Tag Archives: humor

E is for Enlightenment


by Lillian Csernica on April 5, 2022

EMBRACING MY INNER FOOL

Once a person reaches Self-realization, they are freed from their own desires and worldly attachments. They’re also liberated from external pressures, such as cultural and social expectations, or political and economic influences. They are beyond self-delusion and material attachments. Yogapedia

If my life has taught me anything, it has taught me that I’m a fool. The older I get, the more convinced of this I become. (After all, the evidence just keeps piling up.) It’s amazing how bone-deep that foolishness can run. Of the many different ways my foolishness has manifested itself, a few examples stand out:

I have insomnia, so I exist in a state of perpetual sleep deprivation. That goes a long way toward explaining the bizarre things that can happen to me first thing in the morning. One day I put the box of cereal in the refrigerator, then tried to put the carton of orange juice in the full kitchen cupboard. Took me a minute to figure out why it wouldn’t fit. I’m so glad I didn’t try to lay the open orange juice carton on its side.

Another fine example of getting my wires crossed occurred the day my son John was about to go out for the afternoon with his aide, a young man named Dario. I was running around doing too much at once, my feet and my mouth moving too fast for my brain to keep up. That resulted in me handing John the money for gas and incidentals and then leaning over to kiss Dario goodbye. Perspective kicked in just before I crossed the line concerning Dario’s personal space. We both shied back with a yelp. I apologized profusely. By then Dario had been working for us long enough to know what a goofball I can be, so he laughed it off.

Early in my marriage my software engineer husband decided to take advantage of my trusting nature. We were out shopping for groceries. In the produce section, I was picking out items I needed for a particular recipe, concentrating on the list of ingredients. Suddenly my husband called out, “Put down those mushrooms! They’re covered with fungus!” I jumped and dropped the one I was holding. Only then did the truth hit me. A mushroom is a fungus. My husband has pulled that kind of thing on me more than a few times over the years. I’ve learned to watch out his “Mr. Wizard” voice.

Once in a while one of the worst symptoms of my Inner Foolishness will manifest itself in the form of me concocting some elaborate plan. This symptom usually comes out in one of two forms. One, I plot some elaborate payback scheme against somebody who has given me grief so intense it brings out my misguided Machiavellian urges. Two, I get caught up in somebody else’s drama and allow myself to be carried along in the wake of their personal upheaval.

My most memorable Machiavellian moment came back in the days when I was working at the Northern Renaissance Faire. I’d discovered a woman whom I believed to be my friend had in fact been conducting a campaign of deceit and character assassination behind my back. What she did not take into account was all the conversations we’d had that involved the exchange of personal hopes, dreams, likes, and dislikes. In trying so hard to pretend she was my friend, she had given me all the ammunition I needed to expose her vital emotional organs to the mockery of our entire Faire community. I got quite carried away with plotting her total destruction.

Did I go through with it?

I did not.

I could say my better nature won out, compassion triumphed over vengeance, etc. etc. The truth is, I just knew something would go wrong and it would all backfire on me. Also, I did realize it was a colossal waste of time and energy, a backhanded compliment to a who’d proven she was no longer worth that kind of effort. Karma would catch up with her. (The funny thing is, it did, about a year later. Stay tuned for K Day!)

The finest example of me letting myself get caught up in somebody else’s drama was also related to people from Ren Faire. I knew a woman who had some serious issues rooted in how her mother had raised her. All this baggage prompted her to redesign her own identity with an eye to becoming the person she really wanted to be. Self-actualization is a good thing, right? Not when it’s an excuse for shaking down everybody who cared about her in some strange effort to be compensated for what she felt her mother failed to provide. This person decided to change from being a Water sign to a Fire sign and switch everything in her life over to this new state of being. I’ve done a lot of reading about matters metaphysical. While I’m certainly no expert, I’m not sure this sort of thing is even possible. Just deciding to adopt a new birthdate and rising sign doesn’t make the planets line up differently on your natal chart. As far as what the Recording Angel might have to say about it, who knows?

I’m old enough now to know better about this kind of situation, but at the time I found it fascinating. When this person invited me to attend the wake for her Old Self and the Re-Birthing Ritual for her New Self, I accepted both invitations. I was hoping to witness genuine personal transformation. I ended up being a participant in two carefully orchestrated exercises in narcissism. The true dimensions of her commitment to a higher state of being were revealed after the Re-Birth Ritual. This woman got all bent out of shape because no one brought her a cake and presents. Where did my Inner Fool come into play? By allowing myself to be part of the audience this woman so desperately craved. In doing so I encouraged her ridiculous and self-destructive behavior.

