Fall is Fine

We turned the corner on summer, sometime last week, and fall fell...again, sometime last week.

I’m not exactly sure when...I was still at the beach.

So I didn’t notice.

But it’s fall now, that’s for sure.

A chill is in the air, and all that cra...uh, stuff.

Pumpkins and scarecrows abound.

And that’s all fine.

Fall is fine...I’m fine....you’re fine...we’re all fine.

Fine, fine, fine....

Besides, I was getting a little tired of all that sand between my toes.

Barreling into Boston

I was missing again last week...you know, in case you were looking.

If you were looking and you found me, let me know where I was because sometimes life gets confusing.

Like when you go to grab the only decent black belt you own that actually buckles around your seemingly ever expanding waist, and you can’t seem to find it—the belt, not your waist—because it too is missing.

Which is a problem because you’re packing basically the only pair of big boy pants you own in order to attend your nephew’s wedding up in Boston and you’ll look kind of silly if you tie a length of clothes line around your middle....again.

Not that the only pair of big boy pants you own would fall down or anything. No...not when you have to shoe horn yourself into them, while holding your breath and sucking in your stomach.

So there’s that kind of confusing.

School of Sarcasm

Some people say I’m sarcastic.

Right?

Hard to believe....

Right?

Especially since I don’t have a sarcastic bone in my body.

But I can’t speak for the soft, mushy parts.

Those I have no control over.

I don’t know.

Even if...so what?

See, I said, “even if...” and left it to you to finish the rest, because that’s the new cool way of speaking...sarcastic or not.

Just start a sentence and....

Because cool people don’t have time to use complete sentences, any more.

“Too busy for....”

A Most Conditional Summer

Right now I’m feeling very indebted to the person who invented the Air Conditioner.

I’ve pretty much been living inside of one for the last few weeks.

And I can show you my electric bill to prove it.

But I don’t really care about the money; not really.

I think it’s a small price to pay to circumvent my inner thighs from producing that annoying swooshing sound they make whenever I combine walking and excessive perspiration.

A gift from the gods of Freon...or whatever it is they use these days to freeze my nose hairs.

If you’re under 40 you probably think, what’s the big deal?

Fishing for Metaphors...and other things

I’ve been "missing" again, and this time I don’t have a good excuse.

Not really....

Other than, by some trick of the calendar, summer arrived while I wasn’t looking...and by the time I did bother to look, it was  already nearly 10 days into August.

Not that I haven’t been taking full advantage of the island respite summer provides once the doldrums of winter pass and the busy work of spring is put to rest.

I have...with all the “toes in the water, ass in the sand” enthusiasm I can muster...I have

Which is part of the problem that leads to my “missing” malady.

Once summer rolls around, whether I’m aware or not, I have a penchant for hanging out the “Gone Fishing” sign...even though I’ve only once put an actual pole in the water with intent; even then, some 50 years or so ago.

And that ended up with me gagging at the sight of fish guts smeared on my fingers and having to be returned to shore where I was adopted by a band of traveling gypsies, who taught me the art of the trapeze.

But I digress....

Hard to Imagine

I saw a story online, the other day, announcing Tom Hanks was turning 60.

Oooooooooooooh....

60....

Imagine....

60....

And the tone of incredulity, in which it was posted, indicated it was an announcement one step below his obituary.

60....poor guy.

Hard to imagine.

But what I do imagine is the story was written by someone all of 22 to whom turning 60 is kind of like imagining life without belly shots.

Having turned 60, myself, some two plus years ago, I can tell you it’s no big deal.

So I think Tom will be fine.

The walkers come with instructions and the adult diapers aren’t all that bad once you get used to the puffy butt line.

AWOL - Absent Without Laughs

I’ve been AWOL, "Absent Without Laughs", these last 6 weeks, or so—in more ways than one—because things like that happen when life goes out of kilter.

Plus you tend to walk a little crooked and to one side.

Which makes your shoes wear a little funny.

You know...because of the out of kilter thing.

Get it?

But I guess I had a pretty good reason for all of the above...except maybe the badly worn shoes.

At least that’s what people tell me.

My mom died about a month and a half back.

Bada Boom!

How’s that for a punch line?

Didn’t see that coming...did you?

Yeah, she died...even though we asked her not to.

But she was always one to ignore everyone else and just do what she pleased.

All kidding aside, which as you know is a little hard for me, it wasn’t a total shock or completely unexpected.

She was nearly 90 and had been in poor health for the last 3 and half years.

But the good thing is she was able to live at home, mostly ‘til the end, with assistance, which is how she wanted it, because she found keeping track of all those Bingo cards at the nursing home annoying.

Plus she enjoyed the retired circus folk I brought in at half the going home health care rate to help her out.