Opinion: Thanks for the funneries


During 2018, I had my share of experiences — both good and bad — that led to this year’s 50-plus columns. Some thanks are in order:

Thanks to my surgeon, who taught me how to do Kegels. Good manners prevent me from explaining exactly what this involves (guys, ask your wives), but Mary Ellen called me the King of Kegels because I exceeded the required number of repetitions each day. “I do feel like The King,” I said as I headed off to work, “and right now my Pelvis is leaving the building.”

Thanks to my own spaciness that resulted in a hurried trip one morning to pick up my medication at CVS. I had planned to go next door afterward for a cup of coffee. I pulled up to the window and presented my prescription. “I’m sorry, Sir,” the lady at the drive-thru said, “we don’t have Lipitor. This is Dunkin Donuts.”

Thanks to Mary Ellen for pointing out to me that the flies I kept swatting at were actually an eye disorder called floaters. One website recommended a dietary fix — the consumption of large amounts of citrus fruit like lemons, limes and oranges. I tried that for almost two weeks. The bad news is: It didn’t get rid of my floaters. The good news is: I had no signs of scurvy.

Thanks to our real estate broker, Brad, who made a few suggestions on how to improve the appeal of the home we were selling after 30 years. He gazed out the bay window toward the wooded area and noticed a family of deer grazing.  Brad snapped a picture, knowing this would be a great selling point for wildlife lovers. Mary Ellen grinned as Brad commented about the idyllic scene. Could my wife possibly have arranged that? I knew she was good, but who knew she was that good?

Thanks to the people at Amazon for making a gizmo called Echo. You can ask it important questions like: What time is it? How many days are there in January? Who won the popular vote in 2016 (I just like to hear the answer)? To interact with the gadget, you must address it by her exact name: “Alexa, will it rain today?” A few times, by mistake, I called her Alexi.  She paid no attention to me and ignored all my questions. Like when I talk to Mary Ellen … and call her Shirley.

Thanks to the high-tech washer/dryer combo we bought for our new house. There were more buttons on it than in a 747 cockpit. The dryer has an option called super-hot, which I told my wife was a setting especially for her. If we had been in a fancy restaurant having a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, that might have led to romance. But we were standing in a laundry room, knee-deep in my dirty Fruit of the Looms.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good laugh!

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