Jujubes

After he gives you a filling or a crown or something, my dentist provides you a list of stuff not to eat. The list is old and looks like it has been copied a million times. The first item on the list is Jujubes, the chewy, gummy candy I associate with the mid-twentieth century. Jujubes were like a cross between gummy worms and granite. But really, what are my odds of eating Jujubes? Do they even still make those things? And what’s with that name? I think normal Jujubes maybe wouldn’t hurt your teeth if they were fresh. The problem was, they were always so stale…

Our kids’ pediatrician dentist had no individual examination offices, just this big room with kids all over the place. Kind of the one room school house look. And there was always one kid screamin’ somewhere in the room. Of course the dentist never made reference to the screaming kid. We were all supposed to ignore him. As a parent with my child though, I was always tempted to say something like, “I see you’ve got a screamin’ kid over there. Did you catch him with some Jujubes?”

The Bee Gees!

We all remember the Bee Gees. They had a great, unforgettable sound, before, during and well after the disco era. Now there’s only one Bee Gee left. I think it’s Barry Gibb. His brothers have all passed away. Too bad. So, with only the one brother left, I figured they were pretty much done as a performance group. Not so. You can find Barry on Youtube singing “Stayin’ Alive”, one of the Bee Gees signature songs. So yeah, he’s certainly entitled to make a living singing his song. And it’s probably good for him to continue performing – he’s only 69. And he still sounds pretty good. But I can’t help but find it a little odd that he, the only living Bee Gee, sings “Stayin’ Alive”. Doesn’t this bring a whole new meaning to the song? Will we start to see this song sung at nursing homes as baby boomers take over the senior scene?  Will it be our generation’s survival anthem? 

“Well you can tell by the way I use my walker, 

I’m a woman’s man: no time to talk.” 

Something like that. Yeah.

Nice Day for a White Shirt

Have you ever walked into a store or a restaurant and realized the clothes you’re wearing are basically the uniform of the employees at the store? It’s awkward, isn’t it? We have a local super market where the men wear white shirts and a tie. It’s a nice touch. Very professional. The guy who owns the store is a military vet. I stopped in there the other night to do a little shopping on the way home. My wife said we needed some detergent and we were out of milk. I didn’t think about it, but I was wearing a white shirt and a tie. On other visits when I happened to be wearing the company attire I’ve seen other friends and people I’ve met before at one time or another. People rarely ask me for help in these circumstances, but I often feel an air of uncertainty. I usually give them an awkward “Hey, I don’t work here” or a “Hey, you know I don’t work here, right?” I follow that up with a “Not that there’s anything wrong with working here”. 

I do it quietly, ‘cause you never know when you might need a job, and I would not want to be asked at the job interview “Hey, aren’t you the guy that used to come in here in the white shirt and the tie and tell people you didn’t work here?”.

Windows K-9

When our dog Iz was a pup she learned how to operate the electric windows in my car. She could press the buttons forward to make the window go up and backward to make it go down. I could childproof the back seat windows, but I couldn’t stop her from making the front passenger window go up and down. Well, one day Iz and I were stopped at a red light in front of a gas station where some Jr High girls were having a car wash to raise money for the volleyball team. A couple of them came over to look at the (attractive) dog while we were waiting for the light to change. Iz, being very friendly, got happy feet and, just as the light turned green and I was pulling away, rolled the window up on her head, right in front of the girls. Being the good driver I am, I kept both eyes on the road in the busy intersection, and did not notice her struggle for a few seconds. Eventually, I noticed her trapped head and lowered the window. She seemed a bit traumatized, and rode on the floor of the car for a while, but within a week she was back to lowering the windows and sticking her head out.

  

So, yeah, she was OK. But I’m not so sure about the girls. I never went back and told them that the dog was OK. It didn’t occur to me until later. They were at a tender age. Should I have called the coach and explained what they had seen? Called the school? Would anyone even have believed that Iz had done it to herself? Would I end up taking the blame and possibly do some time in the joint? So I kept quiet about it. Until now.

Rest In Peace Iz  (2002-2016)

Medium Truck Rental

I’m still in vacation remembering mode. That’s a good mode. In our recent travels, we went through a very small town. How small of a town, you ask? This town was so small that the local U-Haul dealer was also the town’s psychic. I suppose you could “one stop shop” and ask the psychic whether or not you should make the move you were contemplating. But, one would think that the psychic would really want to get that truck rented, so, I’m not sure how honest of a read you’d get from him or her on that topic. Regardless, being a psychic and a U-Haul dealer is an interesting combination. Maybe the psychic could use his or her crystal ball to provide future road conditions, or maybe tell you where the cops were located. That’d be a nice valued added touch.  

Advertising possibilities abound. “Up-size to our full size truck and Sylvia will throw in a palm read.” Yeah. 

Hamilton

We’ve been traveling lately and I’ve struggled to find time to post. Sorry. We had a lovely trip to Great Barrington Massachusetts, a beautiful town in the Berkshires. I love to travel. And I don’t mind driving. I love seeing and writing about other parts of the country. And I love getting that free breakfast at the motel. Why is it I feel inspired to eat more breakfast when it’s free? Is anyone else like that? I don’t care if the yogurt is almost expired or if the sausage is turkey. It’s free. Once we stayed in a motel in New York that had a free breakfast that included unlimited Red Bull. It was free so I tried it. I wrote 7 blog posts that night.

After driving 600 miles Sunday (and not having any Red Bull), I fell asleep in the motel room while watching the Tonys. Apparently the musical “Hamilton” won a bunch of awards. We’ve not seen it yet but I think it is about Tom Hamilton, the emotional play by play radio voice of the Cleveland Indians. Nobody calls a home run or a game ending strike out like that guy. I can’t wait to see it.

 

The best bumper sticker I saw on this trip read “Horn is broken. Watch for finger.”