How I Spent my November this Year...

It all started with a stomach ache that wouldn't go away. It continued about 6 weeks. I bought every remedy known to mankind and still no relief from this horrible cramping after relieving myself (without relief). I thought perhaps I was lactose intolerable suddenly and bought pills for that. I even gave up Pepsi! I tried going to the Emergency Room at Scottsdale Memorial Hospital, but it was so crowded in there that there was no place to even sit. (It was the beginning of flu season). I went home. Suddenly, for no reason the pain went away! I thought I had outlived it!

The next thing I know, I'm trying to schedule a cataract surgery with an obstinate scheduler, when I got so frustrated that I told her where to stick her 10 years of experience and hung up. shortly after that, the pain in my stomach came back, alerting me to the fact that it was just nerves. I think it was a Thursday night around 3 AM when I finally got enough symptoms to make me think that appendicitis was my problem. I had fever, chills and pain over my appendix. Sold me on it! I drove myself to the hospital and checked into the ER. I told the lady I thought my appendix was the issue and she called a few people and brought me back to an examining area. I laid there for several hours when someone took me for a cat scan. A couple of more hours later they came and told me that there was nothing wrong with me, but my creatinine level was over 3 and it should be at about 1. I should see a kidney specialist. Knowing that I've got kidney issues, I went home and the next day tried calling my kidney specialist but never got a call back. I knew that the creatinine issue was serious. 

I called my son Brad and asked his advice, kind of a role reversal, but Brad is usually pretty sensible and I respect his opinions. He said he'd be over to drive me to the hospital. So, there I am back at the ER talking to the same lady who does not remember me from the night before. She once again asks me why I'm there and I tell her pain in my stomach and an elevated creatinine level. she tells me I'm only allowed one complaint, which do I want it to be? I choose stomach pain because I doubt she'll be able to spell creatinine and they begin to check me in again. While waiting in the assigned seat, my phone rings and it's my kidney specialist calling and telling me that I absolutely belong in the hospital with a creatinine level of now 3.2, as I could require dialysis at any moment, if it rises any more? He couldn't believe they discharged me at a level of 3! 

I'm admitted and assigned a room. I begin to deal with hospital mentality immediately with a nursing staff that think that they rule the world, but I'll get to that. I get along with most of them, but occasionally there is a personality that clashes with mine because of my smart mouth. Now I'm subjected to a battery of tests and different Nephrologists (kidney doctors). Each tells me the opposite of the last one and all the while I've got Dr. Harvey (my doctor) intervening. I listen to Dr. Harvey in spite of the fact that he's not on staff in the Scottsdale Hospital. I'm there for 8 days when they tell me that I've got a narrowed artery leading to my intestines and I need a stent put in it to relieve the stomach pain, but I can get that done as an outpatient. Huh? I'm in the hospital but they want to release me to have an outpatient procedure, when I'm just sitting right there! Now more confused than ever, my granddaughter picks me up, only for me to discover that I can't breathe to walk and talk at the same time! I'm literally gasping for air just walking to the elevator, about 20 yards away. Kylie, my granddaughter sits me in the lobby while she gets the car, while I feel like I just ran a marathon, really! Kylie lectures me on the ride home, about a mile, about my poor eating habits and offers to go food shopping for me. I just want my recliner and some peace and quiet while I figure out what's wrong!

I've just been discharged from a reputable hospital and I'm in worse shape than I've been in all week. Because I've been in a bed all week, I had no idea that I now have a new problem that is heart related, because I cannot breathe! Let me bring you up to date a bit. I've known for the past 5 years that a aortic valve replacement was in my future and I shared this with the medical staff at Scottsdale Memorial Hospital. They never once suggested my seeing a cardiologist. I don't have the medical background to determine that my stomach issues are likely a symptom of a bad aortic valve, one that reduces the amount of blood flow to necessary arteries while digesting food. This was however mentioned to me by my kidney doctor, Dr. Harvey. By the way, my creatinine level has dropped down to where it needs to be prior to discharge. I finally go to sleep about 10 PM, hoping to get my first good night's sleep in 8 days, but no. It was constantly interrupted with episodes where I would awaken gasping for air. At about 7:30 AM I called my cardiologist on his cell phone that luckily I had and beg him to admit me to Good Samaritan Hospital where he is on staff. He not only agrees but insists that I go immediately. I call Brad, my son and ask him to take me there and he comes right over. I shower and shave and put on fresh clothes knowing it may be a while before I have that opportunity again. We check in where they already have a bed ready for me, room 104.

My roommate is an 86 year old man that just had an aortic valve replacement done through an artery, which is precisely the surgery that I'm hoping for. It turns out that you have to qualify for that procedure, they don't just arbitrarily offer it to anyone. I'm not sure what the qualifications are but after about a week of trying to get it scheduled, I was informed that I did qualify, since I already had open heart surgery 10 years ago and that makes a second surgery of that type more difficult. they tell me that my procedure is scheduled for the following day at noon. If I tried to describe all of the difficulty I had getting to this point, you just wouldn't believe it. At some point it was discovered that I have a very uncommon disease called Erdheim-Chester Syndrome and there have only been about 350 cases reported ever. It has to do with fluid forming around the kidneys and deterioration of the long bones in my arms and legs. Mortality occurring within 3 years of diagnosis, but I seem to have had this for about 8 years so I'm currently okay. As I mentioned the entire procedure is done through an artery, with the exception of a single 3 inch incision made above the heart and through the ribs, while a camera goes in through the artery in the groin, ouch! All body hair is swiftly removed.

Brad showed up way before I was to go to surgery which was good because he kept my mind off of the pending procedure. At about noon they wheeled me down to the pre-surgery holding area where things seemed to be backed up a bit and we waited about 90 minutes until about 1:30 when they wheeled me into the operating room. A guy put a mask over my face and said breathe deeply. I got about one deep breath out when suddenly I awakened in what looked like a garage, but it turned out to be the recovery room and lots of people were assembled to care for me and all I wanted to know was why they put me in a garage? I guess I was a little stoned! They all assured me it wasn't a garage, but I didn't believe anyone. I just figured that this was all that Medicare would pay for. (It sure looked like a garage!) That night was a long one as I had slept most of the day and wasn't ready to sleep at 9 PM when the rest of the normal folk retired for the day, but the nurses kept me company.

My recovery was miraculous. Suddenly I realized I no longer had a breathing problem and blood was flowing at a normal rate through my new valve. It was the difference between day and night. I was asked to walk around the nurses station and literally ran around it, while the nursing staff all laughed. I was cured, just like that. The second day I was sent home and haven't had any down time since. Yesterday I even did Costco and you know how much walking that is. During the time that I've been suffering from this dilemma and I really couldn't tell when it started, but at some point I lost my appetite and about 25 lbs with it. If there isn't blood to carry the fat, it just doesn't go. I got my appetite back and about an inch in my waist with it. Next Monday I have an appointment with my cardiologist and I'm going to ask to be put on a cardiac rehab program just to get some tone back in the area my muscles used to be!

