HOW I HATE IT WHEN SHE DOES THAT!

It was early in the morning, right before writing this blog in fact, that TLW (The Little Woman) came downstairs after getting ready for work.

“How come you don’t have the TV news on this morning?”

After 40 years of being married to her, I should know better than sit there and wait for what comes next. I should have put the laptop down and went to the bathroom with a newspaper to wait out the morning. But NO, I have to ask:

Stupid: “I don’t know, WHY?”

TLW: “There was report on the news this morning done by some insurance company, and guess who are the worst drivers?”

OK, we see where this is going; it is one of the following:

Men

Men in their 60’s

Married Men

Married Men married for 40 years or more

Men who use lap tops

Married Men who use lap tops

Just plain old me.

Stupid: “Who?”

TLW: “Men! 80% of the car accidents are caused by men!”

Somehow I feel compelled to apologize.

Stupid: “Well, that is because women aren’t married to women.” (Snappy comeback, no?)

TLW: “Yes, that is one of the stupid answers men gave, but they are the cause of most accidents.”

Men get into accidents, women cause accidents. They drive 20 miles an hour, talking on a cell phone, backing everything up. Men get frustrated and try to go around them and Bang.

Now I’m no chauvinist, some of my best friends know women drivers, but come on, I’ve been victimized by women more times than not. They stop behind cars in front of them for a light about two car lengths behind, so that when I’m behind her, by the time she sees the light has changed, manages to finally move and get by the light, it CHANGES ON ME, I HAVE TO WAIT FOR ANOTHER LIGHT!

OK, I admit that men are getting very bad as drivers, they do break the law too often, women don’t. Inside of one week I had two guys break the law and almost cause an accident, both times I could have been killed! That reminds me, anyone want to be my backup in case I croak?

There is too much arrogance going on, men are stupid when they drive, thinking they are the only ones who are entitled to the road. They take stupid chances and don’t pay attention. But these men are usually younger than 55 and should be stopped if possible, before a lot of innocent people are killed.

IT WASN’T VERY HARD TO DO

Forty-one years ago today TLW (The Little Woman) and I got engaged.   Cigarette commercials were banned on TV and Radio, and other than that, it was a quiet day in for the history books.

What started on the Long Island railroad, I though I’d finish on the Long Island Railroad. We had decided to marry the day after Thanksgiving, 1970 and on January 14^th, 1971 we went into the city to pick up the ring at the diamond district. To celebrate the occasion we went to the Riverboat restaurant near Penn Station, and I promised her I would give her the ring on St. Valentine’s Day.

I lied.

I could see she really wanted that ring, and she wanted it NOW! As for me, holding onto the ring made me nervous. That night I resolved to surprise her on the train and let her have it.

The next morning she joined me on the train and I slipped it on her finger. We rode with tons of friends on one car, every day and night, everyone knew us and we were friends with everybody. Up and down the aisle Miss Manning paraded, showing off her ice, flinging her bling, and I watched from my seat as people were really enthused about the event.

Every now and then I do something right, this was one of them. I guess you could say she was very engaging.

AND ANOTHER THING!

Went to visit my 93 year old mother to show her #1 Son’s and TLC (The Lovely Courtney) wedding spread done by a magazine called ‘My Wedding’ a beautiful 4 page spread about the wedding in July. Being how Mom didn’t go to the wedding because she is physically unable to, I try to bring her up to date.

Before I visited her, I called her first.

“Hello, Ma! How are you feeling?’

“I’m feeling just fine.”

“Will you be home tomorrow, or are you going dancing again?”

“Very funny. How come I am honored once again by your visit?”

Not wanting to spoil the surprise of the magazine layout.

“Oh, I finally decided to bring you my 8^th grade report card, so you can sign it and I can turn it in.”

I arrive and ring the doorbell, and Henry, Mom’s boy toy and house boy answered.

“Oh! She’s downstairs in the basement looking for old buttons!”

“Hang IN THERE, Henry.”

Mom climbs the steps and says:

I found an old sweater, you know for the house, but it needed some buttons, so I’m looking with Henry to find some. You know, just for around the house.”

I show Mom the layout, she goes OOOOH!  Ahhhhh…. She is so beautiful, he looks so handsome. Didn’t he wear a tuxedo?”

“Yes Ma, that’s a tux, it’s grey!”

Oh, my eyes are going, so where’s the report card you wanted me to sign?”

Mr. Romeny I presume?

“Ma, I was only kidding!”

“I thought it was kind of strange, I was trying to figure out how old you are and how long you would keep a report card from me!”

We all go to the kitchen, as Henry has made coffee and it is all poured.

