A Slip and a Fall for Mother Goose

Mother Goose was actually glad that it happened today. It’s always good to get it over with, and then you don’t have to worry about it for another year. Kind of like a gynecological examination.

We’ve been having winter weather this past week — various cocktail mixes of snow, sleet, rain, freezing drizzle, dreezing frizzle, and cloud cover. It’s not entirely unusual weather for our part of the world, but tiresome as it has arrived so late in the winter season.

Fresh snow and sleet will eventually freeze to the sidewalk and be covered with another dusting of snow.  This is called Frosted Black Ice, and it can be hazardous to your health.

Fresh snow and sleet will eventually freeze to the sidewalk and be covered with another dusting of snow. This is called Frosted Black Ice, and it can be hazardous to your health.

It would have been nice if March had come in like a lamb and gone out like a lion — that’s what my dear family in nordern Minnesota is experiencing today — lamb-like weather. They’ve had days, maybe even weeks of sunshine and balmy temps.

But not Mother Goose…

And the cabin fever sets in, you know. Days of sitting in doors, looking out the window, pacing the floor, checking the window, glancing at the clock again, until you have a crick in your neck. How much of an indoor sedentary lifestyle can I take? Not much…

So this morning, despite the freshly fallen snow blanketing the unflavored but frozen slushy sidewalks and the blustery winds, Mother Goose bundled up and harnessed her Good Dog Fran. And out we went to meet whatever may befall us.

We had reached the halfway mark of our Walkie Around the Blockie when suddenly the horizon tilted upward for Mother Goose. I always keep my eyes open when I fall so that I know where I’m going, and this time my vision shifted sharply up, up up as I went backwards and down, down, down.

I saw the end of the block, the gray-draped sky over the houses, the skeletal tree tops and then more sky without even trying.

I felt my backside slamming into the ice-covered walk, my back hitting next, followed by my fur-capped head. Bam. Bam. Bam.

Isn’t it funny when you feel like you are falling in slow motion? I always get a chuckle about that perspective of an accident…

Mother Goose smiles.

So there I was laying on the ice with my Good Dog Fran beside me. She was laughing at me which reminded me that maybe someone else may have witnessed my classic slip and fall.

A quick glance assured me that if I had been observed, it was behind lace curtains. If they were also laughing at me, I wouldn’t hear them which is a good thing. If they were at all concerned, they didn’t show it.

Now it was time to perform a rapid inventory to see if we are okay. And by we, I’m referring to Mother Goose, herself and she.

My primitive goose brain shoots an email to all parts of my immediate body (legs, back, neck, shoulders, elbows, cranial region, wrists) to see if they respond in a timely manner. Happily, everybody replied back with smiley-faced emoticons! I gave my good dog Fran a little pet to assure her that we could continue on towards home.

Mother Goose climbed awkwardly to her feet, testing the ice. Yes, sure enough, it WAS slippery. But I kept my big, rubbery feet underneath of me, and cautiously step by step we arrived safely home.

I gave an immediate report of my accident to my dear husband who rose from his chair to embrace the fallen goose. “Are you OK?” he kindly asked. And then the crushing blow… “You know, we aren’t spring chickens anymore.”

“Honk! Honk! I am!” shouted Mother Goose with much indignation. “I am a spring chicken and I shall remain forever so.”

It’s the positive thinking of a goose that matters after all, doesn’t it?

Do you sometimes smile when you are outside on a snowy, icy wintry day and you see lots of old people out driving and walking around? They’ve gone out to see just how slippery it is out there. And that’s how it will always be for Mother Goose…

Random Pieces of Goose

Imagine the shock of Mother Goose when she spotted this news headline in her inbox:

Woman Leads Police on Goose Chase, Later Found: River Forest Police Blotter

“An officer on patrol at about 10 a.m. in the 800 block of Thatcher reported seeing a southbound vehicle driving at 43 mph in a 25-mph zone. The officer attempted to stop the vehicle, but the driver drove away and later disobeyed a red light at First Avenue. The officer followed the car in a slow speed pursuit as it disobeyed traffic lights, drove through alleys, a gas station and repeatedly changed direction to avoid arrest. At 10:06 a.m., the chase ended and witnesses were able to identify the driver. Police then began efforts to locate the driver.

