Act Of Contrition and Atonement

I saved the life of a mouse today.

When Y’all read that opening sentence, you may think: What!? Did Joe(y) perform mouth-to-mouth resuscitation on a mouse? Has the old dude flipped his lid? So many questions and so little time to connect the dots •••• read-on.

Every morning, I check the pool to see if it needs attention, especially after it has rained. Rain and wind usually bring leaves and other debris into the pool that need to be scoped-up or vacuumed.

We had strong thunderstorms with heavy rain last night. This morning, while walking around with the pool net - scooping up leaves and stuff floating on the water, I saw a mouse in the pool swimming for its life. Only its nose and eyes were above water. Its legs were paddling very fast. Its eyes were wide open - it looked panicky.

Its likely that the mouse had very recently fallen into the pool because it would not take long for it to have become exhausted, unable to paddle and drown.

The mouse saw me and seemingly, pleading for help - swam in my direction - we made eye contact. I lowered the net into the pool near the mouse and it scampered aboard. I then placed the net on the ground at the back side of the yard and the mouse ran-off fast, disappearing into the shrubby.

I could have easily submerged the net with the mouse inside and let it drown and afterwards, toss it away. But I didn’t. Why? Why would anyone rescue a mouse? After all, most people, including me, do not like mice.

In order to give insight into the why, I need to go back in time and provide more information.

Flash-back to the year 1957. I was 12 years old. Like most boys, I wanted a BB Gun. Momma kept telling me no. I begged and begged. Over time, she finally said: Okay, Joey, I’ll let you have a BB Gun but you need to be very careful with it. “I will Momma.”

I’m the oldest of seven siblings. Next in age to me, the twins (Madeline and Gwen) and Greg always thought that Momma liked me best and that’s why she said okay to the BB-Gun. Be that as it may or may not be, I was sooooooooooo excited to get the BB-Gun. Everyday, I’d take the BB-Gun into a field behind our house and target shoot at cans and bottles.

A few weeks after getting the BB-Gun, one of Momma’s brothers, Uncle Wes, had been in an auto accident and spent several days to a week recovering at our house so Momma could take care of him. One day, after he was better, Uncle Wes asked me if he could use my BB-Gun. He said he was going to go bird hunting. “Okay, Uncle Wes”.

Uncle Wes, was gone for many hours, returning around dinner time with about 8-10 black-birds that he had shot. He asked Momma to clean and cook the birds. I don’t think that Momma had ever done that before because she had a look of total fright on her face. I went outside. I didn’t want to see that “cleaning” business and I sure wasn’t going to eat birds.

A few days later, instead of target shooting at cans and bottles, I decide to be like Uncle Wes and hunt birds. Now, I’d go into that field everyday and shoot at birds. I could not hit any of them. I tried to figure out what I was doing wrong -- if Uncle Wes could shoot birds, I was determined that I would do so too. But day after day, the results were the same -- miss-miss-miss. I became frustrated yet remained resolute. I practiced my aim. I practiced my position. I practiced how I pulled the trigger.

Early, one Saturday morning I was in the field shooting at birds. After several misses, a brown bird landed on a bush about 20 feet away. I sat very still. I took careful aim. Held my breath. Fired! I hit the bird and it immediately fell dead. Instead of feeling triumphant, I felt like an idiot.

I killed that animal: not for food; not for my protection; not for any rightful reason; but only for sport. I cried. Mea Culpa, Mea Culpa, Mea Maxi Culpa (Part of Latin prayer of transgression that Catholics recite which means: Through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault). I prayed to God for forgiveness. I walked out of the field dragging the BB-Gun behind me, feeling very sad.

I didn’t tell Momma what I had done. I was not pleased with myself and knew that Momma would have been disappointed in me. I put that BB-Gun away in a closet and never used it or any gun since.

A defining moment confronts us with who we think we are vs. who we actually are. It can lift us or it can sink us. This was a defining moment for me. Over the years, I have reflected on this incident many times and it always makes me sad but also determined to become a better person. Perhaps today’s event is not noteworthy or at best an insignificant accomplishment, to many, nevertheless, it brought a meaningful closure for me. Although, it does not make up for me taking the life of that bird 53 years ago -- Momma would be happy because -- Joey saved the life of a mouse today.

