There he is again--swat--bzzzzz. “Ah shucks!! He got away again.” ( You’ll notice that I have emphasized ah shucks which is entirely foreign to my vocabulary, but in that this is Sunday I thought it best to incorporate a degree of respect into this article. If the full truth were known, I said #$%& to myself.)
There are two events that my wife and I look forward to being a part of our every Sunday.
One would be our attendance at our Church, and the other would be sitting out on our screen-less but, newly constructed back porch with a cup of coffee in my right hand and a soft drink in my wife’s left hand.
The reason we both have a free hand, is that the other hand is generally occupied with a fly swatter which is generally attempting to swat that one aggravating fly who in turn is displaying his dire affection for either our bodies or our drinks.
“There he is on the window ledge,” is the general announcement, before I take another swat at him and miss, uttering under my breath the same words of disappointment.
--I immediately have discouraging visions in which I can clearly picture the fact that I’d never make it as a major league baseball player--
My wife then drops her fly swatter, as well as her drink on the floor when the door from the kitchen to the porch opens and there is a cheerful emission of the word “Hello.” ( I didn’t want to divulge this fact, but my wife suffers from un-co-ordination and is very startled by surprise. This has garnered our attention, and with psychiatric assistance ( which is mainly covered by Medicare ) we are trying our best to correct these two unfortunate conditions.
Nevertheless, that bright and cheerful “Hello” emanated from the mouth of our daughter in law.
We had completely forgotten that we had committed ourselves to watch our 6 year old grandson for this afternoon.
As a reciprocal gesture, she had baked us a chocolate cake with vanilla icing.
She showed us the cake, which for some reason she placed between my wife and I, on a small table.
Before our daughter in law had found enough time to leave, I was proudly instructing my grandson in the art of fly swatting.
Before she had found the necessary time to back out of the driveway, I had issued my grandson a fly-swatter.
Apparently, my grandson has a waning concentration, as he began to play with our dog, temporarily forgetting about my instructions, into which I had placed great effort.
This apparent total lack of respect was like “a slap in the face” to me, so I attempted to correct this void in my grandson, by calling for a squadron formation. I can not overemphasize the seriousness nor the importance of fly-swatting. ( Particularly, on our back porch. )
That annoying fly made his appearance once again, only this time on the lamp shade.
The swatting privileges were passed to both my wife and grandson.
They swung and missed at which time both had the same vision as I had of never being allowed to play in major league baseball.
That fly had to be very aggressive, as his next location was in the outer periphery of the cake.
I gave specific instructions, that upon my count, all three of us would swat the periphery of the cake where the fly appeared to be eating away. ( in that I am not an entomologist I really don’t know what he was doing. But, whatever the function was, it appeared to make him very complacent. )
Unfortunately, we missed the periphery of the cake. and all three of us hit the cake dead center. This total lack of alignment may be attributed to:
1) My grandson’s lack of concentration.
2) my wife’s lack of co-ordination.
3) my lack of good fortune.
Somehow the complacent fly had once again eluded his eternal destiny.
So, we heard those old familiar sounds--swat-- bzzzzz!!
However, the effect the hapless fly swatters had on the vanilla icing was similar to a very large elephant stepping into a jar of Vasoline.
In other words--there was a really big squish, which in turn caused the icing to become dislodged from the cake.
There was vanilla icing everywhere, except of course on the cake.
The icing was dangling from the right ear lobe of my grandson, in my wife’s hair and on my nose and in my left eye. A few pieces even made it as far as the drink spilled by my wife.
The icing also went up the right nostril of our dog, which I had to extract, after I was able to breathe and see once more.
It was not fun cleaning ourselves up to a presentable state and removing the liquid from the deck, but when we had, we all felt much better.
When this had been accomplished we resumed our Sunday siesta on the back porch.
A day filled with limited frustration and relaxation.
Relaxation, until we heard that fateful --bzzzzz!
