I contend that for
a nation to try to tax itself into prosperity is like a man standing
in a bucket and trying to lift himself up by the handle.
Winston Churchill
Well, we have made it to
another year. Whoopee It is already the second of January and I don't
have a feeling of joy about the New Year. Oh, maybe it is because I
get so dam*** mad at these packages of hotdogs, cheese, ketchup,
crackers and etc. that refuse to let a person open them. I mean
getting ready for some New Year's festivities, I try to rip off the
top of shredded cheese per the instructions. Once that is
accomplished usually after getting the scissors to finish the “rip”
part because it tore wrong, I open the bag with the ever so
thoughtful zip lock strips and pout a portion of the bag. As I
attempt to close the bag by “zipping” it, I realize that the
darned strips have come partially loose from the bag. Well, this
stuff won't keep very long will it? I had similar results trying to
open a tube of saltines for our chili soup night. By the time I had
it open, the saltines were already crushed – not a single whole
saltine in the tube. Oh, and one of my favorites is when eating out
and they give you the ketchup and mustard packets. That is always a
joy. How many times have you had the ketchup spew forth from the
package and land on your hand (if you are lucky) or your shirt or
pants? Been there done that more than once for sure.
Fortunately, I didn't have
that problem at the Olive Garden the other evening. Let me set the
stage. I wore a sweater and slacks dark in color so that the
proverbial and predictable food spillage onto my clothing wouldn't be
too pronounced. This was a very special occasion as it was our
family's celebration of Jenny, the elder's birthday. She was
accompanied by a guest whom we met for the first time and I
especially was determined to make a good impression. This is because
I have received a lot of flak in the past about being “weird”
around their friends. Their perception is so far from reality.
Anyway, I spiffed myself up as best I could, plotted my strategy of
covering up food dropage covertly, and preplanned a polite but
interesting conversation strategy. Everything went very well. Our
food was delivered timely, we consumed some bread sticks and chatted.
I ordered my favorite spaghetti and meat sauce. Actually, that is
about all of the Italian food that I like. Jenny's friend sitting
across the table from me had ordered something similar. I always cut
my spaghetti so that a fork can pick it up and insert a healthy
portion in my mouth without much risk of food droppage. About half
way through slicing my spaghetti, I notice the friend was using the
correct method of spinning the noodle around the fork as it is
cradled in a spoon. Not wanting to look like a rube, I decided that I
too can eat spaghetti using that method. I didn't factor in the fact
that the long spaghetti noodle was now cut into very short pieces.
Try as I might they just simply would not roll up on the fork.
Throughout the meal, I wrestled between rolling and shoveling this
mess into my mouth. Done finally, my face was red as a beet, I had
sauce all around my mouth and even had some sloppage on my
eyeglasses. Not only did I look like a rube just off the farm, but
also like an idiot for not being myself.
Daughter Jenny, thankfully,
is still conversing with me. So we fast forward to the quick stop at
the grocery store to pick up a prescription. My current wife, Sue,
decided to remain in the car. She had me turn the motor off since it
wasn't too cold outside. It was a gray cloudy day but the temperature
was decent. I took a little longer in the store than I had planned on
but bounded out to the car and jumped in. I turned the key to start
the car and heard the noise no one wants to hear – click, click,
click – Dead battery. Crap, why did that happen? Maybe it was
because “Mr. I will just be a minute” smarty pants forgot to turn
the headlights OFF. Now you will see why it was so neat that Jenny is
still communicating with me. I called her for help. She has some
extra-long jumper cables which is what I was going to need since the
parking lot was full of cars. All of the spaces around me were taken.
I was hoping that by the time she got there, the timing would be such
that she could get next to me. Sure enough that strategy worked
although we got honked at by someone who couldn't see we were in an
emergency situation. I hooked everything up and the old Honda van
started right off. We go our separate ways. I pulled into the
driveway and decided to let it run for a “little” bit to charge
the battery. About three hours later it occurred to me that my car
was still outside running. That thought elicited another “Oh Crap”
from me.
So how have your holidays
been going? Was Santa good to y’all? Let's count hands, raise your
hand if you stayed up until midnight to welcome the New Year in.
Okay, let's see 1, 2, - hey you in the back, you fell asleep at 8
o'clock – put your hand down. Thank you. Where was I at? 1, 2, 3.
Only 3 made it to midnight. About what I thought. I made it to 10:15
before shuffling off to bed. Being a boomer is great.
A lot of this stuff that
seems to happen to me as I age wasn't covered in my 1970's class of
“Hippie 101”. I play it by ear most of the time. I have googled
“Old Age Hippies for dummies”. I don't think it has been written
yet. Just my luck. Not knowing how to interact with all of the
younger generation is really confusing. For instance, the other day I
stopped in at McDonald’s. I saw on the menu that you could order 6,
9, or 12 Chicken McNuggets. Chicken isn't one of my priorities but
since the doctor told me to watch what I eat I thought I would give
them a go. I asked for a half dozen nuggets from the order taker
person. “We don't have half dozen nuggets,” said the teenager.
“You don't?” I replied. “We only have six, nine, or twelve,”
was the reply. “So I can't order a half dozen nuggets, but I can
order six?” “That's right.” So I shook my head and ordered six
McNuggets. What is going to happen to our world when we are gone? It
is back to the burger for me.
I am going to have to stop
this issue. I just have too many concerns rolling around my head. My
French Roast is cold, my ears are ringing, and I still have the
garbage disposal to install. That can wait until tomorrow I'm
thinking. Plus, since I went to bed early last night, I had already
gone over the fiscal cliff and now I have to crawl my way back up it
looks. I might point back to my opening quote by Winston Churchill.
Until we meet again – TA!
No comments:
Post a Comment