Blog #388                                August 15, 2024

 

Here I am again, another chance for all my friends and enemies, devotees and critics to bathe me with unctuous flattery.  But not today, please.  I’m sick.  I’ll tell you about that later.

 

Weekly Word: Unctuous means excessively flattering.

 

Two weeks ago, I mentioned that if I were to be reincarnated, I would choose to come back as my wife.  But I think I’ve changed my mind.  I want to come back as one of my daughter’s chickens.  First of all, they live in a coop that in Haiti would be a Ritz Carlton.  Or a Holiday Hen.  Their coop has automatic sensors that raise the door when the sun rises and can be closed or opened by remote control.  They have a resident medical expert (my daughter Jennifer), a resident nutritional guru (ditto) and no Borgia Pope ever had better meals

 

When we were in North Carolina last week, we went to lunch at a lovely old Southern inn.  I had a burger and fries, but my appetite wasn’t great so I had some of the burger and half my fries left over.  I asked Jen if we should pack up the leftovers for the hens.  I got a box, put the burger in, then Jen stopped me, “Don’t pack the fries; they’re terrible for the chickens.”  What?  You didn’t bother to warn your one and only father not to partake in the apparently preposterous poisonous potatoes.  “Those fries are horrible for man or beast.  Let Dad eat them.”  Ok, I know where I stand in the pecking order (an apt term).  But hey, “A healthy chicken is a happy chicken.”  A famous poet said that.  I think it was Emily Chickenson.  Or maybe it was Rudyard Chickling.

 

A few years ago, I was sitting in Jennifer’s kitchen, probably working on a fabulous and entertaining blog for you, when I saw her heading toward the backyard carrying a casserole of leftover lasagna from last night’s dinner.  “Oh good, “I said, “there’s enough left for lunch.”  “No,” she replied, “I’m taking it to the chickens.”  Pecking order.

 

Hi there and welcome back.  I hope you’re feeling well.  Did you enjoy the Olympics?  There was a lot I enjoyed, and some I didn’t understand like the Breaking event.  I was so excited to hear they gave a medal for Breaking, that I spent a whole day filling out an application to compete in the Los Angeles games.  After all, in a single day last month, I broke a toaster oven, two light bulbs, a flower pot, a printer and my neighbor’s finger.  That should be worth a bronze at least.

 

I was just picking on Jennifer for fun.  She is a loving and wonderful child, and she would never, ever, want me to eat bad food.  She is my nutritional expert.  That doesn’t mean she is free from the weirdness streak that gallops in my family.  When she and David moved to North Carolina, they had a cat named Zach, a big beautiful black cat.  Well, time went by and the birds and the bees and all that, and all of a sudden I had my first grandson.  Jennifer named him Zachary, the same name as the cat.  This is totally true.  Several weeks later, I called Jennifer and asked what Zach was doing.  She said he was sunning himself on the barbecue pit.  Something had to change, so they renamed her cat, and for the rest of his long life, he was known as Zach the Cat.  All true.

 

The next year she got a few more chicks and I suggested she name one Zach the Chicken, but I think she was Zached out by then.  But I heard about a woman who liked her daughter’s name so much that she used it for everything.

 

An Arkansas woman named Pearl

Said “Lulu’s the name of my girl

And also my dog

My horse and my hog

A rooster, two cats and a squirrel.”

 

The night after we returned from North Carolina, we went to a Cardinals’ baseball game.  Some lovely and special friends invited us to share some seats they had acquired.  But these weren’t just seats.  Queen Elizabeth on her best day couldn’t get theses seats!  The Pope and Taylor Swift couldn’t get these seats.  First of all, they were four rows behind the batter and the tickets came with free parking.  Free parking at a Cardinal game is like winning the lottery.  And the parking lot was across the street from the stadium.  And there was a buffet in a dining room near the seats.  Roast beef, lamb stew, salads, desserts – everything, and all of it was free.  And I’m not finished yet.  Once we planted our very satisfied tushies into our seats, a waitress arrived with a menu and proceeded to bring us everything we wanted for two hours, all free!  Unbelievable!  And what was the score of the game?  It was two hotdogs, one cheeseburger, three diet cokes, one popcorn and two cookies.  What a game.

 

And then I got sick.  By Sunday morning, I was at an Urgent Care being diagnosed with pneumonia.  I had pneumonia eight years ago, and let me tell you something – this pneumonia is just as bad as the old-monia.  But I am supremely lucky.  I have my wife and my three daughters who took control of my diet and medication regimen.  I now have more pills than an old sweater.  And of course my local grandkids did some errands.  And there is someone else nursing me to health. 

 

Message from Shakespeare:  O sleep, O gentle sleep, Nature’s soft nurse (Henry IV Part 2).  Poor old man, coughing and shivering.  And who is right there all day and all night keeping him warm and schnoogling on him?  That’s right, his favorite three-legged friend.  He needs to get better so we can play ball in the hall.  I think I’ll go warm him up some more.  Purr. 

 

The doctor does not want me to go to the hospital – too much Covid, so that means I’ll send this out on Thursday, as usual.  I was prepared to send it out Tuesday or Wednesday, but that probably would have confused you.  I’ll be back next week, so count your blessings and stay well.  I’m certainly going to try.

 

Michael                                             Send comments to mfox1746@gmail.com