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
THE FLIGHT
What would be your reaction be if you had planned to take a business flight to a major city. At the last moment you had chosen to upgrade your accommodations from coach to first class.
You settled into a much more comfortable chair with considerably more “leg room” and found that the person sitting beside you was a famous singer whose name you couldn’t recall?
So far, I bet your reaction would be one of ecstasy, especially if you liked his singing.
There was only one minor problem, he was dead!!
I’ll bet now that reaction just headed south.
You now have the choice between running to the restroom and “tossing your cookies,” or you could be the first to call for immediate assistance and administer CPR.
You might find that by choosing the latter path you would save the life of a very talented individual.
You also would eliminate the possibility of getting your foot caught in the commode, which is quite easy to do in an airplane restroom, especially if you are performing two functions.
The airline company places in the commode a disinfectant, which is understandable.
This disinfectant acts as a dye.
Many a time after using the airplane restroom I have returned to my seat with a blue pants leg and my suit is gray.
Returning to the guy who appeared dead, he appeared moribund, but he was really just fast asleep.
Needless to say, he was most unappreciative of my administration of CPR.
After I had explained to him my mistake and that I thought he was the greatest singing talent in the world, he seemed to calm down a little.
He also exhibited another new-borne trait. For the rest of the flight he would no longer sit beside me.
And that’s a shame in a way, because I have a daughter who wants to be a singer, and I consequently had several questions to ask him.
Oh well, that’s life.
Now there is an empty seat in first class, because of his transferring to the coach section.
The stewardess offered it to anyone in that section at no extra cost, but for some reason everyone exhibits an apprehension to sit in the seat next to me.
So I am now seated next to an empty seat.
As I have embarked on this flight for business purposes, it is imperative that I appear busy because you never know who’s looking.
I remove my lap top from its case only to discover a mouse ( a real one!) inside.
The mouse jumps into the aisle and scampers toward the rear of the plane bringing fear to those females sitting toward the rear of the plane, then it reverses direction toward the cockpit.
On this flight we have a female pilot.
Somehow the little mouse works its way under the cabin door. I shortly hear a scream from the female pilot and witness a an airplane that has veered tremendously from its course.
The little mouse reverses direction again, and heads for the rear of the plane.
In this process that mouse frightens all of the female attendants and passengers ( some of whom are already “scared half out of their wits” from his previous scamper).
Now I am the subject of scorn of both genders.
Immediately, I remember the exploits of D. B. Cooper. Maybe I’ll be lucky and be found when I parachute into the wilderness.
You settled into a much more comfortable chair with considerably more “leg room” and found that the person sitting beside you was a famous singer whose name you couldn’t recall?
So far, I bet your reaction would be one of ecstasy, especially if you liked his singing.
There was only one minor problem, he was dead!!
I’ll bet now that reaction just headed south.
You now have the choice between running to the restroom and “tossing your cookies,” or you could be the first to call for immediate assistance and administer CPR.
You might find that by choosing the latter path you would save the life of a very talented individual.
You also would eliminate the possibility of getting your foot caught in the commode, which is quite easy to do in an airplane restroom, especially if you are performing two functions.
The airline company places in the commode a disinfectant, which is understandable.
This disinfectant acts as a dye.
Many a time after using the airplane restroom I have returned to my seat with a blue pants leg and my suit is gray.
Returning to the guy who appeared dead, he appeared moribund, but he was really just fast asleep.
Needless to say, he was most unappreciative of my administration of CPR.
After I had explained to him my mistake and that I thought he was the greatest singing talent in the world, he seemed to calm down a little.
He also exhibited another new-borne trait. For the rest of the flight he would no longer sit beside me.
And that’s a shame in a way, because I have a daughter who wants to be a singer, and I consequently had several questions to ask him.
Oh well, that’s life.
Now there is an empty seat in first class, because of his transferring to the coach section.
The stewardess offered it to anyone in that section at no extra cost, but for some reason everyone exhibits an apprehension to sit in the seat next to me.
So I am now seated next to an empty seat.