At 2 p.m. Nov. 28, police in the 1300 block of North Latrobe in Chicago found the vehicle and a tow truck was ordered to seize it. The owner, Alexis Lambert, 28, of the 1300 block of north Latrobe in Chicago, was identified as the driver in the earlier incident. She was taken to the station, processed and issued six tickets on traffic violations; including fleeing and attempting to elude police and driving while her license was suspended. She was later released on cash bond pending trial.”


Did she participate in a truly wild goose chase?

Did she participate in a truly wild goose chase?

At first I laughed at the idea of a slow speed goose chase, but then as I read the article more closely I became increasingly confused. It was a six minute goose chase, witnesses identified the driver, but the police did not apprehend the driver or stop the vehicle. The car and driver were not found and charged until three days later!

This story, though amusing, makes Mother Goose wonder: how did the goose get away so easily when she was driving so slowly. I imagine her rounding those corners into those alleys so cautiously and so carefully — much as I myself might elude the police.

I can see her pulling into the gas station to fill up, but realizing that the cops were closing in on her. She jumps back into her vehicle and slowly pulls back out into traffic, looking both ways twice.

Just a couple more easy turns, she looks in her rear view mirror and sees no squad cars behind her — no flashing lights, no sirens wailing — just peaceful morning traffic.

She heads for home, breathing a deep sigh of relief. Unfortunately, she decides to park right in front of her house. And, of course, you know the rest of the story…

And now another bit of goose for you!

A bit of turkey -- part of our Christmas decorations OR stashed by a wise squirrel?

A bit of turkey — part of our Christmas decorations OR stashed by a wise squirrel?

Actually it is a bit of turkey hidden in the prickly bush in the garden of Mother Goose. When the Thanksgiving turkey scraps and carcass seemed no longer palatable, Mother Goose simply disposed of it by dumping it into the family dumpster.

Apparently a wise and frugal squirrel entered into the dumpster, grabbed a small morsel and carefully placed it within the prickles of the shrubbery where nobody else could find it or steal it away. The family dog sniffed it out and immediately informed Mother Goose of the bit of turkey. This is just another way to make use of leftover turkey.

And finally, if you are still with Mother Goose today, I have a special request of my readers.

The twin sailor sons of Mother Goose were not home for Thanksgiving this year. Also, they were not home for their birthday last Saturday. Neither will be they be home for MY birthday. And sadly enough, they will not be home for Christmas. Mother Goose has been dabbing at her tears and babbling about missing her sons so much. Then suddenly an idea popped into the feathery head of this old goose!

Wouldn’t it be heartwarming if we all flooded the mailbox of these brave young men with Christmas cards from around the United States and possibly around the world? Couldn’t we all just add these young sailors to our Christmas card lists and really bring some Christmas cheer to their hearts? Maybe we can’t get them home for Christmas, but we can sure make them smile at the generosity and patriotic appreciation of total strangers, can’t we?

Here is their address:

Erik Stevenson
Adam Stevenson
1316 Ellsworth Blvd.
Malta, NY 12020

And Mother Goose thanks you and God blesses you for spreading the spirit of Christmas wherever you are today!

The Goose and The Squirrel

Mother Goose was presumably alone in her home when she heard the loud crash upstairs. Rising from her chair, she quickly did a mental inventory of the family pets — fish in the aquarium, birds in their cages, Olivia the cat outside, Fran the dog in her daybed. Every pet was in it’s special area, and not upstairs. Then who…or what?

With all senses on red alert, Mother Goose climbed the stairs to investigate the strange noises coming from the bedroom area of the house. She could hear scrambling — the tiny scratching sound of little toenails running along the wooden floorboards. As she reached the bedroom of her sons, she was shocked to see the family globe laying on the floor. With her near-sighted eyes peeled for more evidence of the potential invader, Mother Goose slowly bent over to pick up the world and replace it on the bookshelf. A picture of one of her sailors had also been knocked off the shelf.

