Blog #492                                August 13, 2026

 

Hi there.  Thanks for coming back.  I hope you are feeling young and wonderful and can help me understand how my wife’s brain works.  Just the other day she called me.  “Fred and Ethel are going to a movie at 4:45.”  No, she didn’t use those names, but everything else I’m about to tell you is true.  She continued, “I really don’t care one bit about this movie, but if you want, we can go with them or just meet them for dinner.”  I asked her the name of the movie and she told me, adding, “I couldn’t care less.  I have no interest in that movie.”  I said ok, let’s just meet them for dinner.  And she said, “Or maybe I’ll just go to the movie with them and you can meet us later.”

 

Now you tell me, is this woman making any sense?  It’s like being married to Yogi Berra.  Yogi, the bad boy of badinage, was famous for his strange sayings.  Like you can observe a lot by watching and if they don’t want to come, you can’t stop them and of course I didn’t really say everything I said.  My own little Yogi is actually famous for some of her sayings as well.  The grandkids call them Nonnie-isms.  One goes like this: you can pick your friends and you can pick your nose, but you can’t pick your relatives.  I told you she was like Yogi.

 

But she is loyal and caring.  She went with me to visit Dr. Heart for a stress test. The instructions did not allow me any caffeine for 24 hours before the test. What?  No caffeine?  No Diet-Coke in the morning?  That’s like telling Donald Trump, NO TWEETING.  It’s like telling Kim Jong Un, NO HAIR GEL.  It’s like telling a Catholic priest, NO ALTAR BOYS.  By the time I reached the doctor’s office, I was as jumpy as a caterpillar at a Sumo Wrestling tournament. 

 

I don’t do the treadmill variety stress test.  Instead, I get an injection of the nuclear isotope Thallium-201.  It’s a little risky, but I’m glad I did it.  With these things, you have to be aggressive.

 

For chest pains I should be pro-active

So a stress test just sounded attractive

And the good news, my friend:

I survived to the end

But the bad news: I’m radioactive.

 

I really don’t like talking about personal health issues, but it is part of my world.  And if you’re loyal enough to waste a few minutes of your Thursdays with me, then I guess I’m part of your world now.  Wow, that sounds like a lot of responsibility on my part.  I guess I’d better make you laugh.  The two choices for my stress test were the treadmill or the nuclear injection.  Those choices are the modern Scylla and Charybdis.  If you’ve seen The Odyssey, you should know what that means.  Anyway, I became stressed another way they hadn’t even thought of.  By the time I was in there five minutes, I was shivering enough from the cold to stress out a polar bear.  I was shaking more than a starlet at a meeting with Harvey Weinstein.  Why are the labs so cold? 

 

Message from Shakespeare, the three-legged cat:  I am to wait, though waiting so be hell (Sonnet 58).  I don’t need a stress test because I don’t have much stress.  I do a lot of sleeping and a lot of resting on a warm lap.  The only stress I have is when Pops goes away, and I have to worry if he’s coming back.  I always wait by the door for him.  Purr.

 

Doctors and stress tests and medications!  It’s a lot of work being a senior.  But we all adapt and come to terms with it.  The other evening, we went to dinner with friends and one of the guys at the table asked the waiter what wine goes well with Lipitor.  Maybe we should just eat dinner at the Emergency Room.  They have a new restaurant there called Broken Bonefish Grill.

 

By the way, the result of my stress test was that I was going to live to be 120.  I’m not sure I want to live that long.  You’ll be a bunch of old people by then and I won’t know how to deal with you.  So while you’re still young, let’s talk.

 

Many of you send me comments from time to time, and I honestly love getting them, but I have noticed a trend lately.  Here’s a typical comment: Love your blog, keep talking about Carol, she’s just like me. Or sometimes I get: Love your blog, quit picking on Carol, you drive too slow.  I spend ten hours writing and re-writing and editing each one of these, strain and suffer with anxiety over what to say and how to say it, and after all that – my wife gets all the fan mail.  Well, she does have to put up with me, and that deserves some kind of award I suppose.

 

What should we talk about now?  Yogi said if you don’t know where you’re going, you’ll wind up somewhere else, so let’s see where we wind up.  There’s an Olympic event called Race-Walking.  My daughter Jennifer used to do it.  She said it was fabulous exercise.  You’ve seen it, I’m sure.  The racers walk heel to toe and must stay in contact with the ground at all times.  Bob Costas said seeing who can walk the fastest is like seeing who can whisper the loudest.  I think it looks silly.  Yes, Jen, I know it does take skill and stamina.  But so does eating an Audi.

 

Which reminds me that I think last week was National Gluttony Day.  It was August 8.  And what did I do on 8/8?  I ate/ate.  And that’s why it’s National Gluttony Day!  But I’ve run out of my time and your patient indulgence.  Yogi said it’s not over till it’s over.  And you know what?  It’s over!

 

Except for the Weekly Word.  It is badinage, which means humorous or witty conversation, something we try to do here every week.  At least we try.

 

Thanks for sticking with me for so long.  Stay well, count your blessings and come back to see me next week. 

 

Michael                                    Send comments to mfox1746@gmail.com

                                                Or just call Carol directly.