Can you imagine being near death one minute and back to normal a couple of hours later? That's precisely what happened! By the way, I hugged my cardiologist when I saw him and I never do that!

Feminine Itch...

I woke up pretty later Saturday morning, actually it wasn't morning at all. It was 2 PM. I was up until 6 AM finishing up the book "Goldfinch", very good by the way, but loooong, like a thousand pages, but I read it on my Kindle, so it's really hard to guess the actual pages. 

At night I keep my iPhone in my sock drawer charging, so I won't hear it vibrate when a call or message comes in at 4 AM. I reach into my sock drawer and grab my phone and start looking for what I missed during my sleep. Oh, here's a message from a woman on Match.com I give her a quick once over and nah, she's not for me, but let me read on. My initial problem with her is that she's short and plump, like 5' short and her profile says she's slender, but her pictures say otherwise. 

Almost like headline news, "I Live in Northbrook, IL. but I sold my house and I'm closing on 11/14 and moving to Scottsdale". Well, that's nice for her. She's Jewish and we'll like all of the same things because of our heritage and I should wait for her. In fact we should start talking my phone immediate! Now I'm flattered that she likes me and what a great find I must have been for her, from Chicago, Jewish descent, same heritage (we can say oy vay together) I don't think she's for me, really. I let about 8 hours pass by, now it's dinner time here and 2 hours later there. I dropped her a note saying, with all her talk about talking on the phone, no matter how many times I shook her email, no phone number fell out.

Immediately, 20 seconds later, my phone dings with a message that says "my number is......." and then blank. Fifteen seconds later, "It didn't look like it went through, here it is again" and this time it was allowed through. Match has a silly rule that will not permit personal info to be passed until the third email, go figure. Then a third one, for just in case. So now I've got this woman in Northbrook IL's phone number 3 times and I really wasn't going to call her. I'm already thinking pushy, right? I had just finished preparing a Costco Cheeseburger with Costco Swiss cheese on a Costco bun with ketchup, mayo and lettuce and it smells good and has my attention, hands down! The next email reads, "Why aren't you calling"?? I quickly reply that in case of a tie between a Swiss cheeseburger and a phone call, the call always comes in second!

I finally call the number and she says immediately, Are you talking on a cell phone using speaker? I said yes, but I always do and it's the best you can buy, I NEVER have trouble with it.Now my turn: "Are you using a cell and is it AT&T"? She says yes and I say, there's your problem. AT&T won't work in AZ. She say, yeah, I have the same trouble with my son. Then she volunteers that she has a land line and I should call it. I said I can't I'm in a reclining chair and I'd have to climb out and look for paper and pen. My cell number in on your cell phone, just pick up your land line and dial it.She says, "why should I get up"? I say, "Why not just call me sometime when you're closer to your land line? She caved..............finally...

I called this woman because she lives in my old stomping ground, if she had a cute personality, it may have been okay, in spite of her short stature. I'm over a foot taller than her.When I meet a woman that I don't like, I try to make short work of the relationship, by telling all of my worst stories. So naturally I started with my heart surgery in 2005 and how I dropped out of high school at age 16 and 17. I then told her of my career where I had never been employed by anyone else and for the past 40 year always owned my own businesses, I had a clothing boutique in Palatine in the early 70's, moved to AZ in 74 and after doing some stumbling around, trying to get something together, started a resale automobile business from scratch, then I financed some dealers and also sold cars on contract, with me holding the notes on the cars personally. Later a friend and I opened a bar and restaurant in Sedona for a few years in the 80's.Her comment to all of this was, "You should have gone back for your GED! I yelled, what for? I was the owner.I never applied for a job, I was always the boss!

When I told her that I was accidentally stabbed through the descending artery of my heart, after her initial shock, her next question was... Now I want to type this while squeezing my nose closed, so I will sound like her. Here's the question: ARE YOU REAL SICKLY?

Moving on in some attempt at normal dialogue. I asked how long had she been divorced and she replied 20 years but there was a second husband. Why did you divorce from him? Answer: My 13 and 15 year old sons told me to. By that time we had spoken for 2 hours and thankfully her phone battery died and she went away. Today, I sent her this brief note, so she wouldn't wonder what happened to me:

Sometimes it's just not right...

I'm afraid after 2 hours on the phone, I do not believe we are a match. Good luck on your move!

I thought that would be the end of it, right? Nope!

I m sorry u feel that way. I told u my phone was going dead and I was exhausted from packing. It is a huge job. Sorry I could not understand that I did not have the strength to go and get another phone. I actually thought we had quite a nice conversation until my phone went dead which I warned u sbout. I was gone all day getting packing materials and running errands. What made u come to your conclusion? I m curious
Roberta

-- Also I was watching the bears game when I got home. Then I redlizwd I never closed my March sight from last night so it probably showed I was on it sll dsy. I really do not have that kind of free time right now. Too bad about your feelings snd that u cannot be a little more understanding when I told u I was totally exhausted from packing. I did 39 boxes in 2 dsys

I needed to figure out a way to end it to her satisfaction. So I wrote this...

It has nothing to do with ANY of that. I feel for 2 people to be compatible they need to be close in IQ and that didn't seem the case. You are far more intelligent than I.
Mel

Farewell to Billie Bob and Other Assorted Pests...

I firmly believe that my reclining chair is growing into my ass! While watching the news this evening, the sun had just gone down about 15 minutes earlier. I had already turned on a lamp, but had not closed the blinds yet and suddenly there is a loud knock at the front door. I'm a firm believer that it is never in my best interest to answer such a knock, it's always someone that wants something that I have no interest in giving. Be it magazines or the home owner's association rep, or a landscaping service. I would have ignored it had I not thought that he had seen me on his approach to the front door. Reluctantly, I whip open the door and there, already walking away, is a guy/kid about 20 or 22, wearing a Sears white shirt and a Sears clip on tie, as shocked to see me as I am to see him. I may have been the first person to answer the door to an abrupt knock this evening. I was immediately sorry to make his acquaintance. He introduces himself and he's with Johnson and McKenzie and how am I doing this evening. I tell him I don't know who Johnson and McKenzie is and he starts talking about retirement. (OH SHIT, I really stepped in it this time). I stop his spiel by telling him he chose a difficult way of making a living, going door to door. He explains that he loves it. I interrupt him again and explain that I'm willing to let him go pursue his dream. He doesn't take my hint and continues to discuss my personal income that I am NOT willing to discuss with him, while my front door is open and my electric bill is doubling! I can just picture him listening at his sales meeting today and trying all the things the boss instructed them on. I interrupted him yet again and said I was going to close the door now and I did. I think he left...

