I FORGOT WHY I CAME IN HERE? by Julianna Rowe

I FORGOT WHY I CAME IN HERE? by Julianna Rowe

Why do humans walk into a room and suddenly forget why they went there? You know the drill. You are sitting in the living room and suddenly remember something you absolutely need from the kitchen. You get up, walk purposefully into the kitchen, stop, and stare. 

Why am I here?  

You look at the counter. Nothing. You look at the refrigerator as though it might provide a clue. Nothing. You open the refrigerator anyway because apparently when the human brain malfunctions, cheese is worth investigating.

Turns out there is actually something researchers have studied called the “doorway effect.” Our brains tend to organize memories around events and environments. Moving from one room into another can sometimes act like a little mental boundary. Your brain registers: New place! New information! Meanwhile, the reason you came in there apparently gets left sitting on the couch. The funniest part is what happens next. You give up and walk back into the room you came from, and suddenly remember.

THE SCISSORS! So back you go.

If this has ever happened to you, congratulations, you are not alone. And forgetting why you walked into the kitchen does not automatically mean you have the dreaded Alzheimer's disease. Sometimes your brain simply has too many things going on at once. Think about everything that can travel through your mind during that short journey from the sofa to the kitchen. The laundry needs folding. Did I answer that email? I need gas. What am I making for dinner? Why is the cat staring at me? By the time you reach the kitchen, the scissors never stood a chance. 

Of course, then you open the refrigerator, spot something yummy, and your original mission may be postponed indefinitely. So you eat the cheese and go back to the sofa and eventually you remember the scissors.

Probably and hopefully!

www.thehappynewslady.com 💛

"Put That in Your Scrotum and Try to Give Birth" by Julianna Rowe

"Put That in Your Scrotum and Try to Give Birth" by Julianna Rowe

I figure I better lighten up after yesterdays I'm Tired, Boss!   

So I woke up around three a.m. last night due to what I believe was a very inebrieated individual opening the door to my apartment complex.  The door being on the outside of my bedroom wall.  Honestly, the second sound after the door opened was a crashing thud agasingt the wall near my pillow.  Of course I mean on the outside wall that rattled my inside wall.  I was terrified.  Why?  Because this place has no deadbolt locks on its apartment doors.  They charge enough they could afford steel doors.  Anyway, I grabbed my phone in case the inebriated person decided the first door he or she came to was theirs instead of mine.  I had the  number ready, or about ready meaning I punched 9-1- and left only the last 1 open in case I got so scared I couldnt remember the number 911 but could remember I only had one number to dial and that was 1.  You get it.  Apparently, in an emergency, I don't call 911. I put 911 on layaway.  

None of that helped me go back to sleep.  I considered getting up, walking closer to the intruder and peeking out the peek hole but fear kept me close to my pillow and phone ready and willing to call the number 1 for help whcih would have taken far to long anyway.  Heck I could have been murdered, hauled off, chopped up in the chipper and gone forever by the time the 1's got there.  They cant get in anyway unless I let them in.  But then drunks can fall in so why cant 9-1-1's break in?  Anyway, I calmed myself down eventually and decided to write a song in my NOTES on my phone.  I do my best writing in the wee hours anyway...  One would think I might write a scary song but no, not me...I did one I had been thinking about in the past but just never did it.  Timing I guess.  Nothing inspires a beautiful song about womanhood quite like a possible drunk hitting your bedroom wall at three in the morning. Hallmark should call me.

So here is my lovely song and the "KEY" is to read it all the way to the end.  If you want to listen to the real deal head over to You Tube or TikTok or FB.  Those folks wont get to read what I originally wrote but you will!  Remember.....all the way to the last line.

"WOMAN"  by Julianna Rowe  8.28.26

God made woman gentle as a dove,

With a heart created to give her love.

It's said she was fashioned from part of him,

Yet how some are treated comes from sin.

 He can lift a car, he can move a tree,

But giving birth? That's a mystery.

Women may talk a little too much,

While some men go silent and lose their touch.

 She wants his attention, his laughter, his time,

A hand reaching over and finding hers in the night.

She cuddles, caresses, and giggles galore,

While some turn cold and walk out the door.

 But there are men who are gentle and kind,

Who walk not three steps ahead or three behind.

With a slow hand, they walk love's line,

Knowing her strength doesn't threaten their pride.

 They cherish the woman God fashioned that day,

Not beneath them, not behind them, beside them all the way.

A beautiful creature, tender and strong,

Who carried life's heartbeat inside her so long.

 Oh, she may never lift a car or a tree,

But don't ever mistake that for frailty.

For every man who has walked this earth

Came through the body of a woman at birth.