As I have embarked on this flight for business purposes, it is imperative that I appear busy because you never know who’s looking.
I remove my lap top from its case only to discover a mouse ( a real one!) inside.
The mouse jumps into the aisle and scampers toward the rear of the plane bringing fear to those females sitting toward the rear of the plane, then it reverses direction toward the cockpit.
On this flight we have a female pilot.
Somehow the little mouse works its way under the cabin door. I shortly hear a scream from the female pilot and witness a an airplane that has veered tremendously from its course.
The little mouse reverses direction again, and heads for the rear of the plane.
In this process that mouse frightens all of the female attendants and passengers ( some of whom are already “scared half out of their wits” from his previous scamper).
Now I am the subject of scorn of both genders.
Immediately, I remember the exploits of D. B. Cooper. Maybe I’ll be lucky and be found when I parachute into the wilderness.
Saturday, August 27, 2011
THE CHECKOUT
The check-out line was long at the supermarket, as it snaked its way back to the cantaloupe section.
“Why did I ever come to this place?" uttered the man to himself under his breath. “I could be sunning myself on the beach, drinking a ‘cool one’ and viewing the femme fatales as they walk by."
A thin veil of optimism crept over him as he suddenly realized there were only 3 people in front of him, until he achieved his “check-out” goal.
This gave him the opportunity to pick-up one of the tabloids. After reading a small segment, he once again said to himself, “That guy must get married to another woman and pick up all his money from the tabloid publishers, cause I never have seen him act.”
The person checking out was fumbling for her checkbook and the clerk was having difficulty locating the total button which added to already long delay.
Finally, this customer had a change of attitude, and became downright ebullient.
His enthusiasm heightened to a point of ecstasy because he was next in line to be checked out and have his purchases finalized.
He had only two items and he wished he had access to a 10 item or less, but the store didn't have such a checkout. -- He rationalized,
“It’s probably best that they don’t have such a line as I would get out of the store much faster, be on my way home and at that time would be in a fatal car accident. Come to think of it, by not having such a line, my life has been spared.”
Arriving at the point where he was face to face with the checkout clerk, “Ugly little kid,” he muttered, under his breath.
The man politely placed the mouse trap and the cheese on the counter.
He was fairly convinced that the sounds that he heard in his apartment in the middle of the night, were those of mice, rather than the moose he initially suspected.
With extreme difficulty, coupled with an almost lethargic response, the clerk rang-up the mouse trap.
Being the curious individual that he was, which was pretty much dictated by his age, the clerk picked up the item for further investigation.
Unfortunately, in the process of selection the man had purposely set the trap, to check its efficiency.
Well anyway, to make a long story short, the clerk, after saying “Uh, this is interesting,” activated the mouse trap on his nose. The young boy cried out as did the man--No, it was more of a grumble from the latter--
The man was not a connoisseur of fine cheeses, and therefore had placed in his cart the first wedge of soft cheese that he came to.
Apparently the shock and small amount of pain this boy encountered with the trap, also caused the boy to ram his thumb in the middle of the cheese.
After calling 911 and the supervisor, the paramedics were able to pry the trap from the boy’s olfactory as well as well as his thumb out of the cheese.
Not only did the event add a welt to the boy's nose and a band-aid to his thumb, it also added greatly to the time delay.
"Hey mister, what about your trap and cheese?"
As the man hastily left for another store he vociferously replied, "In your dreams young man, only in your dreams!!"
“Why did I ever come to this place?" uttered the man to himself under his breath. “I could be sunning myself on the beach, drinking a ‘cool one’ and viewing the femme fatales as they walk by."
A thin veil of optimism crept over him as he suddenly realized there were only 3 people in front of him, until he achieved his “check-out” goal.
This gave him the opportunity to pick-up one of the tabloids. After reading a small segment, he once again said to himself, “That guy must get married to another woman and pick up all his money from the tabloid publishers, cause I never have seen him act.”
The person checking out was fumbling for her checkbook and the clerk was having difficulty locating the total button which added to already long delay.
