What is the Royal Canadian Air Force Trying to Tell us?

Welcome Dear Readers!  Have you been eating a little too much of everything lately causing you to feel fat?  Feeling fat is a horrible feeling. To find out how horrible ‘feeling fat’ is let’s look at where feeling fat lies on a scale of one to ten:

Feeling Fat on a Scale  of 1-10

Well never fear, Dear Readers!  Help for “Feeling Fat” is on the way from the Royal Canadian Air Force!

Yes you too can look hot in your Royal Canadian Air Force uniform if you ignore the shoes!
Yes you too can look fetching in your Royal Canadian Air Force uniform (providing you leave the shoes at home)

Now you’re probably saying to yourself, but, Linda, what gives?  (If you’re not go ahead and say it to yourself, I’ll wait)

You’re not even a Canadian, Linda. Shouldn’t a post about exercising with the  Royal Canadian Air Force at least be written by a blogger who is actually from Canada like Zoe, or Trent,  or Helena? Or at least a blogger who recently visited Canada – like the effervescent Guap?  Or even Lily, our most beloved Canadian poser?

Effervescent Guap
“Peel me a poutine!”

And the answer is a resounding NO with 5 Canadian exclamation marks not including this one → !

While I was Schlepping

For I ask you, Dear Readers, where were all these so-called Canadians while I was schlepping around the thrift store hunting my fingers to the bone looking for Royal Canadian Air Force Exercise booklets from 1962 to keep you, Dear Reader, from “feeling fat?”

I’ll tell you where they were!  They were relaxing on their ice-sculpted couches, eating their poutine with their miniature hockey sticks, that Canadians use instead of forks — all the while going on and on about how great William Shatner is ad naseum in between sticking the letter “u” in random words that are just fine without them — that’s where!

But let’s get back to the topic at hand:  Feeling Fat, America’s National Epidemic that the Canadian Royal Air Force is trying its darndest to help us out with

People in Canada don’t have a “Feeling Fat” epidemic because they’re a hardy bunch of stalwart individuals who brave the bitter cold each and every day. In fact, Canadians burn more calories walking to and from their cars in freezing temperatures in one day than a typical American will burn in a week paddling on an air mattress to Hawaii or Alaska (but usually Hawaii).

So now let’s open the The Royal Canadian Air Force Exercise book and see just exactly what exercises the Royal Canadian Air Force tells us to perform to keep us from feeling fat:

Feeling fat
The Royal Canadian Air Force stresses that if you don’t have a rough towel any type of sandpaper will work.
" okay
For  “Feeling Fat” Americans  this is going to be while putting on our socks as shoes weigh us down when we’re swimming to Hawaii or, less rarely, Alaska 
Oh boy
In Canada stepping out smartly always includes carrying a chair in Canadian underwear — which, of course, goes without saying, and we Americans would do well to follow suit.

And there you have it, Dear Readers! If this little exercise in exercising the Royal Canadian Air Force way has helped you to feel a little less fat, then their job here is done, and they can go back to what they do best which is, of course, carrying chairs around in their Canadian underwear.

Until next time . . . I love you

Casual Friday Fashions For Guys and Gals

Hello Dear Readers.  Gosh I feel like such a heel.  I just realized this blog has never taken it upon itself to discuss Casual Friday Fashions for Guys and Gals!  I felt so bad last night, I can hardly see to type this having cried my eyes out all night long   for a couple of hours  a tear from peeling onions.  Anyway, I hope these Casual Friday fashion stories won’t be too little too late.

Hey Guys! Think You Can’t Look Manly in That Hand-Knitted Cardigan Sweater on Casual Friday?  Well Think Again!

I've got a knitted sweater plan Linda vernon humor
Stan and Newt.  Casual Friday Pioneers.

“Hey I got a plan, Stan.”

“Shoot Newt!”

“Let’s take our fine sweater-ed selves down to the local tavern after work while wearing our Casual Friday sweaters and order a couple of screwdrivers.”

“But what if they try to beat us up, on account of our sweaters, Stan?”

“They won’t, Newt, because we’ll tell the bartender to hold the straws.”

“Uh . . .okay, but can I bring my hard hat just in case?”

Hey Gals! Nothing says Friday Casual Fashion Quite Like the  Versatility of a Vest!

Full Figured knitted vests Linda Vernon Humor
Nan and Fran.  Putting the Casualty in Casual Friday

“Say Nan.”

“Yeah Fran?”