It’s a great relief to realize your own foolishness. It frees you from the burden of maintaining a facade of sophistication and worldly know-how. If you embrace your Inner Fool, expectations fall away, agendas crumble, and you’re free to just roll on through life without the constant fear of looking stupid. You know that sooner or later you will. That confidence brings with it a certain relaxation envied by those people still ruled by their need to look cool.

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How Not to Build a Gingerbread House


by Lillian Csernica on December 19, 2018

 

 

Hi there. Right now I’m spread thinner than Nutella on the last three pieces of shortbread. Mom will be out of the hospital the day after Christmas. Tomorrow I have three appointments, then my younger son takes his first test for a new belt rank in tae kwon do. And then there’s all the Christmas prep to keep doing.

I need a laugh, and by some strange bit of good fortune I happened across something I wrote years ago at this same time of year. For your Yuletide entertainment, I present it to you now.

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thismommycooks.com

How Not to Build a Gingerbread House

Never ever attempt to make a gingerbread house with somebody who’s never seen one before and yet, thanks to his control freak tendencies, immediately mutates into an expert on the art.

It’s difficult to sustain an intelligent argument about the precise technique of using industrial strength icing to glue peppermint candies, gummi bears, M&Ms, and gumdrops to the various flat and angled surfaces of a gingerbread house. Believe me, we tried. Too much icing. Not enough icing. The grouping of the gumdrops on the roof lacked the right balance of colors. The little candy canes lining the walk to the front door weren’t maintaining their lines with military precision. And the windows. This is where things almost got violent. Making window panes out of pretzel sticks might seem like no big deal, but when you’re dealing with a man who thinks we should have been using a carpenter’s balance, you’ve entered into a whole new realm of the bizarre.

Then came the argument over building the chimney out of Pez candies, licorice bricks, Jolly Rancher cinnamon bites, or graham crackers iced in proper brick and mortar formations. I’m not much for drinking, even during the holidays, but by the time I was about halfway through this delightful holiday pastime, I was ready to forget the eggnog and go straight for the brandy.

At last our masterpiece was complete. It resembled nothing so much as a perfect 3D schematic of what would happen if the two of us EVER tried to share the same living quarters. The yard was a wreck, green icing spilling onto the graham cracker walkway like rank weeds erupting through broken concrete. The cast off wrappings of Hershey’s Kisses, peanut butter cups, and Lifesavers lay strewn across the porch, revealing us for the white trash we really were. The snowman in the front yard listed like the drunken uncle at the wedding reception. It was a mercy that we never had to bother with the inside of the house. I shudder to think what horrors would have been dissolving in there. Gummi coke bottles piled in the corners…silver foil gum wrappers wadded up in the little black licorice fireplace…cotton candy webs hanging from the corners of the ceilings…. It would be just too heartbreaking.

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m.imgr.com

I can’t recall now what became of that gingerbread house. I know it sat on my kitchen table for some weeks during that holiday season. And as for the man himself, my partner in committing this crime of both taste and art? No, it was not in fact my husband. This was another man, whose story must wait for another time.  This fellow is no longer among the living, so that time will probably be Halloween.

 

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thequeenofhalloween.blogspot.com

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Filed under chocolate, Christmas, classics, creativity, Family, family tradition, fantasy, Food, frustration, Halloween, Humor, Lillian Csernica, perspective, therapy

New Release from B-Cubed Press


by Lillian Csernica on August 10, 2018

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Announcing the Release of:

 Alternative Theologies:  Parables for a Modern World

Available for Preorder on Kindle

 https://www.amazon.com/Alternative-Theologies-Parables-Modern-Alternatives-ebook/dp/B07G9Z3KWZ/ref=zg_bs_158593011_4?_encoding=UTF8&psc=1&refRID=YPWBEDM9J04WE5EJC9YX

 Available Now Paperback

https://www.amazon.com/Alternative-Theologies-Parables-Modern-Alternatives/dp/0998963429/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1533934794&sr=1-1&keywords=alternative+theology

 

Table of Contents

 Editors Introduction by Phyllis Irene Radford and Bob Brown

Forward by Jim Wright

Counting Sunrises by Heather Truett

The Pale Thin God © 1994 by Mike Resnick, first published in Xanadu, Tor Books, edited by Jane Yolen