I wonder if it's me that is attracting all the psycho ladies? I just ran the gamut with another one from the so called weaker sex. Her name was Billie Gun, which I did not believe to be her actual name. Who names a little baby girl Billie? She claims she chose the last name but did it legally. She also claimed to be in the oil business but didn't seem to know anything about it. When I tried to question her about it, she claimed it was handed down to her from an uncle that passed away. It was left to her and her 2 sisters that she doesn't have anything to do with. She lived in a questionable part of town and spoke to me on her land line, although she had a cell phone that she says she hates. It was with AT&T and only cost her $25 a month, so she doesn't text. I used to be with AT&T and for $25 a month they don't even let you use their name! Her land line was awful and I could barely understand anything she said, however most of the things she said we not worthy of hearing. So rather than repeatedly asking what she said, I'd just agree. She also claimed that she was in some home business but has not had time to set it up in AZ.yet. Just more white noise, I didn't ask what it was. We chatted for about 2 weeks and finally I'd decided to meet her for dinner, but she really didn't eat anything. Whatever type of food I'd mention, she didn't like. I finally talked her into shrimp with broccoli, but she didn't like Chinese food, but was willing to give it a try.

Several times she told me that she was trying not to spend money, thus the texting or a new land phone was out of the question. She was a vegan....yuck! She called me one night last weekend, I think it was Friday. We had plans to meet for the first time on Saturday night, but I was less than excited already. Her only picture was 6 or 7 years old, but she claimed she still looks the same. I know I don't! She calls me to tell me to watch HBO, that Bill Mayer is on with Jerry Seinfeld and it was hysterical. I told her that I don't get HBO, that I used to get all the premium stations and they didn't make me any happier, that I only have basic cable now and I'm fine with it. She kept saying that she "bundles" with Cox Communications. I finally inquired how much her bundle costs her and when she told me $180 a month, I almost fell out of me recliner. My mind went to her savings attempt and how she doesn't have text messages on her cell plan and a shitty land line that is all fuzzy. I didn't even mention how stupid I thought she was or anything, I swear, when out of nowhere, she begins screaming at me that I don't really want to take her out to dinner tomorrow night! That she lives all alone and does the best she can and all I do is pick on her... I tell her I think it's a good idea not to talk anymore tonight and I'll call her tomorrow to firm up our plans if I still want to go...

The more I thought about it, the less I wanted anything to do with her and told her so in a polite email the following day. First I asked her to explain to me what happened and why she exploded, unprovoked, but she never replied to that. Immediately she started calling repeatedly and I refused to answer. I listened to one of her messages and in she told me that she was a clairvoyant, it was a gift she was born with. That's when I put a smile on my face that stayed for about 10 minutes.. If she were a clairvoyant, why didn't she know I thought she was nuts? My quota for psychos has been met for this lifetime and I'm good for awhile!

Bipolar and Cherry Pie...

I forgot that some people are bipolar. Unknown to me in advance, I learned that my second wife was bipolar and life with her was literally impossible, but that is not the subject for tonight's discussion. I think I've already written about that.

I was washing a few accumulated dishes when the call of nature beckoned me. I finished what I was doing and headed to the restroom. I was standing in from of the commode using it in just the fashion that the builder intended, when I heard a "chirp"! With all of the medical issues I've gone through of late, I was just praying that THAT hasn't developed a squeak. About 20 seconds later (I think) I heard the "chirp" again and was relieved in more ways than one. It was the battery in the smoke alarm that required replacement, but which one? I stood under the one in the hall and looked up at it waiting for the chirp to present itself again. Eventually it did, but it was not coming from the one that I was standing beneath. Boy, did I feel stupid standing there looking up! The only other one that I know of is in the master bedroom, too high for me to reach. First I looked for my flashlight, because I knew my step stool was outside in the backyard. Next trip is to the yard to look for the stool, only to find it soaking wet from our rain. I shake it off as best I can and bring it into the house and set it up beneath the offending smoke alarm.

Next is to find my 9 volt battery supply. Do you know where yours are? About 10 years ago, I was shopping at Costco and bought a gross of every size battery they make and keep them in a drawer somewhere. I begin searching drawers. Finding my 9 volts in a relatively short period of time and take one of the 15 or so that are still left, only to discover that it too is dead. (They don't last forever) I try another 10 or so and finally find one that still has a little breath left in it, success! Foolishly I put the other dead ones back in the container, after all they're new and maybe they'll work in a less demanding atmosphere, like a garage door opener, who knows? I put the smoke alarm back up on the ceiling and job complete, but make a mental note to buy new 9 volts the next time I'm at Home Depot.

Things on the dating services have been kind of slow. I still get the usual stream of older women 66 to 75 flirting with me but they all seem to look alike, melting! Last week one day, I received an email from a 54 year old woman that that was somewhat attractive, I'd rate her a 7. Blond hair, blue eyes, but short and her email didn't make sense. None of her emails made sense. It was as if she was writing only 1/2 of her thought and the rest stayed in her head. I replied, blaming the confusion on typos. At some point, I asked her for her cell number because certainly she spoke in full thoughts. Her spelling and grammar were good and it wasn't like she wasn't bright. At some point I called her and she was unusual to say the least. She told me a lot of very personal things in our first conversation and I pretty much decided not to contact her again. She said things like, she's looking for a man to lead, so she could follow and she doesn't like to talk but is a good listener. (I'm thinking I could have these kind of conversations by myself).

We were done! Last night I was sitting in my reclining chair devouring a piece of cherry pie, when the phone rang and it was she. What would you do? I finished the pie and called her back. I knew the pie was a win/win situation, but I wasn't sure the same of her. The very first thing that she shares with me is that she's bipolar and for 13 years, all she thought about was killing herself! Now she's on a different medication and is feeling better. Did you ever see a man try to begin running while in a reclining chair? That was me! Everything was beginning to come together for me. I was very nice and understanding, but at the same time, this is not something I want to buy into. She volunteered that the first time she made love, she was raped. Her former husband, that she was with for 10 years,  molested both of their sons and that the receptionist at her shrink's office doesn't like her. That's when she broke up with me! She interrupted me in the middle of a sentence and said that because of my age, she doesn't think it will work out. She took care of her poor ailing mother who suffered from Alzheimer's Disease and had to attend to her bathroom needs and she didn't want to have to do that with me! I said, me neither! That's when she told me that we could be friends with benefits though. I told her I'd have to give that some thought and said goodbye. Whew!

Life is a Series of Different Places to Sit...

