Category Archives: humor

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.

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Let’s Figure This One Out Together

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In the Bleak Midwinter

Oftentimes, this column starts as a handful of tips I’ve gleaned over a month, via reading and conversations. I cobble a column together for Dear Reader around those tips, tying them together with an emerging theme. The theme becomes the title. It’s not an intellectual process; it just unfolds. Let us see, together, where this one goes, shall we? I’m curious myself.

This December, for many, was a month of x-treme holiday busy-ness (performances, volunteering, religious services, gift-getting and making, and decorating—which always unearths some cry-worthy old family ornament or photo or child’s art). Many felt the holiday prep time too compressed this year, a full weekend shorter than usual. I think this is why people kept saying, “It doesn’t feel like Christmas.” Or maybe that’s just the age of the crowd I run with. 

With all the socializing, there was much discussion of the Current State of Things, at home and abroad. There was some hopefulness, a lot of apprehension, and less faith in governing bodies and corporations (and people) than I’ve ever heard in my lifetime. Maybe that blasted pandemic rocketed us into not just a new direction, but a new dimension entirely. In 10 years it’ll all make more sense. Like when a presidency or marriage is later re-evaluated in the longer scheme of history. Too soon to tell.

For now: some tips. Then let’s see if we can extract the columnular Theme, which so far remains unclear.

Hang Out with Others if it Kills You
You may have over-mingled last month. But while allowing less time for solitude and wintry deep thots, spending time with the right people is a sane-making distraction at the least, and a whale of a good time at the most. Get in the habit of getting together, no matter the temperature, before that nasty Cabin Fever kicks in.

Jar of Thanks
There is a free magazine available in churches (stay with me here). “The Upper Room,” written by ordinary folks worldwide, has a daily Bible quote with an uplifting personal story from the “ordinary” author. The one for New Year’s Eve was by an American who writes on a slip of paper every day something he’s thankful for, and puts it in a jar. On New Year’s Day, he empties the jar and reads them all. I started mine, in a funky vase that catches the light. Dear Reader can start one late, who cares? It’s proves a lovely way to end the day. I bet it’ll make New Year’s Day a real bawlfest. “Oh, remember that? How dear! Boo hoo hoo.” Can’t wait.

Make Goals, Not Resolutions
Attainable goals. Not, “I’ll go to the gym every day for 5 years.” (Or: making a list of your accomplishments in the prior year can be more fun.) My main goal, if I may reveal: to feel cheery in the face of all manner of reasons not to be. Despite terrible things happening, it does no one any good to feel hopeless or lousy. Acknowledge the event, do something about it if you can, then shift gears. Wish me luck, I’m not good at this. Others are. I’m open to advice.

Lie to Yourself
…in the mirror and say, “Damn, I look better already!” Maybe you do.

Spread Reasons to be Cheerful 
The New York Times, which keeps stats separate from the FBI, calculated in 2024 an actually far lower rate of murder than in recent years, along with other violent crimes. It’s not often you see “violent crimes” or “murder rate” in a piece meant to be uplifting, but there you have it. Now go look at NASA’s Image of the Day. Exquisite or weird, each is mindblowing and broadens your perspective.

Share Helpful Tips
Here’s how to glue different materials together, suggested by a techie whiz kid I know.

How to fix your own devices: Nearly every appliance and electronics device, large or small, bears a plate or panel with the model# and serial#. Take a photo of it. Then go to www.partselect.com, where you can search by brand, model/part, or symptom.

Good Deeds
… are as strong a medicine as laughter. Focusing on others, not yourself, and ameliorating someone else’s situation, well, what’s better than that? It’s even in The Wizard of Oz: “Back where I come from there are men who do nothing all day but good deeds. They are called phila… er, phila… er, yes, er, Good Deed Doers.”  They must be very happy people, Mr. Wizard!

Have and Cause Laffs
Years ago, a colleague’s son visited his grandmother at Christmas time and saw her miniature nativity scene. Upon returning home he remarked, “Grandma’s Jesus dollhouse is really cool.” 

A friend who’s half Jewish/half Catholic celebrates both holidays. When her kids were young, the rabbi from Chabad House arrived unexpectedly. They couldn’t not invite him in, so they all maneuvered him to keep him from seeing their Christmas tree. “Check out our new painting!” or, “Oh look, a bird!” Still cracks me up.

I highly recommend hanging around people who have contagious laughs (Anderson Cooper?), and listening to the recent “Fiasco!” episode of the This American Life (now on podcast). These true stories of fiascos are hilarious. I was laughing so hard I almost drove off the road.  People who drove past me then also snickered. It made me feel we were all in this together, which we of course are.

So, what does Dear Reader think these ingredients create thematically? The pieces seem to be this: help others, and spread good cheer, hot tips, and big laffs. Which we will definitely need in 2025, which promises to be a weird one. How we start the New Year is important; start early on establishing new habits this year. (I began my year with a snowy walk and a nap. Not bad!) Adversity has been and will always be there, as will wrenching stories of ills befalling others.  Our good spirits and good deeds are the best antidote. We are indeed all in this together.  

I have absolutely no idea how this can coalesce into a succinct columnular title. Wait:  I think it’s the one I already wrote; just make it about the year ahead instead of about this humble column.

Tell me about your first good deed of 2025. How was it, exciting? I’m certain it was. Good year, Dear Reader, good good-deed doing, and good 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 contact info and bookshops at annaikens.com; her blog is uppervalleygirl.com.