 “Your vest is very casual, Nan.  But mine is just a tad bit more casual.  No offense.”

“No offense taken, Fran.   Your vest is a tad bit more casual due to the fact that there’s a tad bit more of it.  No offense.”

“No offense taken, Nan. I know you eat the Twinkies out of my lunch everyday.  No offense.”

“No offense taken, Fran.  I eat your Twinkies everyday because you eat my ham sandwich everyday.  No offense.”

“No offense taken, Nan.  You want to come over and knit Casual Friday vests tonight? No offense.”

“No offense taken Fran.  Sure Fran.  No offense.”

Hey Teens! Don’t Let That L7 Mom of Yours Try To Talk You Out of Busting a Move In Those Casual Friday Rebel Puff-Painted Threads!

Teens in painted t-shirts
Brandi and Candi. Rocking Casual Friday Teen Style!

“Hey Candi?”

“Yeah Brandi?”

“I see you didn’t let you’re stupid mother keep you from rocking your Casual Friday puff-painted threads!”

“Are you kidding, Candi?  My Mom can go to H. E. Double Hockey Sticks!  I told her I wear what I want to wear, and she can’t stop me.  Besides she made this outfit for me.”

“Way to go Brandi!   My mom made mine too!   But my mom can still go to H. E. Double Hockey Sticks.”

“And how! Candi!”

And there you have it, Dear Readers, this blog’s Casual Friday Fashion for Guys and Gals.  I just hope it wasn’t too little too late.  If so, please accept my apology.  (If you need me I’ll be peeling onions.)

Until next time . . . I love you

Dr. Who Me?

Last week I had to go to the doctor.  The doctor is in a town we used to live in which is two-and-a-half hours away.  The drive there was pretty uneventful given the fact that I am a nervous driver and as such tend to over think things like curves and on ramps and things of that nature.

I don’t actually close my eyes when I have to merge onto the freeway in fast, heavy traffic but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.

woman merging into traffic Linda Vernon Humor

Sometimes I think I hear honking and my heart just about stops and then I’ll realize it’s on the CD I’m listening to.  “Why is there so much honking on CD’s nowadays?”  I often yell to myself once I figure out what’s going on.

So I got to the Dr.’s office alive, a fact which the lady behind the glass seemed to think was no big whoop.  Then, I had to tell her I forgot to bring my insurance card (which I somehow lost), but something told me to lie and tell her I forgot it to lessen the blow of her indignation.  It didn’t help though.  After that, she treated me like I was a teenage, reckless driver who had just ran over her prized petunias.

mean dr. office receptionist Linda Vernon Humor
“Forgot your insurance card? Humph! Likely story!”

Anyway I finally got into the little room with my dignity semi-intact, and I noticed that the doctor had up the sign about menopause that says:  The good thing about having hot flashes is that you are one hot babe for a couple minutes, or something to that effect.

“Menopause humor makes me want to shoot my doctor!” I wanted to say when my doctor walked in. But I didn’t because I like my doctor for the most part, and I don’t own a gun.

Anyway, the nurse took my blood pressure, listened to my pulse and wrote everything down in small numbers and I had to peek to see what she was writing.  I couldn’t read her writing so I had to ask her.  Why don’t they just announce it?  The nurses always act like your blood pressure and your pulse are none of your business.

So then my doctor comes in.  She’s a real nice lady.  We go over my health, everything is fine and dandy until she brings up that my cholesterol number was too high last time.  Have I had it checked since? No.  So she decides to check it right there in the office.  Okay.

I knew the number was pretty high when she came back in and started treating me like I was a vial of nitroglycerin that could explode at any minute and wipe out all life as we know it.

Doctor:  You cholesterol is off the charts!”

Me:  You mean like “off the charts” good.  Like it’s so good it’s “off the charts?”

Doctor:  No I mean it’s so high it can’t be measured.


'I like to view the glass as being half full, just not half full of cholesterol!"
‘I like to view the glass as being half full, just not half full of cholesterol!”

Oh nuts!  Unfortunately, in my case my high cholesterol is hereditary.  So I didn’t even get to my off the chart number by eating all kinds of wonderfully decadent things that I now have to cut out.

Frankly I’m already scraping the bottom of the barrel when it comes to fun — food wise.  Now it looks like I’ll have to cut out even more joys, like dairy and oils and sweets and everything that makes life delicious. Sigh . . .

If you need me, I’ll be in the kitchen trying to figure out how to make a Tofu milkshake.