“So tell me, what do you think about that Obama? And that wife of his, fighting with everybody! And another thing…the other one that Romoney, oh God, I hope they don’t let him win!”

“Ma, I assure you there will be no Romoney as president.”

“Well, I hope not.”

HAPPY BIRTHDAY 

Liz Manning-Gohlinghorst, my beautiful niece and a great mom!

I CONFESS

The other day I happen to be going by the kitchen table and there was an index card lying there. Since I clean up a lot as a hen-pecked husband, I thought I’d check it out and toss it if need be.

As I read the card, the content suddenly caused me to sit down and wonder! The shocking accusations were true and finally someone was catching up to me after all these years! Yes, I was guilty, and I could understand getting it all down on paper. The charges against me were plain and clear. I though: “How interesting they do things these days! Put all your sins and misdemeanors on an index card for easy reference!

On the card were three statements;

1)   I disobeyed my parents

2)   I fought with my sisters

3)   I lied to my mother

  

Well all the facts were there, and maybe there wasn’t enough room to list them all!

I started to imagine the file they would build on me with this method. All my transgressions were being categorized into simple statements and all I had to do was sign each index card and they could go on to others I victimized, all too numerous to even count, but it was a start. There was my older sister Tessie’s (much older) 40^th birthday, the time I told a business acquaintance who was to meet TLW (The Little Woman) for the first time that she was deaf in her left ear and her right ear was very close to deafness, and would he be kind enough to shout into her right ear so she could be part of the conversations. Of course I would need to sign the one about my Dad falling asleep on a lawn chair one summer day and my putting the garden hose that was laying in the hot sun all day in his pocket and turning the spigot on to a trickle, (he literally thought he was wetting his pants!) and I won’t even think about sloppy John the vegetable guy on Stone Avenue in Brooklyn.

I asked TLW what the card was all about, and if it was a confession I needed to sign.

“No, I am teaching my little second graders about confession, so I made up those sins so they can practice.” Sure she had to imagine them, I have to recall them!

“Oh! Well then, if you need any more sins, something more original, just ask.”

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY HANDSOME NEPHEW MARC DZICEK, Awonderful father and husband!

OUCH!

I’m a New York Jets fan, and openly admit it. OK, so what? I’m also a Mets fan, and NO ONE should admit THAT!

I’m all caught up in the playoffs this year as the football season winds down, particularly rooting for the Giants, my team before the Jets came into being. Last Sunday, TLW (The Little Woman) went and got my daughter while I watched the Giants beat the Falcons. This Sunday promises to be an even bigger day as the Giants go to Green Bay to play the Packers.

So you ask yourself; “So what?”

Well, I got TLW tickets to the Broadway production of Mamma Mia, and it starts at 2:00 pm on Sunday. As they say in the hospital: “Ouch!” Right into the middle of the playoff season and I made reservations, bought tickets and everything! So I decided, since that is the day we got engaged 41 years ago, let’s really make it special, let’s book a room at the Waldorf Astoria, and find a nice fancy French restaurant to dine at after the show, and plan something for Monday. This will help take the sting away from missing the game.

Often as a young art director working in Manhattan, I would climb the steps at the 51^st street Lexington Avenue subway station and see the Waldorf. How often I told myself how wonderful it would be to stay there just once. One can get caught up in the glamour of NY City and the elegance it offers.

I would walk along Park Avenue, or come from the Pan Am building and see the Waldorf and wonder again about the elegance and splendor of the hotel. Once I went scouting for locations for a sweepstakes local to take photos and the Waldorf came to mind, but I settled on the Plaza instead. I often wished I hadn’t.

Le Rivage is the restaurant. It is located in the heart of the theatre district and is in a brownstone on the bottom floor. It is a small cozy place with elegance as the décor, spectacular food as the results and with a nice wine and/or champagne, I will revel in my luck in what I did 41 years ago.

I will miss the game this Sunday, but I’d rather spend it with TLW, while we are both healthy, and appreciate each other. This little trip into the city will be special, TLW is, so why not?

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO A GREAT GIANT FAN: MY HANDSOME NEPHEW GREG SCHNEIDER, GREAT HUSBAND AND FATHER!

REST IN PEACE

It was my first, and frankly I was nervous. Jerry Murray, my partner had done this kind of thing before, and so reassured me with visions of money dancing in my head. I peaked out the sanctuary door and saw people coming in, and yet the church was dimly lit, just what I expected.

When I looked at the altar-boy assignment sheet that week, there it was, Del Bloggolo/Murray –Tues. 8:00 am Mass, 9:00 am Funeral Mass. Reading it made me jumpy, a lump was in my throat, after all what does an 11-year old know about dead people, being in the same place with them and crying people?

