I Love To Sing-A

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Once upon a time, there was no way of understanding the amount of stress rapture which many (or most?) of us endure in these modern times. And if you take that amount of stress time, and multiply it by 13.7, you not only get an overuse of the word “time,” but also can even time how long it takes to type time three hundred and thirty four times.

What time is it again??

So there I was, watching the news, and trying not to cry too much or barf on the floor. You know, there’s so many storms and COVID monsters and political poop toss and on the other hand you have 5 fingers (I hope!!) and both of your fingers get caught in the toaster while the blender is playing “I Shot The Sheriff” but maybe that’s all a bunch of malarkey but you know I can get really stressed out from too much yikes and Oh My God and holy moly this run-on is getting way too long!!

Now I’ll use yet another run-on sentence to turn the page to the Retirement Days of My Great Happiness, because they are quite the opposite of stressful work days; and I need to stay grateful that I am now retired and have a steady (albeit much smaller) income that all the friendly Medicare scammers and make-a-believe car warranty thief people want to take rom me; so then it’s time to breathe… breathe… and then suddenly my friend Zignop has a computer problem and calls me to say “the trees are too noisy and I can’t extract data from this electronic burnishing tool;” so then I’m expected to fix their computer for free or maybe 12 cents and holy cow someone left a package of M&Ms on the stairs is anybody looking???

Yes.

Breathe…

Breathe…

OK. Better.

So! There are only 1,238 ways to deal with such stress. One way I’ve embraced is to sing. You know the popular saying… something like, “sing as if nobody’s dancing,” or maybe it’s “dance if nobody’s singing” I think. I really do love to sing. And I sing a variety of stuff as I’m walking about, and it helps me to relieve stress. Sometimes it will be a Beatles tune, sometimes Lorde, sometimes Al Jolson… and sometimes, much to the amusement of my grandsons, it will be completely silly. An example:

“I’m keeping a sandwich in my nostrils for youuu…

And when I take it out it will be covered in glue…”

This of course is sung to the tune of “I’m Keeping A Sandwich In My Nostrils For You.”

Other times I will walk off to a small hiding area and belt out a very loud Tarzan yell (and I do a pretty good one if I must say so myself). Some folks find this very amusing, others run for the bathroom.

Bottom line is: if I allow stress to rent too much space in my kidneys, it will harm me badly. When my Serenity Alarm goes off, I better get busy and smell the donuts; or I may say something unkind to someone. Even worse, I may be unkind to someone I actually like!! Either way, I’d need to apologize, and even though crow is a dish better served warm, I try hard to avoid barking at people’s elbows. It’s always better to be kind and try to be happy than to be bitter and succumb to the yucky poohs.

So my friends, there you have it. If you need any more I’ll sell you some at market prices, multiplied by 13.7

Thank you for your “time.”

So… speaking of stress management, here’s some fun stuff that I hope you’ll enjoy as much as I have over the years.

Everybody Still Has Cooties – A (sadly) Necessary Rerun

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And we’re getting tired of it…

Unless you live in a cave, you’ve heard that our President has tested positive for COVID-19. I’d like to take this opportunity to ask EVERYONE to pray for him and his family to have a safe and quick recovery.

When writing “Happy Friday!!!” I normally stay far away from politics. I figure everyone hears more than enough from other media without me honking my horn. However, even though I am not a fan of the current administration’s policies, I am rather saddened when I see folks on the interwebs spreading ill will; regardless of to whom it is directed. I’m one of those old hippie freaks who still lives by such mantras as “make love, not war, ” and of course the refrain from one of my favorite Beatle songs, “All You Need Is Love.”

We need to heal our planet; and that will never materialize unless we all do our best to live by the Golden Rule.

Anyway, as a little reminder, I thought I’d republish this “Happy Friday!!!” that I posted back in June. Dunno about you, but my Beautiful Girlfriend and I are getting very weary of COVID-19. We all need to work together to get this nasty bug under control.

So here’s the rerun…

During prehistoric times when I was a kid, there were no video games or interwebs; so we had to find creative ways to amuse ourselves. Often, games of tag were morphed into various forms. One such form was to tag someone as “it” and proclaim loudly that the person had cooties. “Aaaaggghhh!!! Kenny’s got cooties!!! Run!!!” And we would scatter like wild little animals to avoid becoming “it.”

There was a more serious (and even repulsive) meaning back in those days, as many adults of the time referred to head lice as cooties. However, it would seem that the childish notions eventually won out, as evidenced by the arrival of The Game of Cootie; which involved constructing a cootie from parts that were garnered via the rolling of a die. These days, to say that someone or some thing has cooties is a way of expressing a dislike or perhaps even disgust toward that person or thing.