This whole mess started around 8/7, when I had an appointment with my cardiologist. After sitting in his patients waiting area for over 90 minutes, they tell me my appointment was for 2:00 PM not 1:30. Although for the past 14 months the appointment card sat on my dresser and it read 1:30. No big deal right, only my time, but I'm 68 and get pissed off easily. The cardiologist, who I'm not too impressed with, makes no apologies and declares that I need heart surgery! I had an echocardiagram 5 months ago, in March and no one bothered telling me until 8/7, but now it's urgent. This is an example of a doctor being over booked and not having time to do any real help. They want to replace my aortic valve. All things considered, this terrifies me, so I figured my only option was to get mad and didn't mind who knew it. After my echo, I was told to see another person in the practice, who turned out to be very charming, but a nurse practitioner who only suggested  an angiogram, so I told her I'd discuss it with my doctor in August. He never mentioned that, but wants me to do a stress test on the treadmill.

Fast forward to last Monday and I'm walking through Costco getting my monthly supplies and out of nowhere, my foot starts hurting. I favor it a little but go on shopping. By the time you get to this age, you're used to unexpected pain. By Wednesday night, my foot looks like a balloon with toes and is red just before the youngest toe. I decide that I'll never be able to walk a treadmill with this swollen foot, so I search the medicare book for a Podiatrist. After talking to several receptionists and answering services that will not accept my part B insurance, I reach Dr. Mohamed who does accept United Health Care, Whew! Plus after hearing my sad story, Barbara, the receptionist, was willing to give me an appointment for 2 hours later in the afternoon of the same day, Thursday. Plus they were almost walking distance from my house! I arrive at the office right on time and am offered a booklet to fill out, oh God! Now why in the world do you need references to see a doctor? Not to mention that I'm there for a sore foot and why in the world do need to know what caused my parents demise? (I think it was from arguing so much).

After waiting for a half hour or forty five minutes, she calls "Mel". The pain in my foot was almost gone from sitting right under the air conditioning vent, it was about frozen. I still limp in, for effect. By the way, the waiting room was way classy for 1990, full of mirrors, chrome and glass top tables. I'm escorted to new place to sit by a really cute 18 year old blond girl, where I wait alone for about 20 minutes listening to laughing and giggling outside my door. I check my Facebook page and a few other places I like to surf and finally the door opens and a little guy, a few years younger than me comes in, along with his entourage of girls. A visiting female doctor about 25 and two other assistants. Turns out the little doctor is a comedian, let the fun begin. I volunteered that I'd had this same thing happen about 20 years prior and the podiatrist then told me it was a twisted tendon, gave me a cortisone shot and sold me orthodics. He laughed and explained that there no such thing as a twisted tendon. Everyone laughed but me! Dr. Mohamed gave me a cortisone shot and the pain started going away almost immediately, but wanted me to get an ex-ray and have blood drawn to rule out gout or a fracture, at two separate places on Friday. I told them that when my foot started hurting on Monday at Costco, I called a tow truck, but they wouldn't come, finally getting a laugh of my own! I left, walking somewhat normally.

Friday, I finally found Smiles, the imaging place and entered and was asked to sit with the receptionist to fill out pertinent information. I told her that I'd never been to their place before, but somehow she had my info in her system. She looked at me and said, Fisher, Mel? She then read off my social and address and told me that I'd been a patient in 1999. I asked what had been wrong with me and she said a lower lumbar ex-ray. I told her it was better now and thanks. I was then asked to sit in the general waiting and did what I was told. It was nice, but as soon as I got close, I noticed that there were about 5 people sitting there and 3 were asleep! I burst out laughing, is this the waiting room or the sleeping room? My laugh awoke an old man 3 chairs down. He looked and went back to sleep.

Next, a twenty something lady comes out and yells MEL! I limp her way and she takes me back to the inner waiting room where I'm asked to have a seat, (big surprise). Three chairs over is a woman wearing a terrycloth robe, also elderly and I look up at the TV and I Love Lucy is playing. Naturally, I thought I had somehow gone back in time! I asked the woman if that were Lucille Ball or my imagination? The woman brought her index finger up to her mouth and said, shhhhh....... Pretty soon my twenty something came back and said to follow her and of course I did. She walked me into the ex-ray room and asked to sit on the table. Again I complied. That's when she put on her rubber gloves. I asked her if she were old enough to remember NOT wearing rubber gloves for everything. She looked at me like I was crazy and said, no, gross...

From there I went to get blood drawn and you know what happened there. I was asked to sit in a few more places, when finally I left and got into my car to sit on the way home... Monday is my podiatrist appointment and then Tuesday is the treadmill and a bunch more places to sit!

What Kind of Butter Dish Do You Have???

As I approached the sign that read "Falling Prices", I knew I was in the right place. Wal-Mart. I had a list with me, one that required such a Big Box store. My list included a measuring cup, a plunger and a butter dish along with a few other incidentals. Naturally, I already owned all of these items, but couldn't find them after my last move. It was March of 2013. It seems that anything that my former roommate found desirable never made it onto the truck including all pots and pans and my beloved "plastic" butter dish.

As I approached the area that held the butter dishes a weak feeling overcame me as all I could see were glass ones. I kind of got that sinking feeling, like you do in an airplane that suddenly loses altitude. I immediately thought of something slippery like butter, being on something fragile like solid glass. With no other options, I bought it. An accident just waiting to happen.

Fast forward about 17 months. It's a weekday morning and I go through my usual morning routine. Go to the fridge, in the freezer are my hash browns, and sausage, then in the refrigerator section I grab the 2 eggs, the butter and a bagel and that's when I started fumbling! The first thing that hit the floor was the butter dish that splintered into 2000 shards of glass and glass powder. With the fridge still agape, I slid the other items onto a shelf and looked down to see my bleeding feet standing amid the shards of glass, barefoot, naturally! What to do entered my mind. Any step in any direction would mean more cuts on my feet. I was too far from a counter to hop up onto it and there I stood wondering how to escape this dilemma. Finally I slid my feet across the tile to the carpeting and dropped to my knees to avoid getting blood stains on the carpeting. I crawled to the bathroom where I washed the blood off of my feet to inspect my wounds. Hopped to the other bathroom to find a band aid to patch my foot and came back with the electric broom to suck up my shards. Still hungry and wearing flip flops, I successfully prepare breakfast. Whew!

Did you know that after trying 5 different stores, that no one carries anything but glass butter dishes? It's how the butter dish industry exists! So I bought a package of plastic butter stick shaped container to do the job. If I have a fancy dinner planned with guests and a butler, I'll have to apologize, but I cannot get myself to buy another treacherous glass one!

What kind of butter dish do you have at home?

Ground Hog Day Lady Reappears...

My reply:

Dear Barbara:

On 7/10, a Thursday, you contacted me and I called you. We went to meet at the Pub for a drink at 7 PM, we were both  early. You ordered crab cakes and wine, I had a Coke. Our meeting lasted just over 90 minutes and we both fought the storm going home. I thought there may be something wrong with you at the time, as you seemed preoccupied. 

