The Cell Phone in the Toilet

It's one of those occasions where I offer a piece of relevant advice to all my blog peeps out there. Today's lesson is this:

Never try to answer your cell phone while standing at a urinal

I will label this Casey's law # 6

I have been a bit harried at work this past week, and the damn thing never seemed to stop ringing at the most inopportune times. I was expecting an important message, and I know I should have let it go to the voice mail.
But as we all know, I can at times, be an idiot. The phone slipped from my grasp and splashed into a place from which i did not want it to go. So what did I do?

I went to the Janitor's closet and grabbed a pair of rubber gloves, and a bucket. I dug it out, dropped it in the bucket, and then put about a gallon of water in, and then a cup of bleach. I let it sit for an hour. You ever hear a phone ring when it is in water? It's weird, it reminded me of the tsunami I launched on Ripple tank town during a high school physics experiment more than 30 years ago. It had to do with sound waves dispersing across water. I couldn't emulate that noise with my lips no matter how hard I tried.

After about an hour, and about a dozen unanswered calls, I dumped out the bucket in the janitor's closet sink and ran water on the phone for a few minutes. Then I wiped the phone down with a terry cloth towel.
She's still working! The color faded a bit, but as long as she's working, who cares!
I've had it more than two years, I'm due for a new one in a month or so. Think I should tell them what happened? I'll bet Mrs C never uses it again!

Happiness is a Heated Mattress Pad

It has been cold. Not just annoyingly cold, but uncomfortably cold. Mrs C made it known to me that no matter how high she turned the controls on her electric blanket, it didn't seem to get very warm, or make much of a difference. I wasn't all that concerned, because I had no electric blanket on my side of the bed. I had added an extra sheet folded double on my side. I wasn't freezing, but I wasn't exactly toasty either.

With that in mind, I told her I was willing to pry a few extra dollars out of my wallet and purchase a new electric blanket for our King Size bed. You know these things aren't cheap, right?
So Saturday afternoon we are at the Big Box store, and the selection is kind of slim. They don't have any King size blankets, which is a stumbling block for me, because I'll be damned if I'm buying two electric blankets.

Then we get to a display at the end of an aisle, and they have of all things, a King sized heated Mattress pad. It has controls for both sides of the bed! It is one big pad, but has separate controls! This has win win situation written all over it! Mrs C can roast on her side, and if I feel the need, I can put my side on low simmer!

So I pried the $65.00 out of my wallet and purchased the heated Mattress pad. We put it on the bed as soon as we were home, and put it right to use Saturday night.
How did I ever sleep on cold nights without this thing?! It is great! The heat radiates up from below, and really soothes my achy joints. The state of early morning stiffness in my surgically replaced right hip diminished drastically in one night. The heated mattress pad works much better than the electric blanket ever did.
More importantly, Mrs C is happy, as are the dogs, who like the bed being nice and warm as much as anybody else.
Sometimes domestic bliss can be found in the most simple pleasures. At least for this most recent weekend, Happiness is a heated mattress pad.

I'm Writing a Memoir

I'm writing a story about the 15 years and 5 months of life that were spent here on earth by a dog named Fred.
Yes, my memoir revolves around a dog who I served for more than 15 years as Master. I'm not making that up. It details the relationship we had during my "Days of Wine and Roses."

I first started "officially" keeping a journal back in 1983 while on guard duty in the Army. One of the recurring themes in my journal is I used the music I was listening to at the time as a reference point. I've done that all my life, and I still do it on my blog as well.

I have a knack of making mental notes of what song was on the radio at pivotal, memorable moments in my life.
For instance, the December night in 1995 that my wife and I were driving down to Cape May Point for New Years eve, The song, "I'll Stand by you" by Chrissy Hyndes and the Pretenders came on the radio. I had a diamond ring in my pocket and was planning to propose.
When we arrived, I took my wife out on the beach, got down on one knee, and she accepted.

So forevermore, whenever I hear that song, I feel a sense of elation. I remember reaching across the car and taking her hand as it was playing. Now that we have had more than a dozen years of a happy marriage, I have many more moments that I have musical references for. A sad one is hearing "The Living Years" by Mike and the Mechanics on the radio while driving to Ohio on November 1, 2000, for my Mom's Funeral. I heard that same song just hours after I buried my Dad in January 1995, and it brought me to tears.

My wife is really under it right now, overloaded at work, trying to finish her last course to achieve her Master's degree, and she can't seem to get entirely healthy, while also worrying about the health of her own aging father. That's a lot for her to try and carry.

So honey, I have a little message for you, straight from my memory of that day you said yes: "I'll stand by you."

Under the Weather Puppy

Lucy gave us quite a scare this morning at 4:30 AM, when she suddenly suffered a massive and violent seizure. She started foaming at the mouth and convulsing, and rolled over on her right side. I ran to her and held her until the seizure subsided. She was uncharacteristically antsy last night at bedtime, and kept pacing in the hall.
It was all over in under ten minutes, she had trouble walking at first, and we wondered if she had a stroke, but then she started walking around as if nothing had happened, before laying down and going into a sound sleep.
I called from work at 7:15, and Mrs C said she was still sleeping peacefully, snoring away, but Sally and Ethel had both come in and lay down, snuggling up next to her, and licking Lucy.
I called the vet at 9 AM and got her in for a 4 PM appointment. At 3:30, as I was preparing to take her, she started having another, suffering several tremors, and I rushed her to the vets office, where they were able to witness this, less violent attack.
It could be anything, and they did her blood work, but within minutes she was fine again, and her happy little self. She's a senior dog, more than 12 years old, which translates into the 80s for an average human. I've been more worried about Ethel, who will be 13 in June, that Lucy had issues was something out of the blue. I know it is inevitable, but I hate thinking about it.
Lucy is my little black shadow that follows me around the house wherever I go.

No Money...No Honey A Sunday Undie Story

I am a regular married guy. Like many married guys, I let my wife buy underwear for me. Most of the time, that's not a problem. My wife likes to buy me goofy stuff, like St. Patrick's day, or St. valentines day themed undies, and I have several pair of Looney Tunes Christmas themed undies.
I like to think I'm pretty secure in my self image. This Morning I grabbed a pair after my shower that I thought were black with yellow stripes.

I should have paid more attention. On the Front of them were the words, "No Money".

On the back, a picture of a honey bee and the words, "No Honey."

I went to the gym to work out at 2:45 PM today, and when I stripped down to change, my underwear caused some laughter.

This is the gym where some guys have tried to shave in the jacuzzi, and others have used the hand held hair driers on their groin area. So any guy who would have the audacity to mock me is one who probably doesn't have a man card.

Lets make one thing real clear: Real men will wear the underwear their wife buys them as long as it meets two criteria, it is not pink, and it is not a thong. The only exception is if our kids buy it for us as a present, then we will try it on in the privacy of our own home, but we would never wear it anywhere else. This allows us to truthfully answer the question, "did you ever wear it?"

Now I took my good natured kidding from the other gym rats with a smile, confident in my own manhood, but I made a self conscious note to NEVER Wear those undies on a scheduled gym day again.
I personally think that if I ever end up unconscious in an emergency room, and they have to strip me, that they would see me in my themed underwear of the day and think I was a pretty cool guy.