Now here we are in the midst of a pandemic. People all over the globe are getting killed by this deadly virus called COVID-19. By now we’ve all heard the guidelines to prevent contracting and spreading the virus. Here in Michigan, our Governor drew sharp criticism for issuing executive orders to prevent a bad situation from becoming worse. Her willingness to make tough decisions based on scientific evidence has paid off: the rate of new disease cases has fallen dramatically. Things are looking better, and slowly but surely the state is opening back up.

My wife and I tuned our brains into all the precautions very early for two simple reasons: 1) she has a preexisting lung illness and 2) we are in the “high risk” age group (over 65). We still wear a mask when we go to the store; and diligently wash or sanitize our hands and other objects when we’ve been outside our home. We’re also very selective as to which other humans we allow into our home. If we are not completely confident that they are following the guidelines; we make sure we minimize contact or at the very least we maintain social distance.

My Beautiful Girlfriend (a.k.a. my wife) and our Beautiful Daughter are both nurses. They know how to stay safe; which means they know what’s OK and what’s not OK. It has only been recently that we were able to visit with our grandchildren. And even more recently, hugging was finally allowed (no smooches!!). We have a list of “safe people” which includes our son, daughter, son in law, grandchildren, and a very small number of friends.

Since the opening up of various businesses, etc. we have noticed an increased number of people who don’t wear masks. There are also gatherings that are taking place; some of which are not being very mindful of social distancing. While we’d love to join the fun and have everything return to normal; we are holding back and remaining cautious. My Beautiful Girlfriend has often referred to me as her “social butterfly.” I’m the one who welcomes new friends and new social situations. But this COVID-19 stuff is serious business. It would likely kill my Lovely Bride. Therefore, until we each get a proven vaccine; we’ll continue to assume that everyone still has cooties.

Hope all of you are well; and hope you stay safe. This is not a game!

Well OK, these videos are about games…

Lawns: The Cash You Save May Be Your Own!

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Please don’t hate me for this, but I have to speak up about something that many Americans consider sacred: the lawn. Sure, I love that plush green outdoor rug, but in NO WAY do I look forward to the weekly mowing ritual. Talk about a totally silly human custom! Lawn mowing seems so fruitless. We certainly spend a lot of time tending a crop we can’t eat! Well, I suppose you could eat it; but you can never be sure of whether it’s tainted with doggie weewee.

The primary reason our lawn gets mowed is that I have a spouse. Left to my own devices, our yard would probably grow into the giant weed patch that Mom Nature intended it to be. Since our marriage contract would never allow this; I have come to accept the weekly ritual of beheading the huge conglomeration of plants we call a lawn.

We don’t bag up the clippings or fertilize or anything; just mow. Fortunately, my wife and I agree that the less work a lawn brings, the better off we are. She’d love to have a “golf course lawn,” but she knows how environmentally icky that would be. When the lawn comes up in discussion at our house, she laments, “we don’t have a lawn, we have a yard.” God bless my poor Honey Pie… although she’d love to have “a real lawn,” she has accepted the fact that all the fertilizers and other chemicals needed to do that would be very insulting to Mother Nature.

Some people are very fussy though; they water, fertilize and carefully inspect the blades of greenery. They want to make absolutely sure that grass and ONLY grass is growing! I’d love to invite some of those types to inspect my weedy ground, and watch them go nuts. Then I’d invite them in for a grapefruit milk shake and complain about the terrible waste they’re generating. I just think it’s weird that folks actually spend money to poison the ground with weed killers and fertilizers so they can wash it into my drinking water with underground sprinkling systems. This runoff isn’t any good for lakes and streams, either.

Most types of weed killers are designed to kill, among other things, white clover! Being a legume, clover makes nitrogen in the soil (as all good legumes do), and feeds the lawn. Remember finding four leaf clovers when we were kids? They were in the LAWN (or maybe just the yard…). But now the lovely clover has been dubbed a weed, and for too many of today’s home owners; weeds in the lawn are taboo. Personally, I’m grateful for clover and its weedy mates. They join together with the grass to form a nice carpet at our place; one we’re not afraid to play Tackle The Kids on. If we go a little while between mowings, we get some beautiful flowers, too! By the way, white clover seed is readily available at most feed stores; nudge-nudge, wink-wink. No special tools needed, just fling it about here and there if you want to add clover to your yard carpet.

Some folks even post KEEP OFF THE GRASS signs! Something like that is more anti-American than flag burning if you ask me. How does the stuff get mowed if you have to KEEP OFF? People must be mowing, though, and they DO bag the clippings. Instead of letting them hit the ground where they can decompose into humus (more lawn food that helps soil hold moisture), they send them off to consume scarce cubic feet at the landfill. Why not let the clippings lie, and SAVE MONEY on garbage bags? If you get too many clippings due to extended mow – procrastination (like me), they make great mulch for the garden! Thankfully though, many communities place yard waste in a large pile and compost it. I’m one of those weirdos who actually goes to the dump to retrieve grass clippings and leaves. At our local transfer station, they are free for the taking. Excellent soil building material for the vegetable or flower garden.

