Unrelated Incidents

Unrelated Incidents

I am lucky to have doctors with a sense of humor.  I have previously told the story of the Urologist who gives me prescriptions that read: “No Ragu”, and “Cleared for the Bunny Ranch”, and the Oncologist that gave me a prescription that said: “Chemo patients should not be exposed to paint fumes”.  That was when I futilely tried to get out of painting our kitchen.

This time it was the cardiologist.

Barbara and I use the same cardiologist.  We had a routine 6 month checkup and scheduled the appointment together to save time.  Normally Barbara does not want me in the room with her (with some valid (?) reasons that I have previously written about), but this time we went in together.

We got our exams and then the cardiologist asked us how we were doing with the COVID 19 lockdown.  

I told him how we had started having “High Tea” in the afternoon.  The doctor asked how we did that.  I told him we were trying to be like Downton Abbey and I wanted Barbara and I to dress up in costume to fit the occasion.  He wanted to know if that meant a skimpy maid outfit, etc.  I assured him I meant something a little more proper.  

I related how Barbara had been reluctant to accede to my costume request except once when we had a Zoom Tea Party with the grandchildren of a friend of ours.  I opined that a prescription from him might compel her to comply with my request.

I observed the usual eye roll above Barbara’s medical mask. The doctor seemed to like the idea, probably still thinking of the skimpy maid’s outfit he had originally envisioned.

As The doctor was finishing inputing our data, he asked if there was anything else we want.  I innocently asked for the prescription we had just talked about.  He continued typing without comment.

We left the exam room and went to the checkout desk.

The girls at the desk were making our next appointments when a male nurse came up behind me and said: “Why do you need a prescription to wear a jacket?”  

As he was behind me, I thought he was talking to someone else, so I ignored him.

He repeated the question.

I turned to him and asked if he was talking to me or to someone on the phone through a bluetooth device.  

“To you”, he replied.  “Why do you want a prescription for a jacket?”

At first, I didn’t realize what he was talking about.  Barbara got it right away and gave me “the look”.  

“Oh”, I said, “you must mean the prescription for High Tea”.

“It’s a joke” interjected Barbara.

“Yes”, said the girl at the desk, “here is the prescription request in the your file, just like Downton Abbey”.

The male nurse looked puzzled and I explained to him what we were talking about.

I started to laugh, because I realized that prescription was now part of our permanent medical records and history and would be sent to other doctors we dealt with.  Once again I got “the look” from you know who.

As we were riding home I kept thinking about it and chuckling over it.  Barbara asked why I was laughing and when I explained what I was envisioning, she started laughing too.

I wish I was present when our primary doctor got the cardiologist’s report of our visit.  

Fortunately primary doctor has a sense of humor, not sure what the insurance company will think of the prescription.

In an unrelated but funny incident, Barbara managed to get the best of me.

Every night, it seems to me, Barbara comes into our room to go to bed.  She washes up and then gets into bed where I am already ensconced.  

Inevitably, she puts her hand , that has been chilled to almost zero( or so it seems to me) by washing her hands in cold water, on me.  I protest loudly make her remove her hand. She then gives me a wide eyed innocent look, like “who me? what did I do?

The last two times, I have taken to grabbing her hand prior to her putting it on me.  I believed she would get tired of that and the problem would be solved.

Last night, as Barbara got into bed, I grabbed her hand nearest to me.  Oddly it was warm.  

“Your hand is warm”, I said.  “What happened?”

“Aha”, she exclaimed, as she reached across and put her other hand on me.  Needless to say it was ice cold.

“Gotcha”, Barbara said. 

She had purposely put her other hand in the cold water and kept out the one she usually put on me.

She got me!

I started laughing really hard.  It took me a minute or so to catch my breath from laughing.  I still laugh when I think about it and her diabolical plan to get me.  Kudos to her.

Now that I have relayed this incident, perhaps I will get some sympathy and you will come to realize who the real character is in our house.