That’s when she saw him. At the end of the hall stood an enormous gray squirrel, and she knew by the guilty look on his furry gray face that he was the culprit. The suspicions of Mother Goose were confirmed when he turn and began running away. The squirrel knew his days as a free man were nearing an end unless he put miles between himself and this goose.

In Mother Goose, he saw a law enforcement official, a detective, a prosecuting attorney, a hanging judge and possibly even the executioner of his mortal body. He was a squirrel without a defense.

“Squirrel!” shouted Mother Goose to no one in particular. “Squirrel!”

Frantically he ran into the bedroom of Mother Goose. Leaping and lunging crazily at a closed window, he could only gasp in holy terror at the fate that had befallen him. Mother Goose closed the door to the bedroom, trapping the lice-encrusted rodent within the confines of her boudoir.

The squirrel turned to face Mother Goose.

“Squirrel!” she shouted once again. And then she realized that she also was trapped within the confines of her boudoir with a wild squirrel. She quickly exited.

Regaining her sense of mastery over the situation, Mother Goose ran down the stairs to find her broom. She also opened the front door of the house in case the squirrel should require an exit from the scene of the crime. She stopped for a moment to look at her dog who was resting on her daybed with a curious look on her face. “Squirrel!” Mother Goose shouted again. Fran looked interested, but not enough to get up and help Mother Goose. She was certainly not motivated enough to climb the stairs and assist the goose.

For her part, Mother Goose was giving the squirrel ample opportunity to resist arrest and escape with his life and lice intact.

For his part, the squirrel was doing his best to comply with the wishes of Mother Goose.

Returning to the boudoir with her broomstick in hand and courage sufficiently summoned, Mother Goose rapidly scanned the floor, the corners of the room, under the dressers and the bed and even peeked cautiously into the closet.

No sign of Mr. Squirrel.

Then Mother Goose noticed the open window near her bed. She breathed a loud sigh of relief. He had apparently found his own escape route and executed his plan perfectly, leaving no trace of himself behind.

Returning to her kitchen chair by the window, Mother Goose watched the leaves fall and allowed her heart rate to return to normal. The back door was open, and she suddenly heard the rasping voice of a squirrel in the willow tree. She peered out the door and up into the tree, ever cautious as a goose can be. There he was way up high on the branch. The squirrel was scolding her! He was saying, “You may have won this battle, Mother Goose, but I will still win the war! I shall return!”

“I’m watching you, Mother Goose.”

Where in the World is Mother Goose?

Mother Goose apologizes here and now for the lapse in my stories. I hope that you will bear with me as I push through this transitional time in the life of a goose. The reason for my absence as of late? Employment. Yes, it is true — Mother Goose has been hired by a national retail giant as a “mystery shopper” and now my life is not my own…

This change in employment has caused a name change as well. You may now call me Dark Goose.

Living incognito as Dark Goose…

Being undercover in this new stage in my life has both benefits and drawbacks as you may well imagine. Consider the benefits: a regular paycheck even during this intense time of training. Consider the drawbacks: I must always be on the alert, always watching my back. If my identity is compromised, I’m immediately “not necessary” and WHO KNOWS what that might mean…

Hence, I must ask you, dear and gentle reader, for a very large favor, and I hope that you will comply with much grace.

Please do not share this information with anyone.

Watching you as discreetly as possible, I remain forever, your Dark Goose.

Mother Goose Heartily Dozes at Twelfth Night

If music be the food of love, play on;
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.
That strain again! it had a dying fall:
O, it came o’er my ear like the sweet sound
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing and giving odour!

Shakespeare’s play Twelfth Night Act i. Scene 1.

And so it began for Mother Goose last Friday evening at the American Players Theatre in Spring Green, Wisconsin. The day had been a long one, the temperatures quite warm, the wine quite satisfying, the beer-battered dill pickles so tasty, and the climb up the hill to the theater so exhausting.

