Blog #126

I had a bad day Saturday.  I was lethargic all day, took a two-hour nap in the afternoon and went to sleep at 9:30.  On Sunday, I was waiting for Carol to ask me how I was.  Did I feel better?  Was there anything she could do for me?   My hearing is still pretty good and I’m fairly certain I did not hear any words revealing an interest in my well-being.  What I did hear was my wife asking our granddaughter how her cats were.  The cats?  Carol hates cats!  She asked about them and not her loving husband?  That made me feel about as popular as Donald Trump in Baltimore.

I tried a little subterfuge.  I asked her how she felt, thinking that would trigger a similar concern on her part.  Nope, she blew me off like the dust on an old Everly Brothers record.  Nice to see you, I’ll get back to you.  Bye, Bye Love.  For those of you who care, I am feeling much better, thank you.

Hi there and welcome back.  I hope you are feeling well and highly respected. There is a whole lot of female indignation going around these days.  What with six women running for President on the Democratic side and another four Congresswomen in The Squad, there is no shortage of voices pointing out how women have gotten the raw deal throughout history and how now is the time for them to be empowered and to fulfill their destiny.  I cannot disagree. 

And yet, somehow, I feel cheated. While my daughters were growing up, I had to work. I wasn’t worried about being empowered or about fulfilling my friggin’ destiny.  I was worried about supporting my family like my father and grandfathers and uncles did.  That was my destiny.  But I have to give it to my sweet wife.  She gave me the constant encouragement a man needs to go out and work hard. 

Go get your big butt out the door

And bring home more money – much more

Go work hard all day

So that I can play

Cause that is what husbands are for.

And she was right.  That is what husbands and dads are for, and we did it.  And I was proud to do it.  Did I ever once think I should abandon my family and pursue my destiny as a bird-watcher or a poet?  No, not for a second.  Have I ever regretted that?  No, not for a second.

Ok, enough of my complaining.  I no longer work, which gives me all the time I need to do my writing and play with my grandchildren.  It took me fifty years of working to get there, but I couldn’t be happier.  And my wife’s pretty happy herself.  This week she went to Happy Hours three nights in a row to celebrate her birthday – again.  Three Happy Hours in a row.  How much Happy does one person need?

I think bars should start having Grumpy Hour where people get together to bitch about whatever politician or governmental policy makes them grumpy.  And appetizers are half-price.  White Supremacists could be on one side of the room eating Potato Skin-Heads, Black Lives Matter on the other side ordering Pigs in a Blanket and a table of Police Officers in the middle eating Copper’s Poppers.  And all drinking Michelob Lighten-Up.  Sounds like great fun.

Back to my wife getting wined and dined.  She apparently has more friends than a rich Democratic donor, and they all want to celebrate her birthday. It’s been a month and they’re still taking her out.  She’s had more birthdays than Methuselah.  You’d think she’d have cake poisoning by now.  And what happens to me when she is out celebrating with the “goils”?  Poor, loyal, devoted and obedient me?  I stay home alone.  That’s big of me, isn’t it?  Maybe I need two wives so one can be with me while the other is out gallivanting.  That’s bigamy, isn’t it?  Oscar Wilde said, “Bigamy is having one wife too many.  Monogamy is the same.”  Oscar said that, Honey, not me.

And, by the way, I didn’t do all the working in the family.  Carol taught 5^th grade and ran some successful retail stores, and I respect her tremendously for that.  I’m not sure, however, that the respect goes both ways.  Last week we were at the AT&T store getting some new phones, and I was explaining to the salesperson what we needed.  Carol interrupted, pulled the salesperson aside and said, “My husband is a ridiculous babbling idiot and I wouldn’t believe him if he said the sun was hot.”  Now that’s not true at all – I do not babble!  Later on, she added, “My husband is a bi-polar, dysfunctional moron who doesn’t know his foot from a pastrami sandwich.”  Well, that one was pretty much true.  I never liked pastrami.  Too peppery.

ITEM:  Emperor Penguins spend nine months of each year huddled together in the 80-below-zero weather of Antarctica incubating and raising their chicks?  That’s the Catholic penguins of course.  They like to do Penguin penance.  Jewish penguins are in Miami Beach at the Four Seasons, playing canasta and pretending they’re ushers at a wedding.

 

ITEM:  It appears that The Biggest Loser is coming back for a new season.  I can’t wait.  There’s nothing more thrilling than sitting on my couch, eating butter-free, salt-free popcorn and watching fat people sweat.  Two spin-offs have already been planned entitled The Biggest Liar and The Biggest Racist.  Well, I have to find something to fill up my time.  Dr. Pacemaker has banned me from watching The View.

ITEM:  We saw the Quentin Tarantino movie with Brad and Leonardo and Margo.  All three of them were gorgeous, but the movie was awful.  The good news was that we got Senior tickets at a pretty low price.  Pretty soon we’ll qualify for the Super-Senior Price for people so old they can neither hear nor see the movie, and are there just to suck the salt off the popcorn.  Maybe they’d like to come watch The Biggest Loser with me.

Are you tired of me yet?  I am.  Are you mad at me yet?  Get over it.  Stay well, count your blessings and avoid Tarantino movies.  I’ll see you next week.

Michael                          Send comments to:  mfox1746@gmail.com