The Cat Didn’t Get My Tongue

At the end of Summer '09, DW purchased two pool chair floats. Since the season was over, I left them in the boxes unassembled.

One day in early June this year, when the pool water was warm enough to swim, the SD said, Joe(y), I’m getting into the pool so “we” need to assemble those chair floats. As I’ve mentioned before, when W says “we” she means Joe(y).

For various reasons, W and I do not work well together on projects that require hands-on cooperation. So it was with great trepidation that I said okay Dwal’n, I’ll bring out the boxes and tools.

I unboxed the first chair and read the directions. I always read the directions - W never does. Watching me read the assembly directions infuriated the DW to no end. She was tapping her fingernails and looking all POed the entire time.

Nevertheless, one would think that this task is a reasonably straight forward and easy thing to accomplish. After all, there are only 7 parts plus 8 screws per chair and the only tool needed is a Phillips screwdriver.

No way, buck-a-roo! It took over an hour to put the two chairs together. It’s not that the assembly was complicated or hard to understand, rather, it was awkward to hold the parts in the correct position as the screws were attached. Without a doubt, I make no claim to be nearly as good a craftsman as Tim Allen from the old Home Improvement TV show.

When this massive assembly task was finally completed, W jumped into the pool and reclined on a floating chair. I was sitting at the patio table sipping a glass of Chardonnay.

It was a beautiful, tranquil, sunny, Midwest day. The hoopla of the “construction project” now faded into history. After a long period of silence and my second glass of wine, I said: W, you are still one of the most beautiful women that I know.

Suddenly, with “very intense eyes” -- sooooooooooo, looks matter more than quality to you and you don’t think of me as a high caliber person?

Whoa!!! I sure didn’t expect that come-back. If you’ve ever seen a woman go from happy-face to screaming-face then you know my pain. I thought to myself, did I marry Miss Heckle and Miss Hyde? Have I committed bigamy?

Back-stepping -- Well, sugar, that’s not what I meant…..

Listen, Joe(y). It’s either A or B. Which is it?

Dwal’n, it’s neither. I’m a lucky man because I’m married to both a quality woman and a beautiful, hot sexy assed baby-doll thang.

With raised voice: Do not give me BS, Joe(y)!

At this point, I looked around and noticed that neighbors on 3-sides of the back yard had come outside to sit. I guess they found the Devil and I more entreating than Jerry Springer. Seeing that the neighbors had settled-in for a good show, I turned towards the SD and, Ka-rist -- now, I’m in the direct beam of an intense laser-eyed stare.

After a very-long silence: Bay-beee?

Yes, Joe(y)!

I’m sorry for upsetting you. When you are ready you should go shopping and purchase those expensive diamond earrings that you like.

Okay, Joe(y). In a while, I’ll shower and go to the Mall to get the earrings plus a bracelet and the Michael Kors Handbag that I like.

Great, Dawl’n. No doubt the high caliber person that you are will bring out the best in the earrings, bracelet and handbag.

A degree in Marital Education is a long, painful and expensive undertaking. I don’t expect to graduate Cum Laude and will likely be in the po-house PDQ. I should learn to be quiet or look for a surgeon that will remove my tongue because the Cat didn’t.

What's My Name?

By the subject, some may think this essay is about Cassius Marcellus Clay changing his name to Mohammad Ali. It’s not.

But there is a connection to the Ali story because I too changed my name. Well, not formally but the nickname that I use.

My Dad’s name was Edwin Joseph and I was named after him. I assume that to avoid confusion, my parents decided to call me by a variation of my middle name so I was known as Joey. Growing-up, when I’d meet people for the first time, I’d introduce my self as Joey.

So how did I become known as Joe? This transformation happened after Pat and I were married while on the road moving from St Louis, MO (her) and Warner Robins, GA (me) to Redondo Beach, CA. Along the way, I said: Pat, we are going to have a new life, new jobs and new residence -- so I’d rather have a new name and be known to the folks we meet as Joe instead of Joey.

Okay, she said, your name is Joe!

Subsequently, my siblings and many relatives plus all the new folks I met called me Joe.

This background is necessary to put into prospective a conversation with the DW two weeks ago.

It was lawn mowing day and after several hours of hard yard work, I sat on the patio swing to take a break and drink an iced tea.  The SD joined me.

