by Kathy Brasby | Oct 14, 2026 | Stories
Transporting, a la Star Trek, has always fascinated me. The idea of beaming from the ship to the surface seems so much simpler than sending a powered capsule.
Some have suggested there were dangers to transporting, but the stars of Star Trek never turned into raccoons or other incomplete beings, so it must be safe. The Heisenberg compensators took care of everything. *
Recently, I wished Scotty had brought his transporter to a hotel where I attended a conference.
I checked in at the front lobby (main floor) and then walked up a ramp to the elevators. My room was on the second floor, and I was confused because it seemed like the ramp had already taken me to the second floor, but no.
Others waiting at the elevator explained that you had to press the down-button to go to the second floor. We took their advice, selected DOWN outside, and pressed TWO inside. Zip, we arrived at the second floor.
We got back to the conference on the main floor by pressing ONE in the elevator and being deposited at the top of the ramp. So the top of the ramp was ONE. Later, when we returned to our rooms, we stood at the elevator at the top of the ramp and pushed UP for our room.
You think this makes sense, huh?
Not so much. We went to the top of the building and then back down to the second floor.
On our next attempt to go to our second-floor rooms, we spotted an elevator at the bottom of the ramp. With no line. We got in. It didn’t go up at all. Just down.
Later, I got in the main elevator alone. A friendly woman stood in front of the floor buttons and asked, “What floor?”
“I don’t even know anymore.”
That’s when I wished Scotty had joined our conference.
*The fictional Heisenberg compensators solve quantum uncertainty through exact tracking of particles. It answers the problem of technical impossibility in real-world physics. When Mike Okuda, a technical consultant, was asked by Time magazine how the compensators work, he answered, “It works very well, thank you.”
by Kathy Brasby | Oct 2, 2026 | Stories
I invited my sister over recently to help me clear out my clothing closet. I get emotionally attached to clothes, like the t-shirt I wore to my first 5K and the sweater my husband bought me while he still thought shopping for clothes was romantic.
She’s very good at “Get rid of that thing.”
We pulled tops and pants out of my closet until we got to a particular jacket.
Dust as thick as plaster powder made the shoulders furry, and the buttons screamed tarnished but not cool enough to be vintage.
She pulled the jacket off the hanger. “You still have this?”
“You made it. I thought I should keep it.” She had a side hustle custom-decorating blazers and had told me I needed to buy one. So I did.
“Uh-huh. How old is it?”
We did the math. It was the same age as her oldest son. Who was married. With a teenager of his own.
She scowled. “When’s the last time you wore it?”
“Maybe I don’t exactly remember.”
She pinched the dust on the lapel and studied it. “Looks like a few years.”
I examined the jacket, taking in all the silver buttons she’d hand-sewn on. The felt edging. The lace trim.
“Great workmanship. Do you want it, since you made it? A memento of your business?” I pushed the jacket toward her.
You’d have thought it had the plague, the way she pushed it away. “No way.” A little dust floated into the air and made her cough. “Get rid of that thing.”
She glared and pointed at the discard bag.
My hands slowly opened. In it went.
Then I sneezed.
I wouldn’t miss the dust.
And, considering how often I wore it, I wouldn’t miss the jacket either.
by Kathy Brasby | Sep 17, 2026 | Humor, Stories
I was driving on I-76 recently when a vehicle passed me, sporting a personalized license plate. MORON35.
This is a gift to a humor writer.
In Colorado, the owner paid an extra $60 for the first year and then $25 extra every year to renew a vanity plate. (I looked it up. I don’t have any. Too cheap).
I researched and found plenty of understandable examples. Like FAMILY or USMC or 14ER (climbed a 14,000-foot Colorado peak).
Who would pay extra to have MORON35?
Then I wondered if others had already taken MORON1 through MORON34, so the driver had to settle on MORON35.
If so, it would suggest there are at least thirty-five MORONS in Colorado.
My husband had a unique license plate collection that’s still hanging in our garage.
He might have wanted to snag MORON35.
We were on vacation, browsing a souvenir shop on St. Thomas, when he asked the clerk if they sold local plates. He was assuming an expired plate.
The guy hesitated only a moment before declaring he had one in back. He disappeared for a couple of minutes, returning with a St. Thomas license plate.