The Frog Incident

The Frog Incident

Living in Florida, my wife and I have encountered “wildlife” that have sneaked into our home.  We are not alone in this, my sister-in-law and her family had an opossum in her home that put her in a panic.  But, to quote the bar owner in Irma La Douce, “That’s another story”.

Barbara and I had just returned from dinner when we found a cylindrical piece of excrement on the bathroom countertop.  It was too big to be from a giant palmetto bug, my first guess,  and did not resemble anything produced by a mouse.  I prayed it wasn’t from a snake.  I wisely didn’t tell Barbara my suspicions.  I cleaned it up and looked around for any other evidence or sight of the creature.  I didn’t find anything and we went to bed.

Over the next two days I continued my search and set out roach bait, hoping to catch or kill whatever had deposited that little “present” for us.  Nothing turned up.

The third night, I had gone to sleep around 10:30.  Around 11:30 Barbara woke me suddenly in a very agitated manner. I woke up a little grouchy and skeptical that there was a real emergency.

About a month ago, Barbara had awakened me from a sound sleep by demanding I get up for an emergency.  

It turned out the emergency was the sudden retirement of Andrew Luck, the quarterback from football.  Andrew Luck was Barbara’s (and my) quarterback on our Fantasy Football team.  

Barbara was very agitated and insisted I get up to help her cope with this “disaster”.   

I did not consider this something I should have been woken up for since:

a) The season didn’t start for a week

b) We had a good backup quarterback

c) What was I supposed to do at 1:30 AM that couldn’t wait til morning.

Now once I am awake, I find it difficult to go back to sleep.  I was unable to return to sleep for 2 hours.

Based on the above, I was sure there was not an “emergency” that required my getting woken up once again.  

I was wrong!

“Get up, get up,” Barbara said loudly.  “There is a giant frog on the wall”.

Now alert, I quickly got up and took a look at what she was talking about.  Sure enough, there was a rather large green frog gripping our wall in the bedroom next to Barbara’s side of the bed.

“Get rid of it,” she commanded.

I went to the kitchen and initially got out a cereal bowl.  I judged it to be too small and got a soup bowl instead.  I then got a thin magazine to use as a cover for the bowl once I had captured the frog.

I returned to the bedroom and approached the frog with my hunting equipment.  I managed to cover the frog and slip the magazine under the bowl so as to capture the frog inside my trap.  I carefully lifted the bowl off the wall without dislodging the magazine and hurried towards the front door so I could release the frog outside.

As I walked carefully towards the door, I assessed my situation.  

The lights in the hallway leading to the door were out, the alarm was on, the door locked, both of my hands were holding the bowl and magazine in place, the street light was on and bright,, our across the street neighbor’s lights ere on, and I was “au natural” (TMI?).   

How was I to get the frog outside, prevent it from hopping back into our house and not be seen by our neighbors or a passing car?

Fortunately Barbara had arrived before me, not quite so “au natural” as I, but enough that she would not want to be seen by others (more TMI?).

She disarmed the alarm, and then to my consternation put on the hall light and unlocked the door, leaving it somewhat ajar for me.

I quickly bent down and trying not extend anything but my arms outside the door, put the magazine covered bowl outside, slowly turned it over, and uncovered it so the frog could get away.

He ( for the sake of political correctness I concede it could have been a she ) looked back at me for several seconds, as if he had never seen a 73 year old “au natural” man before and then hopped onto the front lawn.  I quickly closed the door and turned off the light.

We returned to the bedroom.  It was clear that the frog was the creature that had left the excrement since an identical piece was again on the countertop.

We went back to bed.  

“Why did you turn on the light ,”  I asked?  

“I had to see,”  she said.  

“There was enough light coming through the long window in the doorframe.  What if someone saw us?” I responded.

“What’s the difference?  Besides in Europe people go around like this all the time,” she surprisingly declared.

“I think there is a law that says you can’t be more than 30 to go around like that in public” I unwisely said.

Barbara gave me “The Look”.  “Are you sure you want to say that with its implications about how I look?  You’re lucky I didn’t push you out the door.”

She continued to glare at me.