Joe!

What, W?

After you finish the lawn, I think that we should grill dinner outside and not heat up the kitchen on such a hot day.

Pat, what does “we” mean?

You and me, babe!

Ka-rist, W! You sure define “we” differently than I do. When you say "we" it means J-O-E and I still have more yard work to do.

Joe, you can finish the yard tomorrow. Besides, I just bought Salmon -- the way you bake it is delicious. Look for it in the fridge. I’ll help you, by going to Ace Hardware and get the propane tank refilled.

Off to Ace she goes.

OH-MAN, another “honey-do” for me. At this point I switched from Ice Tea to wine to ease my mental pain.

While the SD was gone, I prepared the Salmon. After she returned I grilled it.

Later -- having dinner outside: this is very good, Joe. Thanks, W - you made it possible, Bay-beee.

As we’re eating, and after about 4 glasses of wine. W, remember: one time after taking you to the airport I returned to my apartment to find that you had left a lipstick note on my bathroom mirror? Yeah, Joe, I remember it all like it was yesterday. Those were great times.

Back then you and everyone else called me Joey. However, on our move to Redondo Beach, I said from then on I wanted to be called Joe.

Yes, I recall all that. What’s your point?

W, before then, my hair was dark, I was handsome, had swagger, drove a Vette, and my IQ was 127. But now, since being called Joe, my hair turned grey, I’m ugly as sin, became a wimp, drive a Van and my IQ is 27.

Taking this in -- Devil Woman is staring at me with a deep serious look.

Patricia, I believe that changing my name to Joe caused this bad MoJo. I threw-out the persona of my formative years and in doing so impacted who I truly am. To change this, I’m going back to the essence that defined me -- back to being Joey.

Hummmmmmmmmmmm, I see.

Long silent pregnant pause.

Dwal’n.

Yes?

What’s my name?

Your name is Joey!

SWEETTTTTTTTTTT, thank-ya, Dawl’n! I feel better already.

Joey, I feel better too because it'll be good to again hear you calling me nice names instead of SD, DW and other such names that Joe uses.

Say Wut?! You expect me to sweet-talk you like I did back in the day? Pat, you tricked me!

I didn't, Joey - it was Joe that tricked you!

GAWDDDDDDDDD!!

Short silent pause.

Patricia, my lovely wife!

Yes, Joey?

Baby-Doll: with the Bs having left the nest, you and I now retired; we have a new life, so I'm going to -------

Wimmins Vs Mens

Y’all, I need help understanding wimmins. You see, after 29 years of marriage, I’m still confused and searching for enlightenment about women in general and marriage specifically. Try as I might, I can not figure-out the logic that females use?

I can deal with the “I’m having a bad hair day” or “shut-up and listen” or “leave me alone because there are issues to resolve” or “are you still here? Go away”. I get one or more of these ‘tudes everyday. I guess it could be worse so call me lucky Joe.

But when it gets really bad such as: piercing laser eyes along with: “Joe, you have crossed the line” or “buster, you are one word away from divorce city” or “I’ll carve-up your ass into tiny pieces”. I start looking for an escape route. To be fair, W is not like that all the time -- I’d say she’s only that way about 99.99% of the time.

Yeah -- Yeah -- I understand that I’m not always prince charming, so the SD has points. However, please do not tell the damn She Devil I said that because the very last thing I need is hearing DW say - “see, Joe, you admit to your short comings!”

This touchy feely thing that wimmins express is difficult to deal with. Why can’t women be more understanding of men and our side of things? After all, we are kind-of, or almost like, or similar to humans.

And men are easy to understand. We, shower once or twice a week, drink-down a 12-pack of beer daily while watching sports or trash TV. We fart several times in a row. We hang-out with the family dog and sleep in the same bed with him. We wake up refreshed the next AM and do that routine all over. Life is good. What’s wrong?

Wimmins, Geez.

Lottery Vs Hooters

Y’all,

Recently, the PowerBall Lottery was $252 million.

To increase my chance of winning, I spent $100 on lottery tickets. However, doing so caused the Devil Woman to become highly POed which gave me mental pain. My pain was amplified because, not only did I not win the 252M, I didn’t even win a free ticket.


Joe!! We’re both retired and living on a fixed income. But, you spent $100 on lottery tickets with zero gain! How can you justify that?

