Curb

Curb: (n) an edge for a sidewalk.

If you play the nasty game, you will probably end up nasty. You might try to keep yourself pure in the midst of the scum, but you will certainly end up as slimy as the rest.

It’s a hard lesson to learn.

If you insist that “everyone is beautiful in their own way,” and privately sponsor a beauty contest, your hypocrisy will surface.

If you proclaim that aging allows for wisdom while you secretly try every pill or medication conceived in the Amazon forest to remain young and virile, you certainly will lose some credibility.

When I was much younger, I watched people do step aerobics.

You may not even remember it.

It was just a small piece of plastic, about five inches tall, that you kept stepping up and down on for exercise.

When I was thirty years old, I remember thinking how stupid it was. I even remember my words: “My God! That piece of plastic is no higher than a curb!”

I mocked those participating. I couldn’t imagine why or how this could ever be significant.

I was equally as critical of those who did jumping jacks. How could this be an exercise? Clapping your hands over your head as you spread your legs, to return them to normal, going back and forth…

Well, it’s more difficult to describe than to do.

Then I woke up one morning, put my foot down on the floor, stood up and my knee turned me ever-so-slightly to the right as I rose.

I’ll never forget it. It was breath-taking.

Sudden.

Disconcerting.

I began to think about those people who did their step aerobics—moving up and down on their private curb to exercise. All of a sudden, I had full comprehension about why this particular exercise was beneficial.

For you see, the human body has a will to die—from the toes up.

  • First, your feet ache
  • Your ankles, cursed with cankles, start grumbling every time you walk too far.
  • Then there are shin splints.
  • Your calf muscles occasionally have a spasm or charley horse.
  • Then one day, the knee—the center of commerce in the leg—starts getting fussy.

Then you wish you had done your step aerobics.

Or maybe you did too many step aerobics, and your joints sent you a special delivery.

The point is, whatever age you are, use what you’ve got wisely—and sparingly.

It doesn’t last longer if you over-use it.

And it won’t last at all if you never use it.

 

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Cover

Cover: (v) to place something over or upon, as for protection, concealment, or warmth.

 “I’ll be fine.”

This is what I said to my hostess when she asked me if I might need a blanket. In that moment, I felt that I might be bothering her too much by requesting one—and the room seemed to be a really good temperature and I thought I could lay on the bed without the need of any kind of cover. funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

After all, I was just going to sleep. How much do you really need to protect you when you’re just heading for Sleeper Land?

She gave me a quizzical look when I refused additional “warmage,” as if to question my judgment on the matter, but wanting to be an ideal lady of the house, she honored my wishes, left the room and disappeared into her home, which was an unknown castle to me.

I brushed my teeth, I went to bed, and as I reached over to turn off the lamp on the nearby stand, I realized that I didn’t have a cover.

It was my fault. I had explained that I didn’t need one—but now that I was in my room and darkness was falling around me, I wanted a cover.

I nearly cried.

I didn’t know the house well enough to creep around looking in cabinets, searching for blankets, so I lay on the bed, very still, trying to convince myself that I would be content without being embraced by my cover.

I do not want to be overly dramatic…

Yes, I do. It was hell.

I found I could not sleep without having something over me. I felt naked, even though I was wearing pajamas. My shoulders were hanging out there to be seen by the night spirits, without apology. My legs were lonely.

I did not know what to do. I wanted to sleep but that didn’t seem covered.

So I got up, opened up my suitcase, began to pull out all my clothing, and tied pant legs onto shirt arms, with attached socks, until I eventually put together a really weird quilt.

It worked so well that after experimenting on four or five different combinations, I had everything covered, from my toes up to my chest.

I felt powerful again.

Yet as I lay down to go to sleep, I realized the top of my chest was unsheltered. Not wanting to get up to disrupt my makeshift blanket, I reached down into my suitcase, grabbed a pair of underwear and stuffed them under my chin.

At last…

Thank God Almighty.

Covered at last.

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