THE BIRTHDAY GIRL

Well, when I was a young man never been kissed
I got to thinkin' it over how much I had missed
So I got me a girl and I kissed her and then, and then
Oh, lordy, well I kissed 'er again

Because she had kisses sweeter than wine
She had, mmm, mmm, kisses sweeter than wine
(Sweeter than wine)

Well I asked her to marry and to be my sweet wife
I told her we'd be so happy for the rest of our life
I begged and I pleaded like a natural man
And then, whoops oh lordy, well she gave me her hand

Because she had kisses sweeter than wine
She had, mmm, mmm, kisses sweeter than wine
(Sweeter than wine)

If you must know the truth, I didn’t beg her to marry me, however I was ready to! I would have done anything, both lawful and unlawful to make myself this happy.

Who the heck am I talking about? Why TLW (The Little Woman) of course! You see, today is her birthday! It’s amazing, how she stopped aging when she married me! TLW is the starter of everyday life in my household. When she is gone, it is empty. You could fill an auditorium with people, but to me, if she is not there, it is empty.

I often read how men stray from their wives, how marriages can sour, and sometimes couples divorce. I won’t judge those men because I didn’t live their life. These things happen for whatever reasons, and tragic, unfortunate events unfold. But, when you have a wife like TLW, you go home on time, and maybe even a little earlier. There is no need for other company, and that has been true for over 38 years! Being happy is very simple living with TLW.

She may steal all the blankets and sheets, and try to blame me, she may tell me on occasion to: “Go ‘poop’ in your hat”, and we have had our differences, but when the air clears, I’m either laughing at her or buying a new hat.

TLW is still my girlfriend. TLW has endured living with me out of love. Motherhood is her calling, and I am ever grateful for the job she has done, especially with her oldest child, me. I savor every waking moment with her, and I don’t need a light on in the dark of night, if she is with me! She has made my house, a loving home, and she has been gracious enough to live with me in it all these years.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ELLEN,
I LOVE YOU MORE EACH DAY!
JOE

Please remember all those that need our hopes and prayers, including my brother-in-law, John.

BATTLE OF THE SHEETS

They said that World War I was the: “War to end all wars.” Then, before the ink is dried, a crazy paperhanger misfit starts another one!

This morning, I awoke from my slumber, and what do I see standing on the other end of the bed, but TLW (The Little Woman)! “Ah! She’s trying to kill me in my sleep, collect the insurance money, and find a younger husband!” I thought. Instead, I find her pointing to the bed, and the sheets. “God! I hope I didn’t start wetting the bed, I’m still too young for that!” But no, she was trying to convince me that I had taken all the sheets, that it is ME who takes all the sheets up.

I’m on to her little game! I know that she got me while I was asleep, and dragged the sheets over to my side, and planned the rest! Devious, I say. After dragging the sheets, she ran over to her side, and as I awoke from the jostling, she was standing there, pointing down at the bed! Ha! Like I would fall for that.

Before leaving for work this morning, she began by saying how she had to “suffer” the whole night, and decided it was a losing battle. She claimed she was barren of any sheets. Sheet less, but I say: “BULLSHEET!”

Her obvious attempt at making me the sheet eater, is not going to work, and I will remain ever diligent in my reporting of this injustice and cruelty to my person!

Please remember all those that need our hopes and prayers, including my brother-in-law, John.

MY SECOND HOME

Having moved from Brooklyn was a trauma for yours truly. Having lived all my life in the cement jungle of the city, moving to the burbs was a bit of an ordeal. We moved into a neighborhood that was not completed yet. No grandmother around, and where the heck was the subway? There were big dirt piles all over the neighboring area, with dirt roads with big muddy lakes. One had to walk a while to find a paved road, let alone a sidewalk! Homes were still being built!

Of course, it was up to me to find a store for Mom, since she didn’t drive, and we needed food. Dad was away in the city, and so I became the pioneer. “And while you are out there, see if you can find a church.” Mom commanded.

Off I went in one direction, strictly by my senses. Pointing my nose south, I headed that way and found a main road, (Montauk Highway) with traffic, with some commercial enterprises. Along with the find was a strange dog, which was snarling and following me! I was licked once by an Irish setter, (No offense, Toots) and when I was, I cried! This was 54 years ago! I was amazed by the lack of civilization, and quickly became worried that there was no TV in the area! All I could actually see was trees, grass, and old worn out gas stations, with big signs on them. After making the only turn heading west, I decided I would walk a while, and after no luck, would retrace my steps. I was missing Curiale’s and Butlers deli markets! Not even a Spinner’s in the area, this was the boondocks! My feet were starting to hurt when I finally came across a place that looked interesting. “Gene’s Supermarket”, the sign said, and I went in.