Fortunately I was able to stay awake and alert for the remainder of the night.

A Lack Of Celebrities In A Celebrity Filled Town

A Lack Of Celebrities In A Celebrity Filled Town

Barbara and I recently returned from visiting our niece and her family in LA.  

We had last gone to LA about ten years ago to visit her and her then fiancé.  On that visit, our niece had said she would take us to where we could see some famous people.  We went to Rodeo Drive (not impressive), DreamWorks, DreamWorks Animation (we did see Jerry Seinfeld in an office discussing the Bee Movie) and finally, in desperation, our niece took us to a restaurant she assured us would be chock full of celebrities.

She took us to “The Ivy” for lunch.  

“It never disappoints,” she said, “for celebrity sightings.”

We sat down, and perused the menu.  I ordered a fruit salad.  It arrived and consisted of a few grapes a couple of strawberries a few pieces of melon and lettuce.  I had expected a little more for my $25, which in today’s prices would be $40.  But this was The Ivy and we were in LA, so I sucked it up and didn’t complain, although I seem to be complaining now.

We sat through lunch, eager for a sighting.

It was not to be.  

My niece swore this never happened when she took people there.  Maybe we were just unlucky.

We returned to Florida, celebrityless (except of course for Jerry Seinfeld). 

This time, my niece assured me, we would definitely get to see some famous people to make up for the debacle of ten years ago.  

She and her husband decided our best shot at this was on Thursday night at a well known restaurant called Madeos (I think). 

“It never fails,” she assured us, “we always see someone.”

We arrived hopefully and hungry at the restaurant and were ushered into an upper room.  

As we entered, I noticed an “older” blonde woman who looked somewhat familiar.  I couldn’t come up with a name to the face, so we turned our attention elsewhere.

We had a wonderful dinner and conversation but no celebrities. 

The blond lady and her dinner partner left during our meal. but I kept seeing her in the restaurant with different dinner partners.  She also seemed to have changed dresses, although they were all fancy and tight.

We slowly made our way out of the restaurant without seeing anyone I would recognize as famous.  

I did see the blond lady, seemingly everywhere, in the restaurant.   

Being slow on the uptake, it eventually occurred to me that it was different women who coincidently(?) looked almost identical to each other.  They had the same hairstyle, type of dress, and facial features: pouty lips, prominent cheek bones, same nose, tight, wrinkle free skin and slight smile.  

Were they sisters, twins, cousins?  

That’s why the first lady looked so familiar.  I had seen women who looked like her in passing, and when I saw her she had a “familiar” look to the ladies I had passed on my way to our table.

The conclusion I came to, was they all went to the same plastic surgeon who had a look he duplicated over and over again.  

I was somewhat put off by this since I thought women tried for individuality in fashion (God forbid two women would show up in the same designer dress to the same location), but not apparently in facial appearance.  Who knew?

As we exited the restaurant, we noticed four Paparazzi's leaning on a Rolls.  

“Aha,” my niece exclaimed, “there was someone famous there!  I told you, you would see someone.”

I guess that was as close as I was going to get.  I will try again in another ten years.

A Discount For Prince Charming

A Discount For Prince Charming

Now, as I’ve mentioned before, I am somewhat outgoing and like to have fun.  When I am at a restaurant, grocery store, retail location or just about anywhere, I occasionally strike up a conversation with people.  I often ask for a discount because I am so charming, and mostly I get a smile and an “unfortunately I can’t” from some of the older women who I have conversed with. Sometimes it actually works, and I get a little “Charming” discount. The younger girls don’t understand and just look at me dumbly most of the time.

I find this fun, and I hope the recipients of my “charm” feel the same.  Not so my wife.

Barbara finds my behavior annoying and does not want me to engage in such pursuits.  

I try (not usually successfully) to curb my enthusiasm while Barbara is around in order to comply with her wishes.  I do feel no such impetus to “behave” when she is not present.

The other day I had just finished a round of golf with a friend of mine.  He suggested we go for BBQ for lunch and suggested a nearby location.  I agreed and we rode off to have lunch.

