Blog #367                                         March 21, 2024

 

Last Thursday morning, a week ago, I was awakened at 7:30 by a siren.  When I say “awakened”, I’m really not so sure I was even asleep.  Half the night there’s a cat draped upon my feet or my legs or under the covers.  And my wife, of course is right next to me, although she is not as affectionate as Shakespeare at three in the morning.  Anyway, it was 7:30 when I heard the distant wailing of a siren.  The first thing that crossed my sleepy mind was that I had to get under my desk because the Russians were dropping atomic bombs on our school.

 

Do you remember that?  I do.  Blackberry Lane School, third grade, Mrs. Nevins.  She was blonde; I was eight.  Crawl under your desks, children.  That’s the safest place.  They actually made us believe that crawling under those crappy wooden desks would save us from a nuclear detonation.  And we were dumb enough to believe it.  It’s clear now that they were trying not to frighten us with the actual truth, which was that there was nothing that could keep the Russians from blasting us into little roasted marshmallows.  Still, it was the biggest lie our government told us.  That is until “I did not have sexual relations with that woman.”

 

Ok, back to 7:30 am.  I cleared my head of thoughts of nuclear incineration and Mrs. Nevins and realized that the siren was a tornado warning.  And what was the first thing I did?  Did I wake my precious wife, wrap her in a warm blanket and carry her to safety in the garage?  No.  Did I find a frightened Shakespeare, cuddle him to my chest and assure him everything would be all right?  No again.

 

My first reaction to the tornado warning was to run – of course “running” at my age is really a mixture of walking, limping and groaning – into my study to send out my blog before the electricity went out.  That’s right, my first thought was to make sure you had your copy of Limerick Oyster so you could read it while my entire family was being pummeled and mangled about the skies like Dorothy and Toto.  I hope you liked it. 

 

Actually, the electricity did not go out and the wife and the cat slept through the brief rain shower that followed.  About four years ago, my three local grandchildren were at our house.  Tyler was 14, Austin was 10 and Charley Rose was 12 and a total princess-in-training:  boys, makeup, shopping, clothes, a budding apparition of her Nonnie.  We were all playing a little soccer in the hallways when a warning siren went off.  Charley was frightened and wanted to go into the garage, so we did.  The boys immediately ran outside to watch the skies and play in the rain, but my little princess climbed into the back seat of my car and curled up in fear.  I sat with her, consoling her, when she looked up at me and said, “Poppy, I can’t believe I’m going to die in these ugly shoes.”  She is sixteen now and a Four-Star Princess and still has that wonderful sense of humor.  After I had sent my blog to you, I checked my phone and there was a message from Charley: Oh no, I hope I don’t die with my hair looking like this.

 

Good morning, hi there and welcome to the start of Limerick Oyster’s eighth year.    It is officially Spring, and I am officially happy.  The cold weather of winter bothers me so much that my favorite day all winter has been Monday.  That’s the day I get my ultra-violet treatment in a vertical tanning booth at Dr. Skin’s office.   Mmmm, toasty!

 

I need the hot light on my form

To keep all my skin up to norm

Plus, to tell you the truth

In that nice tanning booth

Is the only place I can be warm.

 

The above mention of the famous Bill Clinton miss-information – yes, I know the word is misinformation with one “s”, but he was talking about a young girl and so the word “miss” is appropriate and damn, why do you put up with me at all?  Anyway, as long as you’re here, the quote made me think of an old news clipping I had somewhere.  I found it.  It read “Former President Clinton will get an advance of more than $10 million to write his memoirs.  That beats the previous record for nonfiction, held by the pope.”

 

The Pope had a book deal?  I wonder what the title was.  Here are a few possibilities:

 

          Genuflection for Dummies

          Chicken Soup for Catholics

          The Days of Wine and Rosaries

          The St. Peter Principle

 

There I go again, getting in trouble with the Catholics.  Well, it was a slow day and I was feeling as bored as Venus De Milo’s manicurist.   Even Shakespeare gets bored sometimes.

 

Message from Shakespeare:  Life is as tedious as twice-told tale (King John). When I’m bored, I like to watch TV.  I watch Pet-Flix.  There are shows for dogs like Barks and Recreation and Game of Bones.  And shows for cats like Paw and Order, Carol Purrnet and Downton Tabby.  There’s even a show for three-legged animals.  It’s called The Limpsons.   Purr.

 

It's pretty much four years now since we were all hiding in our homes in fear of catching Covid.  I don’t need to remind you of all that we went through.  What Carol missed most was her Happy Hours where she and a few other “goils” would go for appetizers and alcohol.  During Covid, they tried to create their own Happy Hour on FaceTime.  The problem was that the alcohol, in conjunction with the lack of knowledge of how FaceTime worked, made it a challenge to get all four women’s faces on the screen.  Every time they figured out how to include one more, they laughed and giggled like a group of 12-year-old girls who had just seen their first penis.

 

I’ll leave you now with that salacious image and the hope that you stay well and count your blessings.  See you next week.

 

Michael                                    Send comments to mfox1746@gmail.com

 

Oh, and the Weekly Word, of course, is salacious, which means arousing or appealing to sexual desire or imagination.  Now I know you’ll be back next week.