2nd Wind: 90...and Counting (Darlys turned 90 on June 28th, 2004!)

The Mouse Is in Control

2nd Wind, June 2003

Committee: A group of people who individually can do nothing,
but as a group decides that nothing can be done."   -Fred Allen-

"Talk is cheap because supply exceeds demand."

I disclaim any responsibility for errors in this, or subsequent issues of 2nd Wind.  Flibby has become the self-elected co-editor. In fact, from her point of view, she may be THE editor. As long as she had her brother, Ferd, for company, she never came near the computer. But now, as soon as she hears the start-up chime, she is on my lap, on the keyboard, sitting on the mouse....whatever will most effectively interrupt the process. Her typing is atrocious...even worse than mine.   222222222qqqqqqq3333wwwwwwwww   See!

This month I achieve the venerable age of 89. I told a much younger friend I have a goal of reaching ninety.  She said, "Who would want to be ninety?"
My reply, "Anyone who is 89."

At last I have an ailment with dignity. Previously, the majority of my medical appointments were with the gynecologist, the urologist or the proctologist. But I now have carpal tunnel syndrome, a sure symbol I am a participating member of 21st century society.  Confidentially, I feel my wrist problem may come from more than fifty years of knitting, added to recent computer use, but knitting has the connotation of senility and rocking chairs, so I choose to publicly attribute it to the computer.  For those of you who are not cyberspace literate, let me explain how one gets carpal tunnel syndrome.  Before acquiring any other computer related equipment, one needs a mouse pad.  You could cut one (8"x9") out of the foam rubber mat in front of your door, but no, you must purchase one with graphics which indicate who you are. Mine has a photo of charming baby tigers, which is more prestigious than a commercial for Pepto Bismol. Your "mouse" is going to sit on this mouse pad. Most of you have spent a lifetime getting rid of any mouse in the house, but let me assure you that this mouse will not nibble or leave calling cards. Said mouse resembles a plastic model of a Volkswagen bus. You will cup it in your hand to push it around on the mouse pad. Now, you are ready for a computer, which has a screen resembling a TV screen.  The mouse controls the cursor. (You also may be a curser while you are learning all this.) The cursor is an elusive, far too small arrow. Its movement on the TV screen is controlled by pressing your finger on the windshield of the Volkswagen....pardon me, I mean the mouse. All further computer use depends on that finger, and by overworking that finger, you get carpal tunnel syndrome. I'm open to any other medical questions you have, especially regarding gynecology, urology or proctology.

And, speaking of Volkswagens, long ago Beth and Mitch lived in Sacramento across the street from a Volkswagen repair shop. It was a fortunate location because their transportation depended on an aging green Volkswagen bus which, for good reason, was familiar to the shop owner.  The bus was regularly parked on the street.  The owner of another green Volkswagen bus made arrangements for extensive repairs to his vehicle and was to leave it parked on the street on his way to work, dropping the key in the lockbox provided for such occasions.  The shop mechanics picked up the key, spotted a green Volkswagen bus, the key fit, and soon the vehicle was dismantled in the shop.  However, they discovered its owner seemed to have reported a problem that didn't exist. The puzzled mechanics called in the shop owner to ask for advise and he immediately recognized Beth and Mitch's innocent bystander, now in pieces.  B&M hadn't missed their relic and were unaware until the shop owner phoned, "Ahem...we have your bus over here, but we'll have it back together in no time."

There is a publication listing all the upcoming craft shows in the state and evaluations by artists who have participated in other years. One show caught Beth's eye. It is listed as "clothing optional."  The artist who evaluated it from the last year's experience stated he didn't make much money, but it had been a lot of fun.  I haven't heard whether Beth has sent in an application.  Maybe I could go along as her assistant. My appearance would create major sabotage on the whole concept. I wonder what does happen to aging nudists. I would guess they'd convert to clothing for warmth as well as esthetic reasons.

My tenant, in the little commercial building out front, recently repaired a crumbling pipe and replaced a no longer repairable toilet. When he brought me the bill for materials he'd bought, he had deducted the extra $15 he had paid for an oak toilet seat rather than plastic, explaining the plastic was too cold.  I insisted on paying for the "luxury" item, so as he was leaving, with a wicked grin he said, "Thanks, and every time I look at that oak toilet seat I'll think of you."

I've never been nervous about being here alone on our acre and not being within hollerin' distance of a neighbor. The last few years I wear a Lifeline button so I can summon help if I really get in trouble. The other night, my composure was momentarily shaken. Our back bathroom has a small window next to the only seating accommodation in the room.  Outside the window is an evaporative cooler, no longer used, as we now have an automatic heating-cooling system.  There was a wooden "tunnel" which funneled the cold air in between the old cooler and the window.  The other night, near midnight, I was seated in the bathroom within the dim glow furnished by a night light.  Suddenly, there was a spectacular crash outside the window....less than a foot away from me. This was followed by a great deal of scrabbling and shuffling.  After the first shock, I realized some outdoor creature had jumped up onto the old wooden tunnel and it had collapsed. However, I was in the right place at the right time if I was going to be spectacularly scared.

