Monday, October 12, 2009


It started innocently enough. We had one remote for our garage door opener and one that was a universal remote. I, of course, got the one that was manufactured with the opener and worked like a charm; Frank, on the other hand, had the other. After a few months of frustration, Frank and I realized that having to be almost touching the garage door to get it to open was a hassle. We'd had enough! Sooooo, me in my infinite wisdom suggested that we invest in a more costly opener with the idea that that would certainly make a difference. It had to work better, right?
Well, Frank purchased a new remote and proceeded to code it to "talk to" the opener and, sure enough, it worked like a charm. No more fiddling with a finicky remote. We had solved the problem, or so we thought.
However,that same day, as I pulled into the driveway after work, I pressed the dependable remote, the good one, the one that came with the opener and...
Nothing! Absolutely nothing. OK, what's the deal? The only solution would have to be to get another one just like the new one Frank had purchased. He'd code that one and we'd be home free, right? Or so we thought.
While listening to the news, we could vaguely make out the sound of a garage door opening up. What was that? We ran to the living room and there it was, our garage was open wide for the whole world to see and neither of us was anywhere near the remote. How could that be?
The next morning we were awakened by the sound of the garage door opening seemingly on its own and we were stumped. Could someone in the neighborhood have an opener coded just like ours? Or, was there a guy in Illinois whose remote controlled our opener? What a conundrum!
Sooo, in true Frank fashion, and by the way it was raining that morning, pouring really, but that was not going to deter Frank. No, he donned his bright green rubber raincoat, put up the hood, and carrying an umbrella, walked the neighborhood with one thing in mind. He was going to find out which house had our same code if it killed him.
After 20 minutes he returned, wet and frustrated. He'd pushed his remote in front of everyone's garage door on this block and the one behind us, but with no success. (I wonder what the neighbors thought) No matter. We had to solve the mystery. His workshop and tools were in the garage and we didn't want to worry that someone could just come in and help themselves.
Then, about noon, as I was at the front door ready to take the dog for a walk, I saw the garage door open and noticed that my next door neighbor was coming into her garage. I ran out and caught her and we both tried her remote in varying spots on her driveway. Sometimes it made our garage door open and sometimes it didn't. It was hit and miss. That nite her husband told Frank that he would re-code his remote and was sure that would correct the problem. Or was it?
The next morning I called American Overhead Door and explained our dilemma. Without a moments hesitation he calmly stated, "Lady, you could re-code the remote a hundred times and it wouldn't make a difference. You see, it's the frequency. You and your neighbor are on the same frequency. You'd have to replace the motherboard but since you tell me that you don't have the magic eye feature with your door, we can't work on your unit. The law specifies that we can't unless your door has that feature."
Well, you know what my next question was, don't you? "So," I said,"what would a new garage door opener and two remotes cost me?" "That'd be $290.00," he said.
$290.00! I couldn't believe it. All we wanted was one remote to work better and after all of this, that simple desire cost us $290.00. Cute, huh? I'm still not convinced that some guy in Illinois was to blame for it all!!!

Sunday, October 4, 2009


Earlier this past week I had a moment...a moment of what I guess was an inspiration. I say, "I guess" because to me inspiration is something that strikes you, unexpectedly, and you can't help to use it in some expressive way. Generally, when I think about inspiration it has a positiveness about it but, in this case, it was something relatively negative that I chose to spin in a comedic way. I think that's enough said. I'm sure once you've read my latest offering you'll understand what I mean. All you 60 something out there can identify with this one. Oh, by the way, as a side note, on Tuesday I will be turning 46, but as you all know, I'm dyslexic!

By Patty Lynn

I studied my arms and my stomach today.
I try not to do that ‘cause it spoils my day.
And speaking of spoiling, I think that’s the scoop;
We’re not aging, we’re spoiling. Boy, I’m thrown for a loop!

I watch ripe tomatoes hang too long in the sun.
What happens? Why, wrinkles, their smoothness is gone!
That’s just how my skin looks, not smooth any more.
It’s looser and hangy. Will it soon touch the floor?

We can blame it on time and gravity, too.
But to find a solution for me and for you
Would take a real breakthrough to keep our skin taut.
That anti-age answer’s what everyone wants.

My answer is simple and quite element’ry,
A miracle really, the idea of the cent’ry.
It’d take a designer who’d make some adjustments.
The size would increase some and may be called nonsense.

But imagine this with me, a container so big
It’d lock in our “freshness” no more spoiling, ya’ dig?
So c’mon let’s all call ‘em, those Tupperware folks,
‘Cause “locking in freshness” is the slogan they boast.

At night we’d all crawl in containers, not beds,
While dreams of “fresh faces” would dance in our heads.
We’d wake in the morning re-freshed from our sleep,
No bags and no wrinkles, no lines running deep.

Ok, wishful thinking, but a thought none-the-less,
A desire to preserve life’s not so bad, don’t you guess?
I guess we can only accept what’s our fate,
Make the best of each day, don’t set there and wait…

For the signs that you’re older. That’s the least of your worry.
Take your time, savor life, don’t be in a hurry…
You may miss the joy that a child can bring,
Or the lilt of a songbird that’s decided to sing.

Though I wish I looked younger, I’m glad to be me,
Hanging flesh and deep wrinkles, I’m who I must be.
So I won’t put on night cream all over my face
In hopes that my wrinkles might somehow erase.

Just like that tomato, I’ll natur’lly spoil
And sing loud and clear, “I like bein’ a goil!”
Guess aging’s like spoiling, it’s a part of the game.
My face and my bod, well, they won’t be the same.

Let’s face it we’re aging, that’s right, we grow old,
And if we’re real lucky,
We’ll stop short of mold!