That’s easy, W. I came up with two choices for spending that money. Either, go to Hooters or buy lottery tickets.

My first choice was Hooters. But as I thought more about it, I figured that you’d be mad-as-hell if I spent $100 for a small burger, two glasses of wine and a chat with a Hooters waitress.

So, instead, I concluded, by spending $100 on lottery tickets, that if I hit the $252 million dollar PowerBall jack-pot, I might get a date with Monique and you could have that new lawn chair set that you like. See, I wuz thinking of you, Baby-Doll.

I dunno why but at this point in the conversation, the damn She-Devil became really enraged and I seriously mean REALLY ENRAGED.

Wut's up with that reaction? Lordy-- Lordy-- Lordy, I can not figure-out that woman! GAWDDDDDDDDD!

By the way, if any of Y’all know of a good face and body reconstructive surgeon, I could use one pronto.

Back Home From On The Road

The DC-NY-MA road-trip was a fun time. Five people and two dogs in a conversion van -- luggage stacked floor to near ceiling behind the rear seat. Not the Griswold family but close.

My main job was hang’n-out with Fred and Rocky while everyone else went sightseeing-- kewl -- call me happy Joe.

In DC, the view from Bridget’s Apt over-looks much of the city. Bridg was a super tour guide. She knows DC well and showed us around. Bridget is a party person, like her momma, so knows all the fun places and restaurants. Britt and Dave visited several museums while Pat, the Dawgs and I ventured out on our own. I've been there a bunch of times, yet I still find D.C. impressive -- the monuments, the government buildings (Congress, Senate, Whitehouse, monuments, science and culture museums, etc.) awesome!

In NYC, Dave and Bridget went to the Letterman show -- it’s taped starting about 2PM for broadcast later that night. They really enjoyed the show. Meanwhile DW and Brittany drove around NYC for two or so hours sightseeing until picking up Bridg and Dave. As a teen, Britt was a “serious” Beatles fan and the previous time in NYC had to go to Central Park and see the Strawberry Fields memorial for John Lennon plus his house and the place where he was killed. However, she didn’t want to re-visit there on this trip. She and Pat did drive by 911 Ground-Zero. --- Please: pause for remembrance, respect and prayer ---

In MA, of course, Boston University, where Bridget spent her freshman year had to be visited in addition to the local attractions.  Many good memories for Bridgie-Poo and us as well.

As Y’all know, I am a magnet for witches. Why? I don’t know. Therefore, I find the history and background of the Salem Witch trials to be especially fascinating.

A little background.

Despite being generally known as the "Salem" witch trials, the preliminary hearings in 1692 were conducted in a variety of towns across the province: Salem Village, Ipswich, Andover and Salem Town. The best-known trials were conducted by the Court of Oyer and Terminer in 1692 in Salem Town.

The events which led to the Witch Trials actually occurred in what is now the town of Danvers, then a parish of Salem Town, known as Salem Village.

In February, 1692, three accused women were examined by Magistrates Jonathan Corwin and John Hathorne. Corwin's home, known as the Witch House, still stands at the corner of North and Essex Streets in Salem.

By the time the hysteria had spent itself, 24 people had died. Nineteen were hanged on Gallows Hill in Salem Town, but some died in prison.

Upon our arrival in Salem, for unknown reasons to me, Pat covered her face with a scarf and took-on a low-profile demeanor. As she did so, a church bell rang for no apparent reason. The only other time that I’ve seen her act this way was during our previous visit to Salem when Bridget attended BU. As we walked, I said to Pat, we’ve been here before, let’s go to Danvers and visit “the real Salem”. With a weird hissing sound, SD said NOOOOOOOOOO!

I then noticed that Brittany’s eyes glowed a bright orange color, causing young children to scream and run. Dave looked worried and began to sweet profusely.

While walking near Bridget, a Nun became engulfed in a spontaneous fire, however fast-acting passers-by were able to extinguish it and saved her life.

What coincidences.

With all the planned destinations visited, we reversed the path and headed home. Got Bridget back to her Arlington VA Apt in time for her next GWU class. Then dropped-off Britt, Dave and Rocky at their home in Oak Park, IL. We had planned on spending the night in Chicago because the drive from Pittsburg was long but I talked Pat into finishing the 5 Hr drive to O’Fallon to get us home by Midnight. I told her that I’d drive but she ignored me and instead drove the entire way. Once home, she was tired but happy. However, I placed an Ad in the newspaper for a food taster, just in case.

