I was in
the Buffalo Barber Shop yesterday... (no, they do not do trims or even “high and
tights” on bison...), but it is located across the street from the local high
school, whose mascots are the Buffalo. While getting my locks trimmed, a couple
in their late 80s came in, the husband pushing his wife’s wheelchair. He found
a nice spot where he could sit next to her, and then for about 10 minutes held
her hand and spoke softly to her while waiting their turns. They had probably
been married for 60 years or more, and were obviously still very much in love.
It was a very touching scene.
Speaking of marital bliss, My Lovely Bride and I recently went out to dinner at Bonefish Grill, our favorite seafood restaurant here in TV (The Villages). It was a chance to dress up and enjoy some of our favorite foods, including "Bang Bang Shrimp" and Chilean Sea Bass (no smart cracks about having to go out for fish since I can't seem to catch any, please!)
Suzanne decided to do some decorating upgrades on the interior of our house. I suggested
buying a kit and doing the work ourselves for half of what a professional would
charge. As in many of my undertakings, it was a good idea whose time has not yet
come.
One of the
ladies who came to give us an estimate for the work shall be called Gertrude
(for my personal safety... I am not worried about MLB thrashing me about the
head and shoulders with a 2x4, but Gertrude is another person altogether.) To
make a short story long, when Gertrude visited the house, she asked what color
fabric Suzanne was interested in... they looked at swatches for a few minutes,
and Suzanne picked one. She asked my opinion, and I replied with a typical guy
answer... “Hmmmm..... yeah, okay.... looks terrific....” Gertrude looks at
Suzanne and says, “Why bother asking Stevie Wonder there? You make the
decisions here, right?”
I will
admit to not having a lot of color coordination ability, but you must remember,
I wore khakis or whites or blues for 26 years, except for the occasional special
event requiring going incognito (AKA, “out of uniform”). After I retired from the Navy, I was working
in DC in a “cube” for about six months when Suzanne asked me one night, “Sweetheart,
what color are the walls of your cube?” “What walls?” I replied. “Okay, how about the carpet?” “The
carpet? Well, I guess it may be grey or
blue or brown, or something like that.” I was fast
realizing that (1) I was in trouble, and (2) my abilities in "color awareness" were somewhat limited.
So when
Gertrude the Evil Witch of the West made the Stevie Wonder crack, I was a bit
P.O.’ed. (It doesn’t mean “Post Officed”, although "going postal" may have an similar outcome.)
I thought about making a snide comment about Gertrude’s Brooklyn accent, but
knowing that my health was at stake, I smiled blandly and vowed silently to run
her down in the parking lot at the Dollar Store when she was buying dinner on
Saturday night. I am not attaching Gertrude’s photograph as it might increase
the felony charge from witchslaughter or vehicular homicide to premeditated
murder.
Speaking
of cars, and on the brighter side, I have a new car. Well, not exactly a new
car. When I got Corvette Chick her new red ‘Vette, we decided to sell her 10
year old (Japanese-built) Mitsubishi Eclipse Spyder. It’s been listed on
AutoTrader for six weeks, with nary a bite. So until some Good Fairy comes along and buys her, Corvette Chick's husband has been informed that he is now and hereafter known as "Spyder Man".
I’m not
sure if the Eclipse's inability to sell has anything to do with being here in The
Villages with a lot of WWII vets, whose only association with the Mitsubishi
company was when it built the A6M Zero fighter, which was the mainstay combat
aircraft of the Japanese Navy from 1941-1945.
Actually, I’m
probably very lucky that the Eclipse hasn’t been shot up by an old guy with a
12 gauge shotgun driving around in a golf cart made up to look like a Grumman
F6F Hellcat. (That was the US Navy's rugged fighter plane launched from aircraft carriers to fight the Zeros in WWII.)
In any case, we now have two convertibles. Corvette Chick gets the red ‘Vette,
I get the target... um, I mean the Eclipse... which is actually a pretty hot
car, but nothing like a Babe Magnet that the Corvette is. I’m glad MLB
didn’t suggest I drive a Mini-Cooper with eyelashes. (No, truly, I jest about
that, but she would never, never do that...)
Today's was especially funny! Such a nice way to start the day, Ty, with humor. Enjoyed it immensely.
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