Category: Humor

  • Which Anniversary to Celebrate?


    Sixteen years ago today I stepped onto an airplane with Pretty to begin a spontaneous first trip to Cancun, Mexico. I had no way of knowing the day would be the beginning of the most important adventure of my life because at that moment I was more nervous than I possibly had ever been in my previous fifty-four years. Petrified.

    First of all, I never did anything spur-of-the-moment and this trip had been planned for exactly two days. Secondly, I had taken off work days during the week to make the trip – I rarely took days off from work. And third, I wanted to impress Pretty with my spontaneity and reckless abandon because I thought I needed all the help I could get to change our fledgling romance into a full-bloomed happening.

    As we landed in Atlanta in the early morning, I was disappointed to see the airport bar didn’t open until 9 o’clock, but I made sure we waited in chairs that faced the bar so that I would be the first person to race in for a screwdriver when the gate was raised. I needed fortifying.

    When we touched down in Cancun, I had been fortified again by the stewardess who served spirits in the air; my spirits were high by the time we landed. Pretty, on the other hand, remained loyal to her Diet Cokes.

    The Cancun trip was memorable for more reasons than I can discuss in this PG blog, but one of Pretty’s favorite stories from the trip was our floating in an inner tube down a section of river beside one of the tourist stops we made on a guided tour outside Cancun. Once again, I had been fortified by tequila shots I happily shared with our waiter at lunch and agreed to dash over to wait in line for our turn to hop into a shiny black inner tube with Pretty to join scores of other fun-loving gringos enjoying the sun as they leisurely hand-paddled their make-believe boats down the beautiful, calm river.

    Unfortunately, I had forgotten to mention my water phobia to Pretty who was quite taken aback when I sat frozen on the top of the tube and was unable to help paddle it. The tequila shots were no match for my fear of falling out of the tube into the river.

    Gone was any more pretense of the reckless adventurer – my true sober self revealed itself to Pretty when she had to jump out of the tube and swim to shore – pulling the tube and me along with her. She always laughs when she tells this story.

    We both loved the trip, and we both agree it was one of the most fun times we’ve had. It was the beginning of an amazing life that continues to produce laughter on a daily basis. We are lucky, and we know it.

    So this is an anniversary we can celebrate today, but we will also celebrate our first anniversary on April 24th, the day we legally married in 2016.

    Why not celebrate both?

    Thank you, Pretty. Where you lead, I will follow…if you need me to be with you, I will be there.

    010

    having dinner in Cancun – February 09, 2001

     

  • Home is the Sailor, Home from the Sea – and the Lady Gamecocks, Home from the Road


    And so apparently Pretty and Slow’s Chicken Road Curse for the Lady Gamecocks is officially stomped out with another road victory yesterday at the University of Florida in Gainesville. Great Balls of Fire – the girls in the Lady G uniforms finished with an 81 – 62 win against a very good Florida team and three very busy refs who loved to blow their whistles more than most refs will do all season. I’m not kidding.

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    Hey, there – we’re the refs…

    and we’ve got these shiny new whistles we like to blow

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    Please don’t play nice –

    we can’t wait to blow our new whistles

     

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    Lady Gs warm up – Gators bonding

    Coach Dawn Staley had her 200th. win at Auburn Thursday night and kept right on sizzling for number 201 Sunday afternoon. Pretty and I love our coach and have to confess we drive by her house sometimes since she lives a few blocks from Casa de Canterbury – no sightings other than seeing her jog by our house early one morning last summer. That was fun. Thanks, Coach Dawn, for keeping us all on track.

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    Hey, there – old lady with the white hair… 

    You look familiar – do I know you?

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    Coach Staley has a teachable moment during the game

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    Everybody, listen up

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    Associate Coach Boyer has a word with #22 A’ja Wilson who scored 23 points and had 13 rebounds

    (and also scared us to death with an ankle injury in the 4th. quarter – sending good wishes for her speedy recovery)

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    Bianca, did you understand what she just said?

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    #10 Allisha Gray had a big game with 18 points – 

    (everybody takes plenty of notes)

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    The halftime entertainment was an amazing woman 

    who committed unnatural acts right in front of us

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    Never in my wildest dreams

    When the game was over, Pretty and I made our way back to our dogs who had spent two hours in the car with the windows properly ventilated and were thrilled to have our company as we started the 400-mile trip home to Casa de Canterbury.

    All’s well that ends well, as The Red Man was fond of saying, and we arrived home safely in time to catch Meryl Streep on the Golden Globes last night. Wouldn’t have missed her for the world – she was a wonderful reminder of the importance of our resistance to inertia in the days to come in the face of what we know is wrong. Everybody, listen up.

    Finally, there is good news and bad news for us as we settle back in at Casa de Canterbury. The good news is I was able to purchase a new Road Atlas at a truck stop in Georgia yesterday on the way home  – that makes me very happy and eager for another road trip.

    The bad news is Pretty has a horrible cold which puts a damper on her usual good spirits, and Charly destroyed two leashes by chewing them in pieces that can never be put back together again – much like Humpty Dumpty after his great fall.

    Bless us for a safe trip, as Granny Selma used to say when she was in her right mind.

    Stay tuned.

  • You Don’t Have to Break Up to Wallow


    Gilmore Girls: A Year in the Life made its Netflix debut over the Thanksgiving weekend with much fanfare, hoopla and hype as the three leading actresses appeared on every talk show under the sun to promote the four-part mini-series that was supposed to be a panacea for the yearnings of a major contingent of followers who wanted more from the Gilmore women of Stars Hollow and Hartford. The original American TV comedy series ran for seven seasons from 2000 to 2007 and was apparently quite popular and still missed by many.

