Blog #206

 

I have a friend and loyal reader named Andy.  Andy likes to write too, and sometimes, she tells me, if she has an idea in the middle of the night, she goes into her closet to write so she doesn’t disturb her husband.  What a great idea, I thought, until I realized I don’t have a closet.  Why can’t men have closets?  We knew a couple who lived in Phoenix in a grand and gargantuan house on top of a mountain.  The wife had a closet complex the size of Delaware.  She actually had one closet just for her Judith Leiber bags.  If you don’t know what a Judith Leiber bag is, just imagine a purse with the price-tag of a Cadillac and the dimensions of an English muffin.

 

I asked the husband to show me his closet.  He led me into his study and pointed to a corner where there was an open suitcase and a large cardboard box that used to hold Charmin.  The girl’s name, I remember, was Jill.  I don’t remember his name, but then why should I remember the name of a man who doesn’t even have a closet?

 

Hi there and welcome back.  I hope you’re feeling well and staying warm.  It is very cold in the Midwest.  I can count the temperature on my fingers.

 

Message from Shakespeare:  For never-resting time leads summer on to hideous winter (Sonnet #5).  Big deal about his fingers.  I can count the temperature on my fingers, and I only have four.  Purr.

 

It has been a very busy week, so put a log on the fire, strap yourself in and let’s get started.

 

Valentine’s Day:  It is because of Valentine’s Day that you are now reading this.  When my three daughters were growing up, I always bought them a bunch of junk candy for Valentine’s Day, but 23 years ago, they had all moved out of the house, and I decided they were too old for all that sweet stuff and I sent nothing.  The next day, they all called me and demanded, with outrage, to know where their Valentines package was.  I wrote them a letter to apologize.  They liked the letter.  I liked the letter, and I have written a newsletter for my daughters each week since – 1,200 letters.  Four years ago, my oldest granddaughter suggested I turn that letter format into a blog.  So there it is and here I am and there you are.  I hope somebody gave you a Valentine.

 

President’s Day:  Did you have a nice President’s Day?  President’s Day is the day we honor all the people whose statues we have torn down and spat on in the past year.  Joe Biden is the 46^th President, but since they count Grover Cleveland twice (the 22^nd and the 24^th), Joe is actually the 45^th different man to serve as President.  He is also the oldest.  He is older now than Reagan was after serving 8 years.  I like having an old man as President – someone to look out for my rights.  Like why husbands don’t get closets – or birthday presents?

 

Friend’s Birthday:  This week, one of Carol’s closest friends had a birthday.  So what did my wife do?  She bought the friend an orchid – well, she sent me out to get it.  She wrote a poem – she had me do that too.  She videotaped herself reciting the poem – she had our daughter do the videotaping.  Then she braved the 15^o temperature and snow-covered roads to drive (I drove) to this girl’s house to sing happy birthday and deliver the present.  Very thoughtful indeed.  As I recall, for my 75^th birthday last month, my wife gave me nothing more than a hug.     

 

You see, in a woman’s world, treating your husband like an unmatched sock is okay.  It’s expected.  But ignoring a friend will make you the subject of intense criticism and ridicule throughout the County.  It’s the truth!  We husbands need a better lobby, and I don’t mean like in a hotel.  Nobody fights for our rights.  I’m hoping President Biden will fight for us.  If his wife lets him.

 

Carjacking:  This week in St. Louis, a van was carjacked.  The van belonged to a funeral home and had a lady’s corpse in the back.  The corpse has not been recovered.  The daughter of the deceased has written an impassioned plea to the carjacker:

 

You stole Momma’s corpse and that’s wrong

And I just cannot say this too strong

You’re a villain and, well,

You should go straight to Hell

Just please don’t take Momma along.

 

Australian Open:  I like tennis.  I’m rooting for Serena Williams.  She’s not my favorite, but she’s the only one whose name I can pronounce.

 

Corona Vaccine:  It was the day scheduled for our second vaccinations, and we were excited, but the temperature was zero and the roads were covered with snow.  My wife checked the news on CBS, Carol’s Buddy System, where a gaggle of gabbers spread the news faster than the speed of light.  She learned that many of her friends who had appointments were rescheduling for later in the week.  Our appointment was for late afternoon, but the forecast was even worse then.  I said let’s just go.  Neither wind nor rain – well, you know the drill – and we went.  I drove carefully, assiduously and with unerring attention to the sparse traffic and the blustery conditions, and we arrived unscathed – at the wrong place.  Well, you didn’t expect me to drive safely and accurately at the same time, did you?  Neither did Carol.  She calmly informed me I was at the wrong hospital and I should have made a left.  Hey, I only missed it by a few blocks.  We got the shots, drove home, turned up the heat, and now here I am telling you all about it.

 

Did I mention the Weekly Word was assiduous?  It means constant in application or attention, diligent.  Now with that out of the way, I’ll leave you alone. Never miss an opportunity to make others happy, even if you have to leave them alone in order to do it.  But I’m only leaving you for a while.  Stay well, stay warm, count your blessings and don’t go too far, because I’ll be back in a week.  See you then.

 

Michael                                    Send comments to mfox1746@gmail.com