We didn’t notice the fresh specks of mud until later, after we paid $35 for the license plate and left the store. Then we wondered if the clerk wrangled the plate from his car or a co-worker’s.
But my husband treated that plate like it was diamond- rather than mud-encrusted. It still hangs in our garage.
As MORON35 zoomed away, I thought about that clerk on St. Thomas claiming a cool $35 for thinking fast.
I’m not sure if he qualifies as MORON36 or GENIUS1.
Or if we do.
by Kathy Brasby | Sep 3, 2026 | Stories
The day ended with me limping, but that doesn’t begin to describe what happened.
My daughter and son-in-law live about a quarter of a mile away from me on the other side of my little pasture. And they are foster parents.
On the morning of the adventure, two little boys arrived at their house for the weekend.
At my hobby farm, my rule is “Why do one thing when you can do four?”
Which explains why I had a new batch of baby chicks under a heat lamp plus some dairy goats in the pasture ready to give birth. That was only two things, so I added an invitation for the boys to meet my animals.
They loved the chicks. The goats. The barn cats. The farm dog. My special zoo.
I drove into town (about five miles away) for lunch with some old friends. While I was catching up with them, I noticed texts from my daughter.
The first one said, “Call me before you go home.” Next she texted, “Let me know when you’re coming home.” Then, “Check with me before you come back home.”
This made me think that maybe she needed me.
So I left lunch early. I hadn’t even backed out of my parking spot before she called.
“Can you pick up an order in town?” she said.
In the background, I could hear a mother goat screaming. “Is that what I think it is?” I said.
“Aurora is giving birth. I’m in the pasture with her. And the social worker is coming any time now.” My daughter had more than four things going, and I wasn’t sure she thought much of my rule.
I decided not to pick up the order. I got home in time for the last baby goat to be delivered and shooed my daughter home just as the social worker pulled into their driveway.
The boys stayed. Baby chicks in the morning, baby goats in the afternoon. This was better than cartoons.
Then they raced across the pasture to drag the social worker out to meet the newborns.
I finally tucked Aurora and her babies in the barn. Afterward, I drove back to town for my daughter’s order.
Then, because I had lost count of the number of things I’d done in the day, I decided to work out in my home gym. I do some weightlifting a couple of times a week.
All was well until I adjusted weights on a leg machine and tossed a fifty-pound weight plate onto the floor. It bounced, twirled, and dive-bombed onto my foot.
I did more than four things that day. And I was limping at the end of it.
by Kathy Brasby | Aug 18, 2026 | Stories
In 2007, we didn’t yet know how smartphones and social media would isolate us.
But even before all those technological distances, people endured loneliness and antisocial behavior.Lars and the Real Girl, a movie released in 2007, tells a kindhearted story of a man trapped inside his social awkwardness.
You can watch Lars free on YouTube and Plex (possibly with ads).
The movie introduces a young man who avoids social interaction. His outings consist of going to work and to church before returning to his dark house. He avoids invitations from his brother and sister-in-law even when they beg him to join them for a cookout. Or breakfast. Whatever he’s open to.
They live across the driveway from him, so it’s not much of a walk.
He can’t look at them as he politely shakes his head.
A new girl at work and at church notices Lars, but he shuns her.
Yet the people of this small northern town are kind to him.
A co-worker hands him a written invitation to her party, although she tells others, “I know he won’t come.” But she tries.
One day Lars surprises everyone. He buys an adult-size doll, names it Bianca, and introduces her to his family and friends as his girlfriend.
Suddenly he’s able to interact with others as he tenderly cares for Bianca.
After the initial shock among the townspeople, they embrace Bianca and include her and Lars in social events. Lars even takes Bianca to the co-worker’s party.
Ryan Gosling nails the subtle facial and hand movements that communicate much about Lars’s social isolation. Gosling shows us that Lars is responsible, yet complex, unaware of how his community treasures him.
Eventually, Lars is amazed as the local girls take Bianca to the beautician for a trim and a manicure. Then Bianca is elected to the school board and always has a seat at Sunday morning services.
There are no big chase scenes in this movie, but plenty of surprises and gentle humor.
The movie asks what makes us human. Bianca does not come to life (that’s not really a spoiler), but others do, including the townspeople.
Lars and the Real Girl is a bit quirky, but mostly it shows how kindness and love can impact a person. I hope you’ll check it out.
Let me know if you do.