FOUR YEARS OF DELBLOGGOLO!

This is the four-year anniversary of DelBloggolo! Yes, it was four years ago that I stumbled upon the idea of writing down absolutely nothing, and I’m not finished yet! Over 1,400 entries, and I still have a lot more not to say!

The very first blogues, then called blogs until I decided to give it a little class, are lost! Somewhere in cyberspace they reside, the founding blogues, the start of this pointless journey, which even I’m afraid to read!

Writing a blogue can be hard sometimes, depending on what I say or even don’t say. My fear is I’ll offend someone, which is not the plan, but you never know. I tried to keep risqué humor, swear words and pointless use of the language from appearing, but, alas, (a little Shakespeare I learned) writing spontaneously, things do happen. I really don’t edit it, just write and let it fly. Sometimes I’m ahead of myself, and things get confused.

Anyway, I would like along with the whole staff here at DelBloggolo, thank you for reading, and for being nice enough not to send me any anthrax, or bombs in the mail.

IF IT’S TUESDAY, THE SUN IS SHINING

One of my duties as a director on the board at AHRC is to sign checks for amounts over $7,500. Every Tuesday morning, like clockwork, I drive to the main office, and a large folder or three or four is handed to me and I sign them. That is the ‘official’ reason for showing up.

It is a highlight in my week, a great way to start it off because of one other ‘unofficial’ reason. The office personnel there are all very hardworking and professional. But when I entered that building, a funny thing starts to happen. Their heads rise up from their very important work, and I get a warm and welcoming greeting. It starts with Alice at the reception desk, and continues down a long pathway to accounting.

As I do my signature ‘slide’ down the aisle, Joyce, and Fran sitting at their desk greet me with: “Hi” or “Good Morning!” and as I continue I come upon the desk of Kathy. Kathy recently married, her old high school sweetheart, and for a sweetheart herself, will brighten any day with her smile.

Then as I turn the corner, there sits one of the sweetest people there is. The Executive Director’s secretary, a lady who should be arrested and made into a model for the world to emulate, Lynn greets me, gets out of her chair and gives me a hug and a kiss. I don’t have to pay anything for them, even though I don’t deserve them.

Then finally, there is the lovely Mary Jo, who hands me the folders to sign, always cheerful, chatty and kind. Nice people all. But hold on, there is Michael, Bill, the guys in maintenance, the HR Director and the a whole staff of people, program directors, everybody that works there, all offering a pleasant greeting that makes my week. Then the “guys” as they say, the people that the agency serves: as they scoot around delivering inter-office mail, working in the sheltered workshop, or just traveling the halls and walkways of the office, print shop and or ceramics and basket room, all lending to make my week start off great.

I guess what it does for someone who worked in offices for many years, and now works alone, is make me feel like a part of someplace other than my little world of a studio/office.

As I leave the office, often I leave them roaring, laughing hard, sometimes I feel that someone will escort me out of the office telling me I make too much disruption occur!

To all of the wonderful staff at the agency: Thank you, I love you all!

http://www.ahrcsuffolk.org/

MY ‘GO TO’ MAN

Often he sits like a cross between Poncho Villa and a loveable munchkin, although he must be over six feet, and weight close to 250 lbs. He is crafty, observant and shrewd. He knows how to use people, speak to them that is, not for his benefit, but for others.

Whenever he sees me, he will give me a wisecrack, or tease, and expect me to take it. He also loves it when I fling it back at him. He is that kind of guy, my kind.

Often, when I need help, he is the ‘Go to’ man, the one I call on when I need something done or someone to help out. He gets me donors, volunteers, places, anything, with: Don’t worry boss, I’ll take care of it.” And he does!

He is a very loyal man, a man of good nature, honest, forthright and yet can be in his own way, a little crude. Maybe that is what I like about him, no airs. I won’t tell you his name, suffice it to say, he is well known in the circles I travel in.

The best part about this man is that he is very eager to help. When he helps, he can take over, maybe take on too much, then I have to rein him in a little, for his good, not mine.

All too often, he will be in the midst of helping others, and something may go wrong. Others having known him a long time for his ever present help, will chew him out, abusing his wonderfully good nature, and like the class act he is, he just takes it. These people think nothing of abusing this bear of a man, this good and loveable soul, this gentle giant.

Someone, some day is going to pay for that, because now that he works for me, they will deal with me!

The ‘Go to’ Man serves God and humanity, better than anyone I have ever known. I find it a privilege to have him work with me. He strips away the pretense, and wears the cloak of true humility and love.

POOJA TO THE RESCUE!

God bless America! Or is it?

The other day, after total frustration, I did the unthinkable: I called for support help. That is: “Technical” support help.

Now I try to be a reasonable man, pay my taxes, even go to church. I love my family and friends, and try to do good works. Every now and then though, something happens. To tone down the phrasing we all know so well: “Crap happens”, and it sure did.

As I installed a new program on my spanking new computer with 4-wheel drive and all the latest gizmos, when the installation was done, I was asked by the program to activate it.

OK, I hit the “continue” button, and it shuts down the program! I try it again, but once again, and every time thereafter, the same thing. It disappears and says it will stop working until I activate.

Well I figure, they have my registration, I’m not pirating anything, what the hell, let them try. They do, and succeed.

OK, I will get in touch with them via the website. (This is the latest thing. Someone talks to you on the website, and straightens you out!) Your problems that is.

On I go and get (you ready for this?) ‘Pooja.’

I can almost hear the accent all the way from Pakistan!

“Hello Joseph, ow may I elp yu?

Your #$@*&^$ program, one which by the way costs me 990 scadola’s won’t activate when I tell it to!

After a long while, Pooja comes back.

“OO kay, go to deis site, download deis and type in the password 1234”

I do what Pooja says. Why? Because Pooja knows, that’s why.

I do it, and everything is fine, so I go to thank Pooja, but there is no Pooja, anymore!

Pooja, how am I going to correct the bad impressions that Americans leave as being rude when there is no Pooja?

Pooja? Are you there, Pooja?

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, TESS!

Yes, another year has passed us by, and Tessie, my old sister is another year even older!

Now you might think me mean to mention all this, but keep in mind she tells everyone I’m older than she is when I’m not. But Tess, I forgive you. I figure at your age you are having problems remembering.

She reminds me of the story I heard recently from TLW (The Little Woman). It seems these two sons had a mother who was 92 years old. She was vital in every way except one. She had a mild case of dementia. One day the woman fell, and broke her back. Being how she was bed-ridden, the boys decided to put her in a home. The old lady thought in her state of mind, that her son had bought a new home so the two boys could care for her!

Actually in spite of her age, Tessie is still beautiful, will always be beautiful and I still love her. Age has its privileges, She can now drive with her blinker on while going 20 mph, can leave her shopping cart in the middle of the supermarket aisle so no one can pass by, and can say anything she wants, out loud in public. My God, she can even fart in public if she takes a wanting to!

I remember her when she was young, and could still remember her name! Yes those were fun days. Now she waits to be called at the DMV, and gets annoyed because no one is answering to her name. She is now so old that she needs a hand vac to clean out the lint in the wrinkles on her face.

But no, I am not being mean. She is a wonderful sister. Full of wonder, as in: I wonder what she will do to me when she reads this?

All kidding aside, she IS a wonderful sister. If it weren’t for her, I probably would not be as happy as I am. She is always there when I need her, and I hope to be there for her, too.

Someone once said to me recently that they thought she never ages, and I hope she never does.

Well Tess, or Theresa if you want,
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
You are not getting older, but wiser. You are as beautiful as you ever were, maybe more so. I Love you! As you can see, you only remind me of good times and I can’t help but remember them. Thanks!

WHO’S THE OLD GUY?

When the kid was born, I started to calculate how long it would be before he would be old enough to mow the lawn.

When he was born, I calculated how old he would be before he started high school, then college, and then drive a car.

When he was born, I tried to guess how old he would be before he married.

I spend a lot of time guessing!

Now that he is about to accomplish all these events and goals, I can rest assured that at least he will be happy.

But before I could turn around, he is 37! Where did the time go? What have I been doing all these years? I still see myself as 37 years old! Don’t we all?

I look at buildings like schools he went to, and it was only yesterday, or was it this morning, I left him off! Yet so many years have past me by, my life is no longer a young man’s life; it is an old man’s.

#1 Son, Anthony has been gone for a while now. He is still our child, (TLW) The Little Woman will agree with me, yet now he is becoming a stranger. A visitor when he comes home, and he leaves without looking back!

It almost makes me feel sad that he doesn’t look back. Yet I am grateful that he is mature enough to go on by himself, and now with a new partner. When he has children, they will be fortunate to have such parents, and the world will be a better place. If he gets out, what he put into a father/son relationship, he will prosper.

The old guy is me, and the new old guy is #1 Son!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANTHONY!
Love, Mom and Dead.

A HOUSE IS NOT A HOME…

Unless someone lives in it. Of course, someone can live in it, and it still could not be called home! Depends. Love makes the home, and I had the privilege to visit two homes recently that had love making it inviting and homey.

I had to do an evaluation of two homes for people with developmental disabilities, in Riverhead, NY. This is done on a yearly basis, and is conducted by the Board of Directors, to insure our population is treated as best possible. People with developmental disabilities need oversight, and protection. As a board member, it is my duty and obligation to make sure both exist.

But the people that run and administer these homes are truly amazing! The love, the attention and professionalism they give are beyond my mortal descriptions.

Each of the homes I visited is sparkling clean, cheerful, and the resident’s love being there. Yet I look everywhere, under every cover, in every corner, even in closets, looking for something to criticize, there is very, very little to complain about!

I also have to interview one of the residents, asking questions about their freedom to use the phone, the food, their privacy and what not.

I had one interview with a young lady, who seemed to consider every question I had, thought through her answer, then gave me a very long dissertation, sometimes going off the main track, and eventually, with my coaxing: returned on track!

But the interaction with the residents is the best thing by far. They greet me with a handshake, sometimes making comments: “Welcome, welcome, step right in!” for one.

I happened to be waiting for them to return home from their day-program, and as they entered, they are all eager to shake your hand, introduce themselves and ask who I am. I feel very welcomed there.

One gentleman came up to me and asked: “Who are you? What do you do?
“Hi, my name is Joe. I’m here to visit your home for the board of directors, to make sure everything is ok for you and your buddies.”
“Oh, but what do you do?”
“I don’t understand, what do you mean.”
“You have a job? You go to program? What do you do?”
“OH! I’m retired, I don’t work anymore.”
“You don’t work! You don’t have a job?” Here he sits down to contemplate that kind of existence. He continues: “You don’t work! You should get a job. Why don’t you work?”
As you can tell, he takes his job in the workshop in Bohemia, very seriously. He is proud of that job, more so than any diploma I own, any award or recognition I received in my lifetime. He has purpose in his life, one that could have ended badly.

So these gentle people, people without the chances we have, teach us something. They teach that if we are different, and I am in their world, they will accept me, make me welcomed and not be turned off by who or what I am. I truly love them.

But I love the institution that gives them the chance. I love all the board members that attend the meetings and dedicate themselves to what they do for this special population, and I love the staff that cares for them, does all the paperwork, and runs the agency to make it ensure the population has life, dignity and purpose in their existence.

See for yourself.

http://www.ahrcsuffolk.org/

AM I A STATISTIC?

On March 12th, I ranted about the shabby treatment I got from Aetna, Pharmacy, and the lack of real concern for their customers. Being a customer of GM, or Toyota, or General Mills, I can allow some lee-way, maybe more for General Mills than General Motors, because my life may be in the balance.

When I know my health is on the line, and I depend on someone to fulfill an obligation they accept, then I expect them to come through. After 5 weeks of waiting for Aetna to “follow-up”, they finally call me.

Well needless to say the individual who finally called had a condescending attitude, like it’s his ball and his ball yard, and I will follow his instructions. This riled me, to the point that I gave this guy a real piece of my mind, chewed him and his company out, and told them that I would not do business with them as far as medicines go.

He then has the nerve to ask: “Is there anything else we can do for you today?”

I retorted, “What are you kidding me? Haven’t you not done enough for me already?”

“Well, I guess we can’t do anything for you today, have a nice day.”

“No, YOU have a nice day.”

I have a wonderful sister-in-law who is kind as she is sweet. Let me quote her, word for word on this event:

“Seriously, I think that all of the technological advances over recent years have taken the sense of personal pride and of accomplishment out of much of the workplace. You are not a person whose health is being jeopardized by the length of time it takes the company to supply your medication. It's not personal. You are a customer number, a statistic, an allowable % of unhappy clients. It's unfortunate.
SS-I-L”

As smart as I think she is, and she is, I think she has allowed herself to accept this mode of operation and customer relationship with Aetna, because it is all hi-tech. Well, I won’t accept my health being jeopardized by some flunky who mans a phone, and doesn’t really care. Not even my doctor would co-operate with this company!

WHY I’M #5 IN THE PECKING ORDER

Joanne, that’s why, Mom’s favorite child along with her other three daughters. Once I was #2 in the pecking order, then #3 and #4 and finally, after Joanne came, #5!

Actually, she is my baby sister, and I am very proud of her. Being the sister of a brother with a sister: who is an assistant principle, is a real responsibility!

Today she is a year older, but I won’t reveal how old, mainly because I lost track ever since she passed me in age!

Having two children, and now living in seclusion so they don’t know where she is, she will on occasion surprise you and show up. Her uniqueness lies in the fact that she married a saint, Saint Don of: East Setauket. The family gets together on occasion to pray for Saint Don, and hope he can survive living with you know who.

If I can put the kidding away for a moment and say this: She is a good little sister. She loves to laugh, has helped children all her adult professional life, so that makes the world better. If it makes the world better, I am even prouder.

When she was born, Dad called from the hospital to tell us we had another sister (my fourth), I did not believe him, and thought for sure he was kidding me. Then I broke down and cried over my luck. Now that I look back, I realize I am the luckiest sibling in the whole world.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JOANNE! I LOVE YOU!

SOMETIMES I JUST GIVE UP!

I have been on the eternal diet since I was about 40. It seems I gained a lot of weight through the years and now it reminds me constantly.

Lately TLW (The Little Woman), at my insistence, and her gleeful agreement, have resorted to eating those little Weight Watcher’s meals, that come in the little plastic dishes, covered in a glassine wrap that you pop into the microwave.

They really don’t taste bad, and with a good home made salad, you can walk away from the table feeling somewhat satisfied.

However…

I am so darn tired of eating out of those trays, eating like I am on k-rations, or concentration portions! I remember when dinner was a sacred meal. I guess I was praying too hard then! But I need a break.

I keep having this vision of chicken breasts grilled in any citrus like combination with olive oil and crusty Italian bread. It will have to have some red onion, a little lettuce, or radicchio on top.

I feel I have to reward myself for being good occasionally, and if I don’t, I won’t go back to the skimpy Weight Watcher meals! I don’t snack: we eat these stupid 100-calorie cookies at night with about 2 ounces of milk. Pathetic! Hey, I’m Italian: I need a good sandwich once in a while. We don’t even eat pasta much. In fact, I think I’ll make some home-made pasta this weekend, and the hell with diets!

WD-40!

Once again, the crack editorial staff at DelBloggolo.blogspot.com, in an attempt to keep you informed, brings you a few tips learned from my high school classmates of long ago!

This one is from the lovely Rae Rae, Pamela Brin Rae, secretary to the BHS Class of ’64, 45th High School Reunion committee.


Before you read to the end, does anybody know what the main ingredient of
WD-40 is? Don't lie and don't cheat. WD-40. Who knew? I had a neighbor
who bought a new pickup. I got up very early one Sunday morning and saw that
someone had spray painted red all around the sides of this beige truck (for
some unknown reason). I went over, woke him up, and told him the bad news.
He was very upset and was trying to figure out what to do.... probably
nothing until Monday morning, since nothing was open. Another neighbor
came out and told him to get his WD-40 and clean it off. It removed the
unwanted paint beautifully and did not harm his paint job that was on the truck.

I'm impressed!

WD-40 who knew? 'Water Displacement #40'.

The product began from a search for a rust preventative solvent and degreaser to protect missile parts. WD-40 was created in 1953 by three technicians at the San Diego Rocket Chemical Company. Its name comes from the project that was to find a 'water displacement compound. They were successful with the fortieth formulation, thus WD-40. The Convair Company bought it in bulk to protect their atlas missile parts.

Ken East (one of the original founders) says there is nothing in WD-40 that would hurt you... When you read the 'shower door' part, try it. It's the first thing that has ever cleaned that spotty shower door. If yours is plastic, it works just as well as glass. It's a miracle! Then try it on your stovetop ... Viola! It's now shinier than it's ever been. You'll be amazed.

WD-40 uses:

1. Protects silver from tarnishing.

2. Removes road tar and grime from cars.

3. Cleans and lubricates guitar strings.

4. Gives floors that 'just-waxed' sheen without making them slippery.

5.. Keeps flies off cows.

6. Restores and cleans chalkboards.

7. Removes lipstick stains.

8. Loosens stubborn zippers.

9. Untangles jewelry chains.

10. Removes stains from stainless steel sinks.

11. Removes dirt and grime from the barbecue grill.

12. Keeps ceramic/terra cotta garden pots from oxidizing.

13. Removes tomato stains from clothing..

14. Keeps glass shower doors free of water spots.

15. Camouflages scratches in ceramic and marble floors.

16. Keeps scissors working smoothly.

17.. Lubricates noisy door hinges on vehicles and doors in homes.

18. It removes black scuffmarks from the kitchen floor! Use WD-40 for
those: nasty tar and scuff marks on flooring. It doesn't seem to harm the finish
and you won't have to scrub nearly as hard to get them off. Just remember to
open some windows if you have a lot of marks.

19. Bug guts will eat away the finish on your car if not removed quickly!
Use WD-40!

20. Gives a children's playground gym slide a shine for a super fast
slide.

21.. Lubricates gear shift and mower deck lever for ease of handling on
riding mowers...

22. Rids kids rocking chairs and swings of squeaky noises.

23. Lubricates tracks in sticking home windows and makes them easier to
open..

24. Spraying an umbrella stem makes it easier to open and close.

25. Restores and cleans padded leather dashboards in vehicles, as well as
vinyl bumpers.

26. Restores and cleans roof racks on vehicles.

27. Lubricates and stops squeaks in electric fans

28. Lubricates wheel sprockets on tricycles, wagons, and bicycles for easy handling.

29. Lubricates fan belts on washers and dryers and keeps them running smoothly.

30. Keep s rust from forming on saws and saw blades, and other tools.

31. Removes splattered grease on stove.

32. Keeps bathroom mirror from fogging.

33. Lubricates prosthetic limbs.

34. Keeps pigeons off the balcony (they hate the smell).

35. Removes all traces of duct tape.

36. Folks even spray it on their arms, hands, and knees to relieve
arthritis pain.

NOTE; Del Bloggolo USES THIS ON HIS KNEES. MAKES HIS HANDS REALLY SOFT AS… WELL IN THE PROCESS.

37. Florida 's favorite use is: “cleans and removes love bugs from grills
and bumpers.”

38. The favorite use in the state of New York, WD-40 protects the Statue
of Liberty from the elements.

39. WD-40 attracts fish. Spray a little on live bait or lures and you
will be catching the big one in no time. Also, it's a lot cheaper than the
chemical attractants that are made for just that purpose. Keep in mind
though, using some chemical laced baits or lures for fishing are not
allowed in some states.

40.. Use it for fire ant bites. It takes the sting away immediately and
stops the itch.

41. WD-40 is great for removing crayon from walls. Spray on the mark and
wipe with a clean rag.

42. Also, if you've discovered that your teenage daughter has washed and
dried a tube of lipstick with a load of laundry, saturate the lipstick spots
with WD-40 and rewash. Presto! The lipstick is gone!

43. If you sprayed WD-40 on the distributor cap, it would displace the
moisture and allow the car to start.

P. S. The basic ingredient is FISH OIL.

So, there you have it, first coffee filters, now WD-40!

AS ‘APPY AS ‘APPY GETS

Today is my daughter Ellen’s birthday! She is 38 years old, and going strong! Although she doesn’t say much (especially for a woman! Don’t start SS-I-L)!

There are some words she can say. One of those words is her version of the word: “Happy”. If there is one word she should say, I’m glad is it “happy”!


She has come a long way in the past year, going from a very thin 89 lbs to some credible weight gain, and feels great, by her disposition.

But getting back to the word: “Happy”, she can’t fully pronounce it, it comes out: “Appy”. So when we got my dog, we called her ‘Happy’ so Ellen could call her too.Now the dog can get very jealous when Ellen comes home. I tend to make a big fuss over Ellen, and Appy gets to doing things to get my attention. Suddenly, she wants to be petted, she rings the bell to the back door so she can go out and come right back in without performing, or decides to play with me, or poke me with her nose to get attention!

During the course of the week, she ignores me and sleeps all day. As soon as Ellen is home, she is in my face, or I am tripping over her.

So that little pink baby I saw by chance as they transported her from the birthing room to the nursery in Bayshore Hospital while the elevator doors were open, is now 38 years old! Wow! My kids are starting to get older than me!

SHE’S THE BOSS

Sometimes I think I was sentenced to a life of servitude! It seems to me that she is always watching me, scrutinizing my every move. If I stir in my recliner, she looks over at me, studying my disposition.

There are days that I swear I can’t move without her following me, almost directing my every move! If I dare go too far, no matter were she is in the house, she will come over to see what I’m up to.

It seems our routines are now interwoven. Like a married couple should, she knows what I’m thinking, especially at certain times of the day! I guess we live for each other. I know she has me well trained!

I’m talking about my dog of course. And like the other women in my house, they all tell me what to do and even where to go. There is never a mystery as to what and who I am, and where I stand.

At 3:30 every afternoon, Happy, the white and buff American cocker spaniel I love to hate, and hate to love, mainly because she is very cute, and gets away with every infraction imaginable, begins her vigil of the refrigerator door. She stands in front of my chair and looks at me, wondering: “So when are you getting off your duff and getting me my lettuce, you old flea-bitten monkey?”

After that, she patrols the floor while I make supper, hoping for a few crumbs that somehow get away from me. Sometimes it’s a piece of tomato, or an olive, once in a while a cucumber or celery or carrot stick that ‘fell’ from the counter.

Then, while I eat and talk to TLW (The Little Woman) she sits on her hind legs and stares up at me and waits for more to happen to fall.

Finally at night, and precisely at 9:00 pm, she saunters over to the sliding den door, and waits for me to open it. She goes out and does her business, then comes in and looks for her treat.

We walk over to the stair-case, and she waits for me to carry her upstairs, since she can’t negotiate the high polished steps any more. Once I put her down at the top of the landing, she heads to my office because she knows I have a treat there for her. She crosses over the entry, stops, looks back at me and continues in. I give her a treat, and off she goes to sleep in my bedroom!

I know my place, and she knows hers.

DRESS-UP DAY

It is amazing how much things can change from generation to generation!

Recently I was working on a Powerpoint presentation for my high school reunion, and I noticed in one of the old photographs, one of the guys was dressed in a tie. Then it occurred to me that that was what we called: “Dress-up day”. A day where the students got dressed up!

No one had ripped jeans, or shirts that hung out of our pants. We all wore shoes, and our hair was combed. We weren’t allowed out of the house unless we looked decent.

We actually, as a student body, requested “Dress-up day”! It was a privilege in those days to get dressed up. Today, you go to a wedding and half the crowd is not “Dressed-up”!

I remember when Dad wore wing-tipped shoes and a fedora to work. He was in his thirty’s and everyone dressed for certain occasions.

You go into church today, and you see men wearing shorts and sandals. I guess it shouldn’t matter what you wear in God’s house, as long as you go, but I can’t imagine myself doing that.

Why I recall when they wore suits and ties, and/or dresses for plane trips, trains and dates. I guess we used to have respect for each other in those days. Now we only care that we are comfortable. Maybe the younger generation has the right idea. What with all the pressure of growing up in this world today, at least make yourself as comfortable as possible.

TOP ‘O THE MORNIN BEJESUS!

To all you Irishmen out there, Happy Saint Patrick’s Day! If you are half Irish, then: Happy St. Paddy’s Day to ya!

As for me, I will celebrate it quietly at home, with Mr. Jack Daniels, and TLW (The Little Woman)!

Was signing checks for the agency yesterday http://www.ahrcsuffolk.org/ and as I did, I was sipping a cup of Joe I purchased at Dunkin’ Donuts. It was a cup of coffee that depressed me! As I was finished signing, I got up to give the folders to the accounting department, when I read the cup. It read something like: “Happy 60th Birthday to Dunkin Donuts!”

That makes me older than donuts!

This particularly bothers me since there are fewer wrinkles on the plain donuts than my face has.

I remember when I was a youngster, and wondered what it would be like in the 21st century. Well, I found out: ‘old’! That’s what!

But old age has its’ privileges. I can kiss the girls with impunity, and TLW could care less. I can speak out loud, and not be hindered by my usual shyness. And people are starting to have a little respect for my age!

TLW and I both commiserate on our aches and pains, and do a dance, every time we stand up, it is called the: “Bone shift”. You put your left on your hip, you put your right hand on your butt, and you shake them all about. You get a little creaky and the pain begins to flout; that’s what its all about!

Everybody now…

OOOOh, Ahhh, uuuh oooph!

OK, let’s take a nap!

OLD TIMES

A few days ago I had a great lunch with an old buddy of mine from High school! At a very fancy restaurant, two kids, or should I say two old kids got together that used to play pool in my basement when we were hot shots.

46 years ago no one would have thought that that lunch would occur, and why should they? Here we are retired and old, not dead, but old: reliving our youth, as if it was yesterday. We covered our careers and lives, exchanging family information, but the conversation really was about those we knew from the old days.

We talked about the reunion and people who passed on, things we had done and people we had seen since those youthful, fruitful days.

If you remember, Ken was the fellow we all thought was dead, until he showed up on my computer screen in the form of an email. When I saw who the email was from, I wondered how you get an email account while in heaven. Being he was such a good person, and even though he was a friend of mine, I figured him for heaven.

Now only one of us is dead.

Two hours sped by, crashing into the wall of finished pasta plates and coffee. Time robs you of a lot if you are not careful. It robbed me of friendships no longer current, of a sense of home being with people you like, and most of all, it robs you of the times you should have had.

Long ago, but not so very long ago
The world was different, oh yes it was
You settled down and you built a town
and made it live
And you watched it grow
It was your town

Time goes by, time brings changes,
you change, too
Nothing comes that you can't handle,
so on you go
Never see it coming,
the world caves in on you
On your town
Nothing you can do.

Main street isn't main street anymore
Lights don't shine as brightly as
they shone before
Tell the truth, lights don't shine at all
In our town

Sun comes up each morning
Just like it's always done
Get up, go to work, start the day,
Open up for business that's never gonna come
As the world rolls by a million miles away

Main street isn't main street anymore
No one seems to need us like they did before
It's hard to find a reason left to stay
But it's our town
Love it anyway
Come what may, it's our town.

TOP ‘O THE MORN TO ‘YA

T’was a night of merryment, indeed.

All the fine lassies and lads, assembling like locust bejesus! Aye, the crowd be green as green can be. There was Danny Boy, and Mother McCree, both drunk as drunk can be, but a fine time was had by all. If you weren’t Irish or Italian that night, your heart was green with envy. Come to think of it, if you weren’t Eyetalian, you weren’t at the dance!

The corn beef was the best, and the chicken was not too shabby either, as that grand old Irishman, Jerry Buffone organized, along with that crazed old Irishman: Father Dan Picciano blessing the St. Patty’s Day Dance, at St. Elizabeth Ann Seton’s parish hall.

We were very close to pizza, and in an emergency would have ordered it!

But no, the old Irishman, Joe DelBloggolo stood fast, as chair of the Fund Raiser, this Celtic event, I would proudly hold the tradition of Corn Beef and Cabbage on the table, and pizza under it, if need be.

The band: “The Nite Life” they called themselves, gave what they could, and a fine presentation of Irish Step-Dancers, showed their wears in front of a full house!

What was more amazing was that anyone would show up, the storm with high winds knocking down trees and limbs, causing major flooding and detours, while periodic power outages ruled the day!

But me, I had the prettiest lass of them all, as we swayed to the music and held to each other, and we fell in love once more! Then we really got down and boogied, cha chad and tripped the light fantastic! TLW (The Little Woman) then went out on the dance floor solo to do the Electric slide with other half-crazed ladies.

BEEP… BEEP… BEEP…

Stepping into the new age of electronics, it is starting to distract me!

The sound seemed to come from nowhere! A beep… beep… beep…! Every two minutes: beep… beep… beep…! I tried to not pay attention to it, but it was persistent. Beep… beep… beep…!

Getting back to my computer, I wondered if something was going on it? No, THAT couldn’t be it. It had to be something else. Beep… beep… beep…! The noise seemed to jump out of nowhere, and disappear back into nowhere.

Could it be the fax machine? I checked the machine, but soon realized: I don’t have a fax machine! Beep… beep… beep…! It was becoming annoying! Was it the ceiling fire alarm? That noise was more piercing than your ordinary Beep… beep… beep…! If it is I thought, I need to replace the battery.

Reaching for my mouse, I see something that may explain what the Beep… beep… beep…! Really is. It’s my cell phone: I left on my desk! IT is the culprit.

I pick up Al Bell’s annoying little invention, and sure enough, a text message is waiting for me.

I read that it is from a potential client, and answer. I see the man the next day, and go through the whole story. He listens intently, and explains: Well, when you have a teenager in your home, you get used to texting.

“Well,” says I, “Would you mind calling me instead? If you don’t, I may have to change my ceiling fire alarm battery.

IT’S MURDER WATCHING TV!

TLW, (The Little Woman) is a big murder mystery aficionado, be it real life or fictional. She can analyze a murder and think it through like Jessica Fletcher on Murder She Wrote.

Every morning about 4:00 AM, she goes out to East Hampton to wake up the roosters, scoots back home and watches a murder mystery she taped, all while I’m asleep! The plots are diabolical, devious, and down right scary! This has been making me think: Just what is she up to?


It seems to me, no one needs THAT much murder mystery, unless there was a plot in the making. The other part of this sinister equation is that all the victims are husbands. That is spelled H-U-S-B-A-N-D-S! Like mate, or the other half, or worse still, like me!

I don’t want to raise any alarms, but if I don’t write this blogue everyday, you know something is up. She will probably report me as: “He just upped and left!” or, “I sent him out for a loaf of bread, and he never came back!”

Don’t believe it, and check out the young stud as they leave for Vegas.



As for me, I’ve been getting up early every morning, since I discovered this interesting phenomenon! I figure it is time to protect myself. You know, sleep with both eyes open, never turn over, or look in any direction but hers. And above all, keep a night light on.

She claims she could never plot such a murder, as she refers to a wife who hired a hit man, in such detail that I swear I was in on it!

She also says that she would be a nervous wreck if she hired a hit man! I think she is a cool customer myself. NOTHING HAS EVER RATTLED HER BEFORE! She is obviously trying to get my guard down, then: Slit, I’m now smiling from the throat!

YA GOTTA HAVE HEART

Went to the heart specialist, or cardiologist, to see if my heart still beats. Turns out, the doctor is not sure. He is a new doctor, my old one retired. The old one looked like he could use a good meal. The veins in his head were sticking out the last time I saw him. He is so skinny, I feel bad for him. Anyway, he retired, hopefully to go eat something.

My new cardiologist is a nice guy, young, enthusiastic and not experienced. Someone took him in by the hand and left him with me in the examining room. At first I thought he was lost, but the stethoscope gave it away. He seemed to have a lot on the ball, and all his hair. You would think young and hair would make me hate him, but hey, we all have to make a living.

As Jack Lemon asked Walter Mathau in a rehearsal after Mathau feel off a slide and was on his back: “Are you comfortable?” Mathau answered: “It’s a living.”

So he is a doctor.

Apparently, the young doctor doesn’t believe my old doctor! He told me I’m spending three days in April to do some comprehensive tests. By the time you read this, I will be pushing up daisies (It will be spring), and they will wonder if they should have made my appointment sooner.

There are tests I never heard of: and TLW (The Little Woman) my medical advisor (Also dietician, banker and boss) hasn’t heard of them either!

Along with a nuclear stress test, there will be a: Halter, a PVR, Abdominal Ultrasound, a Carotid Duplex Ultrasonography and an echocardiagram! Frankly, I don't look too good in a halter!

This is fancy medical talk for three days of starvation, and waiting.

I don’t know why they would want to save my life? I mean, save it for what?

CONSISTENCY

Aetna is consistent! It was suppose to send me one more medication along with the ones that were a month late. I still haven’t received them yet! The bums haven’t even called to alert me that it is late! (SEE MARCH 4TH BLOG)

I’m not surprised. There is no longer any pride in what people are supposed to do. Too few take their jobs seriously, or even care. They can gripe about the company, their bosses, and co-workers, but I ask: why the hell don’t they quit?

I used to see it when I was working towards the end of my career, the complaints, and no guts to go to the party and duke it out. Just go about snipping, and bellyaching.

The jerks at Aetna already made it clear that they do not care it I need the medication, they will get it to me: Maybe. Not that they will expedite it, no concern of theirs.

I would love to see what incompetence looks like, but that would mean meeting them.

I will do you all a favor, and warn you. DON’T USE AETNA FOR A PHARMACY!

THE WONDERS OF COFFEE FILTERS

I my never-ending search to keep you informed, my dear readers, the editor-in-chief of Del Bloggolo has deemed it necessary to publish the following information. A special ‘Thank you’ to Phyllis Day for this contribution!

The wonders of coffee filters :

Better than paper towels and a lot less expensive...


1. Cover bowls or dishes when cooking in the microwave.
Coffee filters make excellent covers.

2. Clean windows, mirrors, and chrome...
Coffee filters are lint-free so they'll leave windows sparkling.

3. Protect China by separating your good dishes with a coffee filter between each dish.

4. Filter broken cork from wine. If you break the cork when opening a wine
bottle, filter the wine through a coffee filter.

5. Protect a cast-iron skillet. Place a coffee filter in the
skillet to absorb moisture and prevent rust.

6. Apply shoe polish. Ball up a lint-free coffee filter.

7. Recycle frying oil. After frying, strain oil through
a sieve lined with a coffee filter.

8. Weigh chopped foods. Place chopped ingredients in a
coffee filter on a kitchen scale.

9. Hold tacos. Coffee filters make convenient wrappers for messy foods.

10. Stop the soil from leaking out of a plant pot. Line a plant pot with a coffee filter to prevent
the soil from going through the drainage holes. (This is a good one!!!)

11. Prevent a Popsicle from dripping. Poke one or two holes as needed in a coffee filter.

12. Do you think we used expensive strips to wax eyebrows?
Use strips of coffee filters..

13. Put a few in a plate and put your fried bacon, French fries, chicken fingers, etc on them. It soaks out all the grease.

14. Keep in the bathroom. They make great "razor nick fixers."

15. As a sewing backing. Use a filter as an easy-to-tear backing for embroidering or appliqueing soft fabrics.

16. Put baking soda into a coffee filter and insert into shoes or a closet to absorb or prevent odors.

17. Use them to strain soup stock and to tie fresh herbs in to put in soups and stews.

18. Use a coffee filter to prevent spilling when you add fluids to your car.

19. Use them as a spoon rest while cooking and clean up small counter spills.

20. Can use to hold dry ingredients when baking or when cutting a piece of fruit or veggies..
Saves on having extra bowls to wash.

21. Use them to wrap Christmas ornaments for storage.

22. Use them to remove fingernail polish when out of cotton balls.

23. Use them to sprout seeds. Simply dampen the coffee filter, place seeds inside, fold it and
place it into a plastic baggie until they sprout.

24. Use coffee filters as blotting paper for pressed flowers.
Place the flowers between two coffee filters and put the coffee filters in phone book..

25. Use as a kiddie's disposable "snack bowl" for popcorn, chips, etc.

CALIFORNIA HERE I COME!

It’s been a while since I was out there. I think it was 2007, when I left, and I look forward to seeing #1 Son and the lovely Courtney (TLC2), my future daughter (in-law). I don’t like that designation.

Being in the land of sunshine and TLW (The Little Woman) and I will spend some quality time together viewing the Getty Museum, one of my favorite places in the whole world. When I used to go out there for business, I loved the sunny bright mornings near my office, and would often walk to the place from my hotel. At night, returning back to my hotel, I would stop along the way at one of the many restaurants and enjoy a quiet meal in solitude, looking at the people who came to dine. Many like myself would eat alone.

Eating alone as a whole is not my favorite thing to do, however, if I had a long hard day, it becomes a respite, even in a restaurant. No one is talking at you, you can either mull over the events of the day, or you can plan for a better time. That: the later is what I would do.

When I was at the Getty, without TLW, I kept wishing she were with me. It felt like I was a widower, and that is a very lonely feeling. Besides, when I saw something that excited me, I had no one to share it with.

I plan to go to some of the tourist attractions, and maybe see Josh Peck, if #1 Son will arrange it for us. I want to get a small movie clip for a very special friend who I never met, but I hope to someday. I want Josh Peck to say: “Hello Ava!” then I can go home happy that along with TLC2 and #1 Son and TLW, the trip was worth the while.

So, after this crazy winter we are having, I will really enjoy myself.

ROOMS AVAILABLE FOR REUNION!

The committee has reserved a block of 10 rooms for the reunion. Check the Hampton Inn Long Island/Brookhaven
2000 North Ocean Avenue, Farmingville, NY 11738

Phone:(631) 732-7300

OR www.hamptoninnbrookhaven.com

to make reservation.

YOU’VE READ ABOUT HER HUSBAND

See March 5, 2001.

When I first met her, she was a young sweet lady that was very nervous, but left a great impression. She was fresh from Florida, where my good buddy Phil had met her. She had these beautiful eyes that sparkled and sang a “hello” and I could tell by Phil’s eyes, that she was special.

Linda turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to Phil! She has consistently made him happy, and I hope he has made her equally happy. They have three children, two sons Jason and Justin, and a daughter Danielle, who is a knockout, just like her mom.

If there is one thing you can say about Linda, it is that she reminds me of TLW (The Little Woman), in so many ways! A dedicated mother and wife, who puts everyone first before herself. She is what motherhood is all about.

Right now, she has a battle or two to wage, but she will win those battles, and win big time. Her spirit is larger than her troubles, and the outcome is certain, she will persevere.

Of course, like TLW, she gives some dignity to the meathead she married, and with the class she possesses, overcomes the burdens of living with guys like us. Perhaps you pray for her, not for anything, except that because of whom she is married to.

But I digress. She also has to live with him, yell: “PHIL” every time he trips over himself. Maybe you want to pray for her kids, his brother and sister, me and all of us who know him. But I digress.

MARCH 8, 1963

How do we measure time? Do we measure it in seconds or minutes or days and years, or do we do it with events? Are the events in our lives that measure out the periods less precise, but more relevant? Some events are triumphs, and some are agonizing, burying us in a deep sea of sadness and regret.

The triumphs seem to be but fleeting moments, yet the agony has a way of lingering, well after it occurs.

March 8th, 1963 was a day of infamy for a Bellport High School filled with teenagers. Boys and girls, or should I say children awoke that day with the idea of continuing their education, learning new things that would build their futures. Some planned for that evening and weekend. Some still had plans to make. Yet, no one that morning anticipated what fate had planned for them.

This event would transform a small town into national attention: turning lives 180 degrees in the process. We were all shocked into the unthinkable, the unbelievable, and the unfathomable.

We watched in horror and confusion, as explosions and flames leaping from the very bowels of our school, the smoke pouring from the open windows. In horror we watched as our schoolmates lifted up the windows: only to disappear in a cloud of ominous dark grey clouds. Even worse, we witnessed them leaping from the second story to the ground below, in frantic desperation!

But the horror and confusion were there only a short while. Soon people were reacting everywhere. The fire department arrived from many distances besides Bellport. Soon people were rescuing and carrying off the hurt and suffering. There were Mr. Mahoney, and Mr. Roberge, teachers who taught us that nothing but the best would do, gave us an example that day. Carrying kids away from the building, climbing the ladders and reaching into the smoke filled uncertainty of the fire from the second floor. They were saving lives!

I distinctly recall Mr. Feeney, looking dejectedly down at his feet, as the building he ran, he directed and he loved, dissolved in flames and smoke and ashes.

But we were not alone the fate filled day, there was a giant helping hand, one that refused to let anyone die, the hand of God. He held Mr. Mahoney, and Mr. Roberge, and guided their efforts.

It was a strange day, in a strange year, one that saw our young President assassinated in Dallas Texas that November.

For the next nine months, as we would attend school on half-day sessions, the stench of smoke would fill our nostrils, a reminder of what had happened.

My class, the class of 1964, will forever be linked with those events that year. The school itself, every freshman, sophomore, junior and senior will forever more be one body, no matter when they graduated.

WE DON’T ALWAYS COMPUTE

It’s a cold February Sunday morning, and I’m in my recliner, with a cup of coffee, reading the newspapers, about baseball coming in March and April. This is a wonderful moment to be savored and I like to linger in it.

TLW (The Little Woman) the mastermind of the whole operation here at home is busily at the computer, computing.

I start the first sentence of the first paragraph when:

“Joe, can you come over here a moment and help me?”

“Yes dear.” (My usual feckless response.) I arise and walk over into the kitchen where she is computing.

“How do I get to click on the light tower they mention? I can’t get it.”

I search the page and we decide that she needs to fill out the first page first.

I go back to my newspaper. I start the first sentence of the first paragraph when:

“Joe, it won’t let me click on this box. Could you come over here and help me?”

“Yes dear.” (My usual feckless response.) I arise and walk over into the kitchen where she is computing. I double click on the box and it does what I want it to do.

“GO AWAY!”

I go back to my newspaper. I start the first sentence of the first paragraph when:

“Joe, how do I save this again?”

“Yes dear.” (My usual feckless response.) I arise and walk over into the kitchen where she is computing.

“Did you hit ‘Command save’?”

“Is that ‘Apple s?”

“Yes dear.”

I go back to my newspaper. I start the first sentence of the first paragraph when:

‘Dingle’

The stupid dog needs to go outside, and is ringing the bell to alert the household, that someone needs to be disturbed (guess who) to let her out and do her business.

I go back to my newspaper. I start the first sentence of the first paragraph when:

“Arf!” “Yes dear.” (My usual feckless response.) I arise and walk over into the den door where the stupid dog is waiting for me to open up.

I let her in and I go back to my newspaper. I start the first sentence of the first paragraph when:

“Arf”

“Yes dear.” (My usual feckless response.) I get up, get the stupid dog a treat, drop it at her paws and run to the bathroom, to read the first sentence of the first paragraph.

If anyone needs information on the first sentence of the first paragraph, I know it by heart.

TLW AND THREE-CARD MONTE

TLW (The Little Woman) is many things: one thing she is not is a crook. However…

We sat in the restaurant talking about our schedules for the week. I mentioned that I had to take the dog to the groomers and she said:

“Oh, that reminds me, let me give you the money for her. Do you have two ten dollar bills?”

“Hummm, let me see.. I have only one ten.” The sweat is beginning to form on my brow.”

“OK, Give me the ten and I’ll give you $50.”

“But the groomer costs $45!”

“So you are ahead by five!”

“Wait a minute, I’m out $5!

“No you are not. Here, give me back the $45, and I’ll give you $60. Now give me back another $10, and we are even!”

I think about this one.

Now I’m still out $5!”

“No, you were ahead $5, and with this transaction you are still ahead, with another $5, so that makes up for the $10!”

“No, wait… I gave you ten and you gave me.”

“Here, let me figure it out.”

She takes out her pad and starts to figure like she is at the Wanna-Be Bank and Truss Co.”

She takes back all the money and says: “Here is $45 OK?

I put my $10 back and say: “OK”

To think her parents paid tuition for that kind of math!

I guess it was better than a stick-up. If it were, I would have insisted she do it right, with a mask!

MAY GOD HELP US ALL!

When I first met him, he was a young vital sex-maniac that did nothing but: have a good time, and chase girls. He had a red Mercury convertible, and the top was always down. He cruised the neighborhoods from Syosset to Westbury, and usually drove like he was in his living room, on his sofa, half asleep. His car moved however, like it was racing to a fire in the midst of the Indianapolis 500!

When he graduated college, he moved to Florida eventually and met a lovely woman named Linda. She corrected all his major and vital flaws, which she finally finished a few years ago, and is now working on all his newer ones.

He was my best man, receiving communion, like any good Jew would, and I was his best man once in his first wedding. He is my daughter’s Godfather, as I am his daughter’s Godfather.