 So measure your muscles and brag of your worth,

Lift every damn tree you can find on this earth.

But there's one little challenge before you boast,

Put that in your scrotum and try and give birth!

Then we'll talk.

(Obviously I did not use that last line when I published the song. )

I'm Tired, Boss by Julianna Rowe

 I’M TIRED, BOSS  by Julianna Rowe

There is a scene in The Green Mile that has stayed with me for years. John Coffey is trying to explain a kind of tired that sleep won’t fix. He says, “I’m tired, boss.” I thought about those words today because, Lord help me, I’m tired, boss. Not sleepy tired, not I-worked-too-hard tired. I’m tired of watching people hurt people. I’m tired of families who could help one another choosing not to. I’m tired of pride getting in the way when somebody desperately needs help. I’m tired of worrying about people who won’t take care of themselves. I’m tired of medical tests and frightening phone calls and people I love being scared. I’m tired of politics dividing families, neighbors and an entire country until we barely recognize one another. I’m tired of people driving down the highway as though everybody else is an obstacle to be conquered, tailgating, honking, flipping people off and road raging because apparently getting to the next stoplight twelve seconds sooner has become a matter of national importance.

I’m tired of watching animals suffer because human beings decided they were expendable. I’m tired of hearing about wild horses being rounded up and wondering where they will eventually end up. I’m tired of floods swallowing people’s homes and fires burning through communities. I’m tired of turning on the television and seeing another disaster somewhere in the world. Now sharks seem to be showing up close enough to shore that I’m beginning to think they need beach chairs and sunscreen. I’m tired of wondering what we’re doing to this planet and what we’re leaving behind for the people and creatures who come after us.

And never, ever, leave out Bob. My little cat is making his way toward whatever comes next, and I know there is absolutely nothing I can do about time except love him while he is still here. That may be the hardest kind of tired there is. Loving something while knowing you cannot keep it forever.

Meanwhile, ordinary life has apparently received no notification that I am tired. I need new tires soon. I got a recall notice about the rear camera on my car. There are bills to pay, groceries to buy, jobs to keep doing, people to worry about and probably something somewhere in my apartment that needs batteries. Life does not look at you and say, “Good heavens, woman, you’ve had enough. We’ll suspend operations until further notice.” Nope. Tuesday shows up right on schedule.

We weren’t built to know about every fire, every flood, every war, every frightened family, every suffering animal and every political crisis happening across the planet before we’ve finished our morning toast. Yet here we are, carrying our own troubles while a little glowing screen delivers everybody else’s directly into our laps.

So yes. I’m tired, boss.

But then I remember something Dolly Parton said: “If you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain.”

Well, Dolly, some of us have apparently been issued the family-size rain package.

But she’s right. There wouldn’t be a rainbow without the rain. Maybe that’s what I need to remember when life seems to be pouring down faster than I can mop it up. I don’t have to like the rain. I can complain about it, shake my fist and wonder why everybody else seems to have an umbrella. But I can’t demand a life filled with rainbows and expect never to get wet.

Maybe that’s the trick. We don’t have to pretend the rain isn’t falling. We don’t have to call something wonderful when it isn’t. We can be angry, frightened, and even heartbroken. We can even say out loud, “I’m tired, boss.” Then we keep going. One more day, one more phone call, one more hug, one more prayer, and one more laugh when we thought we had temporarily forgotten how. One more sunrise, and one more chance for something good to happen.

People can disappoint us terribly, and another person can surprise us with extraordinary kindness on the very same day. Someone I love can be sick, and I can still be grateful that I get to love them. Bob can be nearing the end of his journey, and I can still hold that little body and know how lucky I was that our journeys crossed at all. The rain is real, but so is the rainbow.

So I’ll keep going and going and going like that old pink Energizer Bunny, although some days my bunny gets tripped up, four percent battery life and needs roadside assistance. But she’s still moving.

I’m tired, boss. But I’m still looking for the rainbow. And my astrology report says better days are on the way.....

www.thehappynewslady.com 💗

My "Pain Clinic" Adventure by Julianna Rowe

 My Pain Clinic Adventure......by Julianna Rowe

Every morning lately I wake up thinking, okay, THAT'S OVER. Surely today will be normal. I do not sit around waiting for the next bad thing to happen. Quite the opposite. I honestly believe every dang time that the latest mess was the last mess. Then somewhere in the Universe a buzzer goes off and somebody yells, “WHAMMO! SHE THINKS IT'S OVER!” Yesterday started with my foot and whatever other part decided to join the rebellion. I had an appointment I thought was with podiatry. So naturally I got my feet ready because somebody is going to inspect your feet, you cannot arrive looking like you've been wandering barefoot through a cornfield since 1987.  I arrived at the appointment with two perfectly respectable feet nobody wanted to see. Probably because I was at the SPINE CLINIC appointment. 