There standing behind the counter was this nasty looking old lady who eyed me suspiciously. I went to the bread section and got a loaf of sliced bread, and quart of milk and I think some baloney and mayo. She eyed me in her pink flowered cotton apron, watching my every move. Barely standing with her grey head over the counter. She must have thought that I was going to rob her. I was a stranger, probably one of ‘those city kids’.

No smile was emanating from the lady. No acknowledgment that I was a customer, and no trust that I was honest. Feeling very alone and strange, I placed the groceries on the counter and waited for her to tally it all up. Still no smile from grandma, as she rang me up. I tried smiling, but was greeted with disapproval, and almost hostility. Paying her, I was about to leave, when I had an idea.

Me: “Do you know where the church is?”

Momma Mean: “What church?”

Me: “ Catholic church.” I replied timidly.

Momma mean: “Oh! Sure! St. Joseph The Worker, right across the street on this side of the road, honey!” She was now smiling! I had made a friend.

Thanking her, I told her how happy my mother was going to be!

When I returned home, Mom asked how I did. “Oh, fine, the store is nearly in Brooklyn!”

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO JIM http://jpantaleno.blogspot.com/ The blogger from Somers Street!

Please remember all those that need our prayers, including my brother-in-law, John.

MAKING PLANS

Wednesday, at 5:pm, I will meet my blogging buddy for the first time! The kid from Somers Street, in the real heart of Brooklyn, Jim http://jpantaleno.blogspot.com/
Along with his wife: Jasmine and TLW (The Little Woman) will hook up at Calgero’s in Garden City!

He found me by Googling ‘Strange people’ and my name was on the top of the list. I don’t need any comments here! We’ve planned this meeting to celebrate Brooklyn. Why didn’t we meet in Brooklyn? Glad you asked. I looked up restaurants in the old neighborhood, and all require you leaving your weapons at the door with the owner.

Well, we will relive memories of our school, Our Lady of Lourdes, the beatings they administered, along with learning good penmanship, and obedience.

Jim lived around the corner from me, and we have never met before. I would bet we have seen each other when we were younger, but no introduction. Jim also shares a birthday week, one day after mine, and so we will get together in the true Italian tradition, by breaking bread.

BY THE WAY, HAPPY BIRTHDAY STEPHEN O'HARA.

Please remember all those that need our hopes and prayers, including my brother-in-law, John

WHISTLING PAST THE GRAVEYARD!

As if things aren’t bad enough, TLW’s (The Little Woman) sister Maureen’s husband Steve, a likeable guy by anyone’s standards, had a scare the other day. We all had fears, and I didn’t want to say anything here, until I knew, one way or the other. Turns out, everything is fine, and so we all go on.

Steve is an old engineer from the old school of life. Came from a nice family, and raised a nice family with his school teacher wife, and carved out a section of Connecticut to call their own for some 40 past years.

If you know Steve, and have a piano, he will impress you with the piano tuner he carries in his breast pocket! For years, being he is Sicilian, I naturally figured he was packing heat, but no, it is a piano tuner.

Once many years ago, when they showed up for a visit, Steve strayed toward the piano. Leaning up against it, he asked if I play. He then reached into his breast pocket, as I dove for cover. Whipping out the tuner, he saved me about 90 bucks.

Steve has a brother, Eddie, who successfully went through by-pass surgery, so congratulations to Eddie! Eddie is another member of the Cosa Gilardi clan of which I write. Actually, they are the farthest from gangster life I could imagine, and give Italians (ok, Sicilian) a good name!

By the way, another nice handmade card from Maureen, which will go into my collection of cards, along with last years card, and the lovely Courtney, #1 Son’s girlfriend, who made a card for the family for Christmas.


Please remember all those that need our hopes and prayers, including my brother-in-law, John.

IS THAT WHAT I GOT?

Yesterday I went to my doctor, and almost died of old age, waiting to see him! He seems to be very busy when I hurt the most.

