Go for the Juggler

Since clowns are pretty much off limits this year, let’s talk today about jugglers. I think it’s still OK to talk about jugglers, right? They’re not stalking people or running around in the woods. Not yet, at least. I’ve always respected jugglers as athletes. Their act takes a lot of coordination and practice.  We went to a Christmas Dinner last year where the entertainment was a juggler. I found him to be very entertaining; many of the other guests were not very amused, at least not for the full 25 minutes he entertained. He didn’t go nonstop. He stopped and talked to us from time to time. I think I was amazed by the uniqueness of it all – the fact that juggler solo acts still exist in this day and age and that they still get hired. And paid. I was happy to see the guy making a living. I mean, you look up “Juggler” in the yellow pages, and there’s not always somebody there.

Personally, I would like to see marching bands occasionally alternate jugglers with the baton twirlers at halftime shows. I'm pretty busy here with this blog but if somebody could get that going that would be great.  

Gates Brown Mustard

There’s an ongoing debate in America about whether or not ketchup should be put on a hot dog. Obama has come out publicly against it. (I know, I should cite the quote here, but I don’t have it. It’s really not that important.) A Detroit Tiger stadium vendor was fired for harassing fans who put ketchup on their hot dog.  (He was known as “opera man” and he sang very loudly in the stands while selling hot dogs, so he may have had other issues.) So yeah, which is right? Well, I’ve got the answer. About 60 years ago, the Tigers had a famous pinch hitter named Gates Brown.  One day, very late in a game, Tiger Manager Mayo Smith, as he was prone to do, summoned Mr. Brown to pinch hit. Gates, thinking he wasn’t going to get into the game that day, had sneaked off to the clubhouse where he was enjoying a hot dog. In his rush to find a bat, a helmet, and get to the on deck circle, he shoved the hog dog in the pocket of his uniform pants. Sure enough, Gates hit a gapper to right center, and had to slide into second base. When he stood up after the slide, mustard was all over his uniform. But he was safe. There’s never been any mention of ketchup in any renditions of this story.

So there you have it. Obama, Gates, and the singing vendor. Three for three is a pretty good day at "the plate". Mustard-only wins!

It's Good to Touch the Green Green Grass of Home

Since it's been such a warm Autumn, today we're going to talk about grass. Have you ever taken a vacation for an extended period of time and, before you leave, your neighbor tells you that he’ll cut your grass if it grows a lot while you’re gone? Yeah, I’ve been on both sides of this predicament. We went to California many years ago, and our neighbor said he’d cut our grass while we were gone if it needed it. Well, when we came home, the lawn looked pretty good, but it was August and it was very dry, and you really couldn’t tell if it had been cut. I didn’t say anything to him. I couldn’t. I was in a no win situation. If I thanked him and he didn’t cut it, I sounded sarcastic and unappreciative. 

Another time, I did cut a different neighbor’s lawn while he was on vacation. But he never said anything to me ‘cause what if I didn’t cut it, then we’d all feel bad. I was fine with that.

This concept can also apply to shoveling snow or giving haircuts to children for whom you babysit.  

Dentexting

Every six months I receive a text from a dentist confirming the date and time of a teeth cleaning appointment for some woman named Meg.  And every six months I respond to the text that I’m not her and that I already got my teeth cleaned anyhow. But the dentist never responds to my texts.  I even called the office one time to tell them they had the wrong number, and that I was not Meg.  It did no good. This has been going on for years. And sometimes Meg blows off her appointments, and then I get even more texts.  Frankly, I’m dying to know if this “Meg” even exists, or if it’s a phony ploy by the dentist to drum up some business. Maybe he thinks that if he sends out these random texts people will read them and think, “I know this text is not for me, but I haven’t been to the dentist in two years.  This dentist sounds nice in this text, and my tooth hurt last Sunday when I was eating that pot roast. I’m gonna call this dentist and make an appointment!” Yeah.  These guys know what they’re doing.

I think I might show up at Meg’s next appointment so I can meet her (if she exists) and tell her to quit blowing off the appointments so I won’t get so many texts.  

Senior Pets

We were at a restaurant in a small town recently where they have those paper place mats with the ads on them from the local businesses. I love those place mats. They give you a feel for the community you’re in and there’s usually something entertaining in one of the squares. Sure enough, this place mat had an ad for the local humane society which has a pet food pantry apparently for pets in need. I was told these pantries are quite common. So yeah, you can get free food for your pet, I guess. That’s a nice service. This humane society also provided a service called “Senior Pet Food Delivery”. It did not specify if it was for senior people or if it was for senior pets. Since this was a Humane Society, I’m assuming it was for pets. It did not state how old your pet had to be to get pet food delivered to it and it also did not state if they measure the pet’s age in human years or in dog years. My recommendation would be that, when you apply for the food delivery, you use dog years ‘cause 70 years old sounds a lot more needy than 10.

Just don’t ask for Puppy Chow. That might give away that you have a younger pet.

Tongue in Cheek?

I know this is Thanksgiving week but I have a beef to share with you. When I was a kid, our family would buy a side of beef every year.  We ate very well. We had this chest freezer in the basement full of these white packages of beef. Only Mom and Dad knew what was in each package.  In hindsight, I guess I didn’t (and still don’t) know what a “side” of beef was. ‘Cause I thought that meant you got half the animal. Apparently that was not the case, ‘cause we always got the tongue and the heart. Unless they split the tongue and heart in two, which I don’t think they did. (I’m gonna ask my butcher about that, but I don’t want it to be when there’s people around ‘cause maybe that’s some obvious thing that everyone knows. I mean, I’m not gonna stand around and wait at his counter for my number to get called and then ask him that question.)

I remember my Mom making some pretty good soup from the heart. And the heart had to be good for you, right? I mean, how could eating heart NOT be good for you? Beef tongue was another matter for me.  It always seemed like it was tasting me back.

So, like, can you get a side of chicken?