So… why not let Mom Nature water instead of sprinkling? It’s possible you could SAVE MONEY. Sure, an occasional drought might mandate a little rain dance with the hose. Or not!! Grass will go dormant during a drought, and usually comes back when the rain returns. At least, that’s true here in Beautiful West Michigan. Watering the lawn makes it grow more, so you mow more. And hey, there’s something intensely sad about an automatic sprinkler system running full-tilt-boogie during a thunderstorm. Oh, and I bet you’d SAVE MONEY if you didn’t buy the weed killers and fertilizers. That would help keep our lakes and streams healthy, too.

So hey, next time you’re SPENDING MONEY on all those nasty chemicals for the domestic hay crop; just ask yourself, “Self, what would happen if I didn’t do this anymore?” I mean, would it be so terribly bad if a lawn took on a more “natural” character? I put “natural” in quotes because lawns don’t really occur in the wild. But all those nasty “weeds” do, and a lot of them were invaluable to our ancestors for food and medicine. And yes, those “weeds” still are very valuable; and there are even folks who seek them out while foraging for food or medicinal flora.

A suggestion: quit with the fertilizers, weed killers, and lawn watering already. The very worst that could happen is that your yard would become filled with useful (and often beautiful) plants. With something simple like the lawn, there are lots of opportunities to be environmentally responsible.

And oh yeah, did I mention you can SAVE MONEY?

I couldn’t find any good cartoons about mowing the lawn; so this week’s video is just plain weird… so I thought I’d better share it with you.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MiduvOpgdHM

Life, The Universe, And Everything

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A lost document (which should have remained lost)

by Hyram C. Gilmore

     With the wisdom available to us at the present time, it
has been suggested to me that an explanation for our
existence on the planet is in order.  After spending the last
37 years researching this, I have made some true and amazing
conclusions; which I would now like to force each living
being to believe.

     For example, I recently became aware that if you leave
your underpants on long enough, they change color.
Additionally, continued wearing of underpants after this
color change occurs may allow the garment to harbor
unpleasant odors and crusty stuff.  The only way to alleviate
this condition is to place the garment on a flat surface and
cover it with birdseed.  Take this outdoors.  Laugh at the
birds for eating the kaka and weewee particles.

     I am also convinced that yellow things are really
stupid.  Every yellow thing I have spoken to just sits there
with that idiotic yellow way they have.  Yesterday I told a
balloon about how to change an alternator.  The stupid thing
just sat there, sitting there, being right there remaining at
the place where it was!  O obscurity and pickled desk tops!
It's like they don't even WANT to communicate.

     As many of you know, we have been joined together at the
elbows.  Put one in your mouth and the other in your
carbon paper and rotate, as if anyone really cares.  That
should give the neighbors something to sell shoes about.  Of
course, I knew all along that they would choose the wrong
toothbrush if left alone in a crowd.  
     Documentation has proven that Hawaii has been included
in the universe.  You can find it under "H" in the new
edition of Fronkle's Universal Inventory.  Mr. Loofa Noodle
is there, and has been named official Captain of the Battle
Destroyer Flotation Device Cruise Ship Thing:  "Ono-Ahma-
Liki"; which regularly patrols the coast of Oopa-Oopa.  He
and his crew have been on the lookout for fiddler crabs and
their pet hair dryers.  It seems that when the local
fishermen go out on the town, they catch crabs while
fiddling; and the hair dryers cry for chicken pot pies.

     Perhaps the most interesting characteristic about the
Hawaiian Toe Jams is the unique geological constipation.
Large clouds of black dust hover over the natural beauty of
the native insecticide.  Tourists from all over the world
flock around with their chins in a little dress; and sing
about the time I puked all over the dog and he kicked my
rosy red piano.  Palm trees sway in the bathroom when pigs
climb to the top. It is truly a remarkable sight to be dismayed!

     Tropical customs are in full view of retarded garden
tools.  Hula dancers wear the traditional grass shirts which
come in plaid or velvet.  They burn well and are organized
according to battery or solar powder.  Each dance tells a
story just exactly like this:
------------------------------------------------------------
     Long ago in Grandfather's beard, a small squid died and
stunk for days.  All the village Elders offered him fire to
drink and hid his remote control.  Little children crawled up
to see him and chewed off his toes.  His own family sent for
the Magic Bowl.  They filled it with bird runch and mixed in
pork, crayon shavings and geek fat.  The ceremony began with
the first three episodes of "Gilligan's Island"; and when
Grandfather started lusting for Mrs. Howell they fed him the
Modongo.  Very soon Grandfather blortled and fipped.  He
asked "What kind of bird runch are you feeding me today?
Anyhow?"  His family laughed at the snackwonder: "OH! AH!
HOO!", they bribbled.  And that is how this Island got its
name.  
------------------------------------------------------------

     Now, I'm sure you are wondering about the food one
encounters in this area of the planet.  Well, being the
expert you are, let's hear about it!  Don't tell me I have to
eat those dirt things again!  You served those last time, and
they made my cats run for president!  I'll never be ashamed
of my feelings about the time I stuck my hand in that bag of
jello and chicken lips you gave me!