Finally, this customer had a change of attitude, and became downright ebullient.
His enthusiasm heightened to a point of ecstasy because he was next in line to be checked out and have his purchases finalized.
He had only two items and he wished he had access to a 10 item or less, but the store didn't have such a checkout. -- He rationalized,
“It’s probably best that they don’t have such a line as I would get out of the store much faster, be on my way home and at that time would be in a fatal car accident. Come to think of it, by not having such a line, my life has been spared.”
Arriving at the point where he was face to face with the checkout clerk, “Ugly little kid,” he muttered, under his breath.
The man politely placed the mouse trap and the cheese on the counter.
He was fairly convinced that the sounds that he heard in his apartment in the middle of the night, were those of mice, rather than the moose he initially suspected.
With extreme difficulty, coupled with an almost lethargic response, the clerk rang-up the mouse trap.
Being the curious individual that he was, which was pretty much dictated by his age, the clerk picked up the item for further investigation.
Unfortunately, in the process of selection the man had purposely set the trap, to check its efficiency.
Well anyway, to make a long story short, the clerk, after saying “Uh, this is interesting,” activated the mouse trap on his nose. The young boy cried out as did the man--No, it was more of a grumble from the latter--
The man was not a connoisseur of fine cheeses, and therefore had placed in his cart the first wedge of soft cheese that he came to.
Apparently the shock and small amount of pain this boy encountered with the trap, also caused the boy to ram his thumb in the middle of the cheese.
After calling 911 and the supervisor, the paramedics were able to pry the trap from the boy’s olfactory as well as well as his thumb out of the cheese.
Not only did the event add a welt to the boy's nose and a band-aid to his thumb, it also added greatly to the time delay.
"Hey mister, what about your trap and cheese?"
As the man hastily left for another store he vociferously replied, "In your dreams young man, only in your dreams!!"
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Philematology
The objective of this article is not to sound condescending. You are certainly my friend and even though I probably know much more than you, I will always consider our friendship greater, and will therefore overlook your deficiency. (:
But anyway, the scientific name for one of my favorite pastimes is philematology. For the uneducated that is the scientific name for kissing.
While I was studying up on this fact I also discovered the average married couple will spend 20,160 minutes philematolizing.
We have been married for 49 years now and regrettably have brought that average down, particularly in the last ten years.
Also, scientists have discovered that the average couple loses 26 calories on that first kiss due to exhilaration, excitement, expectation, exaggeration, exceptional; etc. (never realized there were so many ex's associated with that first philematolize).
Do you think that is the reason divorce is running rampant?
In other words: (And this is my stance on the issue. )
Assuming that first philematolize has a quasi enduring effect and the couple is joined in matrimony.
Do most of the chimerical ex’s disappear, with those few remaining reality ex’s transformed into harshness, until one morning we awake to discover those ex’s have changed us into a real live EX?
Unfortunately, if the relationship endures, the act of philematolizing follows almost a mathematical plane curve straight down to the depths of despair.
As I mentioned, we have been married for several years and we have reached the stage where we now only lose 0.2 calories per philematolize.
Nonetheless, my wife, so that she can maintain her figure, has insisted that we go around the house lip-locked. This in itself is not a bad idea, until it comes time to mow the lawn.
However, in our teens and twenties we did a lot of philematolizing. I even went so far as to introduce the French philematolize, but in that we didn’t speak the language and lacked the necessary papers (passport, etc.) we were politely asked to terminate our efforts in those areas. ( oh! what memorable efforts-and who categorized this as an effort anyway?)
When you are into a relationship, kissing generally leads to something else.
The following is exactly why the Eskimo and Polynesian birth rate is sub-standard.
Believe it or not-these people rub noses in lieu of lip philematolizing-which often presents an obstacle for an Eskimo or Polynesian prizefighter-
This only leads to more nose kissing which creates a decrease of Eskimo and Polynesian prodigy.