We got there and had to wait in line to order.  

When it was my turn, I approached a pretty, young girl at the register. 

“Hello Tiffany,” I said in a cheery voice. “How are you today?”  I smiled at her.

“Fine,” she replied, “but my name is not Tiffany, it is Jasmine.”

“Jasmine?” I inquired. “But it says Tiffany on this name plate in front of the register.”

“I know, I haven’t changed it to my own name yet.  What would you like?” she replied.

“I’m not sure, what is good here, it is my first time here.”

We had a nice conversation and she made some recommendations for me.  I eventually ordered a Brisket Sandwich, coleslaw and a coke.  I estimated the bill at $10.

There was no one behind me so we talked some more, just kibitzing a little, while she started to ring up my order.

“i’m going to give you a discount,” she said.

“Really?  Great!  Is it because I’m so charming?” I asked winsomely with a big smile.

“Well, partly,” she replied. “That, and you were so friendly and happy you made me feel good.  I’m not going to charge you for the sandwich or the coleslaw.  Your bill is $2.”

“Oh wow” was all I could think of.  “Are you sure?”

“Yes, $2 please.”

I got out a $5 and handed it to her.  She tried to give me $3 back but I told her to keep the change.

She gave me my receipt and told me to wait for my order at the end of the counter.  I gave her my warmest smile and she smiled back as I moved down the counter.

I have no idea why that happened, I think it was my “charming personality”  that brightened a hectic day for her; and this was her way of showing her appreciation.

However, I prefer to think the “real” reason is: “I’ve still got it”.

I Think My Wife Is Out To Get Me

I Think My Wife Is Out To Get Me

I was sitting up in bed last night, watching a Masterpiece Mystery I had previously recorded, when I heard my wife approaching our bedroom.  Suddenly, an object flew at me, narrowly missed me and fell behind our bed.

Startled, I looked up to see my wife looking at me and stifling a laugh.  

“What is going on?” I demanded.

“You have poor reflexes”, she said.

“What did you throw at me?” I said.

“A packet of M&M’s, I wanted to surprise you” Barbara answered.

“Why didn’t you at least give me a warning, a heads up for instance?” I asked.

She just smiled.

“You could have hit me in the eye.  I had no idea you were throwing something at me”, I stated.

Barbara laughed a little.

She had no explanation about why she had thrown the packet without warning me and laughed every time I brought it up.

Now everyone thinks Barbara is sweet and loving.  After 50 years I know better.

Usually Barbara waits until after we pay my life insurance premiums to take action.  She has been known to buy foods with Sesame in the ingredients (I am highly allergic to sesame and will have a severe reaction if I ingest any) and pretend she didn’t know it was in the food, order foods at restaurants with sesame, and allow me to use sharp objects.  Once she ate Sesame Chicken at a Chinese Buffet and then insisted on kissing me, making sure to spread the sesame oil from the chicken from her lips to mine.

Her cover story is that she carries with her Benadryl tablets to counter any “mistakes” I make.  However, they always seem to happen after the insurance premium is paid, and the tablets are several years old and expired.

The other windy day she insisted I trim the bushes and palm trees in our front yard.  This required me to stand high up on a rickety ladder.  I asked her to steady the ladder, but midway through something “caught her eye” and she had to go attend to it.

I was a little taken back by this action and the throwing of the candy as our insurance premium wasn’t due for a couple of months.

Either she is getting more brazen, desperate, or less afraid of the consequences of her actions; or more likely, after 50 years, she’s just had enough.

You decide.

It’s Nice To Be Remembered

People seem to remember me, I’m not sure why.  However it does have its advantages.

Barbara has been complaining that her red Coach bag was becoming worn.  I know that right after Christmas, Coach has a very big sale.  Because I like to surprise Barbara with things, I went by myself to the mall where the Coach outlet store was located.  I did ask our friend to accompany me as she is very knowledgable about pocketbooks. Unfortunately she was unable to come along that day.