     Last time I was never there, I'm sure I ordered shrimp
on the halfshell.  The cook was in the garage, busily peeling
the breadsticks; when suddenly an overwhelming radio cracked
his head three feet long.  The waiter took photographs of
dead bugs in the air conditioner; but we all knew he sang
great songs of urination.  You see, when you finally learn to
accept that the world is merely a fig in a bucket of lard;
everything else shines dimly through rose colored sandbags.
This can surely cause religious brethren to noisily teach their
children "The Great Spoon Dance."  A glazed look falls upon
the fat silver necklace camouflage device.  With little or no
warning, little pajama people excrete a slimy trail of
really neat toys which are easy to squeeze and maintain.

     Many people have been sticking pens up their noses and
telling me stories.  At first, I thought they were all uncles
of mine; but some of them were not women.  A common bind
between all these folks is that they each have had some sort
of crazy requirement in their past.  The majority of them
used fish for volleyballs; especially when Duane the Root
Seller was nearby.  Others simply wanted their name in print
so they could ring in the New Year with giant fleas.  Jumbo
shrimp.  Military intelligence.  Government efficiency.
OOOOOOO!   TELL THAT OXY-MORON TO GET THE HECK AWAY FROM ME!

     So as you all can see, the truth in this description of
life, the universe, and everything is all that it should be.
If you ever find yourself groping for answers for one of
life's weird stinking disgusting ridiculous and maybe unknown
something of what I just said; it probably was the wrong
number.  Refer to this document often, and you should begin
to hallucinate gladly.  The Universal Truth Fairy will reveal
itself to you; and teach you how to make the best doggoned
macaroni and cheese in the whole world.

     Always remember to worship the little rocks in your
driveway.  This will change nothing in your spiritual life;
but it will make you feel better about squishing their little
faces every time you go for a drive.  Remember that
everything has feelings.  If you have neglected to wish your
toilet "Happy Birthday", now would be a good time to begin.
You'll also begin to discover who your real friends are.

     Many who have discovered the "Righteous Path of Really
True Enlightment Obtained Only From This Here Doo-Dad" are
selling their nose hairs.  They have finally come to realize
that our solar system is really a small pile of dried flies
waiting for a ride on the bus.  Never would I suggest that
the reader adopt this as the only truth known.  However, if
youse jerks doubt anything that has been written here, I will
hire professional laughter addicts to come to your spider's
funeral.

     After all, EVERYONE knows that wiggling a blue car seat
in front of surgical instruments causes trees to vomit!  My
fingernails are actually flashlights which send encrypted
messages to Wognord of the Skoldern Galaxy, Sector 23vx!  You
can pick green radishes and they will still be red.  Snails
invented rock 'n roll.  Cantaloupes will replace ball
bearings in the New World order.  ALL THESE THINGS ARE IN
PRINT RIGHT HERE, SO THEY MUST BE TRUE!!

     If you don't believe, shame yourself daily and call me
in the morning.  I'll be right here, waiting for those purple
cornstalks to sing me another song.  Until then, Peace, Love,
Dove and Harry Kirshner.  May cat barf cling to your enemies.
Tell Mom I forgot to wipe by accident again.  Slip sideways
through the deep canyons of Life; and remember that it's
better to be you than for you to be me, and although you can 
count to it, eight is a word. Finally, I leave you a small yodel
that only Randall the Moisture Merchant can abbreviate:

GIVE TRUTH AND HAPPINESS TO ALL YOU MEET, THEY MIGHT LIKE IT.

Celebration Time!!

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Many of you may know this already, but I’ll say it again anyhow. I am married. Not only that, I am fortunate enough to be married to The Most Beautiful Woman In The Universe (all other women are the 2nd most beautiful), and we are very happy. We are best friends, and even love each other enough to smooch and all that other married people stuff. Are we weird or what???

This extraordinary wedding event occurred on the 21st of August, 47 years ago. Therefore, in honor of “Happy Friday!!!” silliness I do hereby relate the details of a glorious make-a-believe honeymoon we never went on; and of course we still hope we never do do that, and HA HA, I said do do, which sounds like doo doo but it wasn’t, so that became fodder for a nice run-on sentence which has often been present in my silly writings and there was another one special for all of YOU.

