Stacked Deck

Your wife always has to be the correct one, the smart one, and you just have to sit there and take it?  

Remember that time you had that excruciating pain in your lower right back and no matter what you did you couldn't get relief? You tried laying on your side, walking, sitting straight, laying on your belly, holding your breath, crying a little, nothing helped. Then your wife said, "You need to see a doctor." Well, you figured she's a nurse, she knows what she's talking about so you called the doctor and they had an opening next Thursday at ten o'clock and you said, "I'll be there."

Remember how all day Tuesday, all night, and again all day Wednesday the pain was so severe you didn't think you could bear it but your wife rolled her eyes at you Monday when you told her you were getting in to the doc on Thursday and then she said, "I meant you need to go right away. Didn't you tell them you were in pain?" Remember how you needed to show her what a he-man you are and maybe you're not an idiot so you rolled your eyes at her and said you were handling it? How clever were you to run to the refrigerator, grab that onion and start chopping it up so the tears would seem natural. She asked why you were doing that and you told her, " I'm a man, I feel we need to be prepared. If we decide to make spaghetti some night the onions will be all ready and you'll feel pretty silly about asking such a ridiculous question."

She suggested you had kidney stones and maybe should go to the emergency room. You insisted you were fine and went into the backyard, in the corner, behind the tree and lay in the grass rocking back and forth a little making a deal with God so you wouldn't die and look like a fool in your wife's eyes. If only you weren't suffering so, if only you would have gone to the doc right away. If you had been thinking and not married her 35 years ago you wouldn't be in this spot right now. It was all her fault and now here she was watching TV while you just made a deal to be a, "Better person?" God isn't stupid, he'll remember you said that and how the hell are you going to pull that off? You know your capabilities and... Wait a minute, He's God, he knows I'm, I mean you're, full of crap, or maybe kidney stones, he won't hold it against me, I mean you.

Thursday morning you're suffering receded. You felt pretty good and by the time you got in the examination room you had a hard time pointing out where the pain actually was. The doctor, summing all his years of education and experience, decreed the most necessary thing you could do at that point was pee in a bottle. You shook your head, you could have peed in a bottle at home, you hadn't done that since junior high, or was it high school? Anyway you were pretty sure you could get it done. He gave you a glass that didn't resemble a bottle at all but you're pretty sharp, you figured it out and only got a little on the side and just a drop or two on the floor. You washed everything up and worried that the nurse would suspect the bottle was wet from something other than water. She's a nurse, stop it!

The doctor came back with a professional, "Your wife was right, you had kidney stones but there really isn't a lot I can do for you now that you're...better." I bet she put him up to that, you thought as you went home.

A couple of months ago I had a slight pain in the same area of my back. More of a discomfort than pain but then I got real nauseous and, after throwing up, explaining to Carol that I might have kidney stones again, and watching her as she marched me to the car, I decided to go get looked at. I told her I obviously could handle kidney stones but could she hurry just a bit. She said this didn't seem like stones to her and hurried, just a bit. I rolled my eyes knowing everything there is to know about me and kidney stones but let her worry if that made her happy.

When we got to the ER (That's medical talk for encroach rectum. I think they use the definition: to advance gradually beyond the usual or desirable limits, when applying this term in a medical capacity.) When we got to the ER they took out my appendix. The point of all this is that no matter what, even hospitals will go to any length to prove your wife correct. She just might be the correct one, the smart one, maybe you should just sit there and take it. Just be glad you married her and aren't in her shoes, stuck with you.


Driving tip:  The best way to warm up your car is to fire it up, throw it in gear and go. That's true. Letting it run, especially on a cold day at fast idle is actually harder on your vehicle than driving it. The trick is, when your car is cold and even on a hot summer day your engine, transmission, differential, wheel bearings... all mechanical things that need lubricant, are cold. You need to start slow. Only for a few blocks but till then drive the thing like your grandmother wished you would. After a few blocks you're good to go.

Anal Leakage

Did you ever noti e how some writers will do anything to get you to look at their offering? When I de ided to tell a story about a  anal leaking I fired up my  omputer but had to pause when I noti ed a headline stating, "Dog Eats Man." Wait a minute! The   letter isn't working on my  omputer. A little soap and water, a quick blow dry, a fast trip to my lo al  omp USA store and...ccccc. O.K.

Boy, this sure beats talking about some dumb canal leaking. The Dog Eats Man writer probably had a problem with his keyboard too. Maybe it should have read, "Dog Beats Man" or "Dog Treats Man" or, maybe it was a story about a golf shoe wearing dog that stepped on the guy's foot. "Dog Cleats Man." I actually read the story and found no mystery whatsoever. Some dog ate some guy. Big deal. I was all set to sleuth out and solve a great teaser but no such luck. A dog eats a guy? What a letdown.

