Category Archives: humor

Spring, Spring, Spring, Spring, SPRING

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Holy Moly, that was one punishing winter. Shoveling, scraping, bitter cold, biting winds, falls on ice, moods swinging like a metronome, fuel costs rising like an intercontinental ballistic missile … crazy-making. Mother Nature – and other unnamed powers – dealt us a one-way ticket to Nutterville.

Normally I feel a nostalgic sorrow at the passing of both summer and winter, for some reason. It’s as if, “I’ve become accustomed to her face.” And it will be a long while before she rolls around again.

This time I feel nothing but anticipation. Here comes spring, baby. Bulbs emerging. Skunks resurfacing. Birds romping. We’re still in a wacked-out limbo as temps vacillate as the sap runs, and we gradually adjust to the next drastically different season. That’s why a friend said she lives in New England. For the “drastic changes of season.” 

Being bounced around inspires fear: is spring really coming, or is this some elaborate ruse by forces outside our control designed to drive us insane with sheer wanting? There certainly seem to be many forces outside our control right now, and I for one don’t like it a bit. I’m taking to the streets, by the Jesus (an old Vermonty expression, that).

Speaking of whom, my pagan inclinations aside, Lent became something oddly sacred when I moved back to Vermont 20 years ago and found a great church. (I realize Dear Reader may find the latter an oxymoronic pairing of words, but I proceed.) I learned that Lent is not supposed to be about self-flagellation or self-denial, but self-reflection and a putting away, perhaps, of thoughts or behaviors that no longer serve us or others. A self-freeing. I super enjoy quiet contemplation as the last snows fly during this odd period of waiting.Importantly, the Filet-O-Fish always goes on sale now. Because of St. Pat’s (O’Fish!) or Lent (fish!), who knows, but the thing is six bucks ordinarily, so have it. 

I make lists at summer’s end, the new year, and now. This March I invented a new list, good for the older set: make a list of the high points in your life. It puts things in perspective, and keeps your bean from lingering on topics dreary, which currently abound. Try it?

Please don’t think your High Points need to be formulaic. You know, “my (1st, 2nd or 3rd…) wedding; the birth of my children; my bat mitzvah.” I had none of those, so ran with:

Being zipped into a snowsuit as a child; Grandmas teaching me things; Troop mothers panicking on the beach as we girl scouts rocketed gleefully upwards in giant surf on Fire Island; Childhood friends playing flashlight tag; high school friends administering “treatments” to each other (this when you put high-quality headphones on your friend and play them an incredible song, with no advance spoiler, e.g., “Tom Sawyer”; “Won’t Get Fooled Again; “Comfortably Numb”); flying dreams; NYC at night with various boyfriends, the city our oyster; smoking horses through the woods in Woodstock; achieving the Pacific Ocean, having driven solo across the US; blow drying my hair in a convertible on the PCH; my friend onstage winning an Oscar, mouthing thanks to his deceased mother; skinny dipping while kayaking in Vermont; my first New World Festival (Randolph); laughing so hard with nieces, nephew, or friends that we couldn’t stop, to the annoyance of All; a high school reunion that went on and on until 3 am; a college reunion that went on and on until 3 am; plunging into a fjord; pounding beezers on the porch with Mommy in all weather; being bedside when Fathah left this earth; post-funeral dancing to Fathha’s favorite, “Eagle’s Greatest Hits,” with nieces; the Eclipse (you forgot about that, right?).

Suddenly your whole life story seems like one of richness, rather than of trials. Send me your list if your like. (It will be graded, but technically this is open book.) The patterns will remind you of, say, “Right. I like water. Need water.” Or: “Music. Play more music.” Crack the code.

Tips to launch your keister into SPRING, Hell-bent for leather:

Play Royalton Free Radio WFVR ~ 96.5. Too many good shows to suggest just one (stream or replay).

Maple, maple, maple.

Do what feels good besides a handle of bourbon, though the industry could certainly use your “support” with Canada shutting down consumption due to tariff insanity. Try a Brocklebank stout? Killer.

Read a book as the last snow falls to Gabriel Fauret’s “Requiem.”

Go to Dandelion Acres, movies at the Playhouse, dance in your skivvies under the moon.

Good launch and day.

