Blog #123
Different times of my day
are devoted to different things. This
morning was Honey-Time, that’s the time I devote to doing the little
things for my wife that make her life easier and allow her more time to play
canasta and look in the mirror. This
morning she had a routine medical test and I drove her there, waited, and drove
her home. Now don’t get the idea that
I’m a saint or anything like that. I actually
enjoy doing nice things for my wife.
Then there was Poppy-Time. As I am
writing, it is July 11th – 7/11 – free Slurpees at 7-Eleven. Did you miss
it? So off I went with my grandchildren
to 7-Eleven for the free yummies. Poppy-Time, you see, is the time I devote to my
grandchildren. We wound up going to
lunch, then back for more free Slurpees.
I love being with them.
After all that was over, it
was Michael-Time, my alone time, when I can write my letter to my
daughters, read my book, pay the bills, try to find my cellphone which I know I
left on the table but it’s not there -- and, of course, write to you. Hi there and welcome back. I have a lot to tell you, but I’ve wasted so
much time already. I’ll talk fast.
I hope you feel loved and
appreciated today. There are many days
when I do not feel that way at all. Why? Because I am a Jewish American White
Male. That makes me less popular than
cholera. First of all, 90% of the
world’s inhabitants hate me because I’m Jewish.
50% of the them hate me because I’m American. Another 50% hate me because I’m male. And another 75% of people worldwide hate me
because I’m white. My math being as
impeccable as it always is, that makes 265% of the world’s people who hate me,
or, to be simpler, everyone on the planet hates me for two or more reasons. And that’s not counting the people who hate
my blog!
Wouldn’t that depress you? Well,
it’s messed up my strange brain a whole lot.
I used to think I was bi-polar. I
think we all are to some extent. But
lately, I’m convinced I am octi-polar. That’s a condition where at some point during
each day you behave like every one of Snow White’s dwarfs. Yes, I know octi means eight
and there are only seven dwarfs, but Carol decided that, in the state I’m in, I
should add another Grumpy.
The only consolation is that there exists one creature
even more universally loathed than me – the Canada Goose. I once lived in a community whose houses
surrounded a lake, a nice lake, whose only fault was that it hosted several
dozen geese. They are beautiful
creatures, but that doesn’t compensate for the fact that they are loud, filthy
and threatening. Did I mention filthy?
We hired
a dog to bark at the geese and scare them away.
The geese chuckled and flew to the other side of the lake. Next, we placed blinking lights in the lake
that supposedly would keep the geese from sleeping. The geese slept like goslings, but the lights
kept the rest of us up all night. Then
we sprayed the grass with a chemical that makes the geese sick when they eat
it. Now instead of just goose shit
covering the grass, we had goose shit and goose vomit. Then we tried fox decoys (I am not making any
of this up). The decoys are Styrofoam
signs painted to look like foxes and stuck in the ground. The geese were unimpressed, but a near-sighted lady two
doors down from me called the police to report a wolf in her yard. The uniformed policeman arrived and, without
hesitation, approached the ersatz wolf with weapon drawn. (I promise you,
I am not making this up.) Well, the
geese were hysterical, watching the show and munching on the poisoned grass. So I finally came up with a plan:
There really is just no
excuse
Allowing those birds to
run loose
Our mission is plain
We’ll start a new chain
And call it Kentucky
Fried Goose
Finger lickin’ good!
I just got back from the
grocery store. More Honey-Time with my wife.
I love grocery carts, don’t you?
They’re light and they have a zero turning radius. You can swirl those little puppies around in
no space at all. And they’re nice to
lean on when your hip hurts. You can
always find me at the grocery store about ¾ of an aisle behind the Princess of
Usain Bolt, leaning on my cart and trying to keep up. To avoid the aggravation of waiting for me,
she has developed a very accurate grocery-toss
and can flip a box of cereal or a bag of
marshmallows a good 25 feet with 100% accuracy.
She’s a little cautious with canned goods, but can flip a bag of arugula
better than Steph Curry. Nothing but
net!
In Aisle 1 today, I ran into
a friend and loyal reader. She was
pushing her own cart. We talked for a
bit, then I looked twenty or thirty feet behind her and located her husband
trying to figure out the difference between a rutabaga and a turnip. Root vegetables confuse me too.
You know what else confuses
me? Now don’t make the list too long;
I’m not that goofy. What
confuses me is buying movie tickets on-line.
I can do amazon. Buying
stuff on amazon is as easy as finding a Democrat who thinks Trump
is an idiot. But buying movie tickets on
some on-line sites is harder than finding a STARBUCKS that allows policemen. I’d rather have shingles!
Oh-oh,
I hear a voice. It must be Honey-Time again. Gotta
go. I know where my priorities lie. Maybe I am a saint after all. Keep yourself well, enjoy the warm weather
and count your blessings. I’ll be back
next week. “Yes,
Honey, I’m coming.” Gotta go.
Happy, Sleepy, Dopey, Doc, Grumpy, Bashful, Sneezy –
and Grumpy
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