Snippets Of Conversation, Legacy Labels & A Request For Advice

In the 38 years we have been married, Ginny & I have only had one conversation.

It’s run for 38 years so far and still going strong.

Here are a few snippets from yesterday’s session:

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My feet swell up during the day every day, so mid-afternoon I generally change shoes. That’s an everyday occurrence.

But this morning I noticed that my left hand had swollen also.

First time that’s happened.

I pointed it out to Ginny who said, “You’re getting old, John. Now the wrong part of you swells up”.

We laughed ourselves silly.

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All I can say to that is, May the blessing of God Almighty, Father, Son, And Holy Spirit, rest upon the head of the man who invented Viagra.

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Macular degeneration dims my eyes and degenerative arthritis pains my right hip joint continually.

Ginny says that means I’m a total degenerate from one end to the other.

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The macular degeneration creates a tiny blind spot in my vision which I notice most when reading signboards along the highway.

Because I see the two ends of a word on a signboard, my own mind supplies the middle letters.

Makes for some interesting reading.

For instance there is a sign we pass often near an upscale community featuring many medical facilities. I always read that sign as saying, “Riverside Poultry Clinic”

I know it is there and yet I always wonder what a chicken veterinarian is doing in that upscale neighborhood.

The sign actually says “Riverside Podiatry Clinic”! I know it’s a foot doctor, yet I always question what a chicken clinic is doing in such an upscale neighborhood.

This morning I saw a billboard for an organization helping troubled girls. The organization, which I’d never heard of before, is called “Boost Up”

Naturally my mind filled in the blind spot.

It may say a lot about my mind, but I read the sign about this girls’ organization as saying, “Boobs Up”.

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Besides swelling and sight problems, neither Beauty nor I hear as well as we used to hear.

Before our drive out to do errands, we discussed whether or not to take bread scraps by the park to feed to the ducks. We decided to wait for a warmer day, but that conversation must have hung in the back of my mind.

At the railroad crossing, a fast moving train delayed us.

Ginny said, “It’s moving so fast, it’s raising dust”.

“What,” I asked?

“That train is moving so fast it’s raising dust,” she said.

Puzzled as could be, I looked all around for the flock, expecting to see a whirl of wings and wondering how a train could be raising ducks???

———

“Pay Attention! This is foreplay”.

“That doesn’t even rank as three-play”.

———

Over a two-hour breakfast, Beauty revealed that Friday her office administration sent around a snide, demeaning e-mail to all employees requiring that a sign be posed on their computers whenever on break.

I composed a sign for her.

My sign reads:

I’m On Break.
Please Don’t Screw Anything Else Up While I’m Gone.
And No, Don’t Come Looking For Me; It Can Wait 15 Minutes!
I’ll Correct Whatever Mistakes You Managed To Make When I Get Back.

Ginny won’t post my sign, Instead, she applied for a job with another agency the same day that e-mail appeared in her inbox. If she gets the new job, I advised her to paper the walls she leave behind with scores and scores of awards, efficiency reports and her many commendation letters. That snide, demeaning e-mail is a childish display from a manager who should just have guts enough to fire offenders instead of sending blanket e-mails insulting everyone in the whole department.

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When we returned home and put on our robes to relax for the evening, we checked our snail mail. As usual the postman had delivered a number of appeals letters from various charities wanting us to send money.

As usual, the charities enclosed gimmicks (calendars, mailing labels, gift cards, etc.) designed to guilt recipients into donating. One week we actually got 17 of these appeals. Organized charities need a lot of cash to be able to pay their directors $400,000 a year to care for the poor.

It makes little sense to me for us to give money to someone who earns more than we do. We prefer to donate directly to those who have less.

Anyhow, one of these appeals gimmicks specifically targets us old people.

It is a set of Legacy Labels:

Never heard of those before?

You are supposed to stick these labels on the back of furniture and such so that as soon as you die, your relatives can cart things off without much of a squabble over who was supposed to get what.

What a great idea!

These labels are self-sticking.

While Ginny fiddled with other mail, I pealed off this one label, went in the back room, and applied it:

When I came back and flipped open my robe to show her, she just about fell out of her chair laughing.

She said the Red Cross did not intend for their labels to be used that way.

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On a more serious note:

Susan, an e-friend whose blog I have followed for months, asked for helpful advice in her January 20^th posting (right after the birthday/Disney photos).

Her soldier husband serves us all in Iraq protecting us, while she serves us all by coping at home with their two lovely children.

Ginny and I spent some time discussing her post and praying. We sent her a comment, but we’re not satisfied that we said the right things. Please drop in on Susan’s blog and give her your input, comments and prayers.

This is a brave couple to be admired.

Susan’s blog address is http://colorsofsusan.blogspot.com/

Her husband stays busy fighting and does not post as often but his blog address is http://koolaiddavis.blogspot.com/