Blog #87

Ok, the Midterm Elections are over.  Are we all aggravated?  I was a little put out (sounds like something you do to a cat).  I voted about five days early, but when I got home, those political ads were still playing on my TV.  Didn’t they know I had already voted?  What’s the point of voting early if you still have to listen to the ads?

Now that it’s over, we can begin moaning and crying that the Good Guys - who lied to us, lied to us some more, and then lied about their lying – didn’t lie enough to defeat the Bad Guys.  And instead of settling in and running the country, our politicians will resume their real task of insulting the other side so you won’t vote for them next time.  Unbelievable!   

Hi there and welcome back.  Sorry about that rant.  I just had to get it off my chest.  Now I feel better and can go back to my usual pattern of bitching about doctors, new-fangled technology and, of course, my lovely wife.  Let’s start with doctors – and Carol.  We were on a plane recently, flying home from North Carolina, and, upon landing, Carol got up, exited the plane and began scooting down the concourse faster than a Kardashian heading for a camera.  I stood up from my seat and banged my head against the bulkhead.  I made it off the plane and up the gangway and then collapsed.  Some nice people picked me up and placed me on a chair, where I sat for ten minutes trying to recover my senses. 

Somewhere ahead, in a galaxy far, far away, Carol had finally noticed that her loyal companion was not where he was supposed to be – ten steps behind her.  So she backtracked and found me in the aforementioned chair.  Her challenge of “Where have you been?” immediately brought me back to reality and reminded me of where I was and who I belonged to, and we proceeded home.

It was not long afterward that I visited a doctor and told him of the incident.  He ordered a CT Scan of my head.  The results were as expected:

Your head needed medical care

I know that it gave you a scare.

But no need to dread

We looked in your head

And, glad to say, found nothing there.

Thank you, Yogi Berra.  But it was the written conclusion that disturbed me.  It declared, in letters bold and capital, that the test showed my highly-trained brain was UNREMARKABLE!

Unremarkable?  My brain?  The nerve!!!  I was insulted.  I have had 23 years of education and unremarkable is the best they can say?  I think I’m going to go back and give them a piece of my unremarkable mind. 

Those doctors have messed with pretty much all of my parts at one time or another, except my gall bladder.  A gall bladder is something that’s just kind of there, but not necessary.  Like a Senator.  Or a Jewish husband.

The world has changed so much.  Last week I called a friend to suggest lunch.  He said he was not in St. Louis.  He goes to Florida a lot, so I called him this week and we met for toasted ravioli.  What, you don’t know what toasted ravioli is?  Then you’re certainly not from St. Louis.  Get on a plane tomorrow and fly here.  Try Manhattan Café; their toasted ravioli is excellent.  At lunch I asked him how Florida was.  “I wasn’t in Florida,” he replied.  “I was in Romania.”  Romania?  I placed a call to a friend and we spoke for a minute and he was in Romania?  How crazy and exotic is that?  I wonder what Dracula’s phone number is.  And who just answers the phone and doesn’t tell me he’s in Romania?  Next time he calls me, I’m going to say I can’t talk right now, I’m in the Saudi Embassy in Istanbul.

Oh, oh – I said the I-Word.  My friends know never to mention Istanbul while Carol and I are around, because we will immediately break into the Four Lads song – Istanbul, not Constantinople, now it’s Istanbul, not Constantinople and we will not stop until the end.  Why did Constantinople get the works – that’s nobody’s business but the Turks.

To our grandchildren we are sort of infamous for breaking into song at the least provocation.  If my granddaughter says she’s going to wash her hair, Carol does the entire score from South Pacific.  Oh, no, there go Donny and Marie again.  She’s a little bit Country, he’s a little bit Rock ‘n Old.  Sometimes they even call us The Rolling Crones.   Or Geriatric and His Pacemaker.

Carol and I do the grocery store every week.  She shops, I push.  And believe me, it’s work keeping up with her.  She moves faster than a Kardashian heading for a camera (I liked that one so much, I used it twice), and I move like a silk worm.  Did you hear about the two silk worms that had a race?  They ended in a tie.

It is especially difficult to keep up with her when the store is crowded like last Sunday.  Carts were rolling everywhere and somehow always seemed to be in my way.  And some women (you know who you are) get very aggressive about shopping.  One young woman in a skin-tight, neon jogging set and $150 running shoes actually screamed at me.  “Hey, Old Man, move your asparagus.  The Ensure’s in Aisle 13.”  At least I had the good sense not to talk about her Hawaiian buns.

Women talk a lot, don’t they?  Well, maybe not.  A study published in Science magazine says both women and men say about 16,000 words a day.  That just didn’t sound right to me, so I tested it out, counting my words and Carol’s for an entire 24 hours.  And you know what, they were right!  She said about 16,000 words and I said “Yes, Dear” 8,000 times.

One thing I can do is write a lot of words, and I’m sure you’ve had enough by now.  So take a deep breath and get some rest.  You’ll need it – the 2020 Presidential Campaign starts tomorrow.   Have a nice week, stay well and count your blessings.  See you next time.

Michael                                    Send comments to:  mfox1746@gmail.com