Saturday morning, 36 hours later, you wrote to me again as if we had not just met several hours prior. I ignored that contact but thought it odd. Today, less than 2 weeks later, you're writing to me again, kind of like Ground Hog Day. I don't know what your problem is, whether it's alcohol or drugs, but I'd get that straightened out before trying to meet someone.

Mel

Underwear Shopping, Ugh!

The time has creeped up again and it's come to my attention that it's time to buy some new underwear. There is nothing pleasant about this task, but necessary. As a man, I usually stand in front of a display showing the newest styles in men's underthings and between you and I, it's one of the worst jobs a single man has to perform, almost as bad as grocery shopping! I read somewhere that a man usually buys new underwear about once a year..........bull! That must be a quote from a men's underwear manufacturer. I get new underwear when the cloth separates from the waistband and you feel a draft. Enough about me...

Here's another reason that steered me to Marshal's for new underwear. It's close and things seem to be reasonably priced there and it's full of women shoppers to try to strike up conversations with, basically a men's hunting ground. Also I went to Marshal's because Costco's selection was rather limited, (Ya hear that Costco?) Plus I've been buying my underwear at Costco for many years and it seems that all they have are the semi-boxers made of cloth that come halfway down your thighs. It's summer in Scottsdale and that last thing I want is a second layer of cloth on my legs when it's 110 degrees. So, ideally what I was looking for were briefs in colors, not "tightie whities".

Once I entered Marshal's in North Scottsdale, it took me about 6 or 7 minutes to stroll through the women's things to even locate the men's underwear rack, then figure out the layout so as not to purchase size XXXL. I found my way to the men's mediums, size 32 to 34 and dived in. The first ones I saw were and amazing 5 pair to a box and were only $9.95. Bingo! Why look further? The picture above was on the front of the packaging and the whole thing was packed up neatly with a zipper around the packaging. I'm sold. I make it to the cashier's, pay and leave. 

Now I've been wearing underwear since I've been out of diapers and I'm 68 now. That's a long time in underwear. I wear them everyday, always unless I'm wearing a bathing suit, the only exception. My mechanic doesn't wear underwear and every time he squats down to check something, he shoots out a plumber's crack and I'm always sorry I didn't just look away...

So I get home with my new acquisition and go about my business, tossing the plastic bag on top of the dresser and make a sandwich. Shopping is tough work! Eventually, I go to the dresser and open the packaging to put away my new underwear and to my shock, my $2 briefs are made of nylon and DO NOT HAVE A FLY!!! Men's underwear ALWAYS  have flies! My mind floods with thoughts, but all I can think of, are men's panties. I can't return them because I am not going to have the conversation with a 17 year old high school girl that handles returns about men's flies and why they are suppose to have them! It was only 10 bucks. I've gone to the trouble of taking a photo of a pair for your inspection. How was I to know??? Plus I thought the six-pack came with the briefs!

Another Date from Hell... PART 2 (GROUND HOG DAY)

Just when I thought it was safe to go into the water again.... I woke up this morning and there in my inbox is a message from someone on Match.com. Getting kind of bored with the whole concept after only 4 days this time around, I checked Facebook before even getting too curious. It contained the usual blah, blah, blah and I read my emails. One was from my DIL, Julie suggesting I use Skype to meet new people. Although a good idea, I suspect that getting a woman in this age category to show herself on Skype might be a difficult thing? that's when I opened my Match.com email and to my total shock it was my date from Thursday night and I figured she was going to tell me off for being less than attentive during our 90 minutes, but no! I cut and paste it onto this rendering for your reading amusement. OH, before I continue, I know now why I couldn't remember her first name, because it was Barbara, the same name as my first wife. I must have blocked it!

chi-town49@talkmatch.com town49@talkmatch.com>	7:40 AM (7 hours ago)
to me

Chi-town49 64, Phoenix, AZ Seeking Male 58-69 A confident, strong-willed, independent woman who is looking to share with man of like mind. I am an independent, self sufficent woman who is looking for a man who knows how good he is and has the confidence to display it. (Not Conceit) I would want someone who can share his weaknesses as well as his strengths. … Read more » From: chi-town49 < chi-town49@talkmatch.com > / Received: 7/5/2014 9:40:00 AM

chi-town49 commented on your photo: I am from Chicago, too. Love to chat. Barbara 602-228-XXXX

Another Date from HELL...

See this woman? Well forget her! Take all of her facial features and lower them about 1/4 inch and wrinkle her up and make her into a bar regular. THAT was my date. The only thing missing was the cigarette hanging from her loose lips. I suspect that she was yet another victim of Botox as her face never cracked a smile. So you wonder how I wound up with this creature from below. It went something like this:

It was about 11 AM and I was just awakening. I was up until 4 AM reading a "can't put it down" mystery. After relieving myself and hopping back into bed, I reached for my iPhone to see what the news of the day was. Since rejoining match.com a few days ago, I've been inundated with emails, winks, likes, and interest shown, by a multitude of women, mostly between the ages of 70 and 85. The key word of inundated being "undated!"

I don't remember this woman's name or never knew it, but that's okay since I'm not going to need it. One of the emails I received was from this lady. It was short and brief and to the point and included her cell number. Now remember, I'm still in bed. When reading from my iPhone in bed, I'm on my back and suddenly I fumble my phone while trying to enter her cell number into my phone, fully intending on calling her later, not now! After regaining control of my phone, I can't help but notice I accidentally called someone, I wonder who? Oh, I called this old woman that I was trying to memorialize for a future conversation. You're probably wondering, if I don't like her looks or her age, 64, why am I keeping her number? Well, I liked the way she got right to the point and offered up her cell number, she might be nice? She wasn't! Instead of hanging up, which was an option, I felt, oh well, and waited for her to answer. She was in her car, 90 minutes late for work and what does she do? She's a principal at a West side Phoenix high school. After meeting her, I suspect a hangover might have contributed to her tardiness...

I asked her to tell me a little about herself and she did. She said she was from Illinois, actually Skokie, 100% Italian, moved to CO. for school, has one son and one stepdaughter, was married for 18 years, together for 20 and she asked about me. I simply answered, same as you! Then went on to tell her I was married for 22 years, but neglected to mention it was to 3 different women.

The she asked me to meet her for a drink tonight at the Keg in Desert Ridge, about 7. Here's what I liked about her, she took charge and women seldom do that with me. I'm not sure if I liked it, but was willing to find out. I didn't!

When I first laid eyes on her I was totally disappointed and thought about running out the front door waving my arms and screaming. I thought here goes another wasted evening. You know within seconds if the stranger you are meeting is going to be a hit or a miss and this one didn't even hit the wall the target was on. Prune Face describes her.

