Monday, September 21, 2009

Not My Monkey

The Weebles recently had a new roof put on their house. I had recommended the company that remodeled our bathroom. The Roofer met with them, and they picked the color shingles they wanted. Fox Run Grey. A light grey.

The Roofer had called and left a message on my voicemail.

"Please call me right away. I have some very bad news." His voice was filled with dread.

I though the roofing crew must have found a weeble dead on the floor. With nervous fingers I dialed the Roofer's number and tried to keep my voice calm as I asked him what had happened.

"The crew was 3/4 of the way finished, when your dad noticed the color of the shingles are charcoal grey and not the light grey they ordered."

I almost laughed out of relief.

The Roofer apologized for his mistake. No one bothered to double check the product shipped was the product ordered.

On one hand no one ever died because the roof was charcoal grey. Afterall, the quality of the shingles or the workmanship was not the issue. The roof would keep the Weebles warm and dry. On the other hand, the roof was "not white." (This is a reference to the issues we had when ordering the white tiles for our bathroom. The only difference is we discovered the problem before the not white tiles were adhered to the walls.)

I think the Roofer was hoping I would make the decision to resolve the problem. The Weebles want a light grey roof. I'm happy the decision is not my monkey.

Sunday, September 20, 2009


"What happened to you?" asked Himself as I limped into the house.

"It started out as as typical Mahket run. I got a handicap space. Ma got a scooter and I trailed behind her at a safe and respectful distance. We cruised through produce..."

"Were any veggies murdered?"

"No. Though one tomato saw us coming, and he leaped from his heap and ran away."

"You mean he suicided?" Himself sat down getting very interested in the story.

"No, he jumped and ran away. Rolled as fast as he could towards the produce room."

"Okaaay. What happened to you?"

"We had made a first past blessing the meat when Ma decided she wanted to go back to look at the pork."

"I thought Ma didn't eat pork."

"She doesn't but she wanted some sausage for Dad. So she makes a turn around the frozen fish case and parks in front of the sausage case. The nose of her cart is pointing back toward produce. I'm behind the scooter pawing through the packages trying to find a package that's not full of fat but cheap in price when a stock boy comes out of the meat room with a baker's tray filled with pork."

"What's that he got?"

The stock boy stopped near us. "Pork," he said.

"What kind?" asked Ma.

"All kinds", answered the stock boy.

"He starts moving behind me to stock the pork chops. Ma decided she wanted to see what he had on the cart so she thumbs the reverse switch and rammmed into me. I'm backing up and yelling stop, stop. Her thumb is frozen on reverse and she accelerated into me. I then tumble like a domino and into the lap of the stock boy."

Himself is laughing.

"Kinda gave new meaning to porked."

"It's a pogo," Himself managed to get out in between laughs.

"A what?"

"Pogo. Pork one, get one." Himself started to laugh uncontrollably.

The limp should be gone in a few days. I just hope that young man doesn't have to spend a long time in therapy.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009


No points, but what are the odds?

Sunday, September 13, 2009

How do You Spell Stress?


Sunday, September 06, 2009

Man Posts Parents for Sale on Craigslist

Man posts parents for sale on Craigslist. Maybe he's onto something. Nuff said.

Tuesday, September 01, 2009


We pulled into the service station.

"While I pump gas, you go in and buy two lottery tickets, "Himself said to me as he handed me two dollars.

Yes, occasionally we worship at the altar of Auntie Rose just like Ma. Unlike Ma, we play the legitimate lottery sanctioned by the State. Himself only plays the lottery when the jackpot is in the hundreds of millions. The jackpot was $250 million.

"Play our numbers." He handed me an official lottery form. "And ask for a quick pick."

I came out of the gas station convenience story holding the two holy white squares. Money can't buy happiness, but it certainly would come in handy. The girls' college education paid for in full, home equity loan and credit card paid off, a row of deciduous, no a row of flowering crab apple trees bought and planted along the Leaf Lady's side line. On the ride home, I chuckled.

"What's so funny?" Himself asked.

"If you win, Ma is going to be so ticked. You realize she would expect you to take care of her for the rest of her life."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, she's been talking about moving lately."

"Yes, I'll see that she's moved into a new home."