I remember the last time I was at a funeral Mass, my first-grade teacher, old Miss Langon had died, and I went to the funeral parlor with my older sister Tess (Much older) on our way home from Our Lady of Lourdes School one afternoon. I went to the Mass the next morning to make sure that she was indeed dead and wouldn’t be yelling anymore, besides, I had to go because the school made us go. She was a cranky old maid about 150 years old, with a grey bun and thing legs in floral dresses. She carried a ruler around with her like a cop carries a nightstick, but used it more often on little first-graders.

Once the old witch accused me of talking in class, even though I didn’t and sent me to the wardrobe room and closed the doors on me! I was mad, and decided to strike back! On the shelf running the length of the closet, or shall I say my cell, was a shelf stocked with writing paper. I opened one package and began to crumple up the paper and stuff all the pockets of the kid’s coats. As the noon bell rang in the hallway, I was released and we put on our coats to march off to lunch. In those days you could go home to lunch, but had to be back at 1:00 pm promptly. As the kids put on their coats, they discovered the paper and the look of bewilderment crossed so many faces that day I never ever forgot it.

The experience of the old bags funeral has left me un-nerved, and every time I smelled flowers I think about the dead, and how horrific it would be when I had to face someone I loved dying. I may have been young, but my imagination was very active.

Finally Father LaTour appeared and got us in line to go out to the altar. Jerry had the large crucifix and I had a lit candle. Standing at the foot of the altar, suddenly I see the casket! My knees start to feel weak, my stomach is in a knot, and I am staring at the casket as it comes closer and closer. Behind is the grieving widow and a bunch of old people, slowly following the casket as it is led up toward me. Closer and closer it came, when suddenly I am in great shock and pain! Something is crawling down my forehead! Hot wax! The melting wax from the candle is running down my head, it hurts, and the dead guy is getting closer! Father signals me to go to the corner of the altar to get the incense boat, which I do and now I have to follow him around the casket! To alleviate my fears, I think about the money I would be tipped by whoever was going to tip me. I tried to figure that one out, but everyone looked like they had money, they were all wearing suits! This might be a problem, but then I realized Jerry might know since he did this before. After smoking the dead guy up, we turned and went onto the altar, and I hope that that was as close as I had to get to the casket that day. Finally, the Mass was over and once more, life returned to normal. The funeral director or relative of the dead man on wheels came back to where we were taking off the vestments and paid us both: $5.00! This was incredible money? I was rich, God this was wonderful!

I checked the assignment schedule once more to see if maybe I was on another funeral that week. For $5.00, bring them on baby!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO A GREAT GIANT FAN: MY HANDSOME NEPHEW GREG SCHNEIDER, GREAT HUSBAND AND FATHER!

TAG LINES

She was sitting in her Wanna-Be-Bank & Truss Company shirt, the blue one with the logo she wears every Saturday that she works. She was quieter than usual, and it struck me that maybe she was ill. But no, she wasn’t ill, just not yet primed to discuss her day with me.

It was dinnertime and I had prepared a rib eye steak and Asian broccoli, her favorite veggie for dinner. She dropped the mail she was reading and got to the meal, and so I could write this pathetic line.

“So, nothing going on at the Wanna-Be-Bank & Truss Company?” said I.

Thinking she suddenly lit up, the juices were flowing I was in for it!

Well, the bank (Wanna-Be) has decided to make us add tag lines to our meeting with a member. Not only do we need to repeat the member’s name three times, we now also need to say: would you like to donate a coat, AND would you like E-statements?”

Being an intelligent man, ripe for conversation and articulate, I said:

“Oh?”

Realizing that she was in for an intelligent conversation, maybe more than she could handle TLW (The Little Woman) ventured forward anyway.

“Someone will come in, say they want to close their account because their account has been compromised, and I’m supposed to say: “Would like to donate a coat?”

“GET OUT OF HERE!”

“Really it is all so stupid!”

“Well with the warm weather we have been having for January, it is pretty lame!”

“That’s not all-the powers to be want us to push a checking account with every savings account we push! We are supposed to get 7.5 checking accounts for every 10 savings accounts!”

“I NEED ANOTHER DRINK!” (I was getting one anyway) “I can’t believe it! Do they punch you in the nose when you ask that? Besides, who owns a half of a checking account?”

“Oh, I could give them a checking account and they would never know it! I could get credit for it, but I try to be a moral person and do the right thing.”

“Well you did marry me, but still you keep on trying, Thats good! But here’s the thing, I’m a member too. You’ve been home almost an hour, and you haven’t addressed ME by my name once!”

“How do you pronounce it again?”