Devine Justice by Philip Brian Hall

Tit for Tat by James Dorr, first published in Ghosts: Revenge, James Ward Kirk Publishing

First by Kara Race Moore

Dear Mary, are you There? It’s Me, Heartbreak by Meg Bee

Ways of Knowing by Louise Milton

Izzy Tells No Lies by P. James Norris

The Audit by Colin Patrick Ennen

A Conservative Prayer by Gwyndyn T. Alexander

A Liberal Prayer by Gwyndyn T. Alexander

Forgiveness © 2016 by Phyllis Irene Radford, first published Kindle Unlimited

An Atheist at the Movies by Adam-Troy Castro

Everlasting Due by Marilyn Holt

Extinction Level Non-Conjunction Event by Anton Cancre

Ruby Ann’s Advice Column by C. A. Chesse

Nature Does Not Always Know by Jane Yolen

The Lost Gospel Writers by Charles Walbridge

Don’t Get the Bible Wet by Debora Godfrey

Prayer by Rebecca McFarland Kyle

So You Want to Make Gods. Now Why Should That Bother Anyone? by David Brin

The Faithless Angel by E.E. King

St Patrick 1, Snakes Nil by Jane Yolen

Temple Tantrum by J. W. Cook

Were You Good Stewards by Joyce Frohn

Righteous Spirits by Lillian Csernica

Last Words by Paula Hammond

The Good Mexican by Melvin Charles

Christian Nation by David Gerrold

A Parable About the 8th Day by Jane Yolen

The Forsaken Wall by Tom Barlow

An American Christian at the Pearly Gates by Larry Hodges

Lilith’s Daughters by Liam Hogan

Believing by Jane Yolen

Angelica by Jill Zeller

Whose Good News by Joana Hoyt

Alternative Beatitudes for the New Right by Janka Hobbs

The Ultimate Messiah Smackdown by Christopher Nadeau

 

About the Book

This is Book Four in the Alternatives Series of anthologies.

The Alternatives series looks at the social and political questions of the day with a mix of story, poetry, essay and, above all, a healthy bite of humor.

Alternative Theologies takes its turn with a gentle look at religion.

A sensitive topic.

Henry Frederic Amiel said: “Life is short and we have never too much time for gladdening the hearts of those who are travelling the dark journey with us. Oh be swift to love, make haste to be kind.”

And while this book explores theology and beliefs, it is written to be kind, thoughtful, and at times funny.

It will make you laugh, and it will make you think, but it will also give you an understanding of how diverse people see belief.

Our world class authors are both kind and thoughtful as they remind us, that no matter your creed, we make this journey together.

It starts with a foreword by Jim Wright, an American Icon, and it just gets better.

There are poems by some wonderful modern thinkers including Gwyndyn T. Alexander and Jane Yolen, that explore the core of our world.

Essays by David Brin and David Gerrold explore the nature of why we believe what we do.

And then there are the stories: Funny stories, like First, that explains how Hell got started. Serious stories of redemption, as seen in, Izzy Tells no Lies. stories that explore familiar themes, and stories that ask if we would even recognize a returning messiah after 2000 years of interpretation?

All written with the care, craft, skill and beauty that you have come to expect from B Cubed authors.

Book Information

Kindle

https://www.amazon.com/Alternative-Theologies-Parables-Modern-Alternatives-ebook/dp/B07G9Z3KWZ/ref=zg_bs_158593011_4?_encoding=UTF8&psc=1&refRID=YPWBEDM9J04WE5EJC9YX

Paperback

https://www.amazon.com/Alternative-Theologies-Parables-Modern-Alternatives/dp/0998963429/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1533934794&sr=1-1&keywords=alternative+theology

Released by B Cubed Press, BCUBEDPRESS.COM

Contact: Bob Brown, Kionadad@aol.com

Cover Design Sara Codair

Edited by Phyllis Irene Radford and Bob Brown

ISBN-13: 978-0-9989634-5-7

Electronic ISBN: 978-0-9989634-6-4

 

 

 

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Christmas on Crutches


by Lillian Csernica on December 23rd, 2016

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Some time around last Friday, I sprained my good knee, the right one.

Don’t know how I did it. I suspect it has to do with all the getting in and out of the car while Christmas shopping. I tend to push out with my weight on my right leg, and that’s the first leg in the car when I climb back into the driver’s seat.