This form of philematology is done on purpose-it is maintained to benefit the economy of the individuals, who are quite un-appreciative of this fact.
As they can not wait to get back to lip philematology and what comes after.
Those poor people are doing this at the request of their government.-and it has been ruled this is the pinnacle of government interference-
And while we're on the subject, did you realize the the average human esophagus is 10-14" in length and-
But anyway, the scientific name for one of my favorite pastimes is philematology. For the uneducated that is the scientific name for kissing.
While I was studying up on this fact I also discovered the average married couple will spend 20,160 minutes philematolizing.
We have been married for 49 years now and regrettably have brought that average down, particularly in the last ten years.
Also, scientists have discovered that the average couple loses 26 calories on that first kiss due to exhilaration, excitement, expectation, exaggeration, exceptional; etc. (never realized there were so many ex's associated with that first philematolize).
Do you think that is the reason divorce is running rampant?
In other words: (And this is my stance on the issue. )
Assuming that first philematolize has a quasi enduring effect and the couple is joined in matrimony.
Do most of the chimerical ex’s disappear, with those few remaining reality ex’s transformed into harshness, until one morning we awake to discover those ex’s have changed us into a real live EX?
Unfortunately, if the relationship endures, the act of philematolizing follows almost a mathematical plane curve straight down to the depths of despair.
As I mentioned, we have been married for several years and we have reached the stage where we now only lose 0.2 calories per philematolize.
Nonetheless, my wife, so that she can maintain her figure, has insisted that we go around the house lip-locked. This in itself is not a bad idea, until it comes time to mow the lawn.
However, in our teens and twenties we did a lot of philematolizing. I even went so far as to introduce the French philematolize, but in that we didn’t speak the language and lacked the necessary papers (passport, etc.) we were politely asked to terminate our efforts in those areas. ( oh! what memorable efforts-and who categorized this as an effort anyway?)
When you are into a relationship, kissing generally leads to something else.
The following is exactly why the Eskimo and Polynesian birth rate is sub-standard.
Believe it or not-these people rub noses in lieu of lip philematolizing-which often presents an obstacle for an Eskimo or Polynesian prizefighter-
This only leads to more nose kissing which creates a decrease of Eskimo and Polynesian prodigy.
This form of philematology is done on purpose-it is maintained to benefit the economy of the individuals, who are quite un-appreciative of this fact.
As they can not wait to get back to lip philematology and what comes after.
Those poor people are doing this at the request of their government.-and it has been ruled this is the pinnacle of government interference-
And while we're on the subject, did you realize the the average human esophagus is 10-14" in length and-
Saturday, July 30, 2011
PARENTING
Being a parent is one of the easiest jobs in the world . All you have to do is perfect your ability to utter two words from your mouth.
Those words are “yes” and “no.”
With “no” being the most popular, as it is generally said the most, with the least amount of thought.
You should also practice your discipline and your running. Because in some states if you administer discipline to your child you will be running from the law to prevent your incarceration.
Any form of “no” or discipline I have relegated to my wife and I have humbly agreed to manage the “yes” department.
My primary reason for managing this department is that I always want to maintain the image of a “nice guy” in the eyes of my children. In other words, if one of the kids asks me if it is alright for them to go to Gracie’s house at 3AM you know what my answer will be.
Immediately, you will want to know what we are doing up at 3AM.
Starting with myself, that is simply “my time of day,” the kids have forced themselves to stay awake that long (remember it’s Friday) and Gracie, well, she’s in for a “rude awakening.”
I’ve gone off and done it again. I have deviated from the subject.
For this I deeply apologize, as sometimes I have difficulty returning to that subject immediately.
When you neutralize a floor----------------No! That’s not what we were discussing.
Now, when you want your heater to be safe-----------------oops!
The act of parenting does----------------- I knew I would eventually remember!
There is about only one requisite required to being a parent and that is patience.
Unfortunately, it is a trait that I don’t possess, but my wife does.
That is exactly the reason I have assigned her most of the responsibility to raise the kids properly.