“Mr. Del Bloggolo.”

“Mr. Del Bloggolo?”

“Yes?”

“Mr. Del Bloggolo, go shit in your hat.”

“That’s only twice but I’ll leave it at that. By the way, isn’t that your usual tag line for me?”

HAVING CONNECTIONS

Since before the holidays, #2 Son has been home from school, and on occasion we will hear from him. He has established headquarters in his old room rent free, and has proven to have connections. Yes, he has connections. Me, I’m impressed and understand how important it is to have them.

But you must wonder, who does HE know? What connections could he possibly have at such a young age? Well, let me tell you, he knows me! Yes, that’s right, he knows me, and got the connections through his mother, who, by the way, knows me too.

The phone rings on morning-it’s TLW (The Little Woman) calling from the Wanna-Be-Bank & Truss Co.

Me: “Eee-Yellow?”

Toots I –“Hi, #2 called, and wants to know if you will drive him to the train station?”

“Isn’t #2 in his room right now, down the hall from me?”

“Yes, but he feels funny asking you to take him to the train station.”

“Why, does he owe me money?”

“No- just that he hates to bother you.”

“That’s silly, why should he feel that way?”

“He’s your son, ask him.”

“If I do that, do I need to call you to do that?”

“Will you take him?”

“Of course, all he had to do is ask – and if he owes me money pay it back.”

“Well will you tell him?”

“Of course-call him back and tell him -Yes”

“OK, but if the phone rings, don’t answer it.”

“Bye”

“Bye”

A few moments later the phone rings, it rings and rings some more. I yell-

“MIKE, ANSWER THE PHONE!”

And so goes life with #2 Son, TLW, and some blogs can write themselves.

IT’S BROOKLYN TIME!

I’ve been seeing a lot of nostalgia lately as people use the Internet to reminisce about the simpler times in our lives, the fifties. If you lived through the fifties in Brooklyn, you know how wonderfully simple life was.  There were things that could not translate in other parts of the world, and so I will lend you these.

The ‘Stoop.’

The word has finality to it. It was where three to four steps led up to the entrance to the apartment house. It was the place where you conducted Stoop Ball: a game where a Spaldeen (http://spaldeendreams.blogspot.com) ball was used.  Unlike the official sports of today, stoopball players have no ‘Hall of Fame’ just a lot of memories. The game was simple; you tossed it against the steps and caught it on a bounce, for 5 points. If you hit the corner, and it flew back to you on the fly, 100 points! The beauty of this game was you could play against yourself.

SKELZIES

Skelzies was a simple game where you kept all your bottle caps and used them in a game that required you to go through a series of chalk boxes drawn on a sidewalk. With your middle finger, you shot the soda or beer cap toward the boxes, before your opponent did. You worked the board until you reached the center squares. As many players as were available would play.

PUNCH BALL

Every kid played punch ball. Boy or girl, you were equal, no strength was required, just the ability to punch the ball and run to a base. No uniforms were required, no electronics, no uniforms, just a Spaldeen ball. http://spaldeendreams.blogspot.com

STICK BALL

Look out Mamma, there goes your broom! Taking an old broomstick your mom had, sans the bristles, you taped one end with electrical tape and went to play. A simple Spaldeen ball http://spaldeendreams.blogspot.com was put into play, and two sewers fly ball meant you were the next Duke Snider. First and third base were parked cars, as home plate and second were sewers. Most spaldeens were hit onto the roofs, and climbing those roofs and finding an old Spaldeen that had hardened from age saved many a game.

ROLLER SKATES

Not every kid owned a bike in Brooklyn, but most of us owned a pair of skates. Not the fancy leather laced tie on boot types, but the kid that fitted your shoes with a skate key. The sissies would wear the skate key on a string around their neck, but us real men about 6 to 13 years old kept it in his pocket. You would skate until the metal wheels wore out from the concrete.

Sometimes you needed comfort. So, instead of skates on shoes, we built skooters made from 2x4 and vegetable or fruit crates. Decorated with bottle caps, drawings and using skates, to move it along, we put one leg on the 2x4 and with the other foot we pushed on the ground to give us speed and motion.

HAND BALL

Find a wall tall enough free of obstructions and you had a game, mano a mano. You challenged your friend and it became a quasi tennis match, no racket, no net, just a wall, an opponent and a (you guessed it) Spaldeen Ball. http://spaldeendreams.blogspot.com

KITES

Kites were special. We bought them from the candy or toy store for a quarter or less, and went out to either Callahan, Kelly Park or Highland Park and flew them in the early spring. Stealing rags or pillowcases, we attached tails to the end of the kit and flew till our hearts were contented. The kites came in thin envelopes that accommodated the two balsa wood sticks and the paper kite itself, or sail. A college graduate told this 7 year-old boy that the paper was not a kite, the whole assembled stick, and paper and tail was the kite.

