Blog #287                      September 8, 2022

 

Almost every week, I say something like I hope I brightened your Thursdays or I hope I made you laugh.  That’s a pretty slimy way of begging for a compliment, isn’t it?  It is gratifying to learn that none of you would fall for a cheap trick like that.

 

You men know what begging for a compliment is.  It’s when your wife says, “Honey, do you think this dress makes me look fat?”  A husband must either know how to respond to that properly or have a good orthopedic surgeon.

 

Actually, I do receive a few responses that say, “Yes, you do brighten my day,” and that’s very gratifying.  I wonder if my wife is upset that I talk to so many of my limerick girlfriends via email.  Just to be safe, let’s keep it among ourselves.  If she got mad and stopped picking out my clothes, that would be a bad thing. I’d leave the house half the time looking like Clarabell.  And if you remember Clarabell, you’re my kind of people.  And if you don’t, Google it.  I just love Google.  The entire knowledge of Mankind is on Google.  Or should that be Womankind?  Personkind? Himandherkind?  Oh, who gives a rat’s Google?

 

Hi there, my people, and welcome back.  I hope you are feeling well and starting to plan your vacations for next summer.  I’m thinking about Canada.  We went there many years ago and the scenery was glorious, the weather spectacular and the accommodations Victorian.  But traveling to our northern neighbor can be bewildering if you haven’t practiced your math.  First of all, the speed limits are measured in kilometers per hour.  A kilometer is about five-eighths of a mile, so divide by eight and multiply by five.  The temperature is in Celsius, so divide by five, multiply by nine and add 32.  And the exchange rate is one Canadian Dollar to 75ȼ US, so divide by four and multiply by three.  They have a 7-Eleven in Canada, but they call it the 8½-12¾.  It’s mind-boggling, even for me who has a college degree in Mathematics. 

 

Now Canada is a great nation

To go for a lovely vacation

But prepare for disaster

Unless you can master

Division and multiplication.

 

My California grandson just turned eleven.  In Canada he would be thirteen.  I asked him what he was doing to celebrate.  He said they were going to a Tibetan restaurant for dinner.  California has everything.  I wonder what the name of the Tibetan restaurant is, Yak in the Box?  Nacho Lama?  Yeti Crocker’s?  Okay, that’s all the Tibet jokes I have. 

 

Message from Shakespeare:  I am a great eater of beef, and I believe that does harm to my wit (Twelfth Night).  I have never been to a restaurant, but I’m sure you could guess which one I’d pick.  Since I only have three legs, my favorite place would be IHOP.  Purr.

 

Carol spoke to our grandson on his birthday, but I warned her not to tell him any stories.  One time, I caught her telling the story of Cinderella, but she left out any reference to glass slippers.  I asked her why she left out the slipper part, and she replied, “Nobody wears glass slippers.”  Hard to argue with that, I suppose.  She always seems to forget the facts.  Like when she told them a Little Red Riding Hood doesn’t go with brown boots.  Or that The Tortoise and the Hare was about a couple named Michael and Carol.  Or that Beauty and the Beast was about a Princess named Melania. 

 

My current side book is a 1200-page Yugoslavian travelogue that I’ve already read once before.  Don’t ask, I know I’m nuts.  In this book, the author, Rebecca West, says the Western world thinks the way to make life better is to take bad things away, whereas, in the East, the way to make life better is to add more good things to it.  I hope Limerick Oyster is one of those good things you add to your life.  There it is, another unabashed example of pleading for a compliment.  Just ignore me; I’m incorrigible.

 

My cell-phone just rang.  The display read Int’l Hearing Aids.  I picked up the phone and said hello.  “Is this Mr. Fox?” a young man said.  Of course, I said WHAT?  The voice retorted, “I’m looking for Michael.”  I immediately replied, no, young man, I don’t need a bicycle.  Then I hung up.  I told you I was incorrigible

 

 

 

I had an issue last week that caused me to visit an Urgent Care.  I’m not going to share because you don’t want to hear my medical crap any more than I want to hear yours.  I think those Urgent Cares are really a big improvement over hospital emergency rooms.  There’s always one close-by and you normally get treated more quickly than at a hospital.  But they do tend to be a bit ponderous.  While Carol waited in the appropriately-named Waiting Room, they took my vitals, my history and my insurance card.  I saw a PA, an RN, two IBMs and an AWOL.  I must have seen eight different people, none of whom was a DR, but they did solve my problem and I was ready to go.  Oops, wait, they needed a little more paperwork.  Well, Carol, who knew I was cured, was anxious to leave and this paperwork folderol was not happening quickly enough for my little Princess.  What could?  So she grabbed a sheet of paper and a magic marker and wrote a sign which she taped to her shirt.  It said:

 

I am currently in PRE-BITCH mode.  You do NOT want to be here when I upgrade.

 

It worked, and Mr. Patient and Mrs. Im-Patient were discharged instantly.  When my speedy little woman is in a hurry, the rest of the world had better move its ass.  And I’d better move mine now.  It’s already 9:30, which in Canadian is 48:20, or is that the temperature?  I’m so confused.

 

Oh, I forgot the Weekly Word which is ponderous.  It means slow and clumsy, like your service at the License Bureau.  Like rush-hour traffic.  Like the Emergency Room.  Like this paragraph.  I’ll stop.

 

But I won’t stop writing to you every Thursday, so until next week, stay well and count your blessings.

 

Michael                                    Send comments to mfox1746@gmail.com