Mother Goose can’t get enough of these in her mouth.

Up the hill with our tickets in hand.

Up the hill to the play.

Anticipation building for the start of the show…

The playbill so pretty and informative — this is going to be so great…

What a happy couple with so much appreciation for Shakespeare…

And the lights came down, the music came up, the show began. And they were all speaking “olde Englishe” — oh for gooseness sakes, Mother Goose could only comprehend about half of the dialogue! The actors cavorted about and the silly, farcical plot played out and Mother Goose dozed off. Perhaps she was even snoring a little bit…

I woke briefly to hear the peaceful sound of a whippoorwill calling from the woods behind the stage, and then back to dreamland…

Where Is Mother Goose?

Did Mother Goose succumb to beeturia?

Too many beets…

Oh no, Mother Goose is fine! I’ve been on vacation these past few days, and I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow!

As Busy As A Goose

We’ve all heard the expression “as busy as a bee”. And that’s really busy, I know. The bee is a tireless worker — they take the work ethic to the next level and then the next one after that. It’s a common “bee expression”.

A honey bee at work…

But what about a goose? Is there an expression for a busy goose?

Here are some common (and also some uncommon) expressions about a goose I’ve discovered at this website:

“What’s good for the goose is good for the gander.”

We’ve used that one before, haven’t we? But what does it mean, for gooseness sakes? What is good for one person is good for another; often what is good for the man is good for the woman. Have you heard this version? What’s sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander? I like that one!

“She doesn’t have the sense God gave geese.”

Simply put, it means the person is stupid, perhaps more stupid that a goose. Mother Goose finds this expression very offensive…

“The goose hangs high.”

This expression means that everything is good. I find it ominous…

“It’s as slick as goose grease.”

Well hmmmpph…how about it’s as slick as human grease…

“The story gave her goose flesh.”

Of course, this is the bumpy condition of the skin induced by cold, fear, etc., caused by contraction of the muscles at the base of the hair follicles with consequent erection of papillae: so called because of the resemblance to the skin of a freshly-plucked fowl. Also called: goose bumps, goose pimples, goose skin. Mother Goose is alarmed at the thought of freshly-plucked fowl! Please know that I apply multiple hand lotions and creams all over my bumpy goose skin.

“The soldiers were goose-stepping through Berlin.”

This is a military march step in which the leg is swung rigidly to an exaggerated height. Perhaps you’ve seen footage of the Third Reich army… This is definitely not a positive image for the goose.

“All his geese are swans.”

This saying refers to the person who constantly exaggerates the importance of a person or thing. And is there a reason why a goose should ever wish she was a swan…

“To cook someone’s goose”

This expression means to spoil someone’s plan or bring about their demise. Again, Mother Goose takes offense.

“To kill the goose that lays the golden eggs.”

And we know this expression suggests the sacrifice of future benefits for the sake of momentary present needs. Very troubling indeed…

“To goose a person” is to prod them playfully in the behind. I do not think this is an appropriate expression at all. It seems to imply that a goose would run up behind a person to bite their bottom…

“As often as a goose goes barefoot.”

This is a new saying to Mother Goose. It simply means ALL THE TIME. Looking down at my own webbed and rubbery feet, I quickly grasp the meaning.

“She cannot say boo to a goose.”

This is a way to describe a shy person. Believe me, plenty of introverted and shy people have said “boo” to this goose!

“Off on a wild-goose chase.”

Mr. Charles Funk defines this expression as a vain pursuit of something, which even if attained, would be worthless. OMIGOOSENESS to attain a goose is worthless? Perhaps I need to goose Mr. Funk once and for all…

Well, dear reader, that gives us much to ponder!

Tomorrow we will explore just how BUSY this goose was on Saturday. I have pictures to prove it! Hmmmpphhh…. HONK!!

As busy as a goose…

When the Goose Neglects Her Garden

Whilst we were all lapping up the delicacies of the Titanic tale with Mother Goose, stuff was happening in her garden.