The nice people started asking if I had back pain? Did I need Gabapentin? Duloxetine? Lyrica? NO! My foot hurts. We actually ended up laughing about the whole thing because what else can you do? I had dragged my aching foot into a medical building, paid a copay, prepared my feet for company, and arrived at a party being held for my spine. 

Then I came home. This is where the Universe apparently said, “Okay, that was the comedy portion. Bring in the cement truck because several other incidents occurred that were not funny.” 

So naturally, I checked my astrology chart for these days. Yes, astrology. Don't send me letters. I have enough mail problems. Apparently Mars is squaring Neptune right now, which astrologers associate with confusion, crossed wires and trying to take action when nobody seems to know what the heck is going on. I WENT TO A PODIATRY APPOINTMENT AND ARRIVED AT A SPINE CLINIC. If Mars and Neptune wanted to put on a little demonstration, they could have been less literal. Then Venus is opposing Saturn, which astrology associates with relationships, separation, money and reality arriving with an invoice. Hello, that connected to my other issues that day. And according to what I found in my chart, late August still has a few bumps and surprises, but things are supposed to begin lightening as we move toward September.I don't need Jupiter to drop a million dollars onto my balcony, although Jupiter, if you're listening, the balcony is directly outside the living room and I will leave the door unlocked.

Meanwhile, I have learned one important lesson. The next time I have a medical appointment, I'm calling ahead. “Hello. I have an appointment at two. Before I leave the house, exactly which body part are you people expecting?” Because I'm not getting my feet ready for nothing again. Or maybe I should keep a clearer more concise calendar!

P.S. If there is a cement truck at your door with your name on it, its because your a Scorpio!  Me, I am! 

The Happy News Lady 

Batteries, Batteries Everywhere by Julianna Rowe

Batteries, Batteries Everywhere , What the Heck Do We Do With Them?

My son casually informed me that batteries go into landfills. Well, you cannot casually tell me something like that and expect me to go make eggs and forget about it. I started thinking about all the batteries in my life. Batteries in remotes, flashlights, phones, computers, tools and watches. And ...batteries in cars. Now we're building electric vehicles containing batteries large enough to propel an entire automobile down the interstate. So where do all these dang batteries eventually GO?

First of all, my son wasn't completely wrong, but the story is more complicated. And yes I had to google some of this! Many ordinary alkaline household batteries can legally go into household garbage in many communities, although the EPA recommends recycling them when recycling is available. Rechargeable and lithium batteries are another story. They should not be thrown into household garbage or regular recycling bins because they can be damaged or crushed and start fires. Those batteries need separate collection and proper recycling.

Then there are the big boys, those heavy old-fashioned car batteries we've been hauling back to auto-parts stores and junkyards forever? Turns out we've gotten remarkably good at recycling those things. According to the EPA's published national data, about 99 percent of lead-acid car batteries were recycled. Their lead and plastic can be recovered and reused. Well, I'll be danged. Score one for humanity.

Then we arrive at electric cars. Their large lithium-ion batteries don't necessarily become extremely expensive doorstops when the car is finished. They can be recycled, and valuable materials such as nickel, cobalt, manganese and lithium can be recovered and potentially returned to the supply chain.But here's where my son's comment still got under my skin. We're putting batteries into practically everything. Cars. Phones. Tools. Toys. Computers. Appliances. Even things that worked perfectly well for centuries without requiring electricity now apparently need a battery, a charger, three warning labels and probably my Wi-Fi password.

Are our systems for collecting and recycling all those batteries keeping up? And let me add, I'm not against electric cars. I'm against solving one environmental problem while pretending the next problem will politely wait its turn. If batteries are going to power more and more of our world, collecting and recycling them shouldn't be an afterthought. It should be part of the plan from the beginning.

Because sooner or later, every battery dies. And somebody better know what the heck we're going to do with it. 

Now, where do I put these AAAs?

The Happy News Lady 💗 

A Hundred Different Bottled Waters......by Julianna Rowe

A Hundred Different  Bottled Waters by Julianna Rowe

Have you ever driven the same road hundreds of times and suddenly you see something you never saw, or noticed before. With your stable mind you know it wasn't just placed there by aliens, yet you never saw it before.  Well, that is what happened to me today when I walked into Hell's Gate II for some eggs and an eight pack of diet coke. I had to pass through the three water isles when I noticed for the first time.....some reason.....that WATER can be complicated!! 

Life used to be simple when it came to water. It was in the form of water where we turned on the faucet, filled a glass, drank it and that was the end of the transaction. 