Halloween, Pagans, and Religion in General

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I know some readers ran from the building upon seeing the word religion, above. And I know it should not be discussed in polite company. But I further know that many readers – and nutters I call friends – would not consider themselves polite company. 

Ah, Halloween! A magical holiday where I grew up, a place then not as rural as Vermont, yet not the overdeveloped bastion of privilege that it sadly became. Back then, it was a lot of houses made by dads and uncles moving their families to “the country” from the Bronx and such. A lot of woods. And a heck of a lot of childhood mischief, especially on Halloween.

I recall like yesterday the thrill as we crunched through (mostly oak?) leaves in inventive costumes, dragging wands, too-long skirts, broomsticks and giant satchels, delighting in autumnal smells. The real excitement began once we were old enough to go out without parental supervision. It was invigorating as hell. Our antennae (lit. and fig.) were on high alert. We had minimal street lighting. No halogens. Dark! There was a palpable sense of danger in the air. Little to do with honoring the dead or saints on All Hallows’ Eve, or the possibly pagan roots thereof.

Melissa Kirsch suggested in the NYT that we all try not knowing everything in advance. Not spending hours comparing products before buying. Not researching the heck out of each place before going there.  Letting an adventure unfold, and inspire wonder. Doing an unscheduled, impromptu, playful thing. 

This holiday was that. We had no master plan for maximum treatage. We weren’t greedy. We were just roaming in the dark, tittering, wondering what was around every bush, house, and corner. The older kids were generally menacing on any given day. What might they do to us on this day? Attack? Plunder our treat haul? Anything but that!  

Raised Episcopalian, to my Catholic grandmother’s dismay, I later became a bit of a pagan in the original sense (not as in the polytheistic belief in multiple gods, but as in the Latin pagani: people who lived rurally, thus considered ignorant). I’m happily, rurally ignorant. Due to unexplainable events and crazy coincidences I experienced, over time I came to believe in energies and nature spirits, certainly ghosts, and in celebrating the change of seasons. Which might make me Wiccan. A modern pagan.

Dear Reader may find that nuts, but what sissy writes about religion without stating where she stands? I’m not too worried what people think of me. I go to a great church. I also believe that trees have a kind of consciousness (which has been scientifically examined), as does everything in nature. We should honor nature. We should cheer it on. I feel it would respond in kind. More oxygen. Cooling temps. Fewer storms. 

Is this paganism? Wicca? A heretical blending of “true” religion with fanciful notions? Does it matter what it’s called? I just call it energetic. Have you never nursed something or someone back to health by your own seeming sheer force of will, with or without prayer mixed in? Thoughts and desires carry energy.

As for the earth’s widely accepted Abrahamic religions, and any other I’ve read about, I find some of it silly – including in my own Christianity, which I very much enjoy right along with my less conventional beliefs. Still, I think the world would be a lot happier if more people regularly practiced some form of religion (spirituality?) without judging the others. It has been proven that people who live in groups are happiest. And I can tell you for sure that people who gather in groups to give thanks, to commune, to do good works, and sing maybe, and pray for each other and our planet, and to celebrate together, absolutely get a happiness and a peace from it. I doubt most people attend services these days because they’re afraid of eternal damnation. They go because they feel good there. Hopeful. Valued. Useful.

I’ve been in mosques, Russian Orthodox churches, JW meetings, Jewish temples and Chabad Houses, weddings of all stripes, Buddhist funerals, a Catholic Easter in Rome … and honestly, they all felt spiritual, holy, life-affirming. I’m not keen on those run solely by men (still?!?), but no one forced me to attend.

Many don’t believe in any God at all, regarding earthly suffering as proof that no loving being is In Charge. I’ve waivered myself, and understand. I don’t believe in predestination or fate; I do believe in free will and in luck — including bad luck. I don’t believe in a punishment/reward-based karma, but did when younger, and I do believe in multiple lifetimes. Is there truly no divine being of any kind? The universe is too magnificent, with too many synchronicities, for there not to be something larger than ourselves at play, way I see it.

I get your God, if it’s love-based. What I don’t get, as perhaps Dear Reader does not, is why so many consider their religion superior — in fact, the only valid one. If that were the case, you’d have to be born in a certain place to certain parents to be lucky enough not to burn in the fires of Hell (or whatever) for eternity (or whatever). To wit: all the poor slobs who weren’t born like you were just born damned. And should be punished or enslaved, in life or in death? I’m not buying it. 

Surely all religions, when not misinterpreted by maniacs with agendas, basically lead to the same place. Be kind. Stand for what’s right. Make amends. Help others, including strangers. Respect however our planet’s beauty was created; steward its health. Do good works. Spread love.

Ideas
• Try taking time off weekly, a secular sabbath of sorts, to appreciate things. I’m awed when something nice, even a cloud formation, is delivered unto me. I thank the Forces almost daily for something, however small, because my belief is that there’s no way this whole show is running itself. I think we’re co-running it with some benevolent spirit or spirits, and if we’d just quit screwing things up on our end, everything would get a lot nicer real fast. 

• If you can’t do, CHEER ON. Can’t run or perform? Go see a footrace or a play or a concert. Participants are boosted like a rocket when spectators are rooting for them! Feel the energy travel around the participants and spectators. It’s magical. My niece said that a dog got so excited as she ardently cheered on 5K runners that he “piddled.” Feel the love. Good 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 bookshops at annaikens.com; blog:  uppervalleygirl.com.