Thursday, April 17, 2014

Hearing Things

Yesterday when I went to the post office, I thought I heard birds inside the building.

Birds?  In the p. o.?  How was that possible?  I looked around but failed to detect immediate bird-age.  There were only people there.  And none of them was chirping.

But still.  I could hear it.  Or at least I thought I could.  So I turned to my fellow line-standers and said, "Hey!  Can you guys hear birds, too?"

They all looked up from their cellphones, said "no," backed away from me the way you do when you realize you're dealing with crazy people in the post office, and resumed messing around with their phones.

What was going on?  Was the whole world going mad?  WAS I ON CRAZY PILLS?

By the time I got to the counter, I was desperate.  I said to clerk, "DO YOU HEAR BIRDS, TOO?"  And he said yes.  He did.  Someone was mailing birds.

His answer caused me to have these three thoughts immediately.

1.  Thank the Lord I'm not just hearing things--specifically birds at the post office.
2.  If people got off their damn phones now and then, they could hear birds, too.
3.  And also, you can mail birds in America?

What a country!

Wednesday, April 16, 2014


I need you to entertain me!!!

Please send me your best guesses about what WBN stands for.  Then read my column.

Thank you.

Monday, April 14, 2014

Alcohol and Cats

Hopefully you found that title as intriguing as I did as I was going through that box of crap TRQ unloaded here a few weeks ago.  You know.  The one was my old diaries and stuff.

Well.  I found notes from Jr. High Health Class in one of the folders, including a piece of notebook paper labeled "Alcohol and Cats."  Here's what I wrote:

"A doctor experimented on 13 cats with the use of alcohol.  Cats forgot tricks they lad learned when under the influence of alcohol.  Cats forgot fear when under the influence of alcohol."

At the time I'm sure I wrote all of that down a) with a straight face and b) without asking any questions.  But now, of course, my face is not straight AND I have a lot of questions, which include--

1.  What kind of a doctor was this anyway?  What kind of doctor gets cats drunk?
2.  Where did the doctor find those thirteen cats?  Did he scribble "For a good time call Dr. Feel Good" on the doors of cat bathroom stalls?
3.  What kind of tricks did those cats forget?
4.  And, as my sentence indicates, did those cats learn those tricks while under the influence of alcohol in the first place?
5.  Also, what kind of alcohol were those cats consuming?  Did they consume that alcohol all nibbly-bibbly out of a saucer?
6.  When cats forget their fear how do they act?  Do they put Ever Ready batteries on their cat shoulders and dare dogs to knock them off?

If you know the answers to these questions, please contact me.  Meanwhile, here's a picture of my cat in the garden this morning.  He hasn't been drinking.  As far as I know.

Friday, April 11, 2014

Losses long ago

A pregnant friend recently lost a baby at the 6-month mark.  It's been devastating for her and for her husband both, and her experience has caused me to revisit the loss of our two sons--one at five months, the other at six.

I was glad to see that there's currently more of an effort on the hospital's part to treat this kind of a loss as a birth and a death, because when you're pregnant--especially when you're that pregnant--you want more than anything for people to acknowledge that this was a child.  This was your child.  This was your child who you made room for in your life.  And when that child is gone before others have had a chance to see him and call him by name and say that he looks like your husband's side of the family, you feel that loss in a special kind of way.  Because to others that baby wasn't particularly real.  Not yet anyway.

But to you he was as real as the heat of sun on your face.

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

More on the dingle dangle front

Bonnie, Joe Joe's are Trader Joe's version of the Oreo cookie.  And they are tasty.

Meanwhile, I kinda wish TRQ had walked into Trader Joe's yesterday and asked a clerk where his dingle dangles were because that would have been awesome.

Also meanwhile here is today's column.  It's always a good day when you can use the term "Devil Worshipper-Mobile" in the newspaper.

Tuesday, April 8, 2014

Dingle Dangles

There are many, many things I love about TRQ.  Here are two of them.

1.  She is legendary for her malaprops.
2.  When questioned about what she actually meant, she will always laugh harder at herself than you would.

Today after the two of us had lunch at a new Indian restaurant here in the Aves (Saffron Valley--I recommend WITH ENTHUSIASM!) she suggested we go to Trader Joe's for some "Dingle Dangles."

What?  You don't go to Trader Joe's for your Dingle Dangles?  WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?

Anyway, because I speak TRQ, I realized she probably meant "Joes Joe's."

"Do you mean Joe Joe's?" I asked.

"Yes," she said.  "Duh."

Later, when she was driving back to Provo, she called me and said, "I think Dingle Dangles is a better name.  Let's use it from now on."

All in favor, please raise your hand.

Wednesday, April 2, 2014

That time when I forgot TRQ's birthday

I was thinking a lot about TRQ this morning because of this column and also--you know--because she's TRQ.

I was remembering this one time when I forgot her birthday.  She called me about 10:00 that night and we chit-chatted for awhile about this and that and this some more until finally she said, "Well, I just called to wish myself a happy birthday."


There was no recovery from that.  Like I said, it was late.  I couldn't order flowers.  I couldn't rush down to Provo.  I couldn't do anything to cover my own sorry rear.  So the next day I called about 30 people, including a guy who worked at a grocery store, and told them to call TRQ to wish her a happy birthday and also to tell her that her daughter is a perfect little shit.

And they did.

And she was happy.

And I was forgiven.

I love her.