THE HALLWAY

If it rained or was too cold, kids in Brooklyn hung around in the hallways and stairways of apartment houses. This was a legitimate playground since the rain and cold kept us inside. Kids in Brooklyn never took comfort unless they were with their friends and playmates. There was no such thing as a play date, and if you didn’t go out and play, your parents would kick you out, or send you to bed because they thought you were sick!

JUMP ROPE

A girl’s sport, you either jumped by yourself, or you jumped from a line of girls, you recited a chant and counted the number of times before you missed. You could do this better than any boy could, unless he was a boxer.

THE BEST THING OUT OF BROOKLYN

since the 50’s; http://spaldeendreams.blogspot.com

Read it you’ll like it! Also read: http://jpantaleno.blogspot.com/ both are written by a grumpy old guy that I love to read and try: http://lbeeler.blogspot.com/, by the Grumpy old man’s beautiful daughter who will make you laugh, but doesn’t write nearly enough for my taste.

LEAVE A TENDER MOMENT ALONE

As the song goes.

I was busily scanning in old slides one evening, trying to save as much as possible from the ravages of years of sitting in storage. I plan to put them all on discs and distribute them to mostly my sibs.

Some of the old photos are lost forever, and I will never know what was on then, some are damaged and some only slightly damaged. Those I can salvage a great deal of and people will have to live with what is left.

Our honeymoon came back to life once again, I see a young TLW (The Little Woman) posing in front of places all over Europe, boy were we young, and she was gorgeous then too!

I saw two grandmothers marching in a parade. One was playing a clarinet and one was flinging a baton, but they were so young!

I saw the graduations and the confirmations and days long gone.

My kids were back to the early days, two little tykes sitting on my knees, giggling when I tried to make them laugh, and when they got older, staring into the camera, wondering what Daddy would do with the picture.

But there was one picture that put me into an odd perspective.

LEAVE A TENDER MOMENT ALONE

There is this picture of my Brother-in-law John, sharing a tender moment with his infant son, about 39 years ago. He is in an infant seat and smiling, and my brother-in-law is smiling back. Looking at the photo, I felt that somehow, even though I took the photo, even though it was so long ago, that I was intruding at the moment I was viewing the slide!

If you have old slides store somewhere, they don’t last forever, get them on a disk.

HAVE FUN

A friend of mine posted this on Facebook recently. It is designed so I don't have to think to write of today, so read and try it, but most of all, enjoy it.

If you can pronounce correctly every word in this poem, you will be speaking English better than 90% of the native English speakers in the world!

After trying the verses, a Frenchman said he’d prefer six months of hard labor to reading six lines aloud.