Walking gingerly, I go into the examining room and sit on the chair, since my back was killing me, I didn’t want to sit on the examining table.

Finally, he shows up! “Why are you here?” he asks, and I repeat for the third time, once when I got the appointment, once with the nurse, and now him. “I got a booboo in my tummy." “Where?” I point to where and he says” “That’s your bladder.” I think, this is good, he went to his anatomy classes, and now he wants to impress me with what he learned. He looks at my ‘pee test strip’ and says: “Oooh, you have a lot of blood in your urine! And, your temperature is up!” I come right back with: “Oh!” “Yes, see, this should be pink, it’s green! Go into the x-ray room. ” I go into the Xerox room and wonder why no one is coming, then, I realize my mistake. I find the x-ray room and his assistant comes in and says drop your pants and lay on the table” Now she is a kindly old woman, but I don’t think I want to do that with her! I get on the table, and she places a paper blanket over me and starts to dig into my bellybutton, while adjusting the x-ray machine. “The doctor will be right in.” Famous last words.

Laying there in agony, after 20 minutes, he finally arrives. He digs into my bellybutton, and calls in his assistant. “You ought to know this! The blue side goes in here, and this isn’t even locked in!” “I’ll try to do better the next time.”

He shoots and says: “Meet me in my office.”

I wait in his office. I think: “Is it cancer, a stone, am I going into the hospital, do I need to say ‘goodbye’ to all my family and friend?” I look around his office, read his diplomas, look at all the samples that are stacked against his wall, watch his computer monitor and wait some more. I think: I wonder if I’ll survive for one more birthday? Maybe I’ll go on my birthday! Hum, wouldn’t that be a kicker, one date covers all!” He finally shows up. I wonder where the x-ray is. Then he puts on his monitor, and there I am, in bones! “Is that me?” “Yes, it is. It looks pretty good, just that blood in your urine. Come back in a week and a half so I can check it out. Meanwhile you have a bladder infection!”

I go home and call TLW (The Little Woman). I tell her all, and she then calls me back. “I was consulting with my medical staff her at the Wanna-be Bank and Trust Company. Doug says he had a kidney stone and had to drink a lot of water, and Lois says to drink a lot of beer. She says that helps!”

Me; “Tell Doug thanks a lot and Lois that I love her.”

Please remember all those that need our hopes and prayers, including my brother-in-law, John.

WOULDN’T YOU KNOW IT!

A few days ago, I started feeling a small pain in my lower stomach. It was nothing at first, but since then, the last two nights, the pain has gotten so that I can’t sleep. It is now to the point where I can’t touch it, without feeling the discomfort. It is also affecting my lower back and giving me the start of a headache!

Today (Thursday), I will try to schedule an appointment with my doctor and hope he can take me. I was up all night, and I don’t see the prospects for a good nights sleep, any evening soon, unless I do something about it.

I had tried to take my usual walk, and found great difficult in finishing it, and of course, I have to rest all the time. Here I was kidding TLW (The Little Woman) about ailments, and there I go!

Last evening, we took Happy, our cocker spaniel to the vet for a follow-up visit, and she is at least working out.

As I entered with TLW and her holding Happy on a leash, I thought I would kill two birds with one stone. (There were actually two birds in a cage), but I didn’t have a stone. I went up to the young lady and said: “I’m here for a follow-up visit for Happy, and could the doctor take a look at TLW while he’s at it, as she has been complaining lately?” Of course, I confused her, but what could I do, it was my opening to make a joke. Little did I realize, it was me who the Vet should have seen!

Please remember all those that need our hopes and prayers, including my brother-in-law, John.

THE DOKTER IS IN

The other day, TLW (The Little Woman) and me were walking in the mall for a little exercise. That is what old people do. The environment is controlled, and we can be entertained as we walk.

The walk was uneventful except for the fact that I was getting a litany of complaints due to physical ailments. TLW was running down a rather long list of physical ailments she needed to tell me about. Her motto is: “Misery loves company.” For years, my complaining has occupied our conversations, but not this time.

From her feet to her back, there were detailed descriptions! It finally came to me that I probably need a younger wife! Being how we have just celebrated 38 years, I think I should re-exam the marriage license, and see if I can trade her in for a seat at CitiField® in Flushing. The problem with that is I will need to throw in some cash, and probably a player to be named later. CitiField® seats are very expensive!

