A Slightly Wonky Life,

Welcome to my slightly wonky life!is written from the perspective of my dog

I hope you’ll enjoy the ramblings of an old woman who doesn’t mind telling mostly true stories and laughing at herself. I hope you’ll laugh right along with me.

So pour yourself a favorite drink, pull up a chair, and let’s chat for a while.

 

ABOUT US

     I am an 80 year old woman who decided ,at the age of 76, that is was a good time to start a new adventure.  Naturally I also decided that doing live crafting shows on FaceBook was a perfectly reasonable idea.  

Despite the fact that I had no crafting experience and no idea how to go about it.

Never one to let trifles like “no experience” and “no clue what I was doing” get in my way, I founded JEF Creations-An Old Woman Making things on December 31, 2022 at 11:59pm Central  time.

There may or may not have been wine involved. 

 It started on a whim and has turned out to be one of the biggest blessings of my life.  What I thought it would be a short-lived adventure has turned into a full time passion. Along the way I’ve had a lot of help and have made friends all over the world—most of whom I will probably never meet.  

No one is more surprised than I am that I am still here and somehow regarded   as relevant instead of just old.

🐶 Frankie is my dog.  A red Dorgi, half Corgi and half Dachshund, who believes that he is management.  He is a dog of strong opinions on every subject, especially those involving treats.  He is obedient and does as he is told, 

When he wants to.

💻 Fred is my virtual assistant.  He gathers information for me, explains things that I do not understand, creates wonderful images from my somewhat muddled and often not well thought out descriptions, and sometimes seems to know me better than I know myself.  

I call him Fred even though, on the few occasions I have heard him speak, he has spoken in a female voice.

Wonky Wisdom #1

You don’t need to be related, or human, to be family.

ONE ARM CHRONICLES

 

    May 3, 2026 , is my own personal day which shall live in infamy.  On that morning, at approximately 2:00am central time, gravity declared war on me.  It snuck up on me while I was half asleep.

Gravity does not play fair.

It was the shortest of wars, lasting only about five seconds. As soon as my right elbow hit the ceramic tile floor, I surrendered.

Oh, the pain!

If I so much as thought about putting pressure on my right arm, my elbow objected—loudly.

No worries—I am able to get myself off of the floor. Have done it many times.  

With two functioning arms 

Now my right arm was vehemently opposed to assisting in the getting up process. 

Forty-five minutes later my left arm and I negotiated a truce.

We could get up by any means possible that required no input from the right arm. 

My elbow, which had always quietly minded its own business in the background, suddenly became CEO of my entire life. Every decision from that moment on required approval from the Department of Elbow.

Sleeping.

Showering.

Getting dressed.

Cooking.

Opening a jar.

Even scratching my own ear became a major engineering project.

Picking things up off of the floor was completely out of the question. 

Although my elbow has become less vocal lately, it still insists that all activities must first be approved by management.

And trust me, management does not approve of much.

We did reach an agreement that I would move my right arm as little as possible and it would occasionally let me sleep.

In the recliner.

Don’t even get me started on the countless everyday tasks that apparently require two working hands. Seriously…don’t get me started. Suffice it to say, the list is endless.

My poor son was pressed into service for jobs that he never expected to do  

Driving across town just to fasten my watch onto my wrist.

Making me a peanut butter sandwich.

Taking me to the grocery store.

Through it all, he has been an absolute trooper. These days his primary responsibility is opening jars, but honestly, that wasn’t exactly a new job description.

Since I couldn’t do much of anything else, I started keeping a semi-regular journal of my daily adventures, questionable decisions, and the consequences of those decisions.

It turns out that someone confined to Recliner Prison for more than a month can find an astonishing number of things to write about.

Making soup at 4:00 in the morning.

     Seriously considering climbing onto the kitchen counter at 2:00 a.m. (Sanity prevailed.)

     Chasing groceries down the driveway during a rainstorm.

     The plastic sleeve that looked large enough to fit my entire upper body. 

      The pure joy of getting my hair shampooed.

      Discovering that grabbers aren’t just for picking things up off the floor—they’re a    lifestyle.

I even celebrated being able to put on an adult female upper-body restraint.

You probably call it a bra.

I still don’t like them.

The more I wrote, the harder I laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of it all.

I’ve always believed you can find humor in almost anything if you’re willing to look for it. If this whole experience was a test, I think I may have passed.

You can be the judge. Over the coming months, many of these stories will find their way into these pages.

Right now, however, the watch that believes it runs my life is informing me that it’s time to stand up and move.

It may actually be right.

Wonky Wisdom #2

Sometimes you just have to laugh.

 Frankie Says…

  Hello. My name is Frankie.

