As Lani and I were pulling away from the house, I casually said to her “I don’t know about this. Leaving four men alone unattended while we dine with the girls….kinda makes me nervous.” Lani shot me the “I agree with you look” while rolling her eyes. But we thought of the bright side. We were only going down the road to “Ray’s Grill” in Fulshear for steak and lobster night. Nothing could possibly happen. At least Casey is there with Bill, Magoo, and Uncle D (my brother) if something comes up. As we pulled into our parking spot I could only imagine the 911 call in my mind. And the poor operator who was destined to receive it. As we finish our dinner and wine with good friends Benny and Carol…we say our goodbyes and they wished us well on what we would find when we returned home. At least we did not have an interrupting phone call. Yet! We arrived at the house and Bill is standing at the side door. So, Bill is OK and in one piece. Where are the other three? Bill informs us that Casey went home. Smart Casey! And he and D had gone to Magoo’s for “Wheel of Fortune”. And…..And what Bill? Well, D goes to his bungalow and I come back over here and your dad calls me. He had hit his shin on his recliner. And what Bill? And there is blood everywhere and I tried to bandage him but you’d better look at it. OMG…it looked like a war zone. Who threw the grenade? The whole house smelled of Fabuloso. No… a Fabuloso factory. Why didn’t I drink more wine at dinner? Bill, Fabuloso doesn’t take blood out of the carpet. Blood drops were everywhere. Dad, next time you cut yourself…sit still. I spent the next hour cleaning up Magoo’s phlebotomy cave. Isn’t there a quote somewhere about patience being a virtue…Screw that crap!!!! Henry Drummond once said, “You will find as you look back upon your life that the moments when you really have lived, are the moments you have done things in a spirit of love.” Well, I will look back on this moment that in the “spirit of love” …I didn’t kill anybody!
Does everyone have the same aggravation with the metric system as I do? The scales at the doctor’s office and hospitals are now in metrics. The nurse says “let’s see what you weigh.” No, let’s not! I mean you get your fat butt up there and it reads 70. 70? What the hell does that mean? I haven’t weighed 70 since I was in third grade. In actuality that means you are too frigg’in fat! Why can’t a word just pop up? Like “too skinny”, “average”, or “get your fat ass off of me you’re going to break my digital system computer.” I guess this means I’m stuck somewhere between the lack of estrogen stage and the death stage. So at this age we are just trying to stay in the holding pattern. You know …your shirts are dying from hot flash sweat. You want to punch someone out if they ask “are you cold?” Does this shirt look like I’m cold? It’s really the “metallic group” age. Where we should live by the Periodic Chart of Elements. We have silver hair, take Silver Centrum vitamins, put gold in our teeth and bridges, carry a metal cane, have steel toed shoes, (Bill needs steel protection everywhere especially when he’s on a mission with the ladder) and we take Zinc for our colds. We are at a time where you can advertise anything on TV or billboards. I always thought the feminine hygiene product commercials were disgusting. Have you ever passed a billboard on I10 and there is a 10 foot tampon talking to you? Saying something like “I can do everything but answer the phone.” As women are complaining about having to go through that time of month (every month) men are about to run off the freeway thinking about where the talking tampon is inserted. Bless their hearts. Even though I no longer require the service of the talking tampon, if they ever invent them to vibrate…look me up!
Starting to get ready for Turkey day. I have used, abused, and worn out Mr. Clean. And I don’t even know his first name. It’s about time we are on a first name basis. All the Yankee Candle scents are just amazing. I bought two to go with all of Mr. Clean’s hard work. “Farmer’s Market” and “Spiced Pumpkin”. Give them a try.
They must have a school somewhere for “assholes”. Asshole classes. Not the orifice between your two cheeks but the nasty people who are determined to be mean. Logic says being an asshole is not an illness…it’s an aquried option. So I went on a counting assholes hunt. I woke up and said to myself…Self, we are going to count asses today. These people are individuals who deliberately ,or not , cause other people mental stress. First of all they come in all shapes,sizes,colors, and ages. They pop up everywhere. They really love to drive! In fact they thrive on pissing off people on the highways and byways. So, everyone I encounter I’m going to kill them with kindness. That lasted through exactly 4 assholes and approximately thirty minutes. How do these people live that way? I just close my eyes and imagine them as a big pile of poop…and that just makes me SMILE! After all it’s Thanksgiving. And God wants us to love everyone… even the assholes.
Closing out today I wanted to say that Bill and I saw the best NFL game ever yesterday. No one left the stadium and if they did they were sure sorry they did. Go Texans!!! Awesome game and awesome win! Thanks Texans for such an entertaining game but you almost gave us all a heart attack. They play Detroit on Thanksgiving. Let’s go 10-1. And SUPERBOWL! Thanks to dear friends Linda and David for going with us to the game. We always have fun!
Happy Thanksgiving everyone! We pray for peace and we give thanks for all we have. God bless the USA!!
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