TLW wasn’t always like that. I just started to break down from day one, while she is only now starting. Of course, she has reasons for the breakdown carrying four children, while I have none. If I can make a trade, I will miss her, and would probably visit her once a month, to tell me what to do, or how to do it, or where it is.

I will be strong if the trade happens. Well, maybe not strong, maybe a little worried. OK, a lot worried. I wonder if this is such a good idea? Maybe I could get a loaner wife, someone who comes in once a week and tells me where, tells me who, and tells me how! I’d pay for that service. In fact, TLW could tell me which credit card to use to pay for it!

Please remember all those that need our prayers, including my brother-in-law, John.

ENOUGH!

I think I’ve reached my saturation point. I think I know all I want to know about Michael Jackson. I really don’t give a darn about his kids, how Elizabeth Taylor is feeling right now, or what some man in the street is grieving over because of Michael Jackson.

He may have been a great entertainer, maybe. I don’t know enough about him to care. He doesn’t warrant the coverage the press has afforded him. I’m sorry, he just doesn’t. He has squandered his money, his health and his reputation, and I should be interested in one more story about Michael Jackson? I should care that Latoya (sounds like a Toyota model of a new car) Jackson is paying a tribute all of a sudden, or that Joe Jackson is viewing all the tributes to his son on the front lawn, wearing a Sinatra hat? If it were Shoeless Joe Jackson, maybe I’d care.

The news shows, and that is what they are now, ‘shows’, are knocking themselves over to report about Michael Jackson, his family and his troubles. It seems they have lost their focus, and their credibility. They sensationalize trivia, and miss the important things that are very much alive in the world today. I would think that the injustice in Iran, the insanity in North Korea, the deaths of innocent people and their prior starving are much more news worthy. The fact that people are losing their homes and sanity because of the economy: has been put on the back burner! Doesn’t anyone care that we are now in a huge debt, one that is growing daily?

TV and the newspapers better get smart quick. People have access to the news via the Internet. The internet is timelier and better presented, and more relevant to today.

Please remember my brother in law John, and all those that need our prayers.

A STUDY

About a month ago, TLW (The Little Woman) informed me that she would be unable to attend my niece Annmarie’s baby shower, and that I would have to deliver the gift. “Just drop it off, and you can leave.” She promised me. Being the wonderful, no, let me correct that, being the wonderfully great husband that I am, I said I would.

A few weeks later, my oldest sister (a lot older) called me confused about the place where this event was being held. I checked with TLW and she was now confused since she had lost the invitation! So, I called the mother or future grandmother, my sister Mary Ann, the flying stewardess. “It’s at that Chinese restaurant near you. When you come, stay, we’ll fix you a plate, and you can sit with Mom and us and eat. Besides, I’ll need you to help bring home all the gifts to Annmarie’s house. So you have to stay!” This made me uneasy, and I said I’d think about it.

The day arrives, and I lug in a huge box of what I think are bowling balls, but TLW claims is something else. Thinking to myself: ”TLW must have volunteered to work today so I would have to carry this complete set of starter materials to build your own home.” Entering the place, I’m directed to a side room, filled with cackling hens! Lots of them! Yakking and chatting and filled with talk. Being how I passed the buffet table, and was hungry, I decided to stay at their urging and conduct a study. (What I do for you people!)

What goes on in these things is something else. Ten minutes of eats and then they sit and talk while the mother-to-be sits on a chair up front opening gifts! No one in the room is paying attention! No one! This does not stop them.

The other thing I discovered is that at the next table, they were wondering who the ugly aunt was. Not willing to give up my cover, I decided that I would not let them know I was the ugly uncle. “Ohh, I think she’s dead! Call 911.” “No, stick a mirror under her nose to see if she is still breathing.” Said another. “I’ll bet her husband left her the first morning after the wedding.” added another. So, Ipso Fatso, this was becoming uncomfortable and so I decided to find some ice cream. That always makes me feel better: besides, I think I was starting to fill with water at that point.

Please remember all those that need our prayers, including my brother-in-law, John.

OH! HOW I HATE A PARADE!

Years ago, as a little lad, Mom would feed me cream cheese and jelly on white bread, for lunch. Every day I would get cream cheese and jelly. This kept me quiet until dinner. As Mom got wiser, she suddenly switched to peanut butter and jelly. She realized the sheer economics of peanut butter in a jar and its costs as opposed to cream cheese in a package that needed refrigeration, and the fact that peanut butter gave you more sandwiches per jar than cream cheese in a package.