Until next time  . . . I love you


























The Sinuses of the Times

I’ve got a cold.  Which is weird because I never get colds due to the smallness of my sinus passages.  That’s what they told me when I had my head examined anyway.

I probably would have never gotten around to getting my head examined had I not used it to crack my car’s windshield.  You see, back in 1978, I was sitting behind the wheel of my Buick Skylark, minding my own business. when it suddenly stopped abruptly due to a truck that had gotten in its way. Even though the car was stopped, my head just kept on going and going and going  kind of like the Energizer Bunny (only not as cute), until CRRRAAACKK! It finally came to rest on a not-very-fluffy windshield.

Energizer bunny linda vernon humor
Oh go sit down!

I didn’t have a mark or bruise or anything at all on my head afterwards.  It was one of those accidental Ninja moves wherein if my windshield would have been a stack of bricks, I would have cracked right through them and everyone would have applauded.

I’m pretty sure the policeman who showed up shortly thereafter was impressed with my seemingly black-belt, head-butting abilities, but he suggested I get my head examined nevertheless.

Maybe I just looked like the kind of person to him who could never have too many head examinations.

So I did and that’s when I found out I had unusually small sinus passages.

Somebody get me my microscope! STAT!
X-ray Technician:  I bet you don’t get very many colds do you?

Me:  No, why?

X-ray Technician: Because you have the smallest sinus passages I have ever seen!

Of course, he probably only started working as an X-ray Technician that morning, but WOW!

It’s kind of nice when one has a feature about oneself that distinguishes one from The Great Unwashed.  I was so impressed with this news that, truth be told,  I have been a bit of a sinus snob ever since.

“Sorry Darling! I don’t have time for you today. I’m meeting my X-ray Technician at the Waldorf Astoria where we will be discussing the smallness of my sinus passages.”
But now, I’m a little worried about my small sinus passage status, because I’ve got this cold see.  And it makes me think that somehow I might have accidentally stretched out my sinus passages, you know, inadvertently.  But how?

Well,  I suppose after all these years, something’s bound to give in the area of the sinuses.  For instance back in 1978, I weighed approximately 110 whereas now I weigh approximately more.

Could some of that extra weight have ended up in my sinuses causing them to enlarge?

Does this make-up make my sinuses look fat?

Maybe I’ll just scoot on over the X-ray lab and find out what’s going on with my sinuses.

Of course,  I don’t want to brag, but since I’m the kind of person who looks like I could never have too many head examinations, they’ll probably let me go first.

Until next time . . . I love you

Ten Reasons Why You Might Be Feeling Fat

You have a tendency to eat breakfast four times.

The only equipment you keep in your home gym are a treadmill and a chocolate pie.

Your dog leads a scrap-less life.

a sad pug
“My owner sucks!”

You’ve traded in all your P’s and Q’s for M and M’s.

Trading post sign
“But I gave you ten P’s and Q’s and you only gave me seven M and M’s.”
“Listen, bub, nobody ever said life was fair.”

Your idea of the great outdoors is standing under the air conditioning vent at Mrs. Fields.

Your bathroom scales have filed assault and battery charges against you.

lady standing on bathroom scales
“If you don’t get off me right this second, lady, I’m calling the authorities!”

You only have 34 payments left on your last McDonald’s drive-thru.

McDonald's Mcdrive
“Are you ready to order?”
“No I’m just here to make a payment.”

Whenever you get tough and declare you’re going to lick something, it always turns out to be a Tootsie Roll Pop.

You brake for cake!

woman in an cheesy auto accident
“How’d it happen?”
“She was braking for cake.”

And the number one reason why you might be feeling fat:

You are fat.


Until next time . . . I love you

My Brain Peanuts Breaks Glasses Causing Immediate Nerd Transformation!

I broke my glasses because my brain, Peanuts, placed them directly underneath where my foot was supposed to go.

Peanuts and I have been wearing glasses now for 20 years due to adult onset blurriness, and you’d think my brain, Peanuts, would have figured out a way to not step on them.

But no, every once in a while Peanuts has to test me to see if I’m still paying attention (and I never am).

I don’t get it because there’s nothing Peanuts and I hate doing more than having to get new glasses.  What was Peanuts thinking?

So I got my husband, 37, to tape them back together for me, because he’s an engineer so he knows about things like that.

Except that I didnt trust his taping judgment once he was done and added more tape myself.

So now I’m officially a nerd.

I’d take a picture to show you but I think it might be too early in the morning for that. Oh what the heck, let’s live dangerously shall we?