There we were, 10,000 feet in the air, no plane, no parachute, wondering where we should go for a 47th anniversary honeymoon. Halfway down we forgot to remember a nice getaway called the Hotel Frankfurter Hotdog Ranch, where you shell out $19.75 (or more, depending on the type of honeymoon suite you choose) for a room, dinner and breakfast for two, taxes and tips all included in the bill. Very nice at amazing price!

I had booked the room 22 years in advance, as a surprise. Finally the big day arrived. There we were, in our 1971 Maverick along the Lake Michigan Shoreline, and suddenly several policemen sang polkas to us while blue smoke from our tailpipe gases filled their eyebrows. Then we started the engine and headed up North to Frankfort.

With an average speed of 12.7 mph, we made it to Frankfort in a record twelve days. Several parts of the car were missing when we arrived, but we just figured the noises were from that funny rope we substituted for the fan belt back in 2013. The hotel was everything we expected it to be. Deep green clouds of putrid dust belched from the chimneys of the honeymoon suites. We turned to each other and winked, knowing that it would soon be OUR turn to ignite the bricks of dehydrated pond scum. At the main entrance, we backed up several yards and then ran through the masking tape barrier they put up to greet new guests. On the other side, the staff greeted us in their traditional lizard suits, urging us to bring them insects from the nearby chocolate shop.

After checking in, we decided to take a stroll down to the pier before dinner. There we found very sad fishermen leaning against iron pilings. To our amazement, they were told they were reassigned to a project that involved teaching giant (imaginary) freshwater squid how to read and write. The squid plopped themselves on the pier and wouldn’t move to let us by, so we did our best to comfort the fish holders, who ate oversized jelly beans while they cried out for extra ballpoint pens. Suddenly, I had a terrible sinking feeling…

“My Mom knew this would happen,” I uttered.

“What? She knew WHAT would happen,” My Lovely Bride asked.

“My left leg just turned into scrambled eggs,” I pouted.

My Beautiful Honey Pie scolded me, saying, “Kenny, get the heck out of that broken sewage line!! This is no time for stink-o-rama.” I apologized diversely, and she promised to make some sock puppets when we got home. She knows I’m a sucker for a bucket of removable training shingles (ching-ching!!).

We went back to the Ranch and waited in the basement to be called to dinner. I must point out that this was my least favorite part of our celebration. I couldn’t find the light, so of course I tripped over the giant rusty telephone and nearly fell into the washed popcorn they pulled from the dryer lint trap. Our reservation was finally stained, and we were shown to our topsoil.

Dining at “The Ranch” is nothing short of elegant. The long, dark hallway’s cracked cinder blocks are accented by the flickering light of bunsen burners at each desk. I had to sit on the side opposite the chair sliding-in place, but that didn’t dampen my moisture. I ordered filet magnum, and My Sweet Love got shrimp on the half shell. We shared and split the entrees down the middle with a chain saw and splitting maul. Our waiter forced us to watch “Little Lulu” cartoons while we awaited the arrival of the meal. But that was OK; because halfway through the 37th cartoon, My Lovely Bride’s mood had been visibly altered. She gazed at me longingly, as if I was the next course, then began licking her napkin and pressing her butter knife flat against her eyebrows. What a woman!!

Dessert, of course, was the house specialty, “Frankfurter Hotel Rocky Ranch Hot Dog Heaven,” made with fresh hot dogs that were caught the previous Wednesday. They do magical things with mystery meat. We were awestruck by the lovely appearance of the dish and the surprisingly delectable cherry sauce and peppermint rice cream toppings.

After completely filling our tummies, The Rollers came and boofed us up the stairs to our room. Special humor was exploding as they let us roll downstairs 23 times before finally slamming the room shut on us. We laughed most jolly and tried to reach the pond scum fireplace with our bellies dragging on the floor, splinters in our garments and happy broken belt loops. Needless to say, My Lovely Bride did the napkin-licking butter knife eyebrow thing the rest of the night, and I responded in turn by recycling the flypaper in the master cylinder accusation chamber.

You can bet we’ll be back again on some other imaginary anniversary. Until then, please deform all your friends and neighbors while they are sleeping. Their armpit hair, after all, will soon be converted into satellite receivers.

Now please pass those hot dogs!!

Or maybe pastry…

Am I… POSSESSED??

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As the years whiz by, my relationship with inanimate objects continues to evolve. I remember when I approached adulthood, questions were tossed back and forth between me and my friends about what material success might look like. When asked, my answer was formulated pretty quickly: “the only wants I have are the love of a beautiful woman, a house on enough land to grow some food, and a kick-ass stereo.” My wants have long been fulfilled; so there’s really nothing I want.

