"I'm not Dumb. I'm Just Tired"

For a moment my Grandma Coleen emerged from the murky abyss of Alzheimer's, looked at Paco, and carefully punched out those words.  And then she was gone again.  Maybe senility is just a well-deserved vacation from all those years of putting up with so much crap.  Paco, or Wiggles, Spot, Chucky or whatever the residents choose to call him, is a favorite guest at Sunrise Gardens.  And a very good listener.

The Drinking Game

During tonight's State of the Union Address drinking should be enforced with which words or phrases?

oil, terror and any derivative thereof, health insurance, renewable energy, conservation, tax, taxes

Supposedly he'll be talking down Iraq yet pushing energy conservation and his new health care plan so that should get you plenty drunk.  Any others?

New Expert Level!  Swill with every applause, any "um"or "er" and all staccato sentences without pronouns.

Brought to you by Pabst Blue Ribbon. Helping around 70% of America get through the past six years.

Graduate Student Hilarity

Fun Quotable Quotes with My Wife, Sarah!

Last night we were whirling around the house getting ready for a ritzy little party.  I was thrilled to have--on my own--assemble shoes, pants, shirt and blazer.   I stormed the bathroom where my wife was teasing death with a curling iron and a cloud of flammable hair products.  I was full of hope that my ensemble  would convince my love to let me leave the house.  There have been times when she's turned me away at the door, the outside world's dress code to stringent for my wardrobe. 

I asked  what she thought.  

Pause.  And then a noise.  "Aaaaaaa," as she searched for friendly fire.

Ready, aim..."Well, I guess there won't be any bright lights there..."  blam.

She was right.  The room was so dimly lit that she didn't even notice me using her drink tickets. 

Why am I a Dumbass? (explicit)

It was a cold and stormy night. Sarah was watching television and I was sitting right next to her in a different world brought to me by my laptop's wifi card. Feeling generous we'd set the thermostat to 63. Paco cuddled betwixt us, lying on top of and, therefore, straining each our portion of a shared blanket . This might sound over-the-top but I think we were even drinking hot tea. It was a perfect evening.

The weird thing about me is that even though I often sense my immediate actions will harken the self-flagellating regret of someone who in mere moments goes from pleasantly normal to a shimmering Dumbass, I still carry out the aforementioned stigmatizing deeds. My skill for Dumbassery is very nearly manifest divination. The very fingers of the Lord gifted humanity with an unintentional jester. While others can sense and avert sliding towards disaster, I relish exposing their hesitation, or as translated to me, weakness, and sprint in the opposite direction of their retreat, leap on a toboggan and go screaming right into the jaws of a typically very exciting defeat. Or as many of my friends and the staff of Durango's Mercy Medical Center could attest, a bicycle might be a better metaphorical transportation device.

But the other night it was snowing when a distressed friend gave me a call. His wife wasn't doing well and he needed some help. I was on my way. At this point I still had no idea I was about to be a dumbass.

Sarah bade me farewell.  I could see in her eyes the confidence of a woman who's chosen the right man. A man who swoops into help those in need. A man who leaves the house so she can enjoy Gray's Anatomy.

Following the instructions of the husband of the ailing woman I let myself into their home. Once in the door I was beckoned to come to the back bedroom where upon arriving was greeted by the beckoner who appeared to be doting on a pile of tissues, spent juice boxes and a three-feet thickness of afghans and comforters. The mound mumbled.

"She really doesn't want you here," translated the husband.

"Well why am I here?" I inquired.

I was touched by his response.

"I'm tired. I needed some moral support."

I was more than thrilled that I wasn't going to have to squeeze a vein or hold hair. Walking into the room and around the bed I joined the concerned spouse. His wife's face was half buried in the pillow. Her one visible eye looked up at me and then at her husband. I never knew they were, or at least that one, so blue. In her one scanning orb I saw frustration, disappointment and, as her husband explained, "she's embarrassed." I told him if there wasn't anything I could do and I were making her feel uncomfortable then I should go. He asked me just to hang out because he needed company.

And I hung out and gathered the weight that comes with awkward uselessness. I tried to break down the tension with some friendly chatter but the husband was busy staring and gently petting and it just isn't nice to make a really sick person engage in conversation. The silence displaced the air in the room. My enemy. Is Silence.

If there ever was a thing that sent reason retreating under a rising Dumbass, it's the void without noise, the vacuum that inhales away the words, and leaves me struggling for something to fill the space. This particular evening I backed into the corner of another couple's master bedroom and felt like a creepy guy who'd finally attained the power to be invisible. But I was plainly seen and even more obviously intruding. I was going to have to do something to justify my presence. I would do this by employing my great oratory skills and blend them with my extraordinary sympathetic sensitivity.

My wife has told me that I shouldn't assume I understand so much of what others are thinