ALL DRESSED UP WITH NO PLACE TO GO

The other day I came down from my shower and poured my coffee, then sat in my chair in the den. Looking to place my cup, I see a credit card next to my chair. Across the table sat TLW (The Little Woman). Picking up the card that reads: “AARP” I inquire, “What’s this?” (A credit card that says AARP, knucklehead)

TWL says it’s a credit card that says: AARP!

“Oh!

“Yes, it gives you 10% off at an escort service.”

“Oh? Where am I going?”

“True.”

“More importantly: why?”

“Well don’t worry, it does give you instructions.”

When I turned 50 they started sending me the official literature for old people. It read in essence:

“Congratulations! You are now entitled to embarrass all your children in public, go to dinner at mid-afternoon, and drive at 20 mph with your left turn signal on for as long as you like. When you discover that, you then can switch it to the right turn signal to complete your drive. The AARP card allows you to leave your overloaded shopping cart in the middle of the aisle where you can stare at the products on the shelf and try to read them. What’s more, you may let one loose anywhere you choose, including office buildings and churches. You are entitled to the complete medical dictionary to carry on intelligent conversations with others your age, while identifying drugs and what they will do to you.”

And so I proudly carry my card, knowing that all that is available to me, and that as I cross streets, or am about to open a door, someone will be there for me. When I stand, go: OOUUUUUFFFF! People will not stare, just wait to see if I die.

Getting old is not so bad, you have new places to hide small change, like in your wrinkles, you become faster when you sit down, the gravity pulls you down, and best of all, when someone asks you for a favor or money, you can say with confidence: “WHAT?”

A MOUSE WITHOUT A COMPUTER!

If there is one job I hate, it is cleaning out the basket for the filter of the pool. I have a nice size pool that although it is not Olympic in size, it is a good size. Like a wife or a car though, it does need maintenance, and so I go out to inspect and replenish the chemicals that I swim in.

I usually get a bunch of leaves and small twigs and sometimes even a bird.

One year I found a small bird that was still alive, but just barely. I decided to take it out and see if it could fly, and because it was so water-logged it couldn’t, I took it to the side of the pool and placed it under my snorkel mask to allow the sun to dry it out a bit, I got it some bread and fed it, and left it alone but watched it. Sure enough it dried out and took off! I was a hero, even though it was to myself.


Then there was the day I caught a rat in the pool, no, not a politician, a real sincere rat. (See my blogue: Saturday, July 24, 2010, R.I.P.)

My epic battle was one for the books as you read it. (Make sure you read he comment by Jimmy ‘Pants’ Jim Pantaleno.)

So, I go out to the filters and open it up, sure enough it is stuffed. But all I see are little claws and pink bloated bodies. Now I think there must be about 3 or 4 in there and how do I get them out without touching them? I look around and find a food plate made of aluminum. I punch a few holes in the bottom towards the edges and fold it somewhat so it fits into the trap and can scoop them out, Sure enough there are 4 mice and not one lousy computer! I scoop and head for the next trap, open it up and sure enough, there floats the rest of the paisanos! A couple of more float, this must have been a migrating clan, out for a day at the pool!

The difference from the others were that these were very tiny!

I often wonder if I’ll ever find an elephant in the darn pool. (No fat jokes about me, please.)

TLW JUGGLES HER DAY

When Happy was alive, TLW (The Little Woman) liked to start her mornings off quietly, with no incidents to speak of, and just her coffee and newspaper.

Happy, our American Cocker; would like to start her day off by having little incidents around the den in the following: poop, and pee. Happy has gotten old, so old she can’t control herself.


Every morning it seems, TLW started her morning cleaning up the little incidents that Happy has left us. But this morning was the worst morning yet.

As I came down from my shower, I see paper towels all over the den floor, with TLW toeing the towels to get them to start absorbing the pee puddles Happy left overnight.



“What happened?” I asked.

“What else, she is losing it!”

I go into the kitchen, and get my coffee, and there on the counter is a rather large puddle of coffee, or happy managed to get up on the counter.

“What happened here?”

“OH, when I started to make the coffee, I saw what was happening with Happy, so I immediately started to clean it up, and I kept hearing a strange noise. When I investigated, I plugged in the coffee without putting on the cover, the coffee was shooting straight up into the UNCOVERED coffee pot and onto the counter! So there I was, mopping up poop and coffee, popping in the air”

OLDER THAN… WELL, OLD!

As we planned for the wedding last month, TLW (The Little Woman) made her customary announcements, one of which was: “You know you have to wear black socks for the wedding?”

Being a Mets fan, my intelligence comes into question from time to time, but still this news stunned me. Looking into her eyes I said:

“What do you mean?”

“The wedding, you need black socks for the wedding, you know that, right?”

“Well of course I do, I’ll go out and buy a new pair.”

“WITH ALL THOSE SOCKS IN THE DRAWER!”

“Well, I haven’t bought new socks in years, well before I retired. Most of them are so old that they are thread bare and see through!”

“SO WHY DON’T YOU THROW THEM OUT?”

“Who goes into my sock drawer anymore. I only go into it if I want to hide those green spearmints I like.”

“Why don’t you go through your drawers every once and a while and throw things out?”

“Well, you know me, I like to use white socks, they are comfortable, and no big deal, I like white socks. No choosing, no worry about conflicts, white goes with everything, it’s the new black! After all, I have kept some things a long time and haven’t gotten rid of them. YOU’VE been around for over 40 years, you’re still around.”

“You mean you don’t have a pair of matching black socks that you could wear to the wedding?”

“Well, I don’t have a pair, and about the black socks, nothing matches anymore, some are longer than others, some are a little threadbare, some are blacker than others. What would happen if I get run over by the trolley we ordered to transport everybody from the reception hall to the church? Mom always wanted me to have clean underwear, so I assume she meant socks too.”

“You’ re too much!”

“OK, you go upstairs and see what you can do, I give up.”

“OK, I’ll get you a new pair when I go out.”

“Good, and get me a new pair of black socks, too.”

“What?”

GET A HOBBY!

Last month there was a show on TLC (The Learning Channel) about this family with 19 children. Now these kids were not, and I repeat ‘NOT’ adopted, they all came from the same place!

The mother had brought the latest addition home from the hospital and all the other children were fawning over the newcomer. THE MOTHER WASN’T AROUND!

My immediate concern to TLW (The Little Woman) was: “Quick, someone separate the parents, before it is too late!”

How do you remember all those names, how do you feed them and how do you house and clothe them, all the while procreating? Must be a busy schedule, you need to find the time for it all. I’m sure with 19 kids running around, by the time you hit the sack, procreating is last on the list of things to do. That leaves the first thing in the morning.

“Not now honey, I have a headache!”

“But you slept all night, HOW could you have a headache???”

“I get anticipatory headaches, the doctor says it happens a lot in large families.”

“What are you anticipating?”

“WHAT?!”

“Oh!”

“You don’t want me waking up in a bad mood, do you?”

“But you are so sexy when you do.”

“Oh, Jim-Bob”

Start reading over again from the second paragraph of this Blogue.

LONG LIVE THE HABIT

OR, AM I SNUS FREE?

There is a product on the market that I noticed in the past month, actually back in the end of May. Put out by Camel cigarettes, it is suppose to be the answer to your health problems, your addiction to tobacco and the various bans instigated by Mayor Bloomberg of NYC.

The product is called SNUS. That’s right, SNUS: tobacco giant Reynolds American is seizing upon New York City's new anti-smoking law to promote its small, but growing Camel Snus brand. This should free all the smokers who in wintertime stand outside of public buildings, in the dead cold of winter, shoulders hunched together, shivering, and feeling dumb because all the non-smokers are looking at them.


What is Snus you ask?
Snus is spit-free, smoke-free, mess-free, tobacco that comes in a small pouch, that you slide under your upper lip to enjoy.

Where does Snus come from?
Snus either originated in Sweden more than 200 years ago or it came from the Snus Fairy.

Is Snus like dip or chewing tobacco?
Nope. Here’s why: First, Snus is pasteurized through a slow-cooking process. Second, it doesn’t require any spitting or chewing. I’m just not sure if you can prevent it from dribbling down your chin.

Spit-free, you say?
High moisture + low salt content = no spitting. Leaves others with a warm fuzzy feeling about you. And no after puddles in front of the building!

Why do you refrigerate Snus, I have too many bottles of lo-cal diet soda in my frig already?
Snus that is sold cold simply means you’re getting the freshest product possible. The Swedes have been doing it for more than two centuries, so you could say it is a tradition.

Where can it be used?
Since Snus is smokeless, it can be enjoyed virtually anywhere, including places where smoking is banned or restricted, like churches, birthing rooms and now, Central Park!

Is Snus available nationwide?
Yep. U.S. demand for Snus keeps growing (especially as smoking bans and restrictions become more common) with every year, and Snus is now available in every state. God bless America!



I happened to notice a couple of full-page ads and even see it on the internet, and here is the kicker: YOU DON’T SEE THOSE ANNOYING AND INTIMIDATING WARNINGS FROM THE SURGEON GENERAL! There IS a God!

So instead of lighting up, puffing away a good breath of smoke, stick this under your lip and be ahead of the game, you can SNUS everybody!

COMING OUT OF THE CLOSET

The politicians, not me!

It is that time of year when I hope that death comes suddenly and quickly, so as not to hear all those politicians from both parties seeking my vote, listening to outrageous statements and promises, and regurgitating the same old rhetoric. This nonsense will begin until we either toss out or re-elect the President.



It seems there is always one politician who runs an ad on the radio that makes me nuts. Not for the point of view, but the constant repeating of the ad, day in and day out, more than once an hour! Usually the ad is from New Jersey, and I don’t even vote there!

Blagojevich, the convicted former governor of Illinois, made his promises, as did Joe Bruno once, and who can ever forget Monica Lewinski’s main squeeze, all making promises of sorts, all assuring me that things would be different this time, just elect them. There was that self-righteous governor of NY State, Eliot (socks) Spitzer and of course McGreevy from New Jersey, all either had something hiding in the closet or were themselves, and tried to disguise it. And back in the 70’s we had the non-crook, President Nixon.



Where have the Teddy Roosevelt’s and Fiorello LaGuardia’s gone?

You have all heard the phrase ”phony politician” used. It is a redundancy! There is very little conviction in their beliefs, they will jump parties if it helps them get re-elected, and not enough convictions from the courts of law!

MEMORIES

It was just days before the wedding, and TLW (The Little Woman) had taken out a box of memories, those gut wrenching cards and letters from so long ago. They centered on my daughter Ellen.

Daylight
See the dew on the sunflower
And a rose that is fading
Roses whither away
Like the sunflower
I yearn to turn my face to the dawn
I am waiting for the day . . .

There were many cards that I had sent to her, when she was born, and when she reached her first birthday. There were little poems I wrote to her, and to TLW, while they started out life in the maternity ward at Southside Hospital, back in 1972.

Midnight
Not a sound from the pavement
Has the moon lost her memory?
She is smiling alone
In the lamplight
The withered leaves collect at my feet
And the wind begins to moan

What amazed me was how many times I wrote to her, how many times I told them both how wonderful they truly are, how very happy I was back then. Of course, I could not read the future; little did we both know what luck my daughter would have.

Memory
All alone in the moonlight
I can smile at the old days
I was beautiful then
I remember the time I knew what happiness was
Let the memory live again

I can still picture her beautiful face, when she was born, her pink round face so beautiful to look at, so happy it made me. I was the father of a beautiful child, the first Del Broccolo born as a grandchild to my parents.

Every streetlamp
Seems to beat a fatalistic warning
Someone mutters
And the streetlamp gutters
And soon it will be morning

In the box of memories were cards from people I loved when they were alive, such as my boss Larry Chait, my mentor Jack Stern, my friends and relatives. There was even a warning to TLW from my sister Fran to keep the baby away from me because I spoil babies!

Daylight
I must wait for the sunrise
I must think of a new life
And I musn't give in
When the dawn comes
Tonight will be a memory too
And a new day will begin

And so each memory builds a sense of time and place. Each memory reminds us of whom we were years ago, as we developed into what we are today. Each memory turned a page and led us to our next memory, on a new day.

Burnt out ends of smoky days
The stale cold smell of morning
The streetlamp dies, another night is over
Another day is dawning

I can reach back and touch those days. I can hear the people as they murmur in the background, and feel the joy and sadness of yesterday, all because of memories of so long ago.

Touch me
It's so easy to leave me
All alone with the memory
Of my days in the sun
If you touch me
You'll understand what happiness is

I am so glad for all the memories, because they tell me I have lived. I wish I could remake the sad times, and savor more the good times. But today is a memory too, today will help me turn the pages of my life until, there are no pages left to turn, then there will be only memories.

Look
A new day has begun

HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY TO TWO GREAT GALS:
MAUREEN & ANGELA!

DESIGN BY LEPRECHAUN

Last month went out to purchase a pair of shoes to wear for everyday. I wanted something in black, no design, nothing fancy, a round toe, the soles had to be flat, no intricate design to them, in other words, a basic shoe.

Going into a shoe store I had visited years ago, I found that they didn’t carry anything remotely like what I wanted, which was what I was wearing. Not only that, there is no one that will help you when you want them to. However, if I were just trying to get out of the heat on a very hot day, they would be over me like sweat on a racehorse.

I traipsed through the outlet mall in Riverhead, from one store to another, not finding anything. Finally a salesman comes over to help me.

“I want a black shoe, nothing fancy, no design, no stitching on the toe, no nothing. Just a round toe black shoe that I can wear with my jeans.”

“Hokay” he begins the process of annoying me to no end, showing me shoes with stitching on the toes.

“NOOO, I want something plain!”

He gets me more choices, with all kinds of designs and more stitching.

“No, no, no!” He gets me shoes designed by leprechauns, the toes, almost spiraling skyward. In fact, most of the shoes are designed that way! We leave and find one more store tucked away in a flow of stores that sell everything. I walk in and hear the sound of little brats, running around while the parents just go about looking for shoes. Some of the brats bump into you, run into you, and make a lot of noise.

Suddenly, from across the room I see them. It is love at first sight! I start to run toward them, as the sequence of events turns into a slow-motion run, my arms stretched out, the overhead music turning into some orchestrated romantic background, the birds are singing and the flowers blooming, and the shoes, although not black, are what I was originally looking for when I settled for the old black ones years ago!

I had come full cycle!

GETTING IT STRAIGHT

Before the wedding, TLW (The Little Woman) and I were having a discussion about the upcoming events for the big weekend.

“Well Toots, looks like you won’t have anything to say to #1 Son anymore, once he gets married. You don’t want to become a ‘mother-in-law’, now do you?”

“Right, it is totally out of my hands now, someone else can worry about him.”

“Yup, you won’t have anything to say that weekend forward!”

“Well, maybe not, not like you, a speech everyday.”

“Now, it is NOT a speech, but a toast. I will be giving a toast on the night of the rehearsal and one the night of the wedding. You always have me to give speeches to.”

Those are not speeches, those are lectures.”

“Oh!”

I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN

What did I know? I thought she was just Irish. She is TLW (The Little Woman), and what it costs to woo her.

I’m a practical man, I look for bargains just like you do, I search for the best and most affordable, I try not to waste and I always save. I think that counts for something, especially in this day and age. (Post Michael Jackson, of course)

I was doing a little arithmetic in my head (I can only do little things in my head, in spite of the size of the melon,) and came up with some very disturbing numbers! Mind you I did these calculations on the fly, as I was on my way to taking a nap, and the conclusions are horrific!

I HAVE SPENT TOO MUCH MONEY ON TLW OVER THE YEARS!

There, I said it. Do I feel good about it, no, the revelation is too startling, the conclusion too big to just dismiss!

When I look back at all the presents, dinners, and places I took her, I could have saved the money and just spent it on pizza. Yes, ordinary pizza, and on special occasions, I could have gone for the grandma pie! She’s Irish, and she loves pizza! Her and #2 Son love pizza, but she taught him to.

I spent a fortune on a honeymoon to Europe, when a simple little trip to the pizza parlor (do they still call it that?) would have sufficed. OK, I know what you are thinking: “dumbass-pizza parlor over Europe, I don’t think so, you meathead.” But I would say to you, I would have bought foreign language newspapers every morning and pretended I didn’t understand English, would have pushed the clocks ahead six hours and with the pizza in her mouth, she would have been very happy, on just $.75 a slice in those days!

You might think: “What a cheap bastard!” You might think that, but you would have been wrong. On her birthday, Christmas and anniversaries, I would have sprung for the grandma pie, the WHOLE PIE! Yes, I would even on those occasions, have had it delivered, (probably not, the tip you know). For our 10th, 20th, 30th and 40th anniversary, I would have taken her out to her favorite pizza place, even dressed up!

But why do I come to this concussion-inducing conclusion?

Every Friday night she has to have pizza for dinner. For over 40 years now, its’ been pizza. We started out predictably round cheese pie, and over the years I tried to spice it up with sausage and pepperoni, but we always went back to your basic cheese pie. Then we got more sophisticated and introduce the grandma pie to our routine on Fridays.

Just think how much I could have saved!

I’m getting hungry!

WHAT’S ALL THE FUSS?

I’ve been following the controversial bill in the NYS Assembly on Gay Marriage. I can’t for the life of me understand why everyone is so polarized about something that will: not increase my taxes, doesn’t require me to walk far, there is no heavy lifting involved, and I still get to eat!

What is equally confounding is why it should bother anyone else, when we are all in the pursuit of happiness. I mean there is nothing worse than unhappy people because they are told they can’t do something. Who is deciding what can or cannot be? Sometimes I think the biggest cause of trouble and unhappiness in this world is the people who like to interpret the Bible. We understand the concept of marriage is between a man and a woman. We can marry two ideas, we can marry car parts to a frame, and we can marry just about everything except people of the same sex!

The people, who interpret the Bible or the Koran, seem to become very rigid in there interpretation. Right now, in some states, there are same sex marriages being practiced as I write this. The only effect it has on this piece is that it is a topic. No one is hurt by it, including those who wish to not recognize it, and frankly, what is the relevancy of their opinion on the existence of these marriages? However, this same rigidity can cause people to kill themselves in the name of Allah or God, kill others in the name of God, and no one seems to remember the crusades, and what that did.

What has happened throughout history is the unwillingness to mind or own business, when things go wrong, blame someone or some other group the reason for the failing. (Reference a certain Mr. Hitler)

I neither oppose nor condone homosexuality, I believe it is a natural occurrence, and as such it becomes a non-issue in my or anyone else’s life, except for those who are homosexuals, seeking other homosexuals. You can’t cure homosexuality nor can you cure a heterosexual, so what the hell is everyone so excited about allowing a minority the chance to live in happiness, and accord with the rest of the world?

Is it not bad enough that people who are homosexual must or have had to hide it all their lives. Many have had to live a lie, because of fear, many think they are cursed or there is something wrong with them, so they spend their lives in deep depression and despair. Finally the world is starting to become aware of how unfair this all is, and we want to continue the misery, hold people down from happiness.

How sad!

JET BLUES

I recently read that JetBlue may be setting up shop in Long Island MacArthur airport. The reason this caught my eye is one of my sisters is a flight attendant for the airline.

Mary Ann, or as I like to call her: “Mariooch” has just joined JetBlue and moved from Chicago where she was based with her old airline to JFK and her new JetBlue career. What does this mean, you wonder?

Probably a great slow up for DelBloggolo!


Everyday in my mailbox, there is usually an email form Mariooch, a cute little movie clip, a political point of view, or some cutesy thing she needs to let the world in on. This material she looks for or it is sent to her, it doesn’t matter, I will still get copied.

Moving from Chicago to NY has given rise to the number of emails, if she cuts down her traveling time she will have more time for more emails. This fact translates into less time for me to write about life, because I will be busy reading and deleting her emails.

All her emails start off with: “The clock of life is wound but once, and no man has the power to tell just when the hands will stop, at late or early hour. Now is the only time you own. Live, love, toil with a will. Place no faith in time. For the clock may soon be still."

So you can see, if she isn’t informing me, she is scaring me to death!

NOTE TO MARIOOCH:
Dear Sister,
My clock of life is slowing down, it seems the batteries are getting old! The hands are too busy doing what your sister-in-law, TLW (The Little Woman) has ordered. I have the power to tell when the hands of time will stop, when I am told by TLW.

NOTE TO ANNMARIE
Dear Niece,
Please, please let your mother be baby-sitting more. Take long vacations with Greg, let your mother watch little Al. This will occupy her free time and she will then find it hard to stay on the Internet for long.

Pray for me.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ED SMITH & CHRIS NAPOLITANO!

ARTHUR STREET

My partner TLP (The Little Partner), Pam, and I have this inside joke when we do something dumb. It started when we were planning a trip for our business to Arthur Avenue, the other Little Italy as she calls it. Instead of calling it Arthur Avenue, she called it: “Arthur Street.” So whenever one of us screws up or makes a mistake we say we are on Arthur Street. Last month I moved onto Arthur Street and bought an apartment there!

It started out with TLW (The Little Woman) and I going out to dinner at a very popular restaurant in the neighborhood. There are a couple of them side by side. One is for ribs and one is for seafood. We decided we wanted seafood that night so off we went.

Arriving at the restaurant, the place was jamb-packed, with cars circling the parking lots to park. TLW decided that I would park the car while she would inquire about how long a wait it was. Off she went and I started to hunt for a space. Circling the parking lot three times, I decide to go the other way, around the building to look and sure enough, someone s leaving the restaurant with his famiy! Finally after about 10 minutes, I find a space, one of which I will fight to the death for if anyone tries to take it. I am right up front, next to the building! How much better than this can it be?

Hoping out of the car and feeling good, I thought of the Seinfeld episode where George Costanza finds a perfect spot in front of the hospital. That was me! Unfortunately, George had other incidents that were me.

I enter the restaurant looking for TLW and don’t find her. I think maybe she went to the ladies room. But instead I go to the waitress who is doing the seating and ask if she saw my wife. “I’m sorry sir, we have been so busy, I really don’t know, why don’t you just walk around the restaurant and look?” I think, how hard will this be, she will be looking for me and sitting alone waving to get my attention. I, was on the ball tonight, I, would figure this all out. Twice I circle the restaurant, and no TLW, I go back outside and look some more, still no TLW, so one more time I circle inside the restaurant. I’m starting to make friends in it when I realize that maybe she isn’t here. But something is bothering me. I couldn’t put my finger on it, then it started to sink in: I could smell bar-b-q sauce! In a fish restaurant??? I notice big old plates of ribs, but no one is eating fish! Hmmm, that’s strange! Then it hits me, I’m in the wrong restaurant!

Admonishment

I go off to the real restaurant and sure enough there is TLW, waiting for me outside the entrance. I need to gather my courage to tell her that I am a dumbass, which I discover is not difficult at all, since I have been telling her that for 40 years!

“Well, what happened to you?”
“I was in the wrong restaurant.”

“WHAT!?”

“I got confused and entered the wrong restaurant.”

“Oh! You always blame it on being confused, how can you go into the wrong restaurant?”

“Well after all that driving, then finally finding a parking space, I was so happy I found the space I just jumped out of the car and entered the first restaurant I came to!”

“I knew I shouldn’t have left you alone. You need to be held by the hand! How come you can go through New York City and not get lost, but take you out past your driveway and we all have to pray you come back?”

“I was on Arthur Street?”

NOT AGAIN!

Yes, again, as I once more break my code of silence about politics. Too many people are getting screwed over by a congress of meatheads. All too often they leave us with crumbs while they enjoy a whole meal, immune to the damage they do to us.

A beautiful gal from my past, Phyllis, a sister of my old friend Mike from Brooklyn sent me the following. I happen to agree with her, and I think you should at least read what she says.


”Please consider forwarding to your contacts, if you agree.

This is something I believe in and I hope you all read it all the way through. 

The 26th amendment (granting the right to vote for 18 year-olds) took only 3 months & 8 days to be ratified! Why? Simple! The people demanded it. That was in 1971...before computers, before e-mail, before cell phones, etc. 

Of the 27 amendments to the Constitution, seven (7) took 1 year or less to become the law of the land...all because of public pressure. 

I'm asking each addressee to forward this email to a minimum of twenty people on their address list; in turn ask each of those to do likewise. 

In three days, most people in The United States of America will have the message. This is one idea that really should be passed around. 

Congressional Reform Act of 2011 



1. Term Limits. 

12 years only, one of the possible options below.

A. Two Six-year Senate terms 
B. Six Two-year House terms 
C. One Six-year Senate term and three Two-Year House terms 



2. No Tenure / No Pension. 

A Congressman collects a salary while in office and receives no pay when they are out of office. 



3. Congress (past, present & future) participates in Social Security. 

All funds in the Congressional retirement fund move to the Social Security system immediately. All future funds flow into the Social Security system, and Congress participates with the American people. 



4. Congress can purchase their own retirement plan, just as all Americans do. 



5. Congress will no longer vote themselves a pay raise. Congressional pay will rise by the lower of CPI or 3%. 



6. Congress loses their current health care system and participates in the same health care system as the American people. 



7. Congress must equally abide by all laws they impose on the American people. 



8. All contracts with past and present Congressmen are void effective 1/1/12. 

The American people did not make this contract with Congressmen. Congressmen made all these contracts for themselves. 


Serving in Congress is an honor, not a career. The Founding Fathers envisioned citizen legislators, so ours should serve their term(s), then go home and back to work. 

If each person contacts a minimum of twenty people then it will only take three days for most people (in the U.S. ) to receive the message. Maybe it is time.

LET'S FIX CONGRESS!!!!! If you agree, pass it on. If not, just delete. 
You are one of my 20+. Please keep it going.”

Thank you for reading, we will return to the regular nonsense tomorrow

WHAT’S LEFT?

The hair is going, the eyesight, the hearing, probably taste as well. But I always tried to keep my mind from going. I know some of you think it is already gone, well, guess what?

THE MIND IS GONE TOO!

Coming down from my shower one morning, TLW (The Little Woman) was in her chair. She looked at me quizzically, and frantically started to point to her eyes! Looking at her, I felt bad; after all, she has been feeling good lately so I wondered. I also wondered why she looked so fuzzy, when it hit me. She was asking me: “Hey, moron, where are your eye glasses?”

Without a word, I turned around and headed back upstairs to fetch them, laughing at myself for being such a smuck.

Well, there you have it. From now on, you will be reading blogues that may wander, may lose its focus half way in a sentence, may take you to where, you don’t know. It other words, nothing will really change, maybe even get better.

When Mom was in her 50’s, I used to tease her about the old age home. In fact, once I took her shopping since she didn’t drive, and stopped at the old age home, and asked her if she thought she’d be happy in it, and of course she reacted in such a manner as to say: “Not in your lifetime dumbass!”

Today, when I call her, and she is 93, she can still remember people I long forgot. She has a terrible memory like TLW, she remembers too much about me! But Ma, please when they put me in the old age home, don’t make a fuss about it, and don’t go saying: “THAT’S MY SON!”

I WUZ DINKING

I notice that as a whole, we seem to applaud everything these days. Someone sings well, we applaud because he or she sounded so nice. One of those needy ballplayers hits a homerun and we applaud. Of course some things we applaud to silently, like a great book, a piece of art, and great meal in a restaurant, but in our minds we are applauding.

Why?

I mean, what was done you or I may not be able to do so well, but what WE do is never applauded! That singer, needy ballplayer, and chef have that talent, it comes natural. Why congratulate them for what they can do naturally? I went into the Wanna-Be-Bank and Truss Co. the other day, and a teller was behind the barrier counting out bills. Not one person, including me applauded! I thought of Pat the Princess of Foxwoods Points, shelling out the cash, down to the pennies; does she get applauded as she works at the Wanna-Be-Bank? NO! Do they when she counts out her draw at the end of her shift get applauded if she is even? NO! Be short, Pat, and you will get an awful lot of attention! My point is: she did something that took more than natural ability: it took patience, time, care and dedication.

How many of you wished you were at least appreciated for what you do, a little more? OK, we have Mother’s Day, designed originally to honor mothers once a year. Actually they deserve more than that, they should be applauded all year long, and long after they are gone for what they do. Dads, they work everyday, worry about their families, try to set a good example, and like me, try not to swear out loud in front of the kids, one lousy day! ONE LOUSY DAY A YEAR! And what happens on Father’s Day? I’ll tell you what; they send him outside to bar-b-q, that’s what!

I was dinking. Why do we cry when someone dies? I mean he lived his life for whatever number of days on this earth. People got to know him, break bread with him, chatted, played and even fought with him or her. Rather than the morbidity of crying, why not give him instead a big round of applause for living?

THE SEARCH IS OVER!

As we sat down to dinner about a month ago, TLW (The Little Woman) made an announcement: “The search is over!”

When TLW makes announcements, I usually sit up and listen. It is a lot like the Russians did when Pravda or Tass made announcements, something big for the masses to hear and believe.

“I finally found a card for Anthony and Courtney for the wedding!”
“Oh! Pass the pork cops, please.”
“I didn’t want to get anything too mushy.”
“Right, pass the rice, please.”
“And I wanted something for the both of them, not just ‘son’ as most of them say.”
“Of course, we have any salt?”
“Here, read it”

And so I read it, burp and look for the salad. The ancient time honored custom of having the salad after the main course, to push it all down with the roughage was invoked. It goes with the Italian American tradition of calling sauce: gravy. It is just the way it is, so get over it!

Looking into TLW’s eyes at this point is pointless, she cries. Her eyes flood and her breath shortens into short gasps, making me want dessert too. Emotions are running high and long, as TLW thinks about all the moments she spent with her baby, and there were many, and now she was handing off the baton of love to another woman. As for me, I think a good chocolate donut would really be nice about now.

Fortunately, TLW didn’t buy a mushy card; she will be mushy enough for all the world to witness. As for me, I will trail along realizing, there is the bride, the groom, the bride’s mother, the grooms mother, the bride’s father her family then the groom’s family and somewhere after it is all over, the father of the groom will try to get something to eat, or at least try to hitch a ride back to the hotel. Maybe a Jack Daniels Manhattan?

BASTILLE DAY

Today is ‘Bastille Day’ in France, where a bunch of unhappy pastry chefs, all named Louis stormed a fortress and demanded a new tennis court or something. Well, that’s what my history teacher said so many years ago. He could be wrong, after all he said it so long ago! “So what?” you say! “Who cares, DelBloggolo, I thought you might have something to say for a change!”



Well don’t get your unmentionables all bunched up, because Bastille Day is supposed to be just like the Fourth of July. I was going to mention it to #2 Son, but was afraid that he might not know what Bastille Day was. I am afraid to talk to him about anything prior to 1995, when the Internet took over all our lives. I already mentioned Errol Flynn to him, and he asked who’s that? My nephew the Macaroni Man has often questioned people and events I thought for sure that generation should know, but don’t. These are intelligent people that are being dulled by modern technology. It is not their fault; it is the fault of all of us, including me.



I include myself in this because, here I am complaining, but I don’t write this in long hand (a dying art) I don’t even write this on a typewriter, (Does anyone own one let alone use it?), and then put the blog up. It is called convenience, and frankly, the art and style of living is diminishing and becoming unimportant to all of us. Our immediate environment is not as important as our desktop is. I recall when I had to clear off my desktop, by removing paper, paper clips, erasers, books, coffee cups and folders of work. Now a clean desktop is removing electronic icons! We have become so tunneled into looking at a screen; we don’t have peripheral vision anymore, and don’t care to!

There was a company once that produced “Fine leather bound books” with gilded edging, beautiful illustrations, that included classic type styles, books that one would put on their coffee table or in their library and think of the book as an object worthy of calling art. Where has that slice of life gone? It is called a ‘Kindle’.



A simple thing like a telephone seems to be disappearing, going the way of the book. No longer do we have phones that are connected to a phone pole, a good thing, now we don’t even have a phone on our walls or coffee tables! Now we keep our phones in our pockets and pocket books, as they play out some obnoxious noise to disturb people and take their attention away from their own little electronic world. I recall people buying phones for their homes that fit in with their décor. You bought a phone as part of your decoration scheme in a room!





Once people would look where they were going. You know, have your head up, looking both ways as you crossed a street or climbed a staircase? Now they stare into the little screen, and glide their index finger up or down or sideways, oblivious to what is about them. I think somehow that is rude. I see it in theatres, and churches, I see them on the highways and streets, sometimes in the middle of streets!

Are we losing our skills and fine-motor abilities? Will we lose our pincer-grasps and ability to spell out words? Will we eventually stop speaking?

JUST SHOOT ME…

Or the diary of bad eater.

It was Sunday morning, the diner was not too empty, just enough for me to enjoy myself. I scouted around looking for rug rats, and no one. The day promised to be a good one! For one thing, I would not be watching the Mets, and two, TLW (The Little Woman) and I would be going away for a short little vacation to Port Jefferson to stay overnight to celebrate our 40th anniversary a week early.

I ordered breakfast, a mozzarella omelet with French fries. Although I didn’t plan to kill myself, I thought this is a good way. After eating, everything started to settle half way down my chest, like it was nailed into my heart, as a discomfort swept through my chest, that burning sensation of heartburn, I could have been the heartbreak of psoriasis. I thought: thank goodness I won’t eat again until later this evening at the Danford Inn.



Upon arriving at the hotel, we went to check in and found out that in spite of an email confirmation from the place, and the fact that TLW forget to bring the confirmation number, they could not find our name in their system. Being the nice guy that I am I was patient, thinking how we could possibly not be in their system, being we made the reservation way back in March, and here it was June!

The young clerk behind the desk tried different spellings of my name, TLW’s name, even his own name, and nothing. Then I suggested that since we knew the confirmation number had come recently in a email, maybe there was a computer about that TLW could go on to retrieve it. Suddenly the young clerk’s face lit up, and he escorted us to his office where TLW went into her email and retrieved the number. Happily, the boss set up the room and announced that we would be upgraded to a room with a private balcony!


As we arrived, champagne awaited us chilled, and two stem-wear glasses to help us chill. We went to an off Broadway production of the Drowsy Chaperone, and returned to our rooms where we sat out on the balcony and drank our champagne, and went off to dinner.

Having figured there was enough time since the last meal at breakfast, and the fact that it was after 6:30 pm, I decided to have some fried calamari with hot peppers, throw in some lobster bisque, followed by mussels and shrimp in a broth with a pasta. Although I didn’t plan to kill myself, I thought this is a good way, then realized that it was déjà vu all over again, but redundantly!

Speaking of which, after the cheesecake, it was indeed time to die. Oh, how I wished to die, swearing off food until the next millennium, I stumbled through the rest of the evening, falling asleep on the bed awakening and tossing and turning, the heart-burn keeping me awake. Soon dawn broke, but alas, I was not dead, and willed myself to the shower. Dressing TLW and I had our coffee and headed to the great outdoors to walk around before breakfast. Did I really have to eat breakfast? Did I not want to die? Shouldn’t I kill myself somehow, so as not to eat eggs with ketchup and sausage, pancakes with butter and all along praying I would die?

As we sit, TLW says: “I think the fruit and a little toast is good enough after that dinner last night, don’t you?”

“Actually, I was hoping for something light or maybe death!”

WHAT THE?????

It happened often, not that I really minded, just that the surprise could be overwhelming. Of course if I had a clue it was the first day we met, I was tending my lawn and he came over and introduced himself.

“Hi, welcome to the neighborhood.” On a bright and warm Saturday morning, his red hair surpassed only by his electric personality, he welcomed me. It would be the start of a off again on again friendship, governed only by sight. To this day, while we no longer live across the street from each other, we still manage through the Wanna-Be-Bank and Truss Co and TLW (The Little Woman) who works there and he banks there, to get together.

Bud is a kind of person who is to say the least: “Outgoing” no matter if he is coming or going. Happily married with two married children and a grandchild, his conversations now center around them. Years ago they centered over hockey. Bud would drive down from somewhere like Buffalo all day, arrive late, put on his hockey clothes and go out to play deck or ice hockey from 11:00 pm until whenever it ended the next morning.

But none of what I just relayed is surprising, that was Bud.

One night, I was sitting at my dinner table, my two older kids were maybe 12 and 11 and we were having a pleasant conversation. I suddenly had a sense of some presence in the room. As I cut into my pork chop, a shadow casts itself across my plate. Not moving my head, not looking I just knew.

Bud. He had walked in, unannounced, and was standing over me! Without loosing a moment he just joined us! Funny thing is I liked him because he is sincere, outgoing, and trusting, and even grabbed a baseball bat when I had a run-in with a nut case in the neighborhood one fourth of July

IS IT POSSIBLE?

It’s strange how our pets can condition us. Happy has been gone for over a month by now, yet I can still feel her presence in the house.

TLW (The Little Woman) too feels the same strange phenomena that I do. Something seems to be going on. One Saturday, during the course of my day, I thought I could clearly hear the sound of Happy, lapping her water from her dish. When I did, at first I didn’t think about it, then it occurred to me as I pictured her on that table in the vets that horrific day.



TLW the very day said she thought she heard the sound of her paws on the tile floor, as if she was coming from a nap to investigate what was happening in the kitchen, something she always did.

Coming home from shopping one morning, TLW said she expected to see Happy at the door, waiting for her, and I have entered the house, looking for her, so I wouldn’t step on her, as she was always under foot.




We are still trying to get over the idea that if we sit down to eat or even rest, that Happy would shake us up by ringing her bell, making us having to get up to let her out. Sometimes she did it to just get a treat, making us so angry.

I don’t know if it was the fact that Happy was on a time-table, or we were just well trained by her, with a conditioned reflex, but I think she reversed the tables on us all, and Dr. Pavlov!

WHERE HAVE ALL THE BLOGGERS GONE?

Short time passing, where have all the bloggers gone short time ago? Gone to cyber space everywhere, when will they ever return when will they ever come back?

Sorry Peter Paul and Hairy, but the sound of your music (Were have all the flowers gone?) came to mind recently.

A while back I went to the doctor for my quarterly checkup, to get annoyed by his staff and spend some more money on co-pays, when I got home, there was a message on my answering machine. It was from my older sister Tess, (A lot older) wanting to know if everything was all right. Then there were a few messages in Facebook from my younger sibs asking the same thing, was everything OK, no blog, what’s up?

It seems that Google who hosts this blog was out of commission for a day, so it reverted back to a Wednesday instead of Friday, so everyone thought: He’s dead, will TLW (The Little Woman) throw a party?

I myself was wondering, so I went on my good buddy Spaldeen Dreams and Braindrops and sure enough those were down too! Maybe on the strength of the last blog shown, of Sista Tanj- Gerina, she killed me, after all she is known to kill people with her hands by just waving: “Hello” in a crowded room! But no, I am still here.

And so…

I feel good, I knew that I would, now
I feel good, I knew that I would, now
So good, so good, I got you

Whoa! I feel nice, like sugar and spice
I feel nice, like sugar and spice
So nice, so nice, I got you!

Thank you James Brown.

WHAT? AGAIN!

Every year at this time, TLW (The Little Woman) celebrates her birthday. Unlike me, who hasn’t had a birthday since I turned 50, hers keep on coming, and I keep on getting older. It is strange because she doesn’t seem to get any older, but I do!

Oh, she can complain that she has aches and pains, but she does that to make me feel good, so I don’t feel alone. Before we were married I did the usual checks on her, a D&B, a request of all her health and dental records, and her birth documents. The strange thing is she said her birth documents were all destroyed in a fire. So I asked: “Are you younger than me?” Her answer was: “Yes, that’s it, I’m younger than you.” I inquired if there was a way I could verify that and she said that I just had to believe her, after all; she did go to Catholic school.

Through the years I’ve noticed other things about her. For instance she has gone to the bathroom only 4 times in 40 years. She could subsist on a diet of pizza for the rest of her life, and she has all my money. She doesn’t always laugh, except for those rare occasions when I trip and fall.

There is one problem in particular: she has a rotten memory; she remembers EVERYTHING I do or say!

So today is her Birthday! We will downplay it for her sake, but we will go out with friends, and celebrate one of my favorite people, http://lbeeler.blogspot.com/ Laura’s birthday as well that falls on the same day as TLW’s. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO HEW. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO HEW, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TLW, HAPPY BIRTHDAY I LOVE YOU!

BLACKBERRY, I-POD AND WHATEVER

I went to a party last month that celebrated a graduation from college by a young lady in her early 20’s. She went through school under very trying circumstances, and so TLW (Te Little Woman) and I wanted to celebrate her success.

The party guests were for the most part, her family and friends who were in their early 20’s. These young people were having a good time, but life today is peculiar, when you see what they do.



On the dance floor, the young ladies all dance with their drinks in their hands! This is from the fact that when they go to a nightclub, they don’t want their drinks to be drugged! Can you image what life has turned into; that women have to fear being drugged? This society is sick and getting sicker.

Then there is the ever-present hand held device that threatens all the things that we used to take for granted. The young women all seemed to own on, and all were using them, all at once!

I find it disturbing when people have conversations and don’t look you in the eye when they talk, as they are staring into their little devices. As their fingers flip and swipe, they stare into their toy, leaving me fascinated about how fast they text these messages and don’t get eye strain, neck problems and/or killed by inattentiveness.

To make matters worst, one Sunday TLW took me to church, and sitting in front of me, during the service is this young man. In his hand is one of these devices, and I could tell he was texting and checking his email! In church! Checking email!

I know: “Get over it Joe, that is how things are today!”

So from this device we have: Lost eye contact, can’t make conversation, can’t write in script anymore, and are losing our faith to the electronic gods!

Who ever said that computers are a good thing?

WHATZAMATTERWITCHYER?

I was in the post office last month to purchase some stamps. The post office is small and is really an adjunct to a larger building elsewhere. Behind the counter stood the postman and facing him was a woman who was in the midst of making her life uncomfortable.

In front of me was this gentleman who was middle aged and wearing a t-shirt that said: “Police Emergency”. He was a burley man, a little overweight and about 5’ 9”.

The lady was in the middle of her harangue-

“What is it with you New Yorkers, always in a hurry, no smiles on your faces?”

The postman says: “I don’t know ma’am. I…

The Police fellow then speaks up:

“All yuz people come here ta live and breathe our ear and then try to tell us how we should live!”

The lady-“Well… I… you know…”

The Police fellow: “Why don’t you leave? Just l-e-e-v-e, leave.”

He then looks at me for support and says: “right?”

Me: “Yes sir, just l-e-e-v-e, leave!”

A TOAST TO THE NEWLY WEDS

Below is my toast to the newly weds. The day was special for many reasons, and you will see some photos: love for a son in his mother’s eyes and love for a daughter in her father’s eyes. http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=250779151605330&comments
But you will also see the eyes of all who attended, some from far away California, and all over the country for these two wonderful people.

I spoke with many of those who attended, asking how they knew the couple, and thanked them for coming so far to celebrate this occasion. They each had something to tell me about the couple, they all said the same thing, how great a person they each were.

Courtney should be singled out for the great job she did. Already I m so proud of them, and the day she planned made both Ellen and I proud and elated that she is part of us. We will both love her, as I am sure Michael does too. I know my beautiful sisters, my mother and relatives will love her as much as they love Anthony.

http://vimeo.com/26030828

Here is my toast:

First I want to thank you both; Courtney and Anthony for allowing me this moment. I have thought of this special day and this moment for a long time.

It is not traditional that the father of the groom gets to say anything at the wedding day. But this is a special day for your mom and me too, because of you two special people. It is not often that parents will look up to their son, and think of him as we do you. You have given us a treasure trove of special and happy memories, some not so happy, but never were any of the memories you gave us, angry.

Anthony, all your life you have made us proud, you have done things that were unselfish, sharing your childhood for a sister with special needs, for parents that struggled with the a loss of your sibling, but you never asked for anything but to be helpful, loving and understanding, and yes, even trying to be perfect for our sake. Once again you have succeeded.

With that spirit, I know you bring into this family someone so very special, someone who is already assimilated into our large family. Courtney you are now considered a daughter, a sister, a niece, grandchild; not an in-law. That is the way we are, that is the way it ought to be.

Remember to build your dreams together, because dreams will give you hope and reason to live and look for tomorrow.

And so first, I toast you both: as one, may your lives entwine, may your souls be one and your hearts dedicated to each other only. Long life: forever love, and always love and live for each other only.

Secondly, I toast my wife, for giving me such a wonderful son, and because of her good influence, a new and beautiful daughter, named Courtney.



Happy Birthday to an extremely handsome young man I know named Stephen O'Hara! You look terrific for your age!

TOASTED

The beautiful ladies you see in the picture are Courtney, her mom Claire and TLW, the handsome guys are #1 Son and Courtney's dad, Rodger the 'danceman'

When we met after the wedding, and all the toasts I did had been given, I was asked a number of times to reproduce the toast for the blogue on DelBloggolo. So as a public service and an attempt to get even with all of you who hate me, here is the toast I gave for the night of the bridal party rehearsal dinner which TLW (The Little Woman) and I hosted.


A FATHER’S TOAST TO THE COUPLE

My wife Ellen and I want to thank everyone for coming this evening to salute the wedding party, it is a group of very beautiful people, and some of you I know for many years now, some I look forward to knowing.

Today, as we gather for the final hours before the big day, I think it appropriate that as a father, I leave you both a few words of advice.

I’m sure you’ve gotten a lot of: “Good luck” and “Best Wishes”. Ever wonder why? What’s going to happen? Someone know something they are not telling? You are going to need it though. Yes, let’s face it, like a shiny new penny: you will start to tarnish a bit each day, until flatulence is not only totally acceptable, but expected.

Being married is sharing everything and working together as one. When we first married, we had nothing, and we worked very hard through the years to keep it.

Anthony, as a husband you need to take charge, be the man, wear the pants, and plan well. I remember our last anniversary weekend. I planned a great weekend out of town, 4 star fancy dinner reservation, a beautiful suite overlooking the Long Island Sound, and an off Broadway play. I remember getting home afterward, and pouring drinks to toast my romanticism. Your mother lifted her glass, eyes sparkling by now and asked: “Where the hell were you all weekend?”

Remember kids, that a man who is unmarried is incomplete, it is not until he is married that he is finished. Being married is a great thing, I know I love it, I know it is nice having that one special person you want to annoy the rest of your life, and, after all marriage is like a lollypop, the first year’s taste is a sweet surprise, then it gets stickier every year after.

With due respect to the moms here tonight, every mother generally hopes that her daughter will snag a better husband than she managed to do...but she's certain that her boy will never get as great a wife as his father did.

There are secrets even in a good marriage. The secret to a good husband is; stay out of sight, keep quiet, never look her in the eyes when you have nothing to do and want to relax, and let her have her way. A good wife: just one, LET HIM THINK HE’S HAVING HIS WAY.

Anthony, back in the early seventy’s, there was a saying that went: “love is; never having to say you are sorry”, well let me tell you, it sure helps. ANOTHER secret to a good marriage-a good sense of humor, and a short memory.

You should never go to bed angry, stay up and argue, and remember Anthony, women have lousy memories: they remember everything you do!

And finally: To the groom: I discovered early in my marriage that I found it difficult to get the last word in any discussion. With time, though, I learned how to always get the last two words in every discussion. I Just made sure the words are "Yes dear."

So here’s to the beautiful Courtney, who I will be most proud to call my daughter, and to the groom, Anthony, whom I have always been proud to call my son: Lunga vita: l'amore per sempre, e sempre amare e vivere per l'altro soltanto. Long life: forever love, and always love and live for each other only. Salute’

I’M TWO DAYS LATE!

According to Mom, I was due to be born on July 4th! The good Lord knew that would not wash, that that is all this fat head would need. Not to mention the suggestion that the fireworks were all in my honor!

Some of the best July 4th’s I can recall go way back to my youth. The beaches, parades and bar-b-q’s made the day real and I enjoyed them. However…

I went to college, and one of my courses of study was photography. Learning to shoot a picture, develop it, use a light meter, study light and composition. That meant that I needed an expensive 35 mm camera with a bayonet lens. (I used to stab people with my pictures. I’d stick them with one and say: “Here, look at this!)

Around that time, my two baby sisters were in an elementary school band, one played the clarinet, and one was a baton twirler. They would both be in the parades, preceding the long and never ending line of fire trucks that would bore me to tears. After the band went by, and I got all the pictures of #’s 3 and 4 sisters, there was nothing left but the fire trucks! Looking through the lens of a camera, I missed the whole parade!

“Ma, I missed the whole parade!”

“Did you get the pictures????”

“Ma, because I was taking the pictures, I missed the whole parade!”

“And?”

“So Ma, did YOU enjoy the parade?”

“Don’t get so smart, you’re not too big to use the wooden spoon on your head.”

And that folks is how the fireworks usually started on that day.

TODAY IS THE BIG DAY!

Today #1 Son gets married!

He is marrying a beautiful gal named Courtney, my new daughter-in-law.

Today all I have to say is:

CONGRATULATIONS COURTNEY AND ANTHONY
WE LOVE YOU AND WISH YOU LONG AND PROSPEROUS YEARS OF HAPPINESS!
LOVE MOM, DAD AND MIKE!

This is the moment I've waited for
I can hear my heart singing
Soon bells will be ringing

This is the moment of sweet aloha
I will love you longer than forever
Promise me that you will leave me never

Here and now, dear
All my love I vow, dear
Promise me that you will leave me never
I will love you longer than forever

Now that we are one
Clouds won't hide the sun
Blue skies of Hawaii smile
On this, our wedding day

(I do) I do
(Love you) Love you
With all my heart

hawaiian-wedding-song-lyrics-andy-williams

A NOSE FOR TROUBLE

Or, Could you come over here and smell this?



When I bought my used Prius back in February, I was really proud of my purchase. The price and mileage were all to my advantage, and the car is great to drive for so many reasons. I figured: there has to be a catch to this somewhere. I caught it.

The car stinks.



Not an overwhelming smell, an insidious, low-grade stink that permeates from somewhere, where that is, I don’t know. I have tried everything to rid the car of it, but it doesn’t go away. I didn’t smell it when I went to the car dealership, because I know that they must have masked it.

So I went to TLW (The Little Woman) and she suggested baking soda, which I tried and sprinkled it on the seats and floor. The next morning I went out and vacuumed and decided to test the results, but because I was so close to it could not tell. Bringing in the vacuum to put it away, TLW asks:

“Does it still smell?”

“”I’m not sure, I need another nose.” (One that is used to poking into my business, can come up with an immediate opinion, and will tell me where to go next, nose.)
Out to the car we go, she enters, closes the door and shakes her head NO!

“You still stink!”

“What about the car?”

“I suggest you put vinegar in some bowls scattered throughout the car, overnight.”

Now here is my problem: If I listen to her for a change; will my car smell like a salad?

Maybe a salad that is going bad???