To illustrate this point, it was me who started that ill-fated program of “Have your children walk one week after they are born and talk before that. And be potty trained in the second week.”
I wrote a book that had that very title and invested substantial funds into the program, having full confidence that those funds would evolve into a fortune. Those funds are no longer substantial and forget the fortune.
There is a saying, that “the root of all problems is money.” If that is true, then there is someone, along with me, who must bear my problems. But, this is not always true, as there may be an ever popular “bailout.”
Nonetheless, with parenting a child, you are supposed to take a lump of clay and over a time span, mold it into an individual of perfection.
I subscribe to Time and Popular Mechanics magazines, but not to that theory.
My belief is to take that lump of clay. Pop it into the kiln and let the kiln do all the molding work for you and hope that individual does not turn out to be a threat or burden to our society.
Obviously, there are many parents in agreement with this belief.
O.K. then accountability and going green.
You immediately ask, “what in the Lord’s name do those three words have to do with the subject we are discussing?”
My reply is “absolutely nothing” but, a little man I met on a street corner, told me that if I included accountability and going green in my article then I would have a best seller.
Returning to being a parent.
I can not emphasize the importance of your child’s acquisition of knowledge, which is accomplished through our mainly superior school systems here in the states. If you are a lucky parent, you will receive invites to attend four main functions.
Your child’s graduation from college, high school, middle school and the monthly P.T.A. meeting, which if your child attends school at all, you will probably be elected president. No, seriously it’s a great honor.
Do me a favor, always give your grad a gift of quality and refinement, and this year make it green.
Those words are “yes” and “no.”
With “no” being the most popular, as it is generally said the most, with the least amount of thought.
You should also practice your discipline and your running. Because in some states if you administer discipline to your child you will be running from the law to prevent your incarceration.
Any form of “no” or discipline I have relegated to my wife and I have humbly agreed to manage the “yes” department.
My primary reason for managing this department is that I always want to maintain the image of a “nice guy” in the eyes of my children. In other words, if one of the kids asks me if it is alright for them to go to Gracie’s house at 3AM you know what my answer will be.
Immediately, you will want to know what we are doing up at 3AM.
Starting with myself, that is simply “my time of day,” the kids have forced themselves to stay awake that long (remember it’s Friday) and Gracie, well, she’s in for a “rude awakening.”
I’ve gone off and done it again. I have deviated from the subject.
For this I deeply apologize, as sometimes I have difficulty returning to that subject immediately.
When you neutralize a floor----------------No! That’s not what we were discussing.
Now, when you want your heater to be safe-----------------oops!
The act of parenting does----------------- I knew I would eventually remember!
There is about only one requisite required to being a parent and that is patience.
Unfortunately, it is a trait that I don’t possess, but my wife does.
That is exactly the reason I have assigned her most of the responsibility to raise the kids properly.
To illustrate this point, it was me who started that ill-fated program of “Have your children walk one week after they are born and talk before that. And be potty trained in the second week.”
I wrote a book that had that very title and invested substantial funds into the program, having full confidence that those funds would evolve into a fortune. Those funds are no longer substantial and forget the fortune.
There is a saying, that “the root of all problems is money.” If that is true, then there is someone, along with me, who must bear my problems. But, this is not always true, as there may be an ever popular “bailout.”
Nonetheless, with parenting a child, you are supposed to take a lump of clay and over a time span, mold it into an individual of perfection.
I subscribe to Time and Popular Mechanics magazines, but not to that theory.
My belief is to take that lump of clay. Pop it into the kiln and let the kiln do all the molding work for you and hope that individual does not turn out to be a threat or burden to our society.
Obviously, there are many parents in agreement with this belief.
O.K. then accountability and going green.
You immediately ask, “what in the Lord’s name do those three words have to do with the subject we are discussing?”
My reply is “absolutely nothing” but, a little man I met on a street corner, told me that if I included accountability and going green in my article then I would have a best seller.
Returning to being a parent.
