Why Do We Talk to Ourselves? by Julianna Rowe

WHY DO WE TALK TO OURSELVES? by Julianna Rowe

Apparently I Needed an Expert Opinion

I talk to myself and not occasionally, either. I mean I have full conversations where I ask questions and I answer them. Sometimes I disagree with the answer and have to reconsider my position. This morning I walked into the kitchen and said, “What did I come in here for?” Nobody answered so I asked again. Still nothing so I figured apparently the other person in this relationship isn't very helpful.

I talk to myself while driving, while cleaning, and especially in the grocery store. “No, you don't need that.” “Yes, I do.” “No, you don't.” “It's on sale.” And just like that, I have won the argument and bought something I didn't need. Maybe impulsive buying?  Maybe I should try Door Dash but then what would I talk about? No aisles, not carts, no parking issues, and no decisions.

The really disturbing part is when I say something funny and laugh at my own joke. All the while, I am alone. That's when I wonder whether I should be concerned. But here's what I've decided: talking to yourself is perfectly normal. It's when you start losing the arguments that we may need to call somebody.

Until then, I'm keeping the conversations going. After all, sometimes I'm the only person around here who understands what the heck I'm talking about. And even THAT is questionable depending on the day.

www.thehappynewslady.com

Life is Like Assembling IKEA Furniture Without the Allen Wrench by Julianna Rowe

 LIFE IS LIKE ASSEMBLING IKEA FURNITURE WITHOUT THE ALLEN WRENCH

 by Julianna Rowe

I have decided life is a lot like assembling IKEA furniture without the Allen wrench. You have all the pieces or at least you think you do. There are seventeen screws that look exactly alike except apparently three of them are critically different. The directions have no actual words, just drawings of a cheerful little person who seems to know exactly what he is doing and I already don't like him.

Somewhere around Step Four, you discover that Piece B was supposed to be attached to Piece G before you screwed Piece C into something that now appears to be upside down. Welcome to life! We spend an enormous amount of time believing everybody else received better instructions. They didn't, some people are simply better at pretending they know where Piece G goes.  And life doesn't travel in a straight line either. Neither do the best conversations. They wander through groceries, children, money, pets, relationships, something somebody said twenty years ago, and occasionally whether there are aliens watching us screw up the planet. Then, somewhere between one completely unrelated subject and another, you accidentally discover a truth about yourself.

Those are my favorite conversations. Only certain people can make you laugh, cry and realize you need a breath mint all in the same paragraph. Those are your people. Keep them. Maybe we aren't supposed to have the whole thing figured out. Maybe most of us are walking around with half the instructions missing, one unidentified screw in our pocket and a bookshelf that leans slightly to the left. And maybe that's okay.

Mine may wobble a little, but it's still standing. Now if somebody could just find me the LIFE's Allen wrench.

The Happy News Lady 💛

"An ORB, a Streetlight & Me....by Julianna Rowe

 An ORB, a Streetlight & Me......... by Julianna Rowe  

I woke up at 5 a.m., which means I opened my eyes in the dark. And when you open your eyes in the dark, what do you see? Usually nothing, or maybe a slight reflection from a streetlight, which isn't particularly romantic at that hour. But this morning I saw a large, blurred, round blob on the ceiling. It wasn't the first time I've seen something unusual up there, but this blob was different from my usual million-star shadow, which I've only seen twice before. Anyway, although seeing a million-stars shadow moving across one's bedroom during the night deserves considerably more than my, “anyway.” Okay, back to the blob. So what does a person do when they see a dark shadow on the ceiling at five in the morning? I spoke to it. I told it that if it was from the dark side of creation, it wasn't welcome. But if it was from the light side, as in Grandma, Grandpa or such, sure, stay on. 