Then one day, I got terribly ill with a stomach virus! Yes, while eating peanut butter! I was so ill, I swore to myself that I would never eat peanut butter again!

As life worn on, eating peppers and eggs or potatoes and eggs on Italian bread for lunch became a norm, as did ham and cheese, baloney or salami. Meanwhile, my little sisters were emerging as paraders! Yes, they were parading around the streets of Long island, in fancy uniforms and playing or flinging instruments about, to nobodies business. They belonged to a school band, one was a majorette, and one played a clarinet. At this time, I was in college, studying to become an artist, and taking a course in photography. Mom and Dad went out and purchased me a camera, a 35mm Tower from Sears, and there was a price to pay for their largesse. I had to shoot pictures of the parades!

Every time there was a parade, I had to go and follow it along its route, and shoot. You might say I was a routing shooting toting photographer. After a day of shooting, one eye would remain closed for the day; from the sheer muscle tension of holding it closed! I think it was similar to tennis elbow; only I called it photographer’s eye.

Finally, I finished my course in photography, and laid down the camera, right in the middle of a St. Patrick’s Day parade at the intersection of the four corners in Patchogue! I went home and ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich!

Upon arriving home, my parents were furious, and as my two little sisters line up to eagerly watch my demise, they all found me in the bathroom, my head deep into the toilet, tossing up the peanut butter.

Dad looked at Mom and said: “I guess he went to one parade too many!” Mom agreed, and my little sisters walked away disappointed.

Please remember my brother-in-law John, and all those that need our prayers.

FOR WHAT IT’S WORTH

My opinion, that is.

Inside of a few days, we lost three big names in the Hollywood world. All three had some impact on the public. Each was an icon of sorts, or had an icon for them.

The first was Ed McMahon, the man that represented first Johnny Carson, then a host of products, and was the pitchman that was my company’s chief competitor, American Family Publishers. He was the symbol of sweepstakes, and only one man could say it like he did:” Heeerr’s Johnny!” He was a great straight man, and probably a pretty decent human being, too. He did Star Search and I found the show entertaining, he worked with Dick Clark and again, was entertaining for what he did. A no talent individual who could command respect and attention, and help the ratings! The foreclosure proceedings against his home were tragic!

Then there was Farrah Fawcett, also known as Farrah Fawcett Majors. Her blow-dried hair was an icon for little girls to emulate and dream about, and dirty old men to fantasize about. She was a huge hit in Charlie’s Angels, but it was when she did some serious acting that she gained my respect. She was beautiful and classy, and although her first marriage didn’t work out, who’s does these days? She seemed to do everything in her own style, and for 62 years old, that is too soon for the lady. The shame her son Redmond brought upon her in her final days, had to hurt her.

Then there is Michael Jackson. Michael was a talented individual who took entertainment to a new level, an improviser and an entertainer; he shook the world, not by his talents, but his bazaar lifestyle, and his gimmick of a single glove. Became symbols of sorts, and that mask he started wearing had me wondering. I knew he was in debt way over the budget of some countries, but was the mask for holding up Seven Elevens and gas stations to pay it off? Of course, his notoriety for his problems with the world, and his famous trial in which he was acquitted did not help his standing. It seems that he died suspiciously according to some.

I guess this is the beginning of the end, as my generation knows it. History is what we made, and more and more of our lives are becoming that, history. No longer do I look back at what was before my time, but what is now my time!

Please remember all those that need our hopes and prayers, including my brother-in-law, John.

A FULL REBUTTAL

TLW (The Little Woman), the darling of midnight mayhem, has complained that no one has heard her story over the years. She claims that for the past 1,000 blogues on DelBloggolo, you have only heard my end of the story!

You all know that I always present a fair and honest assessment of the situation, before I even write it. I strive for honesty and accuracy, always representing the truth as I see it. Carefully, I check the facts; do in depth interviews of those who may have witnessed events, before I unfold them to you.

As a concession to TLW, in the spirit of fair play and cooperation, and to avoid ‘an accident’ from happening in the middle of the night, I have agreed to give TLW a chance to refute or respond to all I have written!

I will allow her to write anything she wishes, without censorship from my cracked staff of censors. I will neither add, nor subtract from her words, I will not even edit it! All I ask her is to refrain from her usual salty language.