Ann Aikens is an author, columnist, speaker, and blogger. Her darkly comical book of advice, A Young Woman’s Guide to Life: A Cautionary Tale, was published in 2023, her Upper Valley Girl column since 1996. Find events and bookshops at annaikens.com; her blog at uppervalleygirl.com.

The Other Frankentree

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The original Frankentree is a fruit tree with grafted limbs that produces multiple varieties within a species of fruit — say, pears, apples, plums, or cherries. It is colorful, comme resultat. It can be gorgeous.

The not-gorgeous Frankentree is the cell-phone-tower-disguised-as-a-tree tree. Few people have access to this creepy monster.

I recently got up close to one. It gave me the willies. The “needles” on a “branch” that had fallen off had a revolting texture, like that of a fake Christmas tree made out of recycled toxins. Plus, I was probably getting irradiated by the cell tower itself. I fled.

A Fun Thing to Start in a New Year

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Last year I had some lucky breaks, despite seemingly increasing Earthly mayhem. So every day, more or less, I thought of one thing that had made me feel lucky — or just happy — that day. I wrote it down on a scrap of paper and put it in this vase.

Now I get to read them all, have my mind blown, burn them, and start anew. Won’t you join me?

A Better Mousetrap

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I guess mouse trap is a misnomer. It’s more like mouse electric chair. And you know, much as I love Havahart traps, there’s just way too many mice to keep doing catch and release.

I cannot get a cat. And the poisons are so cruel. Glue traps the worst possible. The old- fashioned mouse traps gave me the willies every time I saw the grimaces on mices’ dead faces ~ seemed an awful way to go, and it didn’t always kill the critter. With this one, it’s pretty much guaranteed, and I don’t have to look at my victims.

So, a great mouse trap? No. But better. Have I put the batteries in yet? No, I have not.

Desperately Seeking Zero Waste

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Dear Reader may find this loopy, or just annoying. But some of you can relate.

I cannot discard non-biodegradable garbage of any kind. If I go somewhere with no recycling (a Massachusetts nursing home, a Maine hotel), I throw my soda can in the garbage in disgust. Later, I secretly retrieve it, and put it in my car. Can’t help myself. 

Maybe my aversion to throwing things out began with Poverty Mentality, but definitely resourcefulness. As a child, I would decorate my dollhouse with refuse. Inspired perhaps by the TV show “Land of the Giants” – which we would re-enact with our Barbies® – I’d use a toothpaste cap as a dollhouse wastebasket; tiny sea shells as ashtrays (one in every room!); a clear marble as a crystal ball. I fished mini-detritus out of the trash at home, my imagination spinning.

Now, I discuss needless waste occasionally with a similarly obsessed colleague. Yet even she once talked me into throwing out a damaged binder clip. She said, (and it’s not the first time someone has said this to me): “It’s garbage.” I sighed. Okay. But how many mangled binder clips alone litter this earth? Face masks? Fact: plastic grocery bags and sandwich bags take 1,000 years to decompose. There is massive trash on the ocean floor. It is called “marine debris,” and Saturday September 20th is International Coastal Cleanup! Go here to find a coordinator worldwide. 

In my defense, I can discard a tattered sock (after I use it to clean something) or other rubbish no one else in their right mind would want (a scratched CD; half a shoe).

Once I asked an acquaintance about what to do with small pieces of foil. Zero-sort recycling companies typically demand that objects be 2” by 2” at minimum – or they can “break the machine.” The acquaintance suggested rolling the bits into larger pieces of foil, forming a 2 by 2” ball. Which I do to this day. I collect the bits in a jar with glee …
x-treme recycling! Picturing them in landfill makes me go berserk.

I also say, “No flower before its time.” When a vase is starting to croak, I pull only the dying flowers and leave the living. Also with grapes and such. I really push it. And while I won’t eat something that’s “going by” in its raw state, I’ll cook it. Food waste in this world of people literally starving to death is, simply, criminal. Rotting food in landfills produces methane, an even more potent greenhouse gas than CO2.

I won’t knowingly use AI. The (coal-powered?) giant computers required to run it, tons of water as a coolant … no thanks. It’s hard to avoid AI now.