I can not emphasize the importance of your child’s acquisition of knowledge, which is accomplished through our mainly superior school systems here in the states. If you are a lucky parent, you will receive invites to attend four main functions.
Your child’s graduation from college, high school, middle school and the monthly P.T.A. meeting, which if your child attends school at all, you will probably be elected president. No, seriously it’s a great honor.
Do me a favor, always give your grad a gift of quality and refinement, and this year make it green.
MY LEFT LEG AND FRIDAY THE 13TH
First off, let us dispose of the question you have for me, “what does your left leg have to do with the misfortunes of Friday the 13th?”
The obvious answers are that I was born on the 25th, which is only 12 days away from the date in question and my left leg is a definite misfortune.
Also, I recently had a left knee operation to repair a torn cartilage performed on Friday the 18th ( which is getting substantially closer to the 13th ) and the knee always has a tendency to “act up” on the Friday the 13th.
Upon a through search of the dictionary as well as the ever popular Thesaurus, other than those four compelling facts, I can find no additional answers.
“O.K. then what is your complaint with your left leg?” you ask.
It is specifically when I try to put a sock on the foot of my left leg.
Everything reacts as it is supposed to on my right leg. I can cross my right leg over my left leg with ease and apply the sock with a beaming smile on my face.
But, when it comes to applying the same set of socks to my left leg/foot it is an entirely different matter.
At this point my left leg somewhat reminds me of a wet noodle draped over an ironing board.
And to keep my left leg in the same position long enough to put on a sock is one big expectation that, in my lifetime, has never been realized.
Never one to be discouraged I withdraw my left leg, which I place straight in front of me.
I then attempt application of the sock from a frontal direction.
The only problem I encounter with the frontal approach, is that I can never seem to reach my foot, irrespective of the amount of leg bending.
In that I refuse to wear a sock on one foot and not on the other, I continue the maneuver.
I then bend my leg in front of me which would probably accept the application of the sock easily, but there has been so much perspiration dripped onto it from my former attempts that it will not go on my foot at all.
So after calling my wife to dry out the sock for fifteen minutes in the clothes dryer I am ready to resume my pursuit.
However, this time it is not alone.
I coyly request my wife to assist me. If that doesn’t work, I beg.
She instructs me to lie horizontal on my back on the bed, with my leg straight up.
She glides the sock on with ease until it gets caught on one of my toenails, which I have not seen the necessity to cut in six years, and rips.
Fortunately, according to her, the tear is in an area that “won’t be seen,” so we proceed.
I firmly believe that an individual should exercise. I have a schedule where I do a few sit-ups, bench presses, neck exercises and walk a mile but an aerobics expert told me that if I decide to put on my socks that day, that the schedule is not necessary.
With the assistance of my wife, I then go through gyrations that I thought were impossible.
Finally with my left leg over my right shoulder, my wife applies my sock with forcible ease ( the astute reader will notice the forcible part, which created another a tear. Fortunately, this tear was also un-noticeable.)
I thanked my wife for her assistance in this 35 minute ordeal.
Now there is only one thing that remains in my dressing process.
Putting on the necktie, which never seems to come out the right length.
THE COLONOSCOPY
The doctor said I must undergo a colonoscopy about two years ago
to discover whether the bleeding I was having from my posterior end was cancerous.
I can not speak for humanity, but fortunately for me it wasn’t.
I am not aware of the techniques used by the physician when performing an operation of this type, other than he makes you get up awfully early. I probably have confided in you this fact, that I am not terribly thrilled about early. -No- I downright despise early!
However, I do know that a colonoscopy operation also involves a lot of questions about the status of your health with emphasis on your insurance.
You also have to change from your street clothes into what is referred to as a hospital gown.
Putting the gown on properly is an extremely complicated maneuver.
In fact, I am quite an enterprising person. I have discovered a void in our system that hasn’t been filled. I would like to start a course on how to properly adorn yourself with a hospital gown, teaching the correct way to tie strap A with corresponding A strap, the B strap with the corresponding B strap, and so forth.