Disco And The Supernatural

As we were driving in the North East, passing through small towns and large cities, the Bs and Dave are asleep in back of the Van as Pat and I exchange occasional small talk.

I use the term small talk loosely because the DW always has a "large" purpose for every conversation that she participates in.

Therefore, I was not surprised when W said: Joe, looking back after all these years, I still find it odd that when we met, you being 31 years old, never married and very aloof but then radically changed. Tell me, what caused that -- and why?

Bay-bee, we have discussed this before -- several times.  Some of my previous replies could have been better stated, so I'll try again.  I believe this was mostly Seti's fault. Sure, I did change a bit too but this was largely Seti’s doing.

Seti! What is Seti? You have not mentioned such a term before.

Dwal’n, Seti is an entity that has existed for 10s of thousands of years -- dating back to the first appearance of humans on earth. Seti is the spirit of a powerful ancient Medicine Man.

I do not believe any of that, Joe. You are trying to mess with my mind and I’m not buying it.

Her eyes narrowed - both puzzlement and disgust on her face. I could tell the wheels were spinning in her mind.

You have finally lost one of your last two remaining active brain cells. I asked you a serious question but you are making zero sense.

Pat, it’s real. I don’t know all the hows and whys – it’s mystifying – mostly what I know is from on-line research. Seti has power and for some hard to understand reason, can possess a person causing strange - unpredictable behavior. When we met at the Marriott’s Disco, Seti descended upon and controlled me -- guiding me without my free will.  This remained so for the four years that we dated and when we were married.

That’s spooky, Joe. What does all this mean?

It is spooky, W, this entire subject gives me the willies and shouldn’t be toyed with.  I really don’t want to talk about it, so let’s just drop it.

This is scary alright but I’m not dropping anything. You brought-up this Seti conversation, so bring it all out.

Dwal’n, I’m nervous having this discussion but I owe you an explanation.  Seti is just a nickname that I use. I chose the nickname based on the acronym, SETI (Search for ExtraTerrestrial Intelligence) -- a research institute started in part by the late world renowned scientist, Dr Carl Sagan.

However, from what I’ve learned, Seti's proper name is Alberto Kushan Halltonau.

Furthermore, Alberto Kushan Halltonau has a mischievous side. Dating back to the earliest archeological evidence, he has existed among mortal humans, causing people significant trouble for unknown reasons.

Joe, I have never heard of anyone by that name. What part did Seti play in our meeting and why?

Patricia, If not for Seti, we’d never have met and I’d still be single.

I had no idea. Is Seti really that powerful?

Yes, he is, W.

Most people do not know his full name - Alberto Kushan Halltonau, but likely know the shortened version -- Al K Hall.

…… The surgery took 6-hours. Now, two days later, I have less swelling but my headaches continue. With pain medication and crutches, I can get around slowly. I hope to be released from the hospital within the next three weeks.

Happy A.F. Everyone.

On The Road

Y’all,

We are taking a road trip starting this Sunday (Mar 28th).

SD, Fred and I drive to Chicago and pick-up Brittany, Dave and Rocky.

Next we drive to D.C. and pick up Bridget.

We'll spend a few days in D.C. then drive to New York City.

DaveF is a long time fan of Dave Letterman (the Bs like Letterman too) so requested tickets to the show.

 Turns out that to get tickets you have to apply and answer trivia questions plus write an essay about Letterman. DaveF nailed it with his knowledge and wit thus received tickets for the Letterman show. He invited Bridget to go with him.

Next we drive to Boston. Bridget attended her freshman year at Boston U. So, she’ll take a stroll down memory lane. What I recall is no elevator in her Brown-Stone Dorm and me hauling her stuff up 4 flights of stairs in Mid August in a 90+ degree temperature.

Bostonians are crazy drivers and people -- even mo worsor than New Yorkers. So, I’ll be a passenger -- DW and the Bs will be driving there.

If I survive, I’ll give y’all an update after we return.