Caution, unlike this writer, she may exaggerate things a bit to embellish her side!

Please remember all those that need our prayers, including my brother-in-law, John.

CLEARING UP LIFE’S QUESTIONS

As #2 Son prepares for college, one of the things he needs is a medical history sent to the college. Al’s College is very strict about that kind of stuff, and so we comply.

Driving home from the doctor’s office, #2 had his medical record opened and he was reading it.

#2: “What’s diphtheria?”

Me: “Oh! You don’t know what that is! Well, diphtheria is when your diph gets out of whack. Not everyone knows this, but everyone has a diph.”

#2 Son: “Where is it?”

Me: “Right between the right cortex tweener and the veribose veins. If you get diphtheria, you have to wear a thong, a diphthong. Diphthongs can usually be seen as having two distinct parts — the nucleus, and the off-glide. The nucleus of the diphthong is in the bowel that is most stressed, and forms the center of the cortex, while the off-glide is the bowel that seems to flow into or off of the nucleus bowel. I hope that cleared it up?”

#2 Son: “Perfectly.”

I think it is important to explain things to people as best one can. This eliminates any confusion and if there are questions, which I doubt, they can be easily referenced by the explanations given.

Please remember all those that need our hopes and prayers, including my brother-in-law, John.

OH, SHEET!

In the early morning hours of June 21, while most Americans slept, a battle was raging for supremacy.

Across the vast battlefield that served as a bed, two people were in a life and death struggle for the sheets. One was insisting on having it all, and one only asked for his fair share. It was your typical battle of good vs. evil, Armageddon, life and death!

TLW (The Little Woman) and yours truly, carried the battle for hours, silently vowing retaliation and destruction upon one another in due course for sheet supremacy!

Her: “You need to walk around the block! You didn’t walk yesterday.”

“OK, but why do you say that?”

Her: “Because you didn’t sleep last night.”

“No, I didn’t. How did you know?”

Her: Because you kept me awake. You took all the sheets!”

“Wait a minute. YOU were the one taking ALL the sheets! You had the side of the sheet that hangs over the bed on my side, in your hands, and you were pulling it. I was sitting there in the dark in my shorts, fighting for my very life, and you, with one foot in my chest, the other in my side, with both hands on the side of the sheet, my side, was pulling with all your might! I still have the foot marks in my chest!”

Her: “You need to walk!”

“Look, let me show you what I’m saying. You should have north tucked under your chin, south over your feet, and east on your right and west on your left. That is how the bed is made. I sleep on your left, but you had west in your hands, in a death grip!”

Her: (With a sheepish grin on her face) “You need to walk!”

Being a good husband, means never having to say: “Hey, give me some sheet!”


Please remember all those that need our prayers, including my brother-in-law, John.

FATHER’S DAY

This past Father’s Day was pleasant enough. I received a call from #1 Son, and a very thoughtful gift in the mail. A visit that sparkled from my daughter, Ellen, a great dinner from TLW (The Little Woman) and a gift, filled with character, fun, and a good laugh from #2 Son!

The day before, I went to the mailbox to retrieve my mail, and came upon a white, square envelope. I put it on the bottom of the pile and opened everything else first, and was almost tempted to toss the white envelope, thinking it was an ad! The weight and size, plus the fact that there was no return address anywhere, made me finally open it. There in a second white envelope was a tent card with the Apple logo embossed in silver on it. I opened the card, and there was a credit card with the Apple logo on it, and an amount that it was worth. On the card it only said: “Happy Father’s Day!” No name, or indication of where or from whom. But I knew who sent it, #1 Son.

I woke up the next morning, came down the stairs and TLW, after wishing me a “Happy Father’s Day”, asked if I saw the card from #2 Son, on the kitchen table. I looked, and sure enough, there stood a fresh, new, clean, paper plate with a message on it.

“Dear Dad,
Happy Father’s Day, you present is in the refrigerator.
Love, #2 Son.”

You must realize this is all the formality I’ve ever seen in his young life! Not only did he remember me on Father’s Day, but a ‘home made card’ to boot! This is a humbling experience. An experience that I will remember for the rest of my life! The present was a bottle of ‘Samuel Smith Old Brewery Oatmeal Stout’! It went great with the ribs and potato salad!

This is a lot like Italian cooking. Simple, direct, and it gets the job done!