But I’m no saint. I use paper towels. Saran wrap. Toothpaste. Glitter is the enemy of the environment, per my SIL, so I feel terrible when I wear glitter nail polish or vintage clothing with sparkles that fall off. I discard much of the Bloomin’ Onion at the Tunbridge Fair. My favorite commute was at the Comedy Cellar when I walked downstairs and was … at work! My least favorite: Driving to Dartmouth for seven years from central VT. The li’l Stagecoach bus back then killed my back. But the car killed my carbon footprint. For life.

Happily, many Vermonters are lucky, with easy backyard composting (food scraps being banned from our landfills in 2020). At the New World Festival, the dining “plasticware” was wood. Many events have cans marked for Waste, Compost, or Recycling. Love it, if not the reprobates who ignore the signage.

A friend who often has guests saves to-go coffee cups and lids. When you leave, you get a nice, hot coffee for the road. We both re-use paper towels and zip-lock bags. Don’t worry, it doesn’t get more disgusting than that.

People who don’t care about reducing, recycling, reusing, repurposing …. what? Do not all Earthlings care about the horrors of droughts, high-powered storms, heat waves, and sand storms (in Phoenix?!)? Twelve-cylinder vehicles idling with no human in sight: what gives?

A young journalist at work recently brought her lunch salad in a plastic container that originally had food in it from the store. Re-use! I wept. Here’s another weeper.  What great American novel is this quote from? 

“These autumn days will shorten and grow cold. The leaves will shake loose from the trees and fall … this lovely world, these precious days.” Submit guesses to ann@ourherald.com. No cheating!

Let’s keep our world lovely, shall we? I close with what a nutter friend once said about the idiocy of importing bottled water from other countries. He said, “Look. Look around! We have plenty of water. Right. Here.” He also had my favorite bumper sticker: “I’m Sorry for Driving so Close in Front of You.” But I digress. Good day.

Ann Aikens’ comical, uplifting book of advice, A Young Woman’s Guide to Life: A Cautionary Tale, is available online and in Vermont shops, the audiobook on Amazon.  She has written her Upper Valley Girl column since 1996. Find more of her writing at uppervalleygirl.com; information at annaikens.com.

Creature Comforts and Deciding to be Happy

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Green Up Day is for me, as it may be for Dear Reader, one of Vermont’s top 10 events. I examine every piece of detritus that I bag – and wear latex gloves. It is all brought to the dump by others at no cost to us collectors. We leave our findings road side in green garbage bags for them to transport.

The good people of the Land honk as they drive by. I know they’re not the same people that thought it a good idea to sully the Land – with cigarette butts, vape refuse, car parts, micro- and macro-plastics, undetermined rubber-plastics in shapes that make no sense at all, and things far too disgusting for print in a journal as lofty as the Herald, in the small stretch of mileage I clean up. I ponder items I can’t figure out (what is it?), and ignore my pants falling down as I bend over. Did I say lofty?

Making a place nicer is so uplifting. I can’t imagine why people enjoy making it grosser. With every roadside can of Truly, made by the Boston Beer Company, I wonder, “Truly? You truly thought it OK to toss this out your car window?” Who are these miscreants? These degenerates. These litter bugs.

But if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the decades, it’s not to waste time getting steamed up over the behavior of inconsiderate juveniles, who are, let’s face it: often adults. Let us save our anger for more worthy causes.

Now I have known some preternaturally cheery people – children aside, who are hopefully joyful because they haven’t been battered by life yet (and yes, horribly, many have been, worldwide). But included in the chipper group have been, oddly, people who’ve actually had it the hardest in life. They don’t seem to be peeved or self-pitying much.

Thinking about them, during my recent bouts of anger and dismay, made me feel not exactly guilty. More like … inept. What is their secret? Were they just born that way?

The more people you know, the more triumphs you hear about, also the more sorrows. You hurt for others who are in pain. The older you get, the more sorrows you experience yourself, and the more you hear about. And much of this you can do absolutely nothing about. Aside from lending a hand, a shoulder, tears, a smile, some cash.