Today there was a headline that read, "Arkansas Man in Shootout with Toy Gun." Don't get all excited. The guy wasn't in some altercation against a possessed toy gun running around all willy-nilly causing havoc, no Steven King type story here. The fella actually had a shootout with police. They didn't know his gun was a toy and shot seven real bullets at him. Luckily all seven rounds missed and the guy might now get some help with his mental problems. Luckily there weren't a lot of people wandering around in the Wal-Mart parking lot. Can you imagine that headline? "Wal-Mart Shoppers Gunned Down by Bullets Intended for Toy Gun Bearer." They would have had to put such a line in real small font to get it to fit causing them to lose all the effectiveness of three inch type. People might quit buying newspapers and the whole industry could find itself on a downward spiral. And what if their M key wasn't working. We, the public, would be left to chatter around the water cooler about some poor wall art shoppers mowed down in their prime. My wife loves wall art. Can you imagine how sad Saturday would be if Carol wanted new wall art and I refused to go, muttering something about how many lives have been lost simply due to wall art lust? She rarely reads the paper. She wouldn't get it at all. She would buy golf shoes for our dog just to teach me a lesson. (The little scamp loves to step on my feet.)

I guess it all boils down to being careful about first impressions. Remember Edwin Rolfe's famous quote, "Never judge a book by its  over."


Driving tip:  If you intend to take a road trip take some water, some snacks and, if your snack choice includes Max potato chips by Frito Lay, bring some tissue.

Turn her head

When I was younger it was hard to impress the chicks. In high school I could leap a tall building with a single bound thinking to get some admiration from the fairer sex but sure enough some football player would grab the thing, crush it with his bare hands, and calmly step across. All the girls would sigh as if he just did something amazing and I'd be left to nurse my sore ankles from that rough landing in solitude. The next morning the headlines would tell of countless old people and little kids maimed when their building suddenly got crushed but I guess women didn't read the paper in those days. Not the ones I was interested in anyway. The school paper would, of course, feature a story about this lame idiot that sprained his ankles while prancing around like some moron. Girls would giggle as the football players would slap me on the back exclaiming, "Made the paper again ehh?" What kind of idiot finishes a sentence with eh and spells it with two h's...Jocks.

As I got older I found that my wife would get pretty worked up if I was able to walk all the way to the bedroom without falling down. These days she is marveled that I make it through an afternoon without breaking a hip.

In my youth I would jump in the old Pontiac, pop the clutch, and power slide around a hairpin curve 25 miles an hour faster than the suggested curve-speed. Some cowboy would climb up in his overgrown Ford, shove it in four low, and just plow ahead in a straight line. The next day the paper would feature an article about poor old Mrs. Jenkins' fence getting mangled and burnt rubber all over her prize roses. The school paper would talk about how I sprained an ankle popping my clutch and had to walk with a crutch. The girls would giggle when the football players would slap me on the back and exclaim, "Made the paper ehh tripod?" (The double h again, I told you they were idiots.)

When maturity began to evolve my driving skills my wife would get pretty hot if I remembered to turn off my signal light. These days she is astonished if I can still find our house.

In junior high I could slam a line drive past the shortstop, round first, and slide into second beating the tag by a hair. The football player would pop a blooper out toward the pitcher who would grab it and be waiting halfway to first. The guy would slam that pitcher so hard the ball would land in the outfield and of course when he, the pitcher, landed in the outfield he'd drop that ball enabling an infield home run. A little mention in the local paper about some poor pitcher sustaining inoperable brain damage and a front page story in the school gazette about my breaking my ankle sliding into second. The old slap on the back followed by, "You're in the news again eh?" Maybe those guys were wising up...no wayy

Twenty years later my wife gets all giddy when I remember to record the game. Now if  I can just say the word baseball without spitting peas on her she kind of smiles, waggles her head and winks at me.

Bottom line is, don't worry about impressing the babes when you're young. They'll come around.


Driving tip: Throw a hand towel in your glove box or console. If your windows suddenly fog while driving you'll be glad that towel is handy. If the sun raises the sill temperature on your door to 6000 degrees the towel will provide a fine barrier so you can still rest your arm on it and look cool. If the water spills, if the grandkid cries, if the AC quits and you get sweat in your eyes (bonus poem). You get it. Lots of possibilities. If you sneeze and get snot all over your windshield leave it alone. Wait till you get cleaner and two towels.