Blog #11

This morning I filled my pockets with all the things a man must carry.  I have no purse, you see, so everything has to go in the pockets.  Keys, reading glasses, sun glasses, money, cell phone, gum (I like spearmint), ibuprofen in case I get a headache, aspirin in case I have a heart attack, lip ice and a handkerchief.  I don’t need a purse; I need a kangaroo.  The handkerchief I chose today had a monogrammed N.  I got a package of these as a Father’s Day gift a few years ago from Jennifer, my North Carolina daughter.  I always need handkerchiefs and I thanked my daughter.  Then I noticed the monogram.  No N appears in my first, middle or last name, and I told her it was the wrong monogram.  “Oh, that’s what that is!” she replied.  Four years of Duke and three years of Washington University Law School down the drain

Welcome back.  I have a question to ask you.  Have you ever spent a night in a hospital?  There’s not much worse, I think, than a night in the hospital when you’re sick and alone.  When your only companions are things that beep.  When your night nurse has the brains of a house slipper. When the simple act of going to the bathroom requires as much engineering as the digging of the Panama Canal.  When you are wrapped in mankind’s most annoying invention – the hospital gown.  And when you may or may not have a fever.

The last time I was in a hospital the nurses would come to take my temp several times a day.  It was always 37 or 39.  Now I knew that was in Centigrade, but I wondered why.  Was I in France, Guatemala, Abu Dhabi?  No, I was in the USA, where the meteorologists tell us the forecast in Fahrenheit.  Where every recipe, every oven, every toaster contraption is calibrated in Fahrenheit.  Where water  freezes at 32 and boils at 212.  So why is my nurse trying to confuse me?  If the medical community wants to conduct their affairs in the Wonderful World of Metric, great.  I don’t care.  But I would like to know what my temperature is.  Being a math nerd, I knew the conversion, but what if I didn’t or if I made a mistake?  When she told me my temperature was 39, I did the calculation and got 103.  I’m dying!  But just to make sure, I asked feverishly and politely, “What’s that in Fahrenheit?”  She didn’t know.  I asked the other nurse.  She didn’t know either.  I was too sick to yell, but really – is that nuts?  Either train the nurse or put a chart on the wall.  This isn’t the Peace Corps; it’s Missouri.  Tell me what my temperature is!  One night they told me my weight was 78.  Now that I didn’t mind.

I know I give you the impression that I’m sickly; that I’m in the hospital all the time.  That’s not true at all, and even though I have lived seven decades and have had my share of medical experiences, I’m as healthy as a horse.

To say I’m unfit is a crime

I’m pretty good most of the time

The truth is, of course,

I’m fit as a horse --

That’s 68 years past its prime.

I read this in the paper the other day:

Americans are working longer hours but also sleeping more and watching more TV, a new survey found.

So they’re working more hours, sleeping more hours, watching TV more hours.  What are they giving up?  They’re certainly not giving up eating.  Have you walked in a mall lately?  I hope they’re not giving up reading Limerick Oyster.

Recently I got a deal from eBay.  If I listed something for sale and sold it for more than $25 by a certain date, they would give me a $50 PayPal gift certificate.  So I did and I got the certificate.  It expired in only a few days, and I began to ponder about what to buy.  I mean, it’s the World of eBay!!  Every possible item made or conceived or saved or dug up by the human race since the dawn of civilization is on eBay.  I have my choice from vast and unlimited selections of electronics, art, fashion, household items, sporting goods, vacations, automotive, luxury, jewelry, collectibles, investments, nostalgia, antiques, futuristic, leisure – Twinkies, false teeth, rubber bands, ANYTHING!  They even had some nice handkerchiefs monogrammed with an N, but I have enough of those. So what did Mr. Exciting decide to buy from this unbounded emporium of riches, this galactic cornucopia of wonders, this magnificent market of marvels?  A year’s supply of fiber pills.  It is a sad and curious life, isn’t it?  Fiber pills. 

Yes, it can be a sad and curious life, but I think my wife and I have found our place in it.  I was recently asked to pick a famous couple that we, as a couple, resemble.   One of those pointless wastes of cranial energy we call a Carol Question.  Like -- “Would you rather be an ugly tall-person or a beautiful midget?”  Right, that one kept me up at night.  Anyway, famous couple.  Let’s see – George and Gracie?  I hate cigars.  Lucy and Desi?  My wife doesn’t have red hair.  Bill and Hillary?  Pants suits are out.  Brad and Angelina?  Who am I kidding?  I finally decided we most resemble Rocky and Bullwinkle.  Carol would be Rocky of course.  Rocky was small and fast and smart and made all the decisions.  Bullwinkle was loyal and steady and goofy, always getting it wrong, always getting in trouble, always getting lost.  What does a moose eat?

Ok, this is the time for my apologia.  I used the word “midget”.  Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I just don’t have the energy to keep up with all the political correctness in the universe.  This is your 11^th adventure into my world, so by now you know I bear no ill will to any human or beast (other than nurses who can’t change Centigrade to Fahrenheit).  I would have said “man or beast” just now but then I would be in trouble for that.  It’s too much for one poor old slob to remember.  So hate me, if you must.

And speaking of this poor old slob’s ability to remember, I do not remember where I ate dinner last Saturday night.  I certainly cannot remember what I ordered or what I was wearing.  My wife can tell you the restaurant, the dish she ordered and what she wore every Saturday night for the last twenty years.  I’m serious.  But not me.  I can only sometimes remember where I parked.  But ask me the words to any song by The Coasters, The Four Tops or The Beatles – I’m all over it.  Why is that?  “Take out the papers and the trash or you don’t get no spending cash.”  Go on, finish it.  I’ll wait.  Oops, I forgot it’s time to end for this week.

Stay well.  See you next week.

Bullwinkle

Send comments to:  mfox1746@gmail.com