Dating Man - Married Man

Y’all,

When Pat and I were dating - on one of her trips to Georgia, we were sitting out by the lake at my apartment complex. I picked and gave her a dandelion flower and told her it was a reflection of my love for her.

She flashed a big smile and kissed me.

Many years later, after marrying and moving to California then to Illinois, she observed me spraying herbicides on the lawn to kill dandelions. I noticed that she looked to be upset.

What’s wrong, Dwal’n?

Joe, why are you doing that to the dandelions? It’s our flower. Remember, you gave one to me in Georgia when we were dating.

W, it’s a weed.

You gave me a weed? Even though I thought it was something special?

Sugar, it was more a symbolic statement than a memento.

So, how can I tell if what you say is real and special or not?

Baby-doll, everything in nature is special and is in accordance with God’s plan. Humans, animals, even insects and weeds have a reason to be. I only mean you good. Everything I say to you is real and special to me. When I gave you that dandelion flower, it was my heart-felt way of saying that when it comes to you, even small things are important for me. A flower is a token of love, no matter it’s origin, because it radiates beauty.

Yet, I want you to have a green lawn, without blemish. I’d like our neighbors and those that pass-by know that I care about our home and my wife -- that’s why I eliminate weeds.

I love you, Joe.

I love you, W.

GAWDDDDDDDDD! I  hate love crap. My Dear God, how did I fail You and thereby contract the this awful love disease?

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Joe The Plumber Part Deux (3/2/2010)

Took me from Friday to Tuesday to finish replacing the faucets. I never said I was fast at this business.

It did turn out well and the fire-breathing She-Devil is now appeased.

However, in my experience, periods of appeasement are always followed by periods of significant turbulence, unless a sacrifice is offered to the gods.

I’ve learned this from both personal experience as well as reading world history. It boils down to - when the volcano is about to explodes, if you don’t throw a virgin into the abyss, there will be a violent eruption.

Therefore, I put an Ad in the personals section of the St Louis Post Dispatch Newspaper seeking virgins to contact me about appeasing the DW by jumping from the top of the St. Louis Arch and thereby sacrifice their life to protect my old ass from evil.

Strange as it may seem, I have yet to receive any replies.

Maybe, current generation virgins are not as willing to avert calamity as were previous generation virgins. What is this world coming to?

Therefore, I will go to plan B: seek non-virgins to sacrifice their life for my wellbeing.

My rational is that a sacrificial virgin might give me 30 years of peace. But if a non-virgin sacrifice can give me just 20 years that’ll work since my longevity projection is less than 15 years.

My new Ad will appear in the St Louis Post tomorrow.

Joe The Plumber (2/26/2010)

A few months ago, DW decided that all of the bathroom faucets needed to be replaced. No problem for me, I’m saying, go for it W -- there are people that do that for a living and could use the work.

SD ordered the faucets from Moen.

When they arrived. Joe, can you install them?

W -- I know Computer crap, Networking crap, IT crap, Satellite crap, Communications crap -- but I dun’t know anything about Plumbing crap. From across the room I could tell that DW didn’t like my reply.

If the damn faucets issue wasn’t bad enough, in one of the bath rooms, the thingy that switches from bath water to shower water wasn’t working. So, now I’m up against two plumbing problems. GAWDDDDDDDDD!

In my experience, the She-Devil will only lay-low for so long then all frig'n hell breaks lose.

This morning, hell came to town.

The evil-one was moody. I have seen that movie before and it’s not fun to watch. I get the silent treatment, curt cutting words, intense eyes, biting condemnations.

Joe! You have one hour to get going on those plumbing jobs or your life will become pure-d hell.

W, how will I tell the difference?

She becomes a fire breathing dragon.

Okay, Pat, I’ll go to the hardware store and get the stuff to do those plumbing jobs.

Nice, hun. I’ll drive and let you off at the door so you don’t have to walk so far.

Thanks, W -- but at this point I’d rather suffer more.

No, silly. I’ll drop my man off at the front door.

I have been completely disarmed. What can I do? I say what every other married man would say -- thank you bay-beee.

Did I mention that I hate love crap?

Back home ...

Dwal’n which project do you want me to do first?

Fix the shower.

45 minutes later. W, I’m done with the shower.

OOOOOOOOOOO nice Job, Joe -- it works fine now.