I got to the area where there are a lot of stores that sell nice pocketbooks.  I proceeded to go in and look around for one that I found interesting and that Barbara would like.

In each store I sought out a knowledgable sales person. They all took pity on me and thought it was adorable and charming I was doing this for my wife.  I told them what specifications Barbara would want in a pocketbook and then let them show me what was available.

The Coach sales person, who turned out to be the manager, was particularly helpful.  She initially turned me over to a sales associate but when I couldn't find anything I liked, she stepped in to help. 

She showed me several pocketbooks, one of which I did like but wasn’t sure Barbara would.  

I told the manager I would have to return another time.  

I went to several stores, in one of which I found another pocketbook I liked, but again was not sure Barbara would like it.  I sent a picture to our friend for her opinion, and we both agreed on a No.

I went home without a purchase.

Two weeks later, Barbara and I had an occasion to go to that mall and walk around.

I cleverly steered her to the Coach store where the sale was still in progress.

As we entered the store, we were greeted by the same manager I had been working with.  She handed me the sales flyer and looked at me closely.

“I know you,”  she said, “you were here about 2 weeks ago.”

“That’s right,” I responded, “I’ve brought El Excelente with me this time.” Cue eye roll from Barbara, at both my description of her and the fact that the manager recognized me.

“Let me get you someone to help you and I’ll tell him what you are looking for and some ideas to show you.”

I thanked her and she called over a sales associate and gave him instructions.

We proceeded to look around and I found a pocketbook I liked.  I showed it to Barbara and she liked it too.  The sales associate told us the one we chose was somewhat expensive but he had another one that was just like it except for one minor detail.   We went to where it was and picked out a color that we both agreed on (not black ).  We were told it was 50% off the price.

I went over to the manager and asked for the additional discount being offered on some other pocketbooks.  She told me to go to a different area of the store where there were items with the additional 30%.  

Barbara actually found one there she liked.

I told the sales associate I would take both if he got us the additional 30% on the first one we liked.

He assured me that wouldn’t happen but I could ask the manager.

I went back to the manager with both bags and told her what I wanted.  

At first she resisted.  

I told her I was entitled to a Charming Discount because of how charming I was.  She told me I was charming, that’s why she remembered me.  She took another look at the first bag and told me she would like to help me.  I offered to watch the front of the store for her and greet people with the discount flyer as they entered so she could find a way to help me.  She briefly considered my offer but oddly declined. 

She went over to a price checker and after speaking with that person at the computer, announced there was an additional price discount on that piece.  The discount amounted to the additional 30% on top of the 50%. How could I resist a bargain like that?

We took both bags.  

As we left the store I thanked the manager again.  She was laughing as we left, I’m not sure at what.

We next went to a perfume store that we have bought from several times.

I like perfume stores because I want to pick out ones I like.  Who’s going to smell it anyway? Me, that’s who, so why shouldn’t I pick out one I like. 

I usually tell the sales girl/manager what specifications (I can’t say what they are since my daughter will read this) I want and she proceeds to line the different ones up for my sampling.  We usually buy at least 2.

This time, Barbara was determined only to get another bottle of one she had just used up.  I was under strict orders not to interfere.

Barbara told a sales girl what she wanted and the girl brought it out and quoted us a price substantially higher than we usually pay.

Barbara and I looked at each other quizzically, prepared to not take it.

Just then the manager came out from the back.  She waved at me, smiled and told the sales girl to lower the price to what we usually pay.  

We bought the item and on the way out, I assured the manager I would be back without Barbara to hinder my choices.  She gave me the high sign and we left.

Now I am sure I got the discounts because people remember me.  I also am convinced it’s also because I am “Charming.”

Today in fact I was at the grocery store and handed the cashier a coupon Barbara had given me for an item.  The cashier told me it was expired.  I told her, it wasn’t my fault, my wife had given it to me to use. I tried my best to appear Charming and pitiful.  She took pity on me and gave me the amount off anyway.

I really am Charming.  in fact I’m going to have a T-shirt made that says “I Am Prince Charming”

Barbara just keeps rolling her eyes.