But at one point this winter, I’d had it with feeling lousy about 27 (however valid) things. I recalled feeling happy, mischievous, adventuresome (!) as a child. I got a little ticked off, frankly, that things had headed south, in the world and in me. And I figured, dang it, I can have both. I can be both. I can be a sad, angry person as circumstances dictate, and I can be a jolly nutter as able. I can stubbornly refuse to let people and events hammer me down into chronic misery. What good am I to the creatures of the Land if I’m always in the hole? I decided to make an effort at being more cheerful.

I rested during snow, then rain. Slept in. Made nests of pillows and blankets. Called friends and fam I haven’t spoken to in ages. Wrote funny cards. Paid brief, comical visits to acquaintances. Pondered happy thoughts more. Read the writings of spiritual scholars more. Regarded our gorgeous natural landscape with awe more. Drove to faraway friends.

Mainly, I did things that felt good, so that I’d feel good. I don’t mean drinking a handle of bourbon, but if I wished to lie in bed watching TV and napping and eating all day on occasion, I did. So many people lack these luxuries; I felt they should be relished.

Well, I’m here to tell Dear Reader it really has mostly worked. It has. The arrival of spring and summer didn’t hurt a bit, even though, as per usual, April Showers brought May showers brought June heat. But events that would normally have thrown me off my horse just sort of glided by into the past without much ado. There was plenty to marvel at–particularly as spring sprang–with its usual unexpected vigor.

Then the test came. It was yet another dreary, rain-soaked Saturday. There was a lot of drama going down, not of my own making. I’m not a fan of drama. I admit I spiraled downwards, hell bent for leather. Sometimes, people are simply disappointing. Even cruel.

Clearly, maintaining a state of happiness can be a bit of work! It is not normal to be perpetually giddy, without a bunch of ketamine and hallucinogens anyway.  And while I am here to experience all of life’s emotions, I now seek a higher percentage of joy.

I’m no saint. I eat at McDonald’s, now that they don’t use Styrofoam. When I became a pescatarian for Lent, that Filet o’ Fish sure came in handy – and mighty McTasty, by Jesus – 100 times better than I remembered. 

And I say stupid things sometimes. I’m far less adult than I should be at my age. . I don’t know a lot. But I do endeavor these days to be kinder to myself and others, and to be a better human, on a weekly basis. Do good deeds. Be more loving. More smiling, regardless of that week’s degree of difficulty. Join causes that matter to me. Incite laughs. Compliment people out loud. Help strangers. Worry less. Ignore meanness, at least that directed solely at me. Is this a guaranteed formula for endless happiness? No, but I do recommend making the effort. There is a payoff, it seems. Try it, if you like? Report in as able. Good day.

Ann Aikens’ comical, uplifting book of advice, A Young Woman’s Guide to Life: A Cautionary Tale, is available online and in Vermont shops. It was recently released as an audiobook on Amazon.  She has written her Upper Valley Girl column since 1996. Find more of her writing at uppervalleygirl.com; information at annaikens.com.

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George is Likely Everywhere that is Cold

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George, an effigy of sorts (though not hated, as some effigies are), has been for decades seated upon the ice in a chair on the frozen local lake. We place bets at to when he’ll totally submerge. It’s a real crapshoot from year to year. The tether is to pull him out once he goes down. I have never won.

How To Understand What the YPs are Saying – This Week, Anyway

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Dear Reader knows that I’ve long maligned overused modern expressions. Many originating from books written by business “experts.” 

It’s as if those terms become immediately hackneyed. “Thinking outside the box” and being “on the same page” … I’ve never thought or been either. “Low-hanging fruit,” although I’ve never picked it, “chaps my fanny,” (a phrase I dig, neither corporate nor new). And “side hustle” I adore. I’m not sure where, for me, the line gets drawn.  My threshold has no defined criteria. 

With no help from corporate smoothies, the Young People (YPs) typically devise their own lexicon entirely, more so today than ever. Here’s an exchange I had with a Young Person I see occasionally:

Me: Thanks for the help.
YP: Totally!
Me: I’m sorry I distracted you from your duties.
YP: No worries.
Me: Be safe.
YP: And you as well. 

My fave is his “Totally!” in place of “You’re welcome.” Also how he says, “And you as well,” no matter how I sign off. I could say, “Eat more pickled foods!” and he’d reply with, “And you as well,” I’m certain.