Doing a good job on something you hate is not to my liking. Take me now Lord.

Thanks, W -- I’ll start on the faucets.

Two hours later. Dwal’n! I finished one faucet if ya wanna take a look.

Oh Joe! That looks great.

I say, "thanks to my lovely wife".

I now have four more faucets to install. Folks, I’m still in search of a safe house. Can ya help me plzzzzzzzzzzzzz?

Shopping With The Devil (2/13/2010)

I do almost all of the grocery shopping here. I don’t like shopping. However, when I do it -- I prefer to do it alone.

When shopping, I have a written list of things to buy. I zip-in and zip-out.

When SD shops, she does not have a written list. She does not zip. She lingers.

Shopping with the DW is very painful for me. She wanders around, aimlessly, looking at stuff. She picks-up and looks at items that we don’t need and can not use. Besides, she does not set a time schedule to get it done.

I can be done shopping in 20 minutes while SD can take hours. Yes, hours. Help me Jesus!!

When shopping with Pat, if I don’t have my happy face on or I try to encourage her to speed-up -- I get the evil eyes. Have Mercy on me Lord.

As I see it, what can be so much fun about walking up and down every damn isle in a store the size of a football field looking at crap that we don’t need?

Maybe it’s just me. I may have a genetic defect that causes me shopping syndrome pain.

But. Wait a minute!

Is Satan intentionally trying to make me suffer? Does God favor Pat over me? Inquiring minds and I wanna know.

Hummmmmmm, with that thought, as I think back - the Devil-Woman does seem to have much more day-to-day successes than Moi.

The answer is now coming into focus.

I’ll be the old guy, wearing a tattered bath robe and worn slippers. Drool running down my chin. Shuffling isle to isle in Wal-Mart at Midnight -- following Pat as she looks at and touches everything.

I’m destined to end-up in Shopping Hell. Why Lord?!

Life vs. Life Insurance (2/6/2010)

Late last Friday night, I printed a spreadsheet for DW showing that starting in July 2010 my life insurance will be reduced 2 percent a month until Aug 2013 when it reaches one-fourth of its original value.

After intensely studying the spreadsheet, W asked, why did you do that?

Bay-beee, it’s the plan I choose when I retired. Taking that option reduced the premiums that are deducted from my annuity.

Why did you want a higher retirement income instead of a larger life insurance pay-out?

W, I don’t get to spend my life insurance, you will do that. But I do get to spend the larger retirement check resulting from lower premiums.

Stone -- cold -- silence.

Several minutes pass, all the while I’m covered with intense laser eyes.

Then SD says, I understand.

Another long pause.

Hun?

Yes, Dwal’n?

We are out of bread. Will you go to the 7-11 just off the highway near Down-Town St. Louis and get a loaf? Also, pick up a bottle of Morgan Davis 20-20 and a quart of beer for yourself. Take the new car and wear your fancy watch and diamond wedding ring.

Pat, it’s Midnight and that’s a high crime area. Driving a fancy car, flashing jewelry and carrying alcohol could get me robbed and killed.

Well, okay, Joe! You don’t need to go now. Just do-so late on a Friday night before next July.

Kow-wa-bonga! We do not have bread. I haven’t had Mad Dog in 30 years and I don’t drink beer by the quart. Yet, LW is willing to wait several months for me to get bread, wine and beer.

I do not understand SD’s thinking.

Why? (1/22/2010)

Seems to me that a wife has more say-so and authority then a husband.

Why?

In my only marital experience, with very few exceptions, a husband is not authorized to make decisions - even simple ones.

Why?

Instead, I can only propose decisions. Plus like on Jeopardy, I must state my recommended decision in the form of a question.

Why?

Example: I can not say, W, I’m going to grocery shop at Sam’s today. Instead, I have to say: W, is it okay for me to grocery shop at Sam’s today?

Why?

Many times, DW will say, okay hun, that’s fine. Some of the time she’ll say, you don’t need to go today - do the grocery shopping some other time.

Why?

Even the decision to go to bed has to be in the form of a question, i.e.: Dwal’n, is it okay for me to go to bed?

Why?

There are a few exceptions. One of ‘em goes like this -- Bay-beee, I’m going to: mop the kitchen floor, vacuum the family room, dust our bed room furniture, wash your car, take out the trash, give the dog a bath and then cook dinner. I have unrestricted authority to make this type of decision.