The Price of Beauty

The Price of Beauty

I had to go to Boynton to meet a plumber for a rental unit.  Barbara decided to come along and hang out with my sister, Regina.

I dropped Barbara off and I went to meet the plumber.  Barbara and Regina decided to go shoe shopping.  

Shoe shopping was necessary because Barbara needed a new pair of gold or brown shoes to match a dress she was planning on wearing to my cousin Rocky’s wedding.  

Two nights before she had tried on the dress and shoes she had to match it.  The dress fit fine, but the shoes hurt and she couldn’t walk in them.  

Since they were comparatively new shoes, having been bought when she bought the dress, I was a little taken back by the fact that they didn’t fit.

“How come they hurt you?”, I asked.

“They always hurt a little, but now they hurt a lot.  My foot must have grown”, Barbara replied.

“Why did you buy them if they hurt?  They must have hurt originally, your feet could not have grown so fast” I queried.

“Well, yes, but they matched the dress”  she replied as if that were a valid answer. “I will have to get a new pair.”

“Don’t buy shoes that hurt” I reasonably said.

I got “The Look”, so I let the matter drop.  

As I left Barbara and Regina, I reminded Barbara “don’t get shoes that hurt”.  They both looked at me as if I was an idiot.

I met the plumber and he successfully made the necessary repair.  I returned to Regina’s house to await their arrival after they finished their shopping expedition.

They showed up a couple of hours later, carrying a bag with a shoe box inside.

“Let me see the shoes” I asked.

Barbara showed me the shoes.  A gold sandal with a 3 inch heel.  

“Do they hurt, are they comfortable?” I asked.

“Of course they are comfortable, but I am still going to bring a pair of flats with me to the wedding, because they will probably hurt as the evening wears on” Barbara said.

“What?” I said, “let me get this straight.  You bought shoes you know will hurt you and you will bring a pair of flats to wear for most of the evening.  Is that right? Why didn’t you just buy a pair of gold or brown flats?”

“ I need to make a good impression at the beginning, and flats won’t do that.  Besides these sandals are perfect for the dress”, she said as if I was a complete moron devoid of fashion sense.  My sister nodded in agreement.

I shook my head in frustrated disbelief but refrained from further comments since I knew any appeal to common sense was fruitless.

We left to make the journey home (a distance of approximately 40 miles, a bit of information that will be handy shortly).

We were home for about an hour when my sister called.  Barbara answered.

“Hello. Oh, did I leave that?  No, no, you don’t have to do that.  We’ll probably come and get it tomorrow.  I’ll let you know” Barbara said into the phone.

They chatted for a couple of minutes and then hung up.  Barbara came into the room where I was.

“You’re not going to believe this.  I left my makeup case in Regina’s bathroom”,  Barbara informed me.

“Ok”, I said, “ she can bring it down Sunday (today was Monday) when she comes for the BBQ”.

“I can’t wait that long for it. Either we have to get it or I will have to buy replacement makeup”.

“Why can’t you go “Au Natural” I asked?

“Don’t be ridiculous”, she replied. “I can’t go around without makeup.  Your choice, go up and get it, or buy me more.  Which is it?” 

I thought of having to go with her to buy more makeup.

“Hmmm, maybe we should go up and get it tomorrow.  We’ll go early and have to postpone my previous appointment on Tuesday.” I grumbled.

“Don’t worry, I’ll owe you.  Or you could think of yourself as my Knight Errant, and or a Knight of the Round Table on a quest for  his lady fair” Barbara said.

“Yeah, and your makeup case is the Holy Grail?”.

The next morning, Barbara informed me she was staying home and I was going on this journey alone.  

I had expected something like this occurring and was not surprised.   I grumbled at her about the unfairness of it all, and the length and time consumption of the quest/journey (see how important the bit of previous mileage information is to the story). I might have mentioned how she would surely owe me for this.

Barbara said, “You’re never going to let me forget this, are you?“

A rhetorical question if ever there was one.