When I hear: “It’s the sentiment that counts, this is one I will always recall as sentimental! Thanks family from the old man.

Please remember all those that need our hopes and prayers, including my brother-in-law, John.

OK, SO I LIED!

Maybe just a little. I implied that I am totally lazy.

The other day, I, that is me, took the bull by the horns, and led it out of the house! That is correct, or so it seems. With all the rain we are having, things are starting to smell musty. TLW (The Little Woman) was working this past Saturday, and so I decided to take the house apart and clean it to get rid of the musty smell.

After the dusting, mopping, and vacuuming, I washed the floors and striped down the kitchen counter, and with vinegar and hot water, wiped down the counter top. I then tackled the bathrooms, cleaning and polishing, then, the kitchen oven was dealt with. Not satisfied, I went to work on the very top of the kitchen cabinets and the two large fans in the kitchen and den, the light fixtures, and yes, even those little tiny spots and tracks that sometimes evade me! By the end of the day, I was indeed tired, but happy with the results. So what happens? #2 Son, that’s what, happens. Oh, how I pray for the last week of August, that magical time when off to college he goes.

Now don’t get me wrong, he’s a good kid, but when he is away, he really shines! He asks me that day: “Why does the house have to be clean?” This is a good question. Why? Some of you may ask: “Why”, me I ask: “Why aren’t you married and living with your wife, who can tolerate a dirty house if she wants to?”

I come down for a glass of water at 12 mid-night, and I find pasta sauce on the counter, crumbs and other signs of a life and death struggle with a commercial box of nourishment, that at first glance looks like there were no survivors!

I’m starting to sound like my mother! “MY KITCHEN!” Bad: no? I need a hobby, one that takes me to distant places, where #2 wouldn’t find me. I tried to keep it clean. I wanted to set a record with #2 in the house of 24 hours. Not 24 minutes, not 24 seconds, but a whole 24 hours. It is a record which will never happen. They may break Joe DiMaggio’s 56 consecutive game hitting streak, but 24 hours with #2 in the house will NEVER happen.

So, I retreat quietly to my recliner, and think of ways to avoid doing anything, until the end of August. If you hear me sobbing, know that I tried, but never even came close to a record. No, history will look upon me as a slob, not knowing the evidence to prove otherwise was wiped out, when the refrigerator door opened to #2 Son.

Please remember all those that need our prayers, including my brother-in-law, John.

I HAVE NOTHING TO SAY!

And by golly, I’ll say it!

I'll claim anything if it gives me an excuse not to work around the house for a bit. I think it is called “Writer’s block”, but not being a writer, I can’t claim that. However, that being said, I can’t claim “loafer’s block” because I NEVER have a problem with loafing, if you overlook ‘guilt’.

For years, I’ve taken a deep pride in being able to ‘rest’, and ‘preserve’ my body for better things than physical labor. I used to like golf, but discovered that I was starting to sweat around the 5th hole, and immediately laid down my clubs where I was standing (In the rough) and proceeded to the nearest “19th” hole to alleviate my pain.

To me, sweating is one of the first signs of work. The most immediate is the look in TLW’s (The Little Woman) eyes, when she needs something done. A day off is when she works, and I am free to roam about, (in my chair) and rest up for those days when she is home.

If I go to a restaurant, no matter if it is fancy or not, if I have to cut and chew for long, it is work. No question about it. I prefer my meals to be simple, easy to break apart with my fork, and better yet, finger foods.

This is not to say I am lazy. Hardly! I can spend up to three minutes changing channels or looking at a channel guide. After that, my eyes get heavy and I need to rest them. I consider that good eye hygiene!

I consider spelling too much bother or work, especially when I sweat over an ‘I’ or an ‘e’ or yes, even that sometimes elusive ‘y’!

The other day, I wasn’t feeling well, so I decided to do a little physical work. as I stood around the pool area, I tried to figure out if I wanted to pick up some leaves. Being how I had an empty can next to me, and a shovel and leaf bag, I picked up the shovel and broom, and almost began! Fortunately, I put them down quickly, and took care of my loafer’s block instead, in which I created a dream like sequence of events in my chair! (I must caution you dear reader, not to try this at home, unless you have experience.)

So, I sit here, with writer’s block, with nothing to say, as you just read!

Please remember all those that need our hopes and prayers, including my brother-in-law, John.

A NOVEL IDEA!