I've always wondered why Italian people are so proud her their heritage. When I think of someone 100% Italian, I think of someone tossing a pizza or laying bricks at a construction site. I know this is going to alienate some people, mostly Italians. Jewish people are doctors, attorneys, geniuses, head up the motion picture industry and are generally world leaders, yet you never hear a Jew say I'm 100% Jewish with a big dumb smile. Just sayin'.

At some point I told her that my son and I converted to Italian around 1991, mostly due to our love of the food and also Camaros! Now that line should have brought the house down, it always has, and she never even broke a smile and asked if I was serious and how one converts? I calmly explained that I'm of Jewish descent and you cannot convert from a religion to a nationality, you need to be born into it. That's when she told me that it was not funny. Around that time, she motions for the waitress and orders food. I told her I wasn't hungry and I was under the impression we were meeting for a drink, not dinner. She ordered anyway! I neglected to mention that the place she chose, The Keg, was mobbed with people and to speak I literally had to SCREAM! She didn't scream and I barely heard whatever she was saying and didn't care. At some point I asked about her children and she told me her son was in his 6th year pursuing a medical career and she doesn't know what her stepdaughter was doing or where she lived and didn't care. (How sweet?) That's when the check came and it cost me $23 for her to eat 2 farcockta crab cakes with wine and me to drink a coke! Oh, and she put ice in her red wine!

No kiss, no hug, just a warm nod goodnight... Ninety minutes seemed like a lifetime...

Near Death Experience

It was about 8 PM as I watched the 45th episode of Mad Men on Netflix. I think it was this past Monday night. As I watch TV, the temperature outside is coming slowly down from a record matching 110 degrees and in spite of the AC set at a reasonable temperature, it tends to get warm quickly near the outside walls and windows. To remedy this heat, as everyone in AZ with tell you, we drink a lot of water. I get my water at Costco in 16.9 ounces bottles and use a cool cup to hold the bottles, thus the contents are pretty much invisible to me, while the water remains cooler, longer. I took a long swig from the bottle making a mental note that there is about one mouthful left. About 6 or 7 minutes later, I'm ready for that last swig and lift it to my lips to drain it. While doing so, I THINK I felt something solid touch my tongue, but immediately decide it was a crumb leftover from the chocolate muffin that I ate about 20 minutes earlier and ALMOST swallowed it, when I suddenly pictured the annoying fly that has been landing on the TV screen and walking all over it. That's when I flung myself forward from my reclining chair and spewed the mouthful of water back into the plastic bottle missing the bottle opening with about half of the water. I ripped the bottle out of the cool cup and there before my very eyes was the annoying fly almost drowned in my bottle! That's right, I ALMOST  swallowed the fly! Certainly that would have killed me, right? And I'm not even a frog!

New rule: Always replace the plastic cap when the bottle is not in use!

My Day in India, Sponsored by Amazon...

Lately I've been doing a lot of reading on my Kindle. I acquired this means of conveying the written word about a year ago and since, it's made actual printed books pretty much obsolete to me. I'd say I read about 3 or 4 books a month. Yesterday, I was trying to order a book, which is a really simple procedure normally, but for some reason this time it wouldn't work. After several tries, I finally broke down and went to Amazon's website and struggled through the menus. After several minutes, a drop down screen opened up and referred me to a telephone number that started with 855. Frustrated, I dialed the number and was expecting at a minimum, some HELP! A man answered with an Indian accent and I don't mean a relative of Geronimo. I could barely understand him and told him so. He asked me some pertinent questions and then referred me to a telephone number that was to help me. I dialed this number and it was answered my Sony Electronics. I asked the operator if they manufactured the Kindles and she had no idea, but did ask me who I wanted to be connected with. Finally, the phone began ringing again and another lady of American descent answered and I asked the same question. She didn't know either. It was clear to me now that the first Indian gentleman was just trying to get rid of me by giving me Sony's number. I dialed the 855 number again and this time a woman from India answered and I just hung up. Ten seconds later my phone rings and it's the 855 number calling me back. 

I answered knowing fully well that I had been busted for calling and hanging up, but since I couldn't understand much of what she said, I accepted my lecture easily. Then, somehow, I understood her to ask if she could take control of my computer. I said, sure, why not? Suddenly the background color when from blue to black and she was whipping through my files like some computer wizard. At some point out of habit, I moved my mouse a little and was quickly reprimanded me, that she was now in control and to allow her to do her thing. She complained that my computer was too slow and that was a big issue on why I couldn't order a book. She showed me lists of failed tries and underlined things and circled things in red. I felt ashamed of my computer. It was old and needed replacing. She said, no. It will be fine. After about 30 minutes of her taking control of everything, she started talking about how she could make everything better, just like a mom might sooth a hurt child. Suddenly, it occurred to me that this is an awful lot for an emergency tech to be doing for free and I asked if there would be any charge for anything she was doing. She avoided answering me yet, but eluded to a one time charge. 

I'd had enough, just like I'm sure you have and screamed into the phone, HOW MUCH IS THE ONE TIME CHARGE??? Long silence, that frankly I was appreciative of. $259.99. WHAT, that's ridiculous! All I'm trying to do is order a damned book and you're trying to solve the problems of the world! She ignored me and continued on her spiel, explaining that this is NOT a sales call, it is technical support! Now I hope you have read all of this with a make-shift Pakistan accent, because that's what I was hearing. I told her that $259.99 was ridiculous and she dropped it to $159.99 but for a limited time only! I told her that I was going to hang up now and that if she continued to keep speaking to me, she would be on her own. I told her then that she had been of no help to me at all and hung up. 

But what about my computer, she still had control of it! Suddenly all of the colors changed back to what they were originally and my mouse was once again under my control. I looked at the time and about an hour had gone by while I listened and argued. Then I thought, how could Amazon allow someone to invade their website and did Amazon even know about this, but again, everything was so elusive, how would I explain it and to what avail?

I still had no book though. I tried Amazon's chat feature, where you text with a rep online and she (Caroline) explained after taking down my name and reading my ISP number, that the reason that I did not receive the book I ordered was because I had already ordered that same book probably 6 months ago and it's already on my Kindle, but about half way back on my list. She was right! I had ordered the sample of the book, had not liked it and never ordered the book itself. Somehow that experience exhausted me, as though I'd actually been to India!

How My Credit Card Put the Smile on this Man's Face

I think it was about Thursday of last week that I finally convinced myself to bring my car down to Paul's Shop to get the radiator replaced. I wasn't looking forward to it after spending the entire day there while he diagnosed it. Let me describe Paul's Shop. No waiting area and no place to sit. On top of that, Paul's a hoarder in his personal life and much spills over to his office. Junk mail from months and months ago, piled high on every surface. Dirty uniforms on every other flat surface and anything that he ever acquired packed in there as well. The outside temperature was right around 100 and no moving air inside the office and direct sunlight, outside the office

Then there's the shop with puddles of fluids on the shop floor and he and his assistant occupying every usable inch of space that is not storing things. Do not ask me about the rest room! Obviously he doesn't have air conditioning, but he does have an evaporative cooler that he was not using. At one point I scream, "Why don't you turn on the cooler at least?" "You want to wait the 30 minutes that it with takes him to turn it on for the season", was his answer? No... I guess not, was mine.