In other words, when you graduate from my course, you will possess all the necessary knowledge as to how to correctly put on a hospital gown. The most attractive part of this course is that I have designed one that will only take four weeks to complete.
The second most attractive feature, is that the course will only cost you $275.00.
Well, returning to the operation, after pretending to have figured out how to put on a hospital gown ( remember, only $275 ) you are then asked to lay your body onto this bed that has wheels. In that it is a very small bed you will be lucky if your attempt at ascension onto this horizontal cot does not cause you to meet “face to face” with the floor.
After you have successfully gotten your body onto the bed with wheels, a nurse will run a bunch of physical tests on you like blood pressure, temperature, etc. and continue to ask you questions. Only this time those questions will be mostly about the weather and the score of last night’s baseball game.
Then comes that moment when they unlock and start using those wheels. The attendants will wheel you into this room, where if your lucky, as I was, see the doctor.
Before I was given that shot of anesthesia, I ask the doc if he would do me a great favor: To inspect the colon very thoroughly and if he didn’t find my head up there, he would write my wife a note to that effect.
Being a very accommodating fellow, he agreed to those terms.
You will “sail off” to dream land after you have been given that shot of anesthesia which either works slow or fast. The slow effect would resemble the way my wife drives. She does not believe we should exceed 45 MPH in a 65 MPH zone.
The rapidly acting anesthesia very closely resembles a “ker-plunk and off to dreamland”.
Mine was the “ker-plunk” type.
After the operation is completed they wheel you into this room where you attempt to regain consciousness.
Not just from the operation, but from falling off that cot again.
to discover whether the bleeding I was having from my posterior end was cancerous.
I can not speak for humanity, but fortunately for me it wasn’t.
I am not aware of the techniques used by the physician when performing an operation of this type, other than he makes you get up awfully early. I probably have confided in you this fact, that I am not terribly thrilled about early. -No- I downright despise early!
However, I do know that a colonoscopy operation also involves a lot of questions about the status of your health with emphasis on your insurance.
You also have to change from your street clothes into what is referred to as a hospital gown.
Putting the gown on properly is an extremely complicated maneuver.
In fact, I am quite an enterprising person. I have discovered a void in our system that hasn’t been filled. I would like to start a course on how to properly adorn yourself with a hospital gown, teaching the correct way to tie strap A with corresponding A strap, the B strap with the corresponding B strap, and so forth.
In other words, when you graduate from my course, you will possess all the necessary knowledge as to how to correctly put on a hospital gown. The most attractive part of this course is that I have designed one that will only take four weeks to complete.
The second most attractive feature, is that the course will only cost you $275.00.
Well, returning to the operation, after pretending to have figured out how to put on a hospital gown ( remember, only $275 ) you are then asked to lay your body onto this bed that has wheels. In that it is a very small bed you will be lucky if your attempt at ascension onto this horizontal cot does not cause you to meet “face to face” with the floor.
After you have successfully gotten your body onto the bed with wheels, a nurse will run a bunch of physical tests on you like blood pressure, temperature, etc. and continue to ask you questions. Only this time those questions will be mostly about the weather and the score of last night’s baseball game.
Then comes that moment when they unlock and start using those wheels. The attendants will wheel you into this room, where if your lucky, as I was, see the doctor.
Before I was given that shot of anesthesia, I ask the doc if he would do me a great favor: To inspect the colon very thoroughly and if he didn’t find my head up there, he would write my wife a note to that effect.
Being a very accommodating fellow, he agreed to those terms.
You will “sail off” to dream land after you have been given that shot of anesthesia which either works slow or fast. The slow effect would resemble the way my wife drives. She does not believe we should exceed 45 MPH in a 65 MPH zone.
The rapidly acting anesthesia very closely resembles a “ker-plunk and off to dreamland”.
Mine was the “ker-plunk” type.
After the operation is completed they wheel you into this room where you attempt to regain consciousness.
Not just from the operation, but from falling off that cot again.
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