Dearest creature in creation,
Study English pronunciation.
I will teach you in my verse
Sounds like corpse, corps, horse, and worse.
I will keep you, Suzy, busy,
Make your head with heat grow dizzy.
Tear in eye, your dress will tear.
So shall I! Oh hear my prayer.
Just compare heart, beard, and heard,
Dies and diet, lord and word,
Sword and sward, retain and Britain.
(Mind the latter, how it’s written.)
Now I surely will not plague you
With such words as plaque and ague.
But be careful how you speak:
Say break and steak, but bleak and streak;
Cloven, oven, how and low,
Script, receipt, show, poem, and toe.
Hear me say, devoid of trickery,
Daughter, laughter, and Terpsichore,
Typhoid, measles, topsails, aisles,
Exiles, similes, and reviles;
Scholar, vicar, and cigar,
Solar, mica, war and far;
One, anemone, Balmoral,
Kitchen, lichen, laundry, laurel;
Gertrude, German, wind and mind,
Scene, Melpomene, mankind.
Billet does not rhyme with ballet,
Bouquet, wallet, mallet, chalet.
Blood and flood are not like food,
Nor is mould like should and would.
Viscous, viscount, load and broad,
Toward, to forward, to reward.
And your pronunciation’s OK
When you correctly say croquet,
Rounded, wounded, grieve and sieve,
Friend and fiend, alive and live.
Ivy, privy, famous; clamour
And enamour rhyme with hammer.
River, rival, tomb, bomb, comb,
Doll and roll and some and home.
Stranger does not rhyme with anger,
Neither does devour with clangour.
Souls but foul, haunt but aunt,
Font, front, wont, want, grand, and grant,
Shoes, goes, does. Now first say finger,
And then singer, ginger, linger,
Real, zeal, mauve, gauze, gouge and gauge,
Marriage, foliage, mirage, and age.
Query does not rhyme with very,
Nor does fury sound like bury.
Dost, lost, post and doth, cloth, loth.
Job, nob, bosom, transom, oath.
Though the differences seem little,
We say actual but victual.
Refer does not rhyme with deafer.
Fe0ffer does, and zephyr, heifer.
Mint, pint, senate and sedate;
Dull, bull, and George ate late.
Scenic, Arabic, Pacific,
Science, conscience, scientific.
Liberty, library, heave and heaven,
Rachel, ache, moustache, eleven.
We say hallowed, but allowed,
People, leopard, towed, but vowed.
Mark the differences, moreover,
Between mover, cover, clover;
Leeches, breeches, wise, precise,
Chalice, but police and lice;
Camel, constable, unstable,
Principle, disciple, label.
Petal, panel, and canal,
Wait, surprise, plait, promise, pal.
Worm and storm, chaise, chaos, chair,
Senator, spectator, mayor.
Tour, but our and succour, four.
Gas, alas, and Arkansas.
Sea, idea, Korea, area,
Psalm, Maria, but malaria.
Youth, south, southern, cleanse and clean.
Doctrine, turpentine, marine.
Compare alien with Italian,
Dandelion and battalion.
Sally with ally, yea, ye,
Eye, I, ay, aye, whey, and key.
Say aver, but ever, fever,
Neither, leisure, skein, deceiver.
Heron, granary, canary.
Crevice and device and aerie.
Face, but preface, not efface.
Phlegm, phlegmatic, ass, glass, bass.
Large, but target, gin, give, verging,
Ought, out, joust and scour, scourging.
Ear, but earn and wear and tear
Do not rhyme with here but ere.
Seven is right, but so is even,
Hyphen, roughen, nephew Stephen,
Monkey, donkey, Turk and jerk,
Ask, grasp, wasp, and cork and work.
Pronunciation (think of Psyche!)
Is a paling stout and spikey?
Won’t it make you lose your wits,
Writing groats and saying grits?
It’s a dark abyss or tunnel:
Strewn with stones, stowed, solace, gunwale,
Islington and Isle of Wight,
Housewife, verdict and indict.
Finally, which rhymes with enough,
Though, through, plough, or dough, or cough?
Hiccough has the sound of cup.
My advice is to give up!!!

English Pronunciation by G. Nolst Trenité

HANDS DOWN, IT IS PAINFUL

Every year right after the holidays, I pay the price for celebrating. Some people can eat and eat and never gain an ounce. To you, go to another blog, NOW!

I miss you Grandma!

I work hard to stay within this slim boy shape but it doesn’t want to cooperate. I figure I’m close enough to death now that I should relax, eat what I want and not worry, you have to go sometime. Why not with a great meal or snack, you never know when it is time. My Grandmother used to say: “Joe Joe, you too skinny, mangia!” I loved Grandma!

But I of course put those concepts aside as I feel guilty, and try to analyze what I ate and think it into a logic that says: “OK DelBloggolo, when was the last time you ate like that, and when will it happen again?” But it doesn’t work that way, no sireee! I suffer from what I call ‘memory calories’ those are the worst kind of calories to have! What they do is stay, they don’t dissipate like they are supposed to. You see most calories attach, and after a while get bored and go away, thus the dissipation. Not mine, they stay, raise a family and invite other people’s calories to stay too.

I have tried all kinds of ways to fight calories. For instance, a common chocolate chip cookie should contain 60 calories. If you break the cookie in half, you now have two small cookies, and only 30 calories each. This should have a lesser shock upon your system, thus the calories should not take hold, these are broken calories, these calories shouldn’t work! I try to eat snacks standing or even walking if possible, this strategy should allow for burning of calories, (you may try this if you like, no need to thank me) so the calorie intake is minimized.

"Don't do that!"

I have to go to my doctor next month, he will get mad at me for gaining a few pounds (He feels he needs all the patients he can get so they can wait in his office for him to come in, an hour later than planned and talk politics. Then he can build his vacation coffers.) Meanwhile I noticed lately that he’s been building a little padding himself!

Then comes the salt attack, the tradition breaking salt attack.

You must be wondering what that is.

Every year, in the hood, we all get together with permission from our probation officers and celebrate the New Year. We gather at our neighbor Carol’s home and bring something, either an appetizer or dessert, depending which side of the street you live on. We talk about the past year, show off our post office photos and eat Chinese food. Well, I love Asian cuisine, and there is a high salt content in it. It all goes to my hands that swell up and hurt. It takes a couple of days for it to go away. I could discuss it with my doctor, but he is the guy that said to me once when I said I couldn’t lift my arm over my head: “then don’t do that.”