Getting back to Thursday, the weather was in the mid 80's and pleasant and I figured it's now or never, as I headed down to the bad part of town, about 33 miles away. It was about 11 AM and Paul was still not at work, although he lives on the property. His assistant/future son in law, a tall skinny kid that I thought was about 22, who is actually 28 and mumbles everything, was there ready to work. I asked if they got my radiator and his answer was "I donno". This is not pertinent to the story, but Chris, the assistant has a 2 inch growth of pubic hair attached to his face, but not as a beard, more in patches, wanting to be a beard, full of bare spots and not thick enough to be a real beard. I desperately want him to shave, but say nothing. I see a cardboard box the shape of my new radiator and once again ask if it is, but get the same answer, "I donno". When Chris speaks, he's bent over an engine compartment and his head is down and he appears to be speaking directly to the alternator, very hard to understand.

Paul comes out of his trailer, where he lives and immediately enters his office and cranks up the computer for instruction on how to install a new radiator in a Volvo. For this I'm paying $400! He goes out into the shop and he and Chris discuss how they're going to approach this job and "from the bottom" seems to be the answer, making me realize I could not do this myself. Pretty soon my car is lifted into the air with his hydraulic lift and I try to watch, but there is not room for me. I go into his office where I try to sit somewhere, but everywhere is occupied, as described. I clear off a spot and lean on a counter and wait, visiting the shop pretty often to watch the progress.

Time passed, it always does and eventually my car is being lowered to the ground and left running to test for no leaks. It seemed fine and I was anxious to leave. Time to relieve me of my money. We agreed in advance that he could accept my credit card, something new for Paul. He did tell me that they will charge him 3% for credit, but I didn't give it any thought. He presented me a bill and there it was, big as life, 3% charge of $12 for credit. This is a first and I told him it wasn't legal to charge extra for credit unless he had a banking license (I made this up, just rattling his cage). Pretty soon Chris sits down with his smart phone and looks it up and it turns out that I was correct in 40 states, but not AZ! I laughed and left, but only after Paul pulls out this gizmo from a drawer and sticks it into his phone to swipe my card. Four hours had go by and I wanted out of there! 

By the time I got into civilization, North Scottsdale, it was almost 4 PM and I hadn't eaten all day. The thought of preparing something to eat at this hungry hour did not appeal to me and I remembered a McDonalds that my grandson, Max and I had gone to before one of his hockey games, right before he threw up and decided to stop there. What were the chances that all their food was bad?

I entered and was pleased to see only a few people ahead of me but wasn't sure if they had already ordered and were just waiting for their orders or if they had not ordered yet? I asked a guy next to me who got very territorial and shouted, "I'm ahead of you"! I smiled and waited. I couldn't help but notice that the line was moving very slowly, actually not at all. Then I notice that the only girl working was probably on her first day and had to ask about everything, poor thing. Looking up on their back wall, I noticed that the menu was huge, so many things to choose from. I figured I'd be okay to just order a Big Mac, small fries and small drink. Suddenly, I was up! It was my turn. I said, I'll have a Big Mac, small fries and small drink. She yells, Harry, this guy wants a small Big Mac. Before I can say anything, Harry is on it. He explains the history of the Big Mac and how it got it's name when I interrupt him and say, I just want one with small fries and small drink. Harry says, $6.52 and once again I swipe my credit card and I'm asked to wait, but not before the new girl asks me my name. I say Mel, she says, Bill? I say, no it's Mike. (They never get Mike wrong) She writes Mike on my receipt and now I'm waiting with my three people that were ahead of me earlier. About 5 minutes goes by and she calls Mike, but I don't reply, not really being a Mike! Finally, I admit to being Mike and take my food. Not too long ago, about 55 years I think, didn't burgers used to be 15 cents? What happened? It's 2014 and I'm waiting about 20 total minutes, to eat a $6.52  burger under an assumed name! 

I already got my Coke and all I needed was a dozen or so napkins. That's the fewest you can grab from the dispenser. I look for a table and there in a back booth is a homeless kid, about 23 or so, passed out on a table. This is an affluent area, there are little children playing just feet from him in an elaborate playground and there he is snoring away. I did nothing, but unwrap my Big Mac and take a bite, finally. Only to realize my bun is stale. Complaining takes energy and I was too hungry and tired to complain, so I ate it and left. 

My car was parked right by the door and I climbed in and enjoyed "Mike's" full belly on the ride home. I pulled into my driveway and guess what! My garage door opener was GONE! How, what, why, where? Those were the things that went through my mind. How will I get into the house? Oh yeah, the keys to the front door. That's why I never leave the security latch engaged. I unlock the door without incident and go to the garage and open it from the inside and there under my car is this huge puddle of, not coolant it turns out, but power steering fluid. WTF? I pull into the garage, close the door and lay down on the couch and think, what could have happened to my garage door opener, but first a nap...

After my nap, I decide I definitely must find my garage door opener and begin looking everywhere. I even called Paul on his cell and asked and all I got was, "Nobody even got into your car", which was true. With the flashlight from my iPhone, I look under the driver's seat and sure as hell, there it is, tangled in the wires that lead to my power seat motor. In order for it to get there, it needed to jump up an inch, which is virtually impossible, yet there it was. Now I still thought the puddle was coolant at the time and perhaps according to Paul, he may have just overfilled it.

The following day, there was a huge puddle in my garage and I cleaned it up and went to pick up a prescription. On the way to the pharmacy, my car started howling like my 8th grade choir, two weeks before graduation. Again WTF? When I got home, I checked the power steering fluid and it was non-existent on the dip stick. It took almost a full quart to bring it up to full. On Monday, after not driving my car all weekend, I refilled it again and headed to Paul's to find my new problem and guess what? Only the assistant, Chris was there and he said, good news! I asked what and he told me, it was not anything that he did. That my power steering upper hose was just loose and it would be a free fix...........hooray!

"WARNING"

I don't even know where to begin this story, so I'll just spin it out the way I remember it. Keep in mind as you read, that there are multiple levels at play here, with lots of players and topics.

First, was the 08 Jeep, Patriot, that my granddaughter Kylie asked me to try to sell for her. Her older sister had just received a company car and offered her old car an, 07 Honda, to Kylie for her personal use. Now Kylie, who was making payments on her 08 Jeep, wanted to not make payments so the entire thing came together. All I had to do was sell the 08 Jeep, got all that?

