valets

Hospitals, airports, and other places have added valet parking services in the last few years. I am a big fan. If the sign says "Free Valet Parking," it doesn't mean you shouldn't tip.  I have seen many prosperous-looking people give the valet a big "Thank You" and drive away.

To really appreciate the valet service, you must have wandered around several floors of garage ramps and stairs in the sweltering summer heat, wondering where you parked. Try it on a walker. Try it pushing a wheelchair. Try it if you're sick of upset, or both.

My late friend Sally had rheumatoid arthritis for about 40 years, and had replaced most of her joints at least once. She still loved to travel. Her husband dropped her off at the airport curb one day. I guess he  assumed that the baggage handler would push her wheelchair along with the luggage. She rolled down the ramp and turned over before anyone could help. Bleeding freely, she somehow caught the plane to Atlanta before stopping off an an ER to get patched up. A valet would have helped, but I'll bet her husband would have stiffed him.

My favorite valet was one at the cancer center where I went for regular chemo through 2009. When I left after my last visit, I told him I wouldn't be back for awhile. He said "Let's make a clean break of it, then. It never works to be just friends." Yes, I'm a good tipper.

Mongo

Every time someone tells me what I should have done or ought to do, my inner monster arises. His name is "Mongo" and I can usually keep him on a short leash. Sometimes Mongo escapes and I have to put him back in his cage. Then I put my fingers in my ears and sing "La, la, lala," to drown out the provoking words.

Last week I tried out something new. CJ had to be rushed to the nearest ER with acute heart failure. The paramedics, the ER staff, and the intensive care people performed with peak efficiency and saved his life. Today he is in rehab, walking down the hall with a cane, flirting with his therapist.

Yesterday, one of his friends told me that I should have insisted on taking him to a different hospital. That I ought to have known which was the better heart facility, etc. I simply agreed with him. He didn't know what in the world to say next. Mongo was jumping up and down, wanting a fight. He urged me to tell the idiot friend that he didn't know what he was talking about. I should have defended the chosen hospital and raved about the wonderful care they provided. I told Mongo he should mind his own business, and the next time he told me what I "should" do I would slap him up side the head.

Bark less, wag more

This popular bumper sticker is readable by dogs. Even Romeo, who is more sweet than smart, has learned it. We have lived together for over 6 months. We know that smart is highly overrated in both the canine and human world. We would all rather have someone show us they care than have them explain what we're doing wrong or how misguided our thinking may be. Our last dog, Buddy, had a huge vocabulary and was undoubtedly smart. But he would sometimes bite. Little bites, more like nips, but still unwelcome.

On our walks, Romy would get so excited when he saw a person or another dog that he would yank on the leash, lunge at them, and give those big hound barks, bays, and howls. Naturally, the person or dog would back off in a hurry. Romy wondered why he didn't have any friends. I tried and tried to explain it to him. Did you ever try to reason with a dog? It's like trying to teach a pig to dance. Doesn't work and annoys the pig.

Slowly, very slowly, he seems to be figuring it out. If he stands still and wags, they will come to him. The people will pat his head and tell him he is beautiful and sometimes give him a cookie. The dogs will sniff and be sniffed. This morning he even won over the neighbor that doesn't speak, nod or wave. She drives her car into the garage, puts the door down, and has never been seen outdoors. This morning he watched her door go up, watched her walk over and get in the car, and just kept wagging at her. She got back out of the car, walked down the driveway, smiled at him, patted him on the head and told him he is beautiful. It was nice.

Lake trip

Spent a peaceful few days at the lake house, doing nothing useful. Our Good Neighbor Bob is always doing useful things. He's a semi-retired contractor, with too much time and heavy equipment on his hands. He has built docks, decks, boat ramps, a playground, fire pit, swings, rafts, and a campground with latrine and shower down by the lake in front of his house. This is about 50 feet straight down from the yard, so he uses our slope to get there. This is fine, because we enjoy the facilities, even the boats and dune buggies if we want.

Sunday I heard his kids, grandkids, nieces and nephews playing and splashing around in front of our house. I walked over to the edge of the yard and there they were, having lots of fun with a big banner that said "Now Open for Breakfast." They took turns throwing buckets of water uphill and sliding down to the lake. One had brought a bottle of dish soap to squirt at the uphill end, making the slide fast and foamy. Bob said he hoped we didn't mind, but there was no room to play over at his place.