    Pretty and I were not Gilmore Girls watchers in those first runs; perhaps because we were younger, our relationship was newer, our social life was busier, we were watching Frasier re-runs… or something else I can’t remember. Whatever the reasons, we missed it the first time around. But since we are now seasoned Netflix subscribers and recently finished the gazillion-episode BBC series Doc Martin  and needed a new diversion, we decided to give the Gilmore Girls a whirl.

    We recently started with the first season and are now prepared to spend the rest of our lives watching Loralei and Rory get daily coffee fixes at Luke’s coffee shop because each of the early years had at least a hundred episodes per season. Luckily, we found ourselves growing fond of the characters as we usually do when the writing is good and the actors as good as the script.

    For example, in one of the first season’s episodes this week I was disappointed when teenage Rory’s first true love, Dean the grocery store bag boy, dumped her. Such a cute, sweet boy – young love blossomed, bloomed, bleeped, fizzled, done. And on their three-month anniversary, too. Sigh. What to do? Talk to Mom.

    Mom’s (Lorelei’s) advice to her teenage daughter was priceless: wallow. That’s right. Wallow. Stay in your pajamas all day while you eat pizza and ice cream…don’t put on makeup…don’t shave your legs…sit in a dark room watching old movies like Love Story, An Affair to Remember, Ishtar, Old Yeller and have a good cry. Wallow the day away.

    What’s really amazing about this advice is that I’ve been wallowing minus the crying part and old movies for years without realizing it, and my wallowing has nothing at all to do with my love life. I was born to wallow, and then I had a relapse when I had a real job that required getting out of bed, applying Clinique makeup every morning after my shower, spending a fortune on perms and color to give my straight-as-a-board graying hair curls and blondeness,  getting dressed in appropriate business attire, commuting long distances to an office where I sat in front of a computer screen looking at numbers all day while agonizing over the financial decisions my clients were wrestling with…all in all, a relapse that lasted 40 years.

    But now, I have reclaimed my roots (the silver ones, too), and I wallow almost each day. Some days I never get out of my pajamas, my toothpaste gets more use than my bath soap, I gave up shaving my legs for Lent and didn’t resurrect it for Easter, I only wear makeup for date nights, and my straight short white hair qualifies for the “man’s haircut rate” with my hair stylist.  The longest commute I have is from my upstairs office to the kitchen downstairs. Life is good.

    Writing is the perfect career for wallowing. If Pretty asks me what I’ve been doing when she comes home from surveying her antique empire and finds me still in my pajamas, I can say Oh, I’ve been writing all day – which could or could not be exactly true. Unless you count watching In the Heat of the Night as research. (Ishtar, no thanks.)

    Today is New Year’s Eve, the last day of 2016, the day when many of us will be making our resolutions for 2017. I have started my list with the same one I’ve started with for the past 40 years: I need to lose 10, 15, 20, 25, 30, 35 pounds this year. My, how time flies.

    Hm. I never get past that first one.

    If you are making your list and checking it twice, add a day to wallow once a month. You don’t need to break up a relationship to do it – simply indulge and wallow. Indulge. Wallow. Enjoy.

    Pretty and I wish you a Happy New Year from our home at Casa de Canterbury to yours wherever you are in cyberspace around the world – stay safe, and we’ll look forward to having you hang with us in 2017!

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • Merry Ho-Hum


    And so this is Christmas at Casa de Canterbury…Pretty had to make an unexpected trip to Florida to drive her father to see his brother this week, and Spike and Charly are left with me during the holiday season.

    As you can see, they are not hopeful for Merry Ho, Ho this week without Pretty.

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    The weather outside is frightful, and my dear, you’re not delightful…whenever did my fun become pain? Let it rain, let it rain, let it rain. Sigh.

    Come home soon, Pretty – we are all struggling without you.

     

  • Today is the First Day of…


    …the rest of your life? Exactly….but today is also the First Day of December which means Christmas music, holiday parties, magical outdoor lighting and indoor decorated trees, Santa sightings, frantic shopping sprees, too many cookies – not enough fiber, too much eggnog – not enough water, too many rum cakes – not enough veggies…too many reindeer – not enough sleighs.

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    Annual Cookie Walk in Montgomery, Texas

    Ellen’s busy giving away the farm with her Twelve Days of Christmas, and Pretty is busy wondering why we aren’t in the audience for one of those days. I told her we would make that part of our financial plan for 2017. As a matter of fact, we can make that the cornerstone of our financial plan for next year.

    So clearly in the spirit of the season, the president-elect is tweeting “we the people” our leadership gifts for the next four years.

    On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me

    a partridge in a pear tree –

     a promise to drain the swamp in D. C.

    On the second day of Christmas my true love gave to me

    two turtle doves –

    (Breitbart Steve and Reince)

    and a promise to drain the swamp in D.C.

    On the third day of Christmas my true love gave to me

    three guys named Mike –

    (Pence, Flynn, Pompeo),

    Breitbart Steve and Reince –

    and a promise to drain the swamp in D.C.

    On the fourth day of Christmas my true love gave to me

    three billionaires and their Goldman Sachs adviser –

    (Betsy, Wilbur, Donald, Steven),

    three guys named Mike,

    Breitbart Steve and Reince,

    and a promise to drain the swamp in D.C.

    On the fifth day of Christmas my true love gave to me

    five Golden Tweets –

    three billionaires and their Goldman Sachs Adviser,

    three guys named Mike,

    Breitbart Steve and Reince,

    and a promise to drain the swamp in D.C.

    Ah, the joys of the holiday season in a presidential election year. I can hear the bells going jingle, jangle – or is that my nerves.

    Party hearty.