Every Christmas Eve, he would show up at my house and have a good old-fashioned traditional Italian fish dinner, making sure to eat all his spaghetti, and licking the plate clean. He’s gotten me drunk more times than I can remember, has made me laugh so hard I needed hospitalization, and eaten enough pistachio nuts to fill the Orange Bowl in Miami to the top!

We have shared tragedy and triumph, both large and small.

I would not have a complete life without him. He is my best friend, and my buddy, my brother, a good man, a great husband and father.

Today is his birthday. I wish I could remember his name!

Only kidding.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY PHIL!

THE BIG DUMMIES

You know I’ve not been my usual cranky self lately since there was really nothing to complain about. Well, that’s all changed! Now I’m really annoyed.

What is setting off all this discharge of emotions? Let me tell you. Every month Aetna nurses call me and inquire about how things are going. How is my blood pressure, my A1c number, all kinds of questions, then they ask me if I am taking my medications. I answer all the questions honestly and to the best of my knowledge.

Every three months I go the doctor for a check-up. Just like the government, he takes some blood, and if everything is OK, I don’t hear from him for three more months. He renews prescriptions for high blood pressure, high cholesterol and diabetes, and TLW (The Little Woman) sends them to Aetna to be filled. Since her medical plan is no longer covered by Oxford, they now go to Aetna, who is supposed to fill them out in a reasonable time turnaround. We sent the prescriptions to Aetna on February 5th, and still as I write this (Feb. 28) I have not received them!


I am out of medication. We inquired as to where they are. Aetna says there is nothing they can do about it, since it is in a reasonable turnaround time. Almost 4 weeks? Are they crazy or incompetent or both? Is it just arrogance? Maybe they are just so big, the customer be damned?

Should not someone be held accountable? Who is in charge? Who makes policy? Is there someone who cares at Aetna?

We will pay more for a real pharmacy for now on. I would recommend that if you use Aetna to fill your prescriptions, you take another look for a competent company, not those dummies.

So, if you don’t see my blogue anymore, it may mean I died due to Aetna incompetence. If the Class of 1964 from Bellport High School doesn’t have a reunion this year, blame Aetna incompetence. If Saint Elizabeth Ann Seton doesn’t have any fund raising success this year, blame Aetna incompetence. If they have no golf outing, blame Aetna incompetence. If the NYSPM has no book by 2011, blame Aetna incompetence. If my book doesn’t get published, blame Aetna incompetence. If the AHRC Suffolk chapter has no members, guardianship, one less board of directors, and other committee memberships, blame Aetna incompetence.

IT HAPPENS TO BE MY FAVORITE!

Recipe that is.

When I started this thing, I said I would give you a recipe or two along the way. This is an original DelBloggolo recipe for something I don’t usually like, fish! If it isn’t shellfish, I don’t order it in a restaurant, and rarely make it at home. But this was a self-challenge that works!

Take any white fish-fillet (about a pound) you may, and on a cookie sheet, place a piece of tin foil, and spray it with a vegetable or olive oil spray, but not much. Just so the fish doesn’t stick

Place the fish on it and set aside.

Pre-heat the oven at 350 degrees.

Take a cup of pecans, and grind them down to a breadcrumb consistency, in a blender or chopper. Add about one and a half tablespoons of honey and add it to the nuts. Take one orange, and squeeze the juice into the mixture, and use the rind also.

Remix the mixture. It should be very pasty but spread able. Spread it evenly over the fish.

Bake in the oven for one half hour.

Meanwhile make a combination of small chopped grape tomatoes, about 5 large leaves of Italian basil chopped, and Gaeta olives, and a tablespoon of olive oil. (Extra virgin) Add salt and black pepper.

When the fish is done, spoon the tomato/olive mixture over the fish.

Makes a great dish with white rice cooked in chicken broth instead of water, served with a mixture of Smart Balance spread and Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese.

PUTTING A FACE ON THINGS

The other morning, TLW (The Little Woman) had some steaks in the refrigerator for dinner that night. She instructed me (doesn’t she always?) to take the extras she purchased and put them in the freezer. That is something I would ordinarily do.

“Of course dear, don’t I always? I see your face in front of me and I know what to do.”

Indeed I do, I picture her in front of me, telling me what to do. This got me to thinking about years gone by, before I married into servitude, and was still young.

When I was in junior high school, I was learning about the three branches of the federal government. The executive, legislative and judicial branches of government seemed strangely familiar to me! I wondered why, them it occurred to me that very day when I got home from school. Mom, who I thought was a dictator, was actually being very democratic in her outlook on how to raise children! She acted as both President, and Congress, thinking of ways to raise us, enacted laws, which Dad made sure we followed to the letter.

Whenever temptation arose, and the chance to be bad occurred, I would somehow see my mother’s face, pointedly looking at me, with the threat of dear old Dad, ready to pounce on me for any infraction.

I must say, even Dad’s face would be staring at me, ready to explode so to speak, so I tried to stay on the straight and narrow path, which led to my becoming a pathetic wimp of a husband.

TLW has other means to keep control of my exuberance. Not one to fight, she has used reason all these years, and did so with her unreasonable husband. A mastermind of psychological marital warfare, she wins time after time.

It is called: “Sweet surrender.”

SO LITTLE MAKES ME HAPPY!

It doesn’t take much to make me happy. No, I can get great joy from the sun bursting out of the clouds on a cold blustery February day, a small ray of hope that spring is nearby.

Sometimes a certain smell will transport me back to my grandmother’s kitchen in Brooklyn, maybe the fresh smell of basil, or even the slamming of a wooden screen door like one did those so many years ago, as she ran in and out of her kitchen to her garden.

There are days when TLW (The Little Woman) comes home, and my whole life will light up, a cocktail, conversation and dinner, and suddenly I’m happy.

But oddly enough, even TV commercials can make me happy! There are some stars of past commercials that come to mind. There is Carla, I believe her name was from the famous “Where’s the Beef” commercial. Who can ever forget the Pepsi commercial, Italian style, with the little curly topped girl, probably one of the best ever!



There is one that is current, one that I just love, because of the “star” in it. A young woman who exudes a certain enthusiasm that I think makes the commercial for insurance of all things. She is an attractive smiling face that for some reason holds my attention.

Maybe it is my background in advertising, and I’m looking at things for different reasons than you might, but I love her commercials, all of them!

Of course, I have been known to get a little emotional over commercials. Like the one where the child calls home from college, or far away, and I think of my kids, not the phone rates the commercial is selling.

The biggest by far have been the health of my daughter, the engagement of #1Son and his beautiful fiancé: Courtney, and #2 Son’s progress in college.

And last but not least, hearing from you when I write.