So… if my wants have been fulfilled, there’s no need to have more, right? Sounds like a nice theory. In practice, though, some objects seem to have magically come home with me from various stores. Things like tools, car parts, jars, screws, nuts, washers, toasters, microwave ovens, TVs… you know, STUFF. And yes I’ll admit it, we have TOO MUCH STUFF.

Sheesh!!

What started out as a nicety of having disposable income has become a menagerie of clutter. I probably have just about everything I need to do home fix-it projects; but whenever I go to repair something, I can’t find the stuff I need. And that’s not because I don’t have it, because I probably do. I just can’t find it. So what do I do? After a lengthy dissertation about what I need; followed by various nasty words grumbled as I turn junk filled shelves inside out, I go to the store and buy what I needed. Then of course I put the new stuff down, go back to use it, but can’t find it for an hour or so.

More nasty words.

I’ll pick up a drill, pull the trigger… nothing. No worky. Change the battery, still nothing. Then I speak to the drill: “doggone it!! What’s the matter with you?? You worked fine when I put you away a few months ago!!” Tried to fix it but no go. Off to buy a new one (and yes, I still have the old one; and am not sure why). So now my relationship with objects is shifting to one sided conversation. They never answer me, and that of course is a very good thing.

Although I had a pretty good career in IT, my technology mantra became: “I hate computers!” When they refuse to do my bidding, I still utter that today. I’ve been known to issue computers verbal commands while trying to figure out something weird. I’ll gaze at the screen while typing, then say something like, “listen you stupid thing… don’t you know I’m sick of this??” And of course I receive no answer. Although I’m retired, I still utter the “I hate computers” mantra; and now I’ve opened the scope so it applies to anything that resembles a device.

Too much stuff, too much stuff, too much stuff. Stuff has become so ingrained in my daily life, that I sometimes go into a trance while transporting an object from point A to point B. Example: I made a nice but simple breakfast for my Beautiful Girlfriend. Eggs over easy, some orange juice, toast, and a little fruit on the side. I go to put the toaster away and the trance begins; then I realize I’m trying to put the toaster in the microwave. Doesn’t fit! Doesn’t go there!! Then I laugh at myself and wonder if my brain is failing. I felt better when my Lovely Honey Pie took a turn with the toaster a week or so later and wanted to put it away in the fridge.

Am I possessed by my possessions?? I’m starting to think so! It’s a conspiracy I tell ya!! My stuff is out to get me!!

COVID Conundrums

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So there I was, reading about all the new spikes in COVID-19 cases throughout the land, then jumping up and running with great speed to the garden to do some weeding and maybe some picking; and no, I didn’t really jump or run because it’s CRAZY HOT OUTSIDE so it was really more of an amble, or perhaps a sashay, but even a sashay would take too much energy in this heat; and although this sentence is way too long I just don’t care because I’m the one who’s writing it and you’re the one who’s reading it so like who’s the real silly person now, right??

Ha ha on youse!!

Speaking of youse… are youse kids staying safe out there? Social distancing? Wearing your hands and washing your masks? Or maybe the reverse of that last one?? Well by golly I sure hope so. I know we are; and that of course means that my Beautiful Girlfriend and I have been very closely visiting with each other for the past um… 4 months I think. No going to the movies, no gatherings, and only able to hug a very select few family members because we are very certain that they are doing their part also. And yes, by doing their part I of course mean wearing a mask in public, washing their hands 6 feet apart, and socially distancing their hand sanitizers. Or something like that.

Don’t lick the counter tops at the store please.

Thankfully, my Lovely Bride has not yet removed my nostrils with a pitchfork due to any perceived wisecracks or nasty looks. And I’m hoping she is grateful that I have not put her Tupperware in the oven at 400 degrees just for that one thing she may or may not have said; or that eye-roll I may or may not have noticed. That’s not to say that we haven’t had any interludes of abrasive verbal stinkrot or spontaneously combustible annoyance. I mean hey, it’s not really likely that two people who are cooped up together for months will never have a tense day.

Especially if you’re married!!

But we’ve done pretty well I think. I can say that reliably because we’ve confessed our ornery ocky-pitoo poopenheimers to friends and family and both of us have reached the same conclusion: our spats have been very few and very brief.

One may well ask, “how do youse two kids remain so stinkin’ harmonious??” The answer to that is simple, really. We do really weird things that we’ve been doing for many years. We say, “please,” and “thank you.” We tell each other “I Love You” every day (OK, probably multiple times a day). We stay in tune with each other’s moods; and when we smell trouble we try to nip it in the stinkbag as quickly as possible. Communication. Kindness. Love. Things that probably should come naturally, but in reality these are skills that take practice and constant honing. And when we fall short, we do another really weird thing: apologize. And that is followed up by something even more really weird: we try not to make the same mistakes again. Reminds me of that ancient philosopher, Henny Youngman:

A guy goes to the doctor, moves his arm and says, “Doctor!! It hurts when I do this!!”