I’ve been somewhat preoccupied with my storytelling, and lo! and behold when I went out this morning to admire the spring time glories, I was shocked to discover that the weeds have overrun my pretty little space. My exotic spring posies can barely be spotted amongst the “native flora”. Most of these pests have developed puff balls on top of their long, gangling and rubbery stalks.

A native fauna standing amongst the native flora.

Mysterious puffy plants...

Very long stems and puffy tops. Hmmm....

More of the same, plus some pretty yellow flowers...

It's surely an invasive species...

So please enjoy this little song brought to you by The Muppets and the late and wonderfully great John Denver whilst Mother Goose figures out a plan for removing weeds, fluffly flowers and various noxious vegetation from her garden whilst at the same maintaining a vigorous and entertaining storytelling regime.

The Over-Trained Goose

As many of my faithful readers know, Mother Goose has been in training to run her first EVER 5K race, The Race That’s Good For Life, these past several months. I have been positively zealous in my walking, my running, my flapping and my honking in preparation for this Big Event!

One of my good friends, a fellow runner and blogger, shared with me some great wisdom:

“Stay healthy. Have fun.”

And did I listen to him? Kinda…

I have been having lots and lots of fun, trying to beat my personal best and racing with cars on the street and trying different ways of running (backwards, sidewards, etc.) in an effort to amuse myself whilst I run. I have had much fun!

I have also injured my bony little ankle.

Can you see the swelling? Can you feel the pain of Mother Goose?

My race is one week from today.

My good goose doctor has advised me to elevate my foot and ankle as much as possible and consume much sodium naproxen to reduce swelling and inflammation. She has prescribed five days of rest and relaxation.

Strangely enough, the doctor has requested that I drive twelve hours north and stay with my sister for these five days. Dr. Goosebones thinks it would be a very good idea for me to visit Mom’s resting place and bring some pretty flowers.

And also, she wants me to have a sleepover at my brother’s “deer shack” out in the middle of the northern Minnesota forest for some peace and quiet. She says it would be best for me to avoid running water and electricity, and to use an outhouse for all of my “personal hygiene situations”.

I tell you, Mother Goose is taking this medical advice to heart, and will leave with four of her goslings in the morning to northern parts of Minnesota. I do appreciate your prayers and your concern for my ankle healing!

Rest assured, Mother Goose will have some adventures throughout the week and stories to tell and fun people to introduce to you, fair readers. Blessings on you all! Love, Mother Goose

“I Can’t Hear What You’re Saying!”

Dear Mother Goose, here’s my problem…
When my husband is talking, I see his mouth opening and closing, but I can’t hear the words that he is saying! Do you think I need hearing aids or could this be a sign of a deeper problem? signed “Fingers Stuck in My Ears”

A common problem in March

Dear Fingers, Honk honk! This is a very common problem for married couples in the month of March. Those of us in the advice-column world refer to this phenomena as “TOLTY Syndrome”. You can look it up in the medical journals, but I will tell you right now that “TOLTY” stands for “Tired Of Listening To You”. The reason this syndrome is common in March remains a mystery, but one thing is for certain, installing hearing aids in your ears will not help at all.

Here is some advice from the heart of Mother Goose: you need to find a new way to listen to your husband. You must rekindle the passion of your ears. Reinvent the art of listening so that every word which falls from your husband’s lips is refreshing and lovely to your ears. I would suggest this new “listening” position as a way to jumpstart your hearing ability — bend over at the waist, being careful not to hurt yourself, of course, and peek between your legs at your husband. Viewing him from this unusual angle will not only improve your hearing, but could possibly cause your husband to say some new and very interesting things.

I hope that you will try this, dear Fingers. Mother Goose cares. A lot.

And to all of my other precious readers, Mother Goose is here to help you with your problems too. Please send your emails to ncramer1216@gmail.com and my assistant, Natalie, will forward them along to me. She’s such a blessing…

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March 2023