I'd mentioned my friend, Steve, who is a freight conductor and occasionally has the "run" past our house.  He had tried twice to salute me with "Shave and a haircut, six bits" via train whistle, but one time blew it too soon and the next, too late.  This week he definitely succeeded.  I first heard the agreed rhythm a half mile north.  On the third repeat, the train was passing my property.  The greeting continued all the way through town.....at 6:00 A. M.  Maybe I'd be wise not to admit I know the whistle-blower.

For Mothers' Day, Ed and Beth took me to breakfast at Home Town Buffet.  (I first typed "Home Depot." Now, that would be an interesting menu, especially for a person who is already guaranteeing her dentist's early retirement) A buffet involves decisions and, hopefully, restraint. I had a problem with both.  I re-discovered corned beef hash with an egg on top....hadn't encountered that for years.  The next morning, Beth slapped the usual "on your way to work" breakfast on the table, and Ed greeted it with, "Is that all there is?"

This is the month of Fathers' Day.  I couldn't have asked for a better father than mine.  He was a "hands on" father back in the days when it wasn't that common.  At age six months, he took me, via train, to Sacramento for the day...feeding me ice cream when I missed Mama.  In turn, I gave Beth a totally dependable and loving father. We were both so fortunate.

HAPPY FATHERS' DAY!

            Love,    Darlys
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Four high school boys had fishing fever and skipped morning class. After lunch they reported to the teacher they'd had a flat tire. Much to their relief, she smiled and said, "Well, you missed a test this morning, so take seats apart from one another and take out a sheet of paper." Still smiling, she waited for them to get settled. Then, "First question: Which tire was it?"

Several men were in the locker room of a golf club. When a cell phone on a bench rang, a man picked it up, activating the speaker, making his conversation heard by all.  "Hello."  A woman's voice said, "Honey, it's me. Are you at the club?"  (Man) "Yes."  (Woman) "I'm at the mall and found a beautiful leather coat. It's $1000.  Can I buy it?"  Man's voice: "O.K. Go ahead if you like it that much." (Woman again)"I also stopped by the Mercedes dealership and saw the 2003 models. I saw one I really liked." (Man) "How much?" (Woman) "$60,000."  (Man) "For that price I want it with all the options." (Woman...on a roll)"  "Great! One more thing: the house we wanted last year is back on the market. They're only asking $450,000." (Man) "Well, then, go ahead and buy it, but just offer $420,000.  (Woman) "O.K. I'll see you later. Love you!" (Man) "Bye. I love you, too."
The man hung up. The others were looking at him in astonishment. Then he asked: "Anyone know who this phone belongs to?"

An older Jewish man was on the operating table being prepped for surgery and he had insisted his son, a renowned surgeon, do the operation. As he was about to be anesthetized he asked to speak to his son. "Yes, Dad, what is it?"  "Don't be nervous, son; do your best and just remember, if it doesn't go well...if something happens to me...your mother will be coming to live with you and your wife."

On a flight from Seattle to San Francisco, the plane stopped unexpectedly in Sacramento. The flight attendant explained there would be a delay and if the passengers wanted to leave the plane they should re-board in 30 min. Everybody left the plane except one gentleman who was blind. I had noticed him as he walked by with his Seeing Eye dog who, during the flight, lay quietly beneath the seats in front of his master. I could also tell the man had flown this flight before because the pilot approached him, and calling him by name said, "Keith, we'll be in Sacramento for almost an hour. Would you like to get off and stretch your legs?"  Keith replied, "No thanks, but my dog would probably appreciate a walk." Imagine the reaction of the people waiting at the boarding gate to see the pilot, wearing dark glasses, emerge from the plane behind a Seeing Eye dog.  Some not only tried to change planes, they tried to change airlines.

   Robert and Martha, both widowed and in their later years, lived in a Florida mobile home park. They had known each other for a very long time. Now, as they sat across from each other in the activity center, he gave her a few admiring glances and finally gathered his courage to ask, "Martha, will you marry me?"
   After about six seconds of consideration, she answered, "Yes. Yes, I will." The meal ended and with a few more pleasant exchanges, they went to their respective homes. The next morning, Robert was troubled. Did Martha say "yes" or did she say "no"? Try as he would, he just couldn't recall...not even a faint memory. With trepidation he went to the phone and called her. First, he explained to her that he didn't remember things as well as he used to. Then he reviewed the lovely evening they'd had. As he gained a little more courage, he inquired of her, "When I asked you to marry me, did you say 'yes' or did you say 'no'? He was delighted to hear her say, "Why, I said 'Yes. Yes, I will,' and I meant it with all my heart." Then she continued, "but I'm so glad you called. because I couldn't remember who had asked me."

2003 2nd Wind Issue Index


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