The doctor replies, “Don’t to that!!”

So this COVID stuff can be a test of all things human. But there really are no conundrums. All of us just need to work together, stay safe, and try really hard not to bite each other’s heads off.

Simple, right??

Life Without Facebook

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Oh my God!! I haven’t been on Facebook today!! At all. Not even a little bit.

Am I OK??

Yes, I think I’m just fine. Whew!! I was worried there for a few nanoseconds. Well OK, I wasn’t really worried. Actually found myself doing things other than what’s found on the interwebs, believe it or not. Weird stuff like visiting with family for example. I mean, we were in the same room together and everything!! No hugging, unfortunately. Our dear Niece and her family have been traveling so we had to use caution.

Oh wait!! It’s my Beautiful Girlfriend’s birthday so I did get on the BookFace briefly to: A) post a Happy Birthday greeting and 12) show her (again) how to get to her other greetings.

Don’t get me wrong, I do love to stay in touch with family and friends. Way back when, I tried MySpace for awhile. That was fun, then Facebook came along and seems to have largely run away with the prize. Sure there are other “fascinating” things like Pinterest, Instagram, Tik Tok and Twitter, whatever the heck those are. Oh alright, Tik Tok is cute, maybe even addictive. I’ve tried Twitter, but I must be too much of a twit to tweet. Twitter just doesn’t rock my socks if you know what I mean. And as for Pinterest and all those other ones out there; I have a very open minded opinion of them all: I just don’t care!

Seems like I’m drifting more away from Facebook as time goes on; although I’ll be the first to admit that it was kind of a blast when it first arrived. Wasn’t really that much different from its predecessor MySpace; maybe a little more robust. A warped mind like mine likes to play with names; especially when they are famous brand names. Therefore, it wasn’t too long after I signed up for Facebook that I began calling it Spaceface or Mybook. Then a friend at work told me it was actually Facepage. I’ve decided to compromise and call it BookFace; which is really not a compromise at all but that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

So there.

When I started watching what folks were posting on Spacebook, at times I was a bit astonished. Personal phone numbers, address information, everything short of their Social Security numbers! My job as a computer support geek boy has afforded me some healthy respect for hackers; spam marketeers and identity thieves; so there is very little personal information about me on my Twitface page. Even my name is altered: Mudwinkle Dustflinger. Of course, I do write this blog thing in which I basically pour my heart out to whoever cares to read it. But at least they won’t have much to go on if they try to steal my identity or send me very important e-mails about male enhancement pills or inheritances waiting for me in Nigerian bank accounts.

Then of course you have the mean, nasty and often completely false posts that are simply to designed to get a person’s hackles up and / or prey upon their gullibility.

So here I am, writing “Happy Friday!!!” when it’s very late outside, because we were having “face time” with our wonderful family. And no I don’t mean virtual Face Time… this was actually face to face, in person, in living color. And what am I gonna do after I get done with my scribblings? I’m gonna blast it out to the netweb via e-mail and Pagebook.

However, I’ve made an important decision that I believe will enhance my serenity and mental health: I’ll probably be posting to the SpaceFaceTwitBookPageThing less and enjoying real, live-and-in-color life living a lot more.

Now this has absolutely nothing to do with the interwebs or PageTwit, but I hope you like it as much as I did. The story is from 100 years ago, no interwebs, no TV… no sound!! Give it a try. You might like it.

The Great Escape

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Like many others on this fine planet, my life has had its challenges lately. Seems like these past 18 months or so in particular have placed many a F.O.G before me. One might ask, “What is this F.O.G.?? Anyhow??” Or then again one might not. But if you did, I would tell you that my friend Steve first mentioned it during a gathering some years ago; and I’ve never let go of it. So when Steve says “I’m in a fog right now,” I know he’s talking about a F.O.G. “Another F*%#ing Opportunity for Growth,” as he defined it.

The pandemic and even retirement brought forward many opportunities for growth.  And you know what?? To perfectly honest, some of these F.O.G.’s are downright painful. The saying, “whatever doesn’t kill makes you stronger” has some merit to it, I must admit. We’ve weathered the storms, and I’m pretty sure there will be more F.O.G.s to come. Thankfully though, we’ve managed to acquire tools to deal with all this stuff in the form of help from friends, family, and counseling professionals.

So after the heaviest part of the F.O.G. has lifted, then what? Life as usual? Not sure there is such a thing anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a very fortunate person and for the most part life is very good. But when the Stress Monsters kick you in the head and then bite you in the hiney, our natural reaction is escape.

When I was young and foolish, escape was sought in the form of an altered state of consciousness. In other words, I would drink and / or use other intoxicants. That proved to be a very harmful method of escape; and I’m very grateful that for several years now I have not turned to such methods. No, instead our family has enjoyed a much different, healthier reality escape mechanism.