Bored kids will find stuff to do. We've been going up there to be bored for about 40 years. We've watched ants form two lines, one toting home groceries, the other going back for more. We've watched spiders work their webs, turtles lay their eggs, dirt daubers build nests, snakes shed their skins, caught tadpoles and lightning bugs, all because we were bored.

Romeo update

Romeo has now owned us for six months, and most of the rough edges are gone. We agree on most of the basics, but have agreed to disagree on others.

Dogs may not sleep on our bed. If we are in it. Unless we leave the bedroom door open. The comforter, folded on a table, is not a bed, therefore fair game.

Romeo went in his crate when we left the house or went to bed. Seemed happy as long as he had a snack jar. (6 or 8 kibbles in a jar with small opening.) Began escape planning by loosening and bending one bar at a time. Convinced us that it was dangerously compromised, made it go away.

Dogs do not eat table food. Food left too close to the edge of the kitchen counter is not table food, therefore fair game. The same goes for doggie bags left in a purse.

Dogs do not bark at friends or neighbors, or their dogs. People walking down the street are not friends or neighbors, or they would come to see us. Fair game.

Romeo must not yank on the leash and try to make Carol bounce along behind him like a rag doll. If he tries this, she squirts him with her mighty Aqua-blaster water pistol. He hates this, and gives her a big frowny face. Today we walked in a gentle rain. No yanking, but a very confused Romeo.

Lighten up

I am tired of angry people. Not just mildly ticked off or grumpy, but snarly mean drooling ugly screaming mad. Every day I check my e-mail, expecting the usual prayers and dirty jokes, often from the same people. Not a day goes by that I don't get an angry rant.

People, I know who you are. You haven't missed a meal or a paycheck, but the immigrants are after you. You enjoy the lowest taxes in your lifetime, but Obama's leading us to socialism or Marxism or some other ism. Your panties are in a wad over health care or politicians in general or specific. You need to lighten up.

We liberals didn't get this way over Bush. We knew he kept invading the wrong countries, but he didn't mean to, bless his heart. He got all fwowny when we tried to tell him, so we just let him go on. Now, it's true that the parents of all those dead soldiers got real pissed, but in a polite sort of way, being patriotic and all. We still wish we weren't paying for those wars for the foreseeable future, but we aren't angry.

We still wave our little flags on the 4th of July, tear up at the fireworks when the Tchaikovsky cannons go off, and smile. We may sing a verse or two, except for the "rockets red glare" high parts. Come on, people, this too will pass.

Tell me why

Little kids are forever asking “Why?” “Why do I have to go to school? Wear underwear? Eat vegetables? Do what you say?”

We lose too much of that when we grow up. We only use “why” when we’re speaking or thinking in the abstract, as in “Why do fools fall in love,” or “Why was that couple on the news keeping 261 Golden Retrievers in their double-wide?” We know we’re not getting an answer.

It would be much more constructive to ask the question when the answer is available and useful. When I whine “Why did I do that?” I’m asking myself for an answer. It might help for me to figure out so that I can repeat the action if the result is good, or avoid it if bad. If we don’t question ourselves, we are going on autopilot. “Why did I say that?” or “Why did I eat that?” may lead to constructive thinking.

Ever find yourself in the middle of a boring conversation, where someone is trying to tell you more than you want to know about his opinion on global warming? Amuse yourself, while showing rapt attention, by wondering why this person is saying these things. Why does he think you care what he thinks? The “Why” will be more entertaining than the droning monologue. Wonder if he’s trying to educate you, or to show how smart he is, or to let you know he thinks deep thoughts? How about the one that tells you about the very best cat litter, the best vacations they ever took, or the best hair dresser? Why does she think you might care? Why does she get so excited telling you these things? Maybe you’re the first audience she’s had all day. Why does she talk so much without taking a breath?

If you are waiting for a pause so that you can contribute your opinion, think again. In the first place, the wait will be long and boring. In the second place, you may just be trading places from the bored to the boring. Why would you want to do that? Besides, he or she may play the same game, analyzing why you say things. If you don’t have any interests in common worth talking about, why don’t you plan your escape? Why don't you make new friends?