NEW YEAR – OLD MEMORIES

Recently I purchased a scanner to do 35 mm. slides. Slides that date back to the 60’s, covering things like parades, artwork, family and friends. Scanning in these old memories remind me of how simple life was back then, yet so complicated. I wanted to put everything on DVD before they completely fade away and I lose them.

There are few pictures that I own of myself since I was always behind the camera. The camera was complicated; it had a thing called film, Ektachrome, Kodachrome and Tri-X, depending on what you were shooting. Being how photography was part of my major, a great deal of time and money went into learning about it. You owned a light meter, tripod and even developing equipment, all part of the package.

A young skinny kid

My first job out of college landed me in Manhattan. Working for Lawrence G. Chait & Co., my first accounts were American Airlines, Lufthansa Airlines and P.H. Harnischfeger, an earth moving equipment-building company.  Boy was I excited! Sitting way up on the top floor of a skyscraper, corner office, (they loved me) and fancy lunches and dinners sometimes on the same day! My days were filled with being happy I was finished with college, the long harrowing experiences of getting to school, paying for it and attending classes, sometimes so hungry, I had headaches, but needing every penny to pay my way through. Not only tuition, but books, art supplies and photo equipment as well as train fare needed to be paid for. Dad had no money to give me, I had to do this all myself. So I went to work in my Dad’s plant and at night in Hill’s supermarket when the chance was available, and floated a school loan for the rest.

Some hot babe!

There were a lot of young ladies there, when I entered the new job, and being single and unattached, it was a wonderful hunting ground for a young guy to meet girls, or ladies as I started to call them. My boss was a great guy who let me fly by myself, meeting clients and making decisions. I bought my first car, and brand new Chevy Camaro, with bucket seats and all the things that made me feel cool.

Riding the trains to and from work, I met even more girls, and that is where I met TLW (The Little Woman)! But life was more than just girls and cars and work, it was freedom, and I was looking to find an apartment in Queens or Manhattan, to assert my independence further, and move out of my parent’s house. I was reading the apartments to let section of the NY Times and had circled a few places I would visit that weekend when I met this lady on the train that I took an interest in. For some reason, I decided to hold off after I made a date with her. I never looked at apartments!

My first paying freelance!

Of course there were other slides that I found, like my first paying job for someone. A children’s clothing company paid me a handsome fee to illustrate the store itself with a mural. I found old painting I did and tons of things that I forgot all about, but now the memories are flooding back. Enough so that I have a few blog to write!

GYU-KAKU

Or ‘Happy Birthday’ #2 Son! On December 29^th, as is the family tradition, we take #2 Son into Manhattan for his birthday.

This past birthday he wanted to go to the Museum of Natural History to see if he has any claim to cave man. This is at my suggestion since I got a view of his room one day while the door was open.

The place is huge, with long lines waiting to get in and once in, some of the patrons should be in the exhibits! Artifacts, carvings, tools and utensils are all part of the exhibits, as are life-like figures showing off ALL their stuff, if you know what I mean, both female and male, and rocks, lots and lots of rocks.

On top of the museum, #2 wanted to bring his girl-friend, a lovely young woman named Kelly AND he wanted to visit a Japanese restaurant in the heart of Manhattan on Third Avenue and 50^th Street called: GYU-KAKU, which is Japanese for ‘Cook it yourself and leave me alone’.

First they make you wait a long time and then they come and get you, sit you in very cozy seating that lends a lot of privacy and intimacy. The kicker is the hibachi that sits in the middle of the table. This follows a long history of traditional Japanese culinary innovation. There was Sushi, the raw fish experience, Benihana’s sitting at the table and being entertained while the chef did an outstanding act of knife and spatula flinging while he cooked your food, and now, the GYU-KAKU, the ‘Cook it yourself and leave me alone’ culinary experience for people who have cash they would like to cook.

You select what you wish to eat, they bring it out raw, and YOU have to cook it! The waitress puts the food down and says: “2 minutes each side” or “ no more than 45 seconds each side” and so it goes, depending on what you order. I’m thinking; “And we tip her for what?”

Sitting with #1 AND #2 Sons, TLW (The Little Woman) and the lovely Kelly, I don’t stand a chance.  They all put their stuff on the hibachi and I’m left standing in the cold. THERE IS NO ROOM FOR ME! I try to push something over a little and TLW elbows me away, I try again from another angle and #! Son fends off my attempt with his tongs. I’m sitting on the end of a bench that holds two people comfortably, but I’m #3, and I’m sliding off the end, no place to put my hat and I’m sitting on my coat, the zipper biting my tukus!