Greetings and Sign-offs have greater variety these days
People now ask less often, “How are you?” When they do, they get an honest answer. Which is rarely the old standard, “Great!” More often it’s: “Okay.” “Oh, all right.” If someone replies with “Great!”, we’re baffled and want to know more.

Currently all the rage: Deciphering what the heck the YPs are saying

Some we already knew.

“Bed Rotting” ~ Living for long hours in your bed, presumably on screens 

“Brain Rot” ~ From exposing oneself to excessive online content

“Sick” ~ Funny

“Ghosting” ~ Ditching or not responding to someone 

“It’s all good.” ~ A response to an apology, which I dislike. In general, it’s not even partially good, much less “all” good, if I’m apologizing … but okay.

Others I learned with the help of a hip local educator, a teachers’ website, and articles in USA Today (6/3/23) and the Wall Street Journal, of all places (2/5/25).

Know these terms and be less out of It – a Sampling

 “Rizz” ~ n. Charisma; v. to charm.” (also: Rizzy, rizzless)

“Say Less.” ~ I understand, no need to explain further. 

“Cap” ~  Calling someone a liar.
YP1 “I can jump higher than you!”  YP2 “That’s all cap!” or “Stop capping.”

“No cap.” ~ No lie.  “I love the way you look, no cap.”

Bet ~ I agree, understand

YP1 “Are you ready for the next slang word?”  YP2 “Bet.”

“Delulu “ ~  Delusional. (Sounds like a health drink, no?)

“Ate that (and left no crumbs).”: when someone pulled off something impressive

“They’re talking.” ~ They’re dating. (I suppose the good news is they’re actually speaking to each other).

“Drip” ~ Attire, accessories.  “Love the drip.” 

“It’s giving.” ~ Something is good, cute (a vibe or something physical).

YP1 “Do you like my fit?”  YP2 “Girl, it’s giving.” Or: “Yes, it’s giving Barbie . . . slay.” (It reminds me of a Barbie outfit; you are crushing it.) 

“It’s Serving” ~ It looks really good. Or: “It’s serving Barbie.”

“Sus” ~ A suspicious person or situation 

YP1 “Did you hear what Leah said?” YP2 “Yeah, her story sounds kinda sus, no cap.”

“Menty B” ~ Mental breakdown. (Sounds to me like a breath mint.)

“Flex” ~ Brag 

YP1 “I want to show you my shoe collection.”   YP2 “Weird flex.” 

“Left on Read” ~ Your text was marked “read” but never replied to (awww).

“Tea” ~ Hot gossip  “Spill the tea.”

Sigma/Alpha ~ Someone independent and strong. Think: “alpha dog.”

Beta ~  A weak, passive person

Omega ~ The lowest rating you can get (oof!)

Some I won’t pretend to understand
Skibidi Ohio. Beta maxing. Gyat. Gigachad. Baddie. Girl math. Yeet. Core. Kizzy Cap. Deeve. Preesh. Glazing. Fanum tax. The list—and regionalized mutations, interpretations, and spelling iterations—are endless

Sadly, by the time Dear Reader finishes this column, these terms have all fallen out of use. New ones have taken their place. How do I know this? Because I heard two used in a Hallmark movie, and that’s the kiss of death for any self-respecting YP, no doubt.

Is the elusive cleverness of all this making you “bonkers”? Are you going “out of your tree”? Have you “lost your bird”? I apologize, no cap and massive worries. Send your grievances to author@annaikens.com or  www.uppervalleygirl.com, and, by all means, have a good day.* 

*I end thusly this month because a fellow alto reports that her mother hated this common expression used in parting, and once replied to a store clerk, “I’ll have any kind of day I damn well please.”

Ann Aikens is an author, columnist, speaker, and blogger. Her darkly comical book of advice, A Young Woman’s Guide to Life: A Cautionary Tale, was published in 2023, her Upper Valley Girl column since 1996. Find events and bookshops at annaikens.com; her blog is uppervalleygirl.com.

Free eBook NOW thru Tuesday (midnight Pacific time) AND Audiobook coming soon!

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Free downloads at the Amazon. Use the free $0.00 eBook at upper right, not the Kindle download. Sign up for my e-list at www.annaikens.com and win a Prize! And my undying LERV. Note square cover created for eBook, by a goddess.