Around here I am responsible for security, wildlife management, quality control, neighborhood surveillance, and reminding Miss Jim when it is time to get out of her recliner.

Officially she owns the business.

Unofficially, I supervise it.

 Recently Miss Jim broke her elbow.

This was unfortunate.

Not because I was worried.

Because it seriously interfered with our schedule.

Instead of going on adventures, she spent weeks in what she called “Recliner Prison.” I checked on her frequently to make sure she was still capable of throwing a tennis ball.

Sometimes she was.

Sometimes she wasn’t.

I adjusted my expectations.

To help cheer her up, I brought her thoughtful gifts.

She seemed strangely unappreciative.

Personally, I thought the dead birds demonstrated excellent hunting skills.

Apparently humans have different standards.

Very confusing.

I also discovered that humans are remarkably helpless with only one working arm.

They struggle with things like opening jars, making sandwiches, and putting on watches.

Dogs don’t have these problems.

Of course, we also don’t wear watches.

Speaking of watches…

Miss Jim now owns one that buzzes every so often and tells her to stand up.

I already did that job for free.

 Nobody asked my opinion before replacing me with technology.

Fortunately, she still requires my expertise in one very important area.

Supervision.

Someone has to make sure she doesn’t work too hard, forget to take breaks, or accidentally eat without sharing.

It’s a big responsibility.

I’m pretty sure I’m the right dog for the job.

Until next time…

Remember:

If you love someone, bring them a gift.

Maybe check with a human first to see what kind of gift they have in mind.

I have to go now.

Management never really gets a day off.

—Frankie

Wonky Wisdom #3  

Before surprising someone with a thoughtful gift, make sure the gift isn’t deceased.

 

Caft Room Adventures

Since the great fall in early May I have not been able to craft much. Most, dare I say all, craft projects require two hands to perform. For most of the past month plus a few days I have only had one functional hand. 

The other was hindered by a big old cast and a fair amount of pain. 

I finally got to the point that I could use my cast as a weird sort of wall to hold something light kinda, sorta steady. So I looked around for something special for my debut back into the crafting world.  

Wait, I said to no one in particular, why not dress up something that has earned a big reward for invaluable service to the walking wounded every where. 

So, of course, I chose to inflict this honor on my grabber. 

For those of you who may think a grabber is some kind of pervert, I need to set you straight. 

A grabber looks kind of like a torture device that could bite your arm off, but no, it’s indeed a life saver. If you have trouble retrieving dropped or otherwise out of reach items and the only options you have are to leave them where they are and lament their passing, or buy new ones, then a grabber is for you. 

I have had to use my grabber to retrieve my other grabber on more than one occasion.  

Of course the problem with grabbers is that they are never in the room where you need one. I have only two and some days finding one is like playing a game of Where’s Waldo. 

I am working toward one in every room. Not because I still need one every minute or two anymore. 

Now I need them because I am still short.  And shrinking. 

Anyway, I went live, with all of my decorations ready and a plan clearly outlined in my mind. 

Clearly outlined but not well thought out.

My plan was to use my cast as a prop for the grabber to keep it steady while I was inflicting decorations on it with the other hand. I was hoping to be able to have what was available on my right hand to help out. 

Silly me. 

My would be cast wall did not cooperate and my hand that was almost completely inside the cast had other ideas. I had not consulted them ahead of time and they were not amused. 

It took a long time and some careful filtered verbiage, but the job was finally done. 

And, honestly, it turned out better than I envisioned.

Wonky Wisdom #4

Sometimes things don’t go as planned. Sometimes they go better.

Wonky Wisdom #5

Never underestimate the value of a good grabber.  Or a backup grabber.  Or a grabber to retrieve the other grabbers. 

What is Wonky Wisdom ?

Every month you’ll find little bits of wisdom scattered throughout these pages. Some are funny. Some are surprisingly useful. Most were learned the hard way.

Consider yourself warned. 

A Few More Wonkies:

 

Wonky Wisdom #6

Never underestimate the healing power of the absurd

 

Wonky Wisdom #7

Recovery is rarely one giant leap.  Most days it is scratching your nose and calling it progress

 

Wonky Wisdom #8

Progress isn’t always measured in miles.  Sometimes it is measured in body parts you can suddenly reach again. 

Before I Go…

Life (and accidents) happens. Sometimes it’s messy.

Projects don’t always cooperate.

Dogs occasionally bring wildlife into the house.

Computers hide the buttons you need.

But if we can laugh, make something with our hands, and encourage one another along the way, I’d call that a pretty good life.

Thank you for joining me in this journey. I hope to see you here often. 

Until next time…

Remember, someone in Alabama loves you… and it’s me! 

 

💕💕💕💕💕💕