Me in my new nerdy glasses:

Well, wait a minute . . . let me see if I can take the picture from a better angle:

Oh that’s better.  I like this of me in my nerdy glasses a little better because you can’t really see the tape all that much.

Anyway, what were we talking about?  Oh yeah, the careless behavior of my brain, Peanuts.

So now Peanuts and I will have to stumble down to the glasses store and get those nasty drops put in.  Then once we are legally blind, we will be guided out front to pick out frames from the two or three thousand styles displayed right in front of our eyes somewhere.

The conversation with the professional four-eyes care specialist will go something like this:

Me:  How do these look on me?

Her:  Oh those look good on you.

Me:  Really?  Well how about these?

Her:  Oh!!! Those look good on you!

Me.  Really?  What about these?

Her:  Oh those!!! Look good on you.

Me:  How about these?

Her:  Oh those, look!!!  Good on you!!

Me:  And these?

Her:  Oh those look good!!! On you!!

Me:   Oh but what about these?

Her:  Oh those look good on!!!  You!!!!!

Me:  Oh, yeah, what about these?

Her:  Oh those look good on you.

Of course, we all know how this story ends.  Peanuts and I will finally decide on frames, then go back to pick them up three weeks later because their motto is ready in about an hour give or take three weeks.

Me:  Are you sure these are my glasses because they look horrible and I can’t see a thing.

Her:  OH!!! THOSE!!! LOOK!!! GOOD!!! ON!!! YOU!!!

Then Peanuts and I will go home and while I’m crying my eyes out, Peanuts will be eating a 1000 grams of sugar.

Until next time . . . I love you

Adventures in 1941 or Drunk as a Skunk Wearing War Time Trousers!

Sometimes things just keep getting better.  I opened one of my vintage cookbooks this morning and guess what I found folded up neatly inside? A section of a newspaper from May 12, 1941, almost 60 years ago to the day!

So let’s take a look at some of the ads to see if we can discover what was on the minds of the average 1941 citizen:

Here’s an ad that will ruin your appetite:

Apparently back in 1941, people had a lot of excessive ugly hair which was not to be confused with plain ol’ ordinary ugly hair. Because in 1941, everybody’s hair was ugly, that goes without saying.  But apparently, it was only the excess ugly hair that they were worried about.

And apparently if you wanted this excessive ugliness eradicated, you had to go to a Gypsy Fortune-Teller/Seance-Conducting Madame where you could get your offending follicles removed scientifically using multiple needle electrolysis on your superfluous (and uncalled for!) hair.

And speaking of ugly hair, here’s an ad for making it look even worse:

Ah! Back in 1941, nothing gave hair that natural healthy glow like Bay Rum, Barbo Compound, and half a pint of water.

The ad says to try the recipe today and see how much younger you will look — assuming you fore go applying it to your hair and just chug it!

And then there’s the enigma of Wartime Trousers:

Heh? This one is a little tricky to figure out. Let’s see . . .  there’s a war going on . . . so therefore men’s vests don’t match their pants anymore . . .. so they have to send their vests to the Pants Matching Co. . . so they can make a vest to match their pants which are now called “Wartime Trousers”.

And even though the gentleman in the ad has an abnormally large head, he apparently doesn’t have an abnormally large brain — because if he did, why has he taken off his “War Trousers” when he’s suppose to be sending The Pants Matching Co. his vest?

Well anyway, we are going to have to chalk it all up to “Wartime Trouser Secrets of World War II and move on to:

You People Who Are Sick

Well thank goodness there was at least one Dr. Shane D.C. practicing medicine without a license back in 1941!  And not only did this guy somehow get a hold of an X-ray machine, he’s going to diagnose you without asking you a single question!  Talk about saving time!

Of course it’s going to cost you one, hard-earned dollar, so you might not want to do it.  But wait . . . .what if he throws in a Oscillotonometer  heart examination and what if he capitalized HEART EXAMINATION in the newspaper ad?  Would it be worth your hard-earned dollar then?

Still no?  But  what if you suffered from something on the list of symptoms like Deafness or Lumbago or, heaven forbid,  Piles?  What then?

You mean to say you would have actually walked around town in 1941 wearing an ill-matching Wartime Trouser/vest combination with your ugly excessive, hair sticking out everywhere  –drunk as a skunk from ingesting the Barbo hair dye recipe — with extra rum?

OK fine go ahead . . .but I’m telling Madame Stiver on you, so watch out!

Until next time  . . . I love you