Second, my beloved reclining chair, that I seemed to have moved into in 05 after my heart surgery..........broke! The supporting frame literally disintegrated, something that has happened before and I had it welded by Paul, my mechanic.

I posted an ad in Cars.com for free and waited for the first phone call, but all that came were scam artists in other countries with a multitude of scams. I should open a Pay pal account and they will pay me that way and send a courier to pick up the Jeep, (no thank you). Another was going to send me a check for a larger amount of money and all I had to do was refund the balance to them and ship my car and title to an independent transport company, (sorry, not interested) all I wanted was a legitimate phone call from an interested buyer, just like it used to be when I was in business, but that never came. I was beginning to get concerned that I was doing something wrong, so the next think I tried was lowering the price by $500. We made it through the weekend without a legitimate call, when suddenly on Monday morning when I awakened at about 9:30, there were 2 voice mails waiting for me from a man named Omar. He seemed extremely interested and was willing to come all the way from Tucson the look at the lonely Jeep.

A little about the Jeep.... The car was literally immaculate, unscathed, pristine and all of the words you can think of to describe showroom condition. Kylie dropped it off on the only rainy day we'd had in 70 days and regrettably explained that all the car washes were closed. I waited that day for the rain to cease and the following day, I approached the car like it was a child that had been playing in the mud! Soap, water and a shop-vac, along with plenty of clean dry towels. I used engine cleaner to detail the engine compartment and when I was finished, I was pretty impressed with my work! I took pictures and closed and sealed it up to wait. If I were to fault the car for anything, it was the tires that were about ready for replacement. The old Jeep had 94K miles on it but I don't think anyone ever sat in it to do the driving!

I decided that the very first person to look at this car was going to buy it. After a couple of more calls from Omar, that only confused things, he and his wife pulled up in front of my house. After about 3 or 4 minutes and they still didn't ring my bell, I finally went outside to see them leaning against their car just looking at me. Suddenly my phone dinged indicating a voice mail. It was he and we both laughed. Omar turned out to be Tomas, not sure how or why that happened and he was a retired Tucson cop, originally from Wisc. They looked and kicked the tires and took it for a nice long test drive. Kylie had gone to the trouble of filling up the tank before dropping it off which was a nice touch.

When they returned they started hmming and hawing and making going away noises, when suddenly I said, I thought certainly the first people that were lucky enough to see this car would buy it! Tomas didn't know what to say, it was obvious. It turned out that they were only the front runners for their daughter, who had the final say. They said goodbye and climbed into their car and got on the phone while I watched through the window of my house. Suddenly he hooked a u-turn and I watched him drive away, thinking it was over. About 5 minutes later my phone rang and it was Tomas and he was all excited. He said they would be back tomorrow with his daughter, she wants to see it too! I asked for a deposit to hold it and he explained it had to do with the credit union and suddenly it all started making sense. He had to get a loan first!

The following morning I get up about 9 AM and there are once again 2 messages from this time the wife of Tomas, Olga, asking if she can make an offer. Still sounding sleepy, I return her call and she says she wants to make me an offer on the Jeep. I reply, only if it's a good offer. she says she wants to offer $6900. I'm asking $6995, so that was a pretty good offer, right?

The transaction started the prior day at 9:30 AM and they finally picked up the car and dropped off the money at 8:30 the following day. Everyone was happy, the young girl that bought the car through her mom and dad just loved it, she got a great car and Kylie wound up with  lot more money than she was even anticipating. I was happy because everyone else was happy and that's something you seldom achieve in the car business.

The following day I have an appointment with the cardiologist and then my plan is to drop off my broken chair frame at my mechanic Paul to weld it. The cardiologist lays me off onto his nurse practicioner which was a pleasant surprise (cute), but she says they want to do an angiogram, which is how I got into this trouble to begin with, so I blew off the idea for a few months anyway and headed West to Paul's. Paul had his usual assortment of junk yard dogs around (none of them had 4 legs either), so I dropped off my frame pleading for a quick job, when Paul told me he was leaving for CA tomorrow, (So much for quick) and it was almost 3 PM, so I headed out.

I'm driving North on the I-17 and traffic is pretty bad, when I realize it's not yet 3 PM, so I can legally use the HOV lane. I'm cruising along and the only car that's hindering things is the DPS car that it directly in front of me, going 10 miles under the limit at 55 MPH. I look down at my watch and notice it's right at 3 PM and make arrangements to move over out of the HOV lane. I do just that, using my signal to execute the lane change. About a minute later, the cop pulls over two lanes and fades back behind me and then over to the left lane to be directly behind me and puts on his flashing lights. Using my turn signals again, I realize that this asshole is pulling ME over. I know by everything that is Holy that I was not speeding and I was out of the HOV lane in a timely way. I cross over 3 lanes in rush hour traffic and now I'm on the shoulder of the freeway and this jerk is right behind me calling in my plate for potential warrants, which I don't have. He approaches my car from the passenger side and tells me to lower my window by using the international sign for "LOWER YOUR WINDOW". I reach over and open the door explaining the window doesn't work. 

He's a little guy with blond hair and a lisp and he says to me, "are you familiar with the HOV laws?" I say yes! I show him my iPhone time and it reads 3:03 and we're now 4 lanes over and having a discussion, verifying that I was out of the lane at 3 PM, 3:01 at the latest. He says nothing as he retreats to his car to write me a ticket.

He returns a few minutes later talking about how he's done this big favor for me my only giving me a "warning", otherwise it would have cost me over $400 in fines. If he had given me a ticket, I was already planning on hiring one of OJ's defense team lawyers to represent me in court. I was SEETHING!!!

Late Night Emailing...

Last night at about 1 AM, I was laying in bed reading a book about a search looking for the Holy Grail, the chalice that Jesus drank from during "The Last Supper", me a nice Jewish boy from Skokie. Earlier in the day, I received a short note from a total stranger on Match.com seeking my attention. I didn't find her attractive and way to far away from me, so I sent her a brief polite note explaining that I didn't think we were a very good match. THE END, or so I thought.

Hello   

Let's get together for coffee and chat 602. 555.5555  

Kate

Shortly after 1 AM, I get a vibrate on the night stand next to my bed indicating a message from someone on Match.com. Here is that note and my reply.

Hi bill

Please tell me what happened. I would like to know what happened to us.Please let me know . 
Kate lord know I never met to hurt you for anything. You touched my soul . I need to know what I did wrong

MY REPLY:

RE: Hi bill

And there lies your problem, I am not Bill!

I thought that would be the end of it, as surely she would recognize her error, right? NOPE! About 30 minutes later, the next email came:

she writes:

Well then who are you. We have a lot going fir us
Please write back please

That's when I had to block her from contacting me. Here is another problem. I cannot decide if she was just drunk or the victim of the sleeping aid, Ambien! Let's face it, all users of Ambien have written emails like that, haven't they?