I could use some company and possibly a few life instructions. Helpful hints. Maybe an avenue or two away from destruction. Okay, that was a bit dramatic, but so was the big beautiful blur on my ceiling. The conversation continued. I asked the blur whether I should go to Costco this morning or wait until Monday. I asked how much I should pay on a certain,and my only used, credit card. No panic, it's only at $800. I explained to the blob that I am not one of those impulse buyers unless I am at the grocery store, where I routinely come home with crazy foods, eat a little bit of them and eventually send them bye-bye to the trash. I really need to start using Instacart or whatever that delivery thing is so I don't overbuy food. So far, the blob had offered absolutely no financial guidance. Next came the obvious question: “Who are you?” Then I became a bit more threatening. “You better be here to help me.” No response. We discussed whether I should do the dishes before leaving for Costco, whether I should get the car washed today, and how I mustn't forget to call all the monthly debitors and give them my new card number because of the recent fraudulent use of my pretty little bank card. Still nothing. Frankly, for a possible visitor from another dimension, the blob was a terrible conversationalist. I even took photos to see whether the camera might reveal one giant orb or several little orbs, maybe the whole dead family had come to visit. I took four big beautiful photographs that turned out to be four big beautiful photographs of black. Nada. Nothing. No orbs. I was thoroughly disappointed. No Grandma. No Grandpa. Apparently nobody from the other side had shown up for my five-a.m. staff meeting. Eventually, without any help whatsoever from the blob, I decided I was going to Costco, so I got up and got ready. Oh, and by the way, I figured out what the blob was. It was a reflection coming through the door, around the corner, straight down the hallway from the living room, where I'd left the curtain open and a streetlight had somehow made its way all the way back to my bedroom to visit me on this fine morning. So there you have it. I spent part of my morning discussing finances, groceries, dishes, deceased relatives and life decisions with a reflection from a streetlight. Still, when you live alone, it was rather nice having someone to talk to when I woke up. I don't think I'll do it again, though. Now that I know who he is, our relationship has lost some of its mystery.

The Happy News Lady 💗

Did You Notice? by Julianna Rowe

 

Did You Notice?

by Julianna Rowe

Some days I have a funny story ready to go. Other days, funny apparently takes the day off without asking permission. Today is one of those days. So instead of forcing the laughter, I decided to write about something smaller, the little things that keep showing up even when we're not having our best day.

Some days you wake up ready to conquer the world and other days you would appreciate it if the world would kindly go conquer itself. Today is one of those days. Nothing particularly funny happened. No grocery-store adventure, no ridiculous conversation, and no household appliance tried to kill me. And, for the sake of my more delicate readers, there will be absolutely no discussion of flatulence. You're welcome.

But I did notice something. Even on a day when my heart felt a little heavier than usual, the little things kept showing up. My Diet Coke still fizzed when I opened it. The sun came through the window without asking whether I was in the mood. Somebody somewhere probably laughed so hard they snorted. A dog was undoubtedly thrilled beyond reason because somebody said the word “walk.”

And tonight, millions of people will crawl into bed thinking they didn't accomplish enough today. Maybe we did. Maybe getting through an ordinary, not-so-great day is accomplishment enough.

Tomorrow can bring the funny. Today, I'm just going to let the little things be enough.

www.thehappynewslady.com💗

The Flatulence Fairy....... by Julianna Rowe

"The Flatulence Fairy" by Julianna Rowe

I have a friend who had surgery a couple months or so ago and she told me the funniest story.  Well it turned out funny anyway.  She said after her surgery she had the most obnoxious, foul-smelling flatulence. Every. Single. Day. I laughed, she didn't. She said it had gotten to the point that she felt like she should carry a little bottle of perfumed spray everywhere she went. Especially the grocery store because what exactly are you supposed to do when you're innocently strolling down Aisle 7 and..

“Pffffft.”

Again I was laughing.  She continued telling me she recalled when it happened to her and right then and there her eyes widened and her brain to mouth said: Oh shit!

She continued by saying normally she would abandon the aisle immediately and leave some unsuspecting shopper to wonder what died near the canned peas. But she decided there is a more dignified solution. So, she instantly became The Flatulence Fairy. Instead of fleeing, she rose onto her imaginary ballet slippers, extended one arm gracefully overhead and PIROUETTED down the aisle while delicately misting the atmosphere behind herself. (Meantime I am laughing uncontrollably.) She said it isnt funny! 

Spritz... twirl... spritz... twirl...

Some poor man examining the cottage cheese looked up. She gave him a regal little nod and softly exclaimed. “Environmental services!” And pirouetted directly into Produce.

There, problem solved. She may still have the problem, but by golly, I bet she looked graceful leaving the scene. She told me she isnt worried because she has her post-surgery surgeon appointment tomorrow and they shall get the bottom of this.  No pun intended. Okay maybe a little…

Now here's where I tell you that all that fairy-whispering, spritzing and pirouetting was only in my imagination. What I actually did was run like crazy to another aisle as fast as I could and leave some innocent shopper to investigate whatever had apparently died near the canned peas. 

And there's one other small detail I probably should confess.

Remember my friend? The one who had surgery? The poor woman with the post-surgical flatulence who supposedly told me this whole embarrassing story that I laughed at?

Okay. So maybe that was me.

I was the friend. I was the one with the flatulence. And apparently, in my imagination anyway, I was also The Flatulence Fairy.

Spritz... twirl... spritz... twirl...

Thank God I wasn't in an elevator.

The Happy News Lady 💛

 

 

 

 

 

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. )