I expect this kind of thing from my left knee, but it came as a nasty shock when my right knee exploded into a great big firework of pain. Spent the weekend hobbling around the few times I was on my feet. Ibuprofen and even Extra Strength Tylenol mean nothing to whatever is wrong with my treacherous joint. The Spousal Unit took pity on me and offered me one of his Vicodin.

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Matters hadn’t improved by Tuesday, so I went to the local Urgent Care clinic. Two hours and three x rays later, the diagnosis came in. A sprain, along with the possible onset of an arthritic condition. They wrapped my knee up in two Ace bandages, taught me how to use my crutches, and sent me home with my own Rx for Vicodin.

I know all about being sick for Christmas, but this is ridiculous.

So now I’m off my feet, icing my knee, wrapping it when I do have to move around, and hoarding the Vicodin for those times when the knee starts throbbing. Nobody has had the bad taste to make any Tiny Tim jokes yet, which is a good thing. Crutches might be padded in some places, but elsewhere they’re good stiff metal!

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Tomorrow I’m up with the sun to pull half the morning shift with Michael. Can’t take any Vicodin, because there are a few last Christmas errands to run. One does not take Vicodin and attempt to drive a car. Operating crutches while taking Vicodin is enough of a challenge.

God rest ye, merry gentlefolk. God bless us, everyone!

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Career Day at the Hospital


by Lillian Csernica on September 24, 2015

So I promised to tell you some of the funny things that happened at the hospital once word got round about me writing novels for a living.

Michael spent six weeks in the ICU.  That meant I was there, day and and day out, so the staff got to know me and I got to know some of them.  One of the Fellows had a great sense of humor and a wonderful laugh.  He was teasing me one day.  I gave him That Look over the top of my glasses and said, “Keep it up.  I’ll put you in a book.”

The ICU Social Worker saw me sitting in the cafeteria at lunch one day.  She bustled over with a big smile and said, “I’ve been talking about you!”  This statement is pretty much guaranteed to activate my fight-or-flight response.  She went on to say, “I was telling someone about your book.  You’re my first writer!”  She meant I’m the first parent she’s met who writes for a living.  It was really sweet of her to be so excited about that.

The classic no-no for writing hopefuls is to walk up to an established writer and say, “Will you read my manuscript?”  Sure enough, this happened to me.  What surprised me was the person asking.  Not a parent, not one of the nurses, but a doctor!  The one thing I had a lot of at the hospital was time. I was always waiting for this or that test to be done, and then for the results to come back.  So I read the doctor’s manuscript.  Late one night we sat there beside Michael’s bed and discussed what needed fixing while the doctor’s team of residents came and went with their questions about other patients.  That had to be one of the stranger critique sessions I’ve experienced.

The nurses started to ask me about whether or not I had a pen name, and why writers need those.  So I explained how I came up with Elaine LeClaire.  They’d write down that name and the title, Ship of Dreams.  I’m used to that happening when people find out I write, so I didn’t pay much attention to it.  Then I noticed an improvement in the online sales of the ebook version.  And then one morning I was leaving the Family House, a residence created for parents of patients rather like a Ronald McDonald house, when one of the ladies at the desk plopped a paperback copy of Ship of Dreams on the counter and asked me to sign it.  Well!  That was a nice way to start my day!

Staying in the hospital with Michael took a toll on my writing for several reasons, mostly due to fatigue and paralyzing anxiety.  Unfortunately, I had to cancel my plans to attend Sasquan, the World Science Fiction Convention is Spokane, WA.  The funny thing is, all things considered, I might have done more actual business in terms of sales thanks to the hospital staff taking such an interest in my work!

During one of Michael’s respiratory treatments, the respiratory therapist (RT) asked me what advice I’d give to someone trying to write.  I asked her if she meant fiction or nonfiction.  Turns out she’d gone back to school and was having trouble writing essays and analytical papers.  She’s one of those people who either likes something or doesn’t like it.  If you press her for details about why, she claims she wouldn’t know how to construct a detailed answer.  So we talked about how to use the five journalistic questions to break down her opinions so she could translate them into arguments either for or against the subject of the essay or the paper.  Once she got the hang of creative nitpicking, she was really relieved.  Now here’s the punchline.  She said to me, “I wish I had your mind!”  I started laughing and told her she did not want my mind.  Skills, sure.  Education, maybe.  But not my mind.

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