THE TRAP

THE TRAP

I think I just escaped a trap…a trap set by my wife.

Remember a few years ago when the media went crazy because some poor third party Presidential candidate slipped up on a question?


This guy was talking about economics or something when the interrogator…er, reporter, asked him, 

“What would you do about Aleppo?”
  

Not 
"What actions would you take to alleviate the problems of the war torn Syria town, Aleppo?”

But 

“What would you do about Aleppo?”


When the candidate was confused, his economic issue brain searching for what the acronym, Aleppo, stood for, asked, “WHAT?”, the reporter disgustedly responded,


“You’re kidding.”


Gottcha!


This morning I almost had an “Aleppo” moment.


Mrs. C casually asked me this morning while we were watching an episode of “Leave it to Beaver”,


“What time are you leaving?”


Momentary panic set in as my mind shifted from “Leave it to Beaver” to what I was supposed to be doing sometime today.


Golf? No.
  

Dentist? No.


Visiting my friend Frog? No.


Haircut? Yes, haircut!


It was a set up.  She was just waiting for me to ask, “Do what?” and then hit me with a disgusted,


“You’re kidding!”


I dodged the trap.


“Leaving for what, my haircut?  Why would you ask? The appointment is at 1 pm, it takes 20 minutes to get to the shop, I guess 12:30.”


“OK.”


“That was a trap wasn’t it?”


“No, I just wanted to know when you were going to leave.”


“12:30.”


“Fine, why would I try to trap you? The things you get in your head!”


She says fine, but I know better.  She set up the appointment just yesterday.  She assumed I forgot, and she was setting me up, to prove to me that “You never listen!”


I fooled her this time.  No Aleppo moment for me.


I dodged the trap.


I better not forget to leave by 12:30.

THAT's BANANAS!

THAT's BANANAS!

Recently my brother and sister-in-law visited us before they spending a few days in the big city.  Somehow a conversation about muscle cramping led to eating bananas as a cure to that problem.


It reminded me of a story my Mom often told.


A zillion years ago, one of her relatives, possibly her beloved Uncle Ferd, was in the hospital.  He was very sick, and health care being what it was a zillion years ago, they didn’t know what to do for him.  All they could do for Uncle Ferd, was try and make him as comfortable as possible.


During his stay, Uncle Ferd asked if he could have a banana.  The doctors had to tell him that in his condition a banana would not be a good idea.

Uncle Ferd’s condition continued to deteriorate and he continued to ask for a banana.


As days passed, Uncle Ferd was not expected to recover from whatever ailment he had that the doctors could not identify.  He did continue to ask if he could have a banana.


Finally a nurse said to the doctor,


"What the heck, he is not going to live much longer anyway, let him have a banana.”


Uncle Ferd got his banana and his condition immediately started to improve.  A few more days and a few more bananas and Uncle Ferd was sent home to live out and enjoy a few more years.


I’m guessing there is only a small bit of truth in this story, stories do change as they are handed down; but I always remember it when I am told about “expert opinions.”
  
"Expert opinions” are fine, but also listen to your body and what it wants, and don't ignore your intellectual instincts.  

Scissors

Scissors

My wife is not difficult to live with, but she does require some adjustments.  She can be a bit quirky. 

For instance; scissors.

We have a pair of scissors in every room of the house.  Apparently you never know when you might need scissors RIGHT AWAY!

In the kitchen we have two pairs of scissors.  One pair is only for cutting poultry, one pair is for paper and stuff.  When I needed scissors to cut suckers out of my tomato plants, I quickly found out that vegetation does not count as stuff.

“Don’t use those scissors for yard work!  We have a pair in the garage for yard work.”

I used the garage scissors for my tomatoes, and then put those scissors away in MY barbeque stuff kitchen drawer instead of putting them back in the garage.  I was going to use these scissors often and the garage is a long way from my tomato plants.

The other day Mrs. C asks, “Where are the garage scissors?”

“In my BBQ drawer, I use them all the time.”

“They belong in the garage; I need them there.”

So now the scissors I use almost every day for plants right outside our back door reside in the garage 20 yards away, through two doors and I have to first go outside to get to them.

The other day while searching frantically through every drawer in the house looking for my lost golf GPS thingy, I found a third pair of scissors in the kitchen.  These scissors were buried underneath assorted stuff.   I unburied them and thought great, now there are three scissors in the kitchen.  One for poultry, one for paper and stuff, and a third pair for cutting the suckers out of my tomato plants.

Maybe not.

Mrs. C just opened that drawer today.

“What are these scissors doing out in the open?”

“I found them the other day, I unburied them so I can use them on the tomatoes.”

“Not these scissors, they are good scissors, you’ll ruin them…that’s why I hid them!”

“Well what are they for then?  You already have two pairs of scissors in the kitchen and a pair in every other room in the house?”

“Never mind.  They are the good scissors and not for you to use.”

“So along with the “Good Towels” that we are not allowed to use and the “Sea Shell” soap the we are not allowed to use; we now have the “Good Scissors?”

“Yes! Don’t be a jerk.  Leave them alone.”

I’m going to buy my own pair of scissors and put them in the BBQ drawer, and no one else better use them! 

It is easier to adjust than to figure her out.

Re-run from September 2016