This morning I tried to beat the grocery store crowd which did not happen. Regardless, I walk into the grocery store that I recently renamed Hells Gate II because there is already a Hells Gate I, and noticed that apparently water has its own department: Yes I knew it but suddenly it hit me and with my stable mind I knew it had nothing to do with aliens. There they all were staring back at me: Spring water, mineral water, purified water, distilled water, alkaline water, electrolyte water, artesian water, glacier water, and smartwater! My mind wondered to probably water that has been emotionally supported through childhood. The ridiculous thing is, there really ARE differences. Yes I had to Google this: Spring water comes from an underground source that naturally reaches the surface. Mineral water comes from underground and contains naturally occurring minerals.  Purified water may begin as tap or groundwater but is heavily treated or filtered. Like from our flushes. Okay just kidding or am I.  Distilled water is turned into steam and condensed back into water, removing most minerals. Alkaline water has a higher pH whereas electrolyte water has minerals such as sodium, potassium or magnesium added. Artesian water comes from a confined underground aquifer which I do not understand, and glacier water supposedly comes from, you guessed it, glaciers. 

Then there's Smartwater, which is basically vapor-distilled water with electrolytes added for taste. Excuse me, but why would they call it Smart Water? Can it remember my passwords? Can it find the peanut butter they moved again? Can it explain why my insurance company took an extra $354 out of my checking account? Because if it can't do any of those things, I hate to break it to you, Smartwater, is just water that is wet.  And somewhere in that aisle is a tiny bottle costing more per ounce than gasoline because apparently the water spent 14,000 years filtering through ancient volcanic rock and now has a résumé, a college degree and a passport. After twenty minutes of reading labels and trying to determine whether my body requires water from a glacier, an aquifer or Harvard University, I did what any sensible woman would do. I bought Diet Coke.  I love "me" diet coke. As for water, I may never look at it the same way I did today. 

Until next time, stay hydrated whichever one you choose.  

The Happy News Lady 💗 

Onion Head, The Relationship Board Game by Julianna Rowe

"Onion Head, The Relationship Board Game".. (coming soon)  by Julianna Rowe

Years ago, while involved off and on with a man I often described as an onion, I had an idea. Not just an idea, actually. A board game. I called it ONION HEAD. You know how an onion works. You peel back one layer and discover another and then another. And just when you think you've finally reached the center, SURPRISE! Apparently there are seventeen more layers and three of them require professional assistance.

My original description began: Introducing ONION HEAD - the new relationship game for girls, boys, women, men, he's, she's, her's, him's…and such. Layers and layers of continuous challenging twists and turns, ups and downs. A terrible, horrible, no-good brain game with the potential to drive you absolutely crazy. You can win the game, you just may not survive it.

I found those words recently buried in the Notes folder on my phone. I had written them several years ago and completely forgotten about them. The funny part? I knew EXACTLY who the onion was. He knew, too. I'd told him for years that he was like an onion. Peel back one layer and you get another…and another…and another.

So naturally, my imaginary ONION HEAD came equipped with interchangeable layers. There was the Loving Layer. The Caring Layer. The Intelligent Layer. The Tender Layer. And then, because apparently somebody at the imaginary factory had a sense of humor, there were a few other layers. Control Issues,  stubborness, blames others, and takes no responsibility. Don't forget fear based, and my personal favorite: I call B.S. and that isn't even close to the complete inventory.

ONION HEAD also came with assorted interchangeable body parts, because obviously no emotionally complicated adult relationship game would be complete without those. There were ears. One set that listened and one set that ignored, and naturally, another set pretended to listen. There was a heart with interchangeable parts. There were different arms, different expressions, different hats and several mysterious connections between the lips, heart and brain that nobody - including the manufacturer, could adequately explain.

The original game price? $140. I don't remember why I chose $140. Perhaps that was all the emotional damage I could afford at the time.

Here's what's strange. All these years later, another human onion wandered back into my life in a different way. And recently I found myself once again trying to figure out which layer I was looking at. That's when I remembered the game. Or maybe the game remembered me.

I pulled up that old Samsung Notes file and started laughing, because there it was. ONION HEAD. Still complicated and still surprising and well capable of producing a brand-new layer when I could have sworn we'd already peeled the dang thing down to the stem.

And somewhere along the way I realized something else: This may not merely be an old joke sitting forgotten in my phone. There might actually be a game hiding inside that onion.

So I'm going to stop right here. I'm keeping the rest of the layers to myself. For now.

ONION HEAD:  PHOTO BY CHATGPT

Peel responsibly.

AGES: Old Enough to Know Better.

The Happy News Lady 💗