I think the next Japanese experience for me will be Hari-kari.

THE HOOD...AGAIN

Don't ask!

They were hanging on about 11:30, but just barely. Watching Dick Clark and Brian Seacrest (or is that Seabiscuit?) on the tellie. Some were in a near catatonic state from watching Dick Clark, some were just talking, and there was one sicko with a wig on.

Bill my neighbor’s son (BNS): “Joe remember that wig from the labor Day party?”

“Wig! What wig???”

“Oh you know, the one you wore and I took a picture?”

“No, I don’t.”

“I also have a picture of you wearing balloons under your shirt.”

“Oh God!”

“Yeah, and there are even more of you doing funny stuff on the slide show!”

“Oh please God, take me now!”

“Yup, I think you were trying to act like Madonna”

 "No, those were balloons,NOT cones!"

Apparently my neighbor has a large archive of photos of me at different Hood events where I tried to disguise myself for obvious reasons. TLW (The Little Woman) had suggested that I do that since we go as a couple. This way if people remark about what a nut I am, she can agree with them without having to admit she married me.

A rather large slide show was in progress, and every so often I would appear in it, and when I did, I wondered why I didn’t stay home, or at least beg for mercy.

THE SKY IS FALLING!

It was earlier that morning, and TLW (The Little Woman) was on her game.

“Joe, can you do me a favor and go to the store for me?”

“Sure.”

“Joe-can you read this?” Handing me a long list of handwritten items for the grocery store. Reading out loud for her, I actually go through the list without running to the pharmacist to read it to me!

Off she goes to work and off I go to the store. Finding items for TLW in the store is like looking for needles in a haystack, good luck!

I start out and enter the early morning Stop and Shop and select the easy ones first. One at a time I am going through the items and starting to get very nervous. Perspiration is dripping from my forehead and my arm pits are starting to create friction. I am getting everything on the list and now my legs are growing weak!

People are looking at me and wondering what’s wrong, the store manager is circling me wondering what’s wrong. As for me, I am starting to think the ceiling is about to collapse, in fact I’m sure it will. I AM FINDING EVERYTHING! No substitutes, no ‘not sure’ items, nothing but what she asked for!

And so, for the first time in our married life, I got everything on a list with three items or more! Mom would be proud of me.

I bring the stuff home and TLW arrives later in the day.

“Did you get everything?”

“Yup!”

Everything?”

“Ditto yup!”

“Did you get me an 8 ounce container of sour cream or a 16 ounce, the container looks kind of different from what I usually use.”

My world was quickly shattering, my joy put asunder. “What God has joined together, let no man put asunder.” Whoever wrote that hadn’t met TLW yet. Immediately I refer to my hand written list.

‘YOU WROTE-8 ounce container!”

“Oh, I know, it IS my fault, I should have written 16 ounces.”

And there you have it, I manage to get it right and someone else screws it up for me!

WHAT HAPPENED!?

To 2011? I recall being able to final master writing 2011 on my checks! Now I have to learn all over again.

I hope you all have a very happy and prosperous new year. I know that some of us will visit tragedy, some of us will be heart-broken, and some of us will be untouched. It is all part of the human condition. I hope you all go untouched.

Another year begins and I have to think about what I will do this year. What new adventure will I unearth or give a shot. #1 Son and my beautiful daughter-in-law Courtney hopefully will be in there new home soon. #2 Son will make us proud as he finishes up school, and my daughter Ellen will remain healthy. My deepest hope and concern is TLW that she remains healthy and happy. We have shared many New Years days together, and I am excited to spend this one too. Over the past  41 or so, many things have happened, both good and bad, and my assessment of it all with TLW is that I am the luckiest man alive to have her in my life. Sometimes I take her for granted a little, then something happens and I realize how blessed I truly am. Thanks Toots! As for me: what will be will be.

I have a number of projects under way and hopefully will complete most of them. I will be taking out the pen and the brush, and doing what I love most, creating. I can’t ask for more than that.

This blog will be more day by day and spontaneous, as I have found that doing too many in advance is not to my liking so much, and therefore I am wishing I had been a little more current.

I will continue to laugh at myself, and tease TLW and have a good time with it, as I will tease you guys too. You have all been very gracious when I do and I am grateful to you for your sense of humor.

I wish to thank you for all your loyalty and those of you who comment; please do more, and to you that don’t, please do.

So, stay healthy please. Don’t stop reading and let me have it once in a while: I love to hear from you. If you notice I don’t or rarely comment back, so whatever you say will NOT be edited as you can’t edit what I write. Remember this is mostly to be fun and occasionally a point of view.

Thank you so much, and Happy New Year, I love you all.