What is this magical escape thing? Well as my Beautiful Girlfriend has said many times, “when the going gets tough, the Hansens go to the movies.”  We really miss the movies.   During the cold months, we watched a LOT of TV.  And with all the streaming services, movies are pretty easy to find.  And since we are fortunate enough to have a very nice sound system, it’s almost as good as sitting in a theater.  Just something magical about that big screen; and yes we still miss it, but we’re not quite ready to go in the theater yet.

And yes, we’ve been vaccinated.

My Lovely Bride and I will continue to watch movies at home… for now.  And we’ve also been guilty of some serious Netflix series binge watching.  Now that the warm weather has returned, we can go hit the drive in again, so that’s a plus.  But no 3-D stuff thank you.  That stuff freaks me out.

Anyway, as I was writing, I was hearing this old song in my head bone… went to search for it on YouTube and found a really nice surprise that I would like to share with you…. NOW!!

Quarantine Quirky

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So there I was, a couple months ago, working remotely because of the Corona Oh No, almost retired, then furloughed, then on vacation, then retired, and all travel plans that weren’t really planned but kinda were planned because we wanted to go places but with a deadly virus lurking in the bushes (and elsewhere) we dare not venture about in an unsafe manner so we hunkered down at home and began eating too much and OK, maybe we still are, a little bit, but that’s OK because whatchya gonna do anyway except make a sentence that is way too long about all this shelter in place stuff? Anyway??

I like chocolate.

Yes, these are strange times, but one thing I’m very sure of: my Beautiful Girlfriend and I are quite blessed, and we are truly grateful for it. We have more than enough to eat, a safe, warm place to sleep, and money in the bank. Spoiled rotten we are already!! Oddly enough, this quarantine business has actually helped us save money. We don’t drive around much, so we’re not spending much on gasoline. I go to the grocery store once a week now, which before was a multiple days per week sojourn. We cook more at home, so our dining out bill is cut drastically. We don’t go to the movies unless they are on our TV.

Cookies and milk are delicious.

Alright, we do have the Netflix. Lots of stuff to watch on there. But then I found this whole series of a show called True Blood that was available for free. For those who don’t know, True Blood is about vampires, werewolves, fairies and shape shifters. You know, ordinary folk we meet every day. Often my Sweet Honey Pie has watched similar shows that just didn’t really interest me. True Blood, however, was different. It was well written, scary but also quite funny, and I actually became a bit hooked on the shows for several episodes. It has everything a red blooded male likes: lots of sex, violence, and explosions.

Any more of those peanut butter cups?

Well as the saying goes, if it’s too good to be true, it probably is. True Blood is not a new show, but it ran for 7 seasons. Toward the end of season 6 of binge watching, HBO wanted money. This caused both me and my Honey Pie to say things like, “those dirty snot lickers!!” By this time I had pretty much lost interest in the show, but she was still quite hooked and became very sad. So, being the thoughtful boyfriend I am, I found that Amazon Prime had this True Blood series, and was offering a 30 day free trial. Bingo!! So she got to watch the first 3 episodes of the last season and guess what?? When trying to get episode 4 to stream, a message came up: “start your free 7 day trial of HBO to continue watching.” This cause us both to say bad words again… “those stinky bug poop licking mugglesnorts!!” Or something. So now I have two free trials to cancel. Oy yoy yoy.

Mmmmm Ring Dings.

Hey, these are really high-class problems, ya know? Sheesh!! There is an “up” side to all this: we’ve renewed our interest in snacking while watching a (sort of) big screen. And when I say “up,” I do mean “UP!!” As in weight gain.

I like ice cream.

We don’t have the problem of being bored out of our minds during quarantine. Well OK, technically we’re not quarantined at all, it just feels like it sometimes. I know some feel it’s OK to resume “normal” activities; but we are choosing to listen to those crazy science people and are staying home much of the time. When we leave home, we wear our face masks in stores, and other public areas. We also use disposable gloves in some cases. We wash and / or sanitize our hands regularly. And as extra precautions, we’ve chosen not to lick doorknobs, counter tops or pavement. Oh wait, we didn’t do that before either.

I like potato chips.

I think maybe I need to find something to occupy my time besides eating. Perhaps I’ll illegally change my name every other day, and create a new e-mail address to match. Then I’ll wait and see how many of my friends complain that they got some weird e-mail from Mirplop Burpsocket that included a picture of a roll of masking tape. A few days later I’ll follow up with a note from Zonina Grabblesnacks that has urgent instructions to ignore any e-mail that includes a picture of a roll of masking tape. Then again, maybe that’s not such a good idea.

I like radishes!! Maybe I’ll go plant radishes!!

Not sure how many of you watch the video, but I try to pick something that is either relevant or just plain fun. This one leans more toward the fun side…