It took me 19 months to write, and will probably take another 19 months to fine tune. If you see me walking down the street, and someone asks: “Who’s that?” Say, he’s a man who wrote a novel!

Having retired has opened up a lot of opportunities for me. I am very happy about that fact. The novel was never one of my retirement goals, but was born from a few good people that inspired and pushed the idea.

I was out in California in November of 2007, visiting #1 Son, in LA. Being how he IS a writer, I was inspired to pen together an outline of a story. It seemed that the story was coming together: on it’s own, and just needed to be put down on paper. Writing was becoming an obsession with me, due to this blogue, and so it all began. #1 Son suggested it, telling me to just write it, and worry about correcting it later. I took his advice and along the way, something else happened. It was a Sunday afternoon in November, right before a Christmas parade down the streets of Los Angeles. #1 Son had invited me to have lunch with some of his friends who I had met previously. (The Fab Five.)

At the lunch, were MFF (My Favorite Fan) Lauren, her beau, and now fiancé’ Justin, and both Pete the Teacher (Pete C, and Minnesota Pete, (Pete Dirkson) http://www.ucbcomedy.com/videos/play/4130 who really doesn’t come from Minnesota, but should. Jerrod, Justin’s brother, (another movie star looking guy, unfortunately, wasn’t there!) These were all bright articulate people that were encouraging ME, to write, Justin was a screenwriter, no less! Having read my blogue, they felt I should do it. I think THAT should be sufficient encouragement!

And so, I finished writing. There were some good days, and days when I couldn’t convince myself. I am happy with the ending, and hope to see it published. If it is, a good deal, of whatever I make will go to my daughter’s agency, NYSARC Inc, AHRC Suffolk, http://www.ahrcsuffolk.org/ along with my two sons. It is just a dream, but why not?

Between the Agency, freelance, art and now writing and the hopefully volunteerism at the church, the Parish Outreach and the Parish fund raising committee, I should die exhausted, but happy.

Please remember all those that need our prayers, including my brother-in-law, John.

“YOHOO, I AM CALLING YOHOO!”

The other day, I was busy making dinner. Laying out the ingredients for chicken with escarole and mushrooms, and wondering why I like routines so much when my daydreaming was intruded upon.

The phone rang and I answered.

Me: “Yellow?”

“Hi!”

Me: “Hi?”

“It’s me! Are you ready for tonight?”

Me: “I guess so!”

“Same time, usual place?”

“Sure, but WHO is this?”

“Me, Virginia! Are we meeting at the same place and time tonight?”

Me: “Virginia WHO, and WHAT place is that?”

“Is this 000-0000?”

Me: “Yes it is.”

“Well, if you don’t KNOW what place, it doesn’t matter who, anymore!”

Here I am, sitting in a bunch of escarole, trying to figure out who that was on the phone, and if maybe I’m losing it and forgot, I’m having an affair! I can’t remember feeling guilty, so it must be a mistake on the other end.

I usually don’t get calls from strange women, just strange calls from women. Usually TLW (The Little Woman), or Tessie my older sister (A lot older, by the way), and yes, even Mom can do a number on the phone.

When TLW calls from work, it is usually a real nail biter, as I await her request or instruction to do something.

Many years ago, when I was working in Manhattan, she called me at my office with a request.

TLW: “Could you pick up a book for me, I think it’s called ‘Live It.’ By Richard Simmons?”

So, I go all over the city of New York, stopping at every bookstore and shop and ask for ‘Live It’. After saying it enough times you start to sound like a frog. “Livit, livit, livit.” People would hear me and start to feed me flies! The book she meant was “Never Say Diet.” Livit, Never Say Diet, you can see how she mi9ght get them mixed up!

There was a man on his deathbed. His wife, sitting next to him, with tear filled eyes leaned in to listen to his last words.

Him: “Remember when we were first married, and we crashed the car?”

“Yes” she nodded, wiping a tear away.

Him: “And remember when we were married just ten years, and the house caught on fire?”

Again, shaking her head vigorously, while remembering, and trying to be brave, she nodded “Yes!”

Him: “And remember that time last year, when you lost all my money in the stock market through your brother Malcome?”

Again on the verge of tears, and ready to break down she said: “Ye… yes!”

Him: “Boy, were you BAD luck!”

Please remember all those that need our hopes and prayers, including my brother-in-law, John.