Why?

Until 1977 BD (Before Devil), I made decisions without challenge. The tween years were iffy, however, since 1981 AS (After She-Devil) - but for a few exceptions, I can only recommend decisions.

Why?

Fred and Joe (1/15/2010)

Y’all, W has been at her Mom’s for the last several days helping her after a hospital stay.

I’ve been home with Fred, Bridget’s Yorkie.

This AM, I called DW.

---------------------------------------------

Hello.

Hi W, how are ya?

I’m okay, just tired.

How is Grammy?

Much better, hun. My sister Judi is here to take a turn helping Mom so I’ll be home tonight.

Don’t rush home, Dwal’n, take your time and don’t worry about us.

Fred and I are two dudes: enjoying the freedom, male bonding, hang’n out, watching trash TV, eating junk food and I’m having a few beers.

So don’t worry, things are good here, we’re having a good time.

Besides, on our daily walk, Fred and I met another very attractive woman that was walking her dog.

Hello?

Pat! Are you there?

Hello!

Click.

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Try as I might to soothe her worries, once again, I seem to be on the outs.

GAWDDDDDDDDD!! What is it with that woman?

House On Fire (1/5/2010)

One of the house fire alarm sensors is located just outside of our upstairs bathrooms.

A while ago as I was taking a shower. I took my usual good time. Heat and steam from the shower must have set-off the fire alarm but I didn’t hear it.

I finished the shower. Got dress. Walk out of the bathroom. I see a fireman in the hallway.

Yo Dude, what’s going on, I say. The fireman said, someone called to report a possible fire here.

Hummmmm.

I go outside. W, is standing on the sidewalk -- my life insurance policy in her hand.

W, why didn’t you tell me that the fire alarm was going-off?

I did, hun. I whispered, Joe, get outside we may have a fire.

You whispered?

Yes, hun. Then I grabbed your Life Insurance Policy and went outside to wait for the fire department folks to arrive.

W, the bathroom door was not locked. Why didn’t you just open the door and warn me? If it were a real fire, I could have died.

Well yeah, silly, that’s why I needed your life insurance policy.

GAWDDDDDDDDD!

If any of Y’all know of a bodyguard that I can hire, lemmi know.

The Bs (1/1/2010)

During their Christmas 09 visit, the Bs told me that I write too many emails about their Mom.

Those emails are therapeutic for me, I said. If not for the emails, I’d need to take stronger medication.

In unison -- “Oh Dad”, accompanied by two pairs of laser eyes.

Geez.

From their youth, I’d get rebukes from Brittany and Bridget. No problem, I found it cute and encouraged development of their strong identity and mental will.

Now, I think they are morphing into She Devils. Dear God, do I answer to 3 Devil Women?

My solution is to get outta dodge. I’m doing Google searches seeking info on how to join the French Foreign Legion.

Hope to have Internet access in my tent while assigned deep inside of some barren region.

Introduction

Y'all,

I'm Joe, dad of Brittany and Bridget (the Bs) and married to Pat (Sugar, The Lovely Wife, LW, W, Dwal'n, bay-beee, She-Devil, Devil Woman, Evil-One, yadda-yadda-yadda).

The Terms and Meaning area might help Y’all translate Joe-ese into English. The Essays & Ramblings section is where I'll post my “achieved stories”. The Saints area is where I celebrate the Who-Dat Nation's team.

Meeting The She Devil was written in 2008. In 10 Chapters, it tells the story of how Pat and I met, married, move to California, then moved to Illinois where the Bs were born.

Life With A She Devil Vol I was written in 2009 and contains 11 Chapters. Each Chapter is an email that I sent over the course of the year describing my exaggerated versions of daily life thus the title of this Blog -- “Life Etouffee” (life smothered in sauce). The emails were not sent at a specific interval but just as I thought of stuff to write about.

Life With A She Devil Vol II started in Jan 2010 using the same constructs as Vol I and currently has 8 Chapters also based on my emails. At some point, I’ll post these Chapters here, one or two at a time until I catch up to present day. Same as for Vol I, when completed, Vol II will be archieved.

The ramblings that I post on this Blog will hopefully amuse or make ya laugh but at times may make ya cry.

Joe