about shooting animals to eat. I was told by another guest at the party that she even has stuffed animal heads mounted on her walls. Not something I like to think about, but Katherine seemed very proud of them and went on in great detail about each one of them.

My eyes were going blurry listening to her rattle on about her shooting sprees, and in the nick of time – in walks Dot, Ed, their 60 year old daughter Donna and her husband Mike. I loved them immediately. After introductions, first thing out of Donna’s mouth was: “So, Katherine, have you killed anything lately?”

I thought I would pee on the floor right there. I laughed so hard tears were running down my face. It got to be embarrassing, but it was New Year’s Eve and a good belly laugh was just what I needed so I didn’t really care that my semi-hysterics might have been rude. If Donna could get away with her bull’s eye comment, then certainly my laughter couldn’t be that offensive.

Katherine didn’t miss a beat and went on to tell Donna her about her latest victim. Some poor elk she slaughtered and then ate. Point blank Donna asked if she hung that head on her wall too. I had to leave the room.

I took the opportunity to use the restroom. A very large cat was lying on the floor and I noticed that the bathroom had a bidet. I had never used a bidet and since this was New Year’s Eve I figured I may as well start off with a new experience.

I wasn’t quite sure how those things worked, so after using the regular toilet, I thought I would turn one of the handles on the bidet just a smidge to check the water pressure. I was standing over it at the time staring down at it. A geyser of water shot up like something out of Yellowstone and went clear up to the ceiling. Water was dripping from the ceiling and the cat ran for cover. Fortunately I jerked my head back before I got it in the kisser. I quickly turned the handle off, assessed the situation and knew I had to get that water off the ceiling. I pulled out about half the toilet paper from the roll, took my shoes off and stood on the toilet seat to try and wipe off the water from the ceiling. I couldn’t quite reach it so I got the toilet brush and wrapped it in toilet paper and was able to get most of the water dried off the ceiling.

I wasn’t giving up. I had still never used a bidet and it was New Year’s Eve after all. This time I sat down on the bidet and gingerly turned on the water again. It seemed to work because everything from the waist down seemed to be lemon fresh. Success!

I finished drying off and went back to the party. It seemed to be in full swing and so was I.

c 2014 Nancy Buffington




When did my knees go? And where? It seems like all of a sudden these two little bald heads in the middle of my legs decided to check out with no notice. It’s not like I used to jog and torture my knee caps. In fact I always thought of joggers as people from another planet checking out our environment for future habitation.  Even in the animal kingdom, nothing upright on two legs runs very much. Well, unless you’re an ostrich.

I survived the ego crash of being recognized as a senior citizen when I was automatically charged the senior discount price for a cup of coffee, and being called ma’am by 20 somthing girls I think are the same age as me in my head.

I’m over the depression of feeling invisible when I walk down the street and a nice looking man passes by without so much as a nod, that Hollywood will never discover me, and the realization that I will never again be a size 8 unless I’m indefinately hooked up to life support machines.

But when my knees went, well, it was just plain humiliating. There are times I need to get down on the floor – to clean something, retrieve a dog toy from under the couch, or clean out the sliding glass door tracks. If there’s something around me like the side of the bathtub, a chair seat or coffee table I can push myself up with a bit of grace, it’s not so bad.

Tuesday I dropped a drinking glass on our ceramic tile floor in the middle of the living room and had to get down on all fours to look for shards of glass. After crawling around and making a neat little pile of all the glass, I panicked. There wasn’t anything within range to grab to give myself a boost up. I squirmed around on the floor in a couple of awkward positions that could have gotten me an interview with the Cirque Soleil. Finally I did something vaguely resembling the downward facing dog in heat and got myself up.

About a month ago my husband and I went dancing with another couple. I danced to maybe 5 or 6 songs. Within a week my knees hurt so bad I had to get cortisone shots in them. The humiliation was right up there with the Downward Dog.

 2014 Nancy Buffington





It happened at 5:40am in Denver yesterday when I schlepped into McDonalds in 4 degree weather to score my morning coffee.  Without even asking, the cashier automatically gave me the senior discount!  I’ve arrived at the point in life that no matter what miracle cream I use or what lies my inner voice tells me when I look in the mirror about how “I still look like I’m in my late 30’s” – the gig was up.  That cashier had me red-handed.  If it wasn’t bad enough realizing that someone outside my head thought I looked like a senior, should I be flattered because their senior age is 55 and I’m 61?  Or insulted further because their senior age is 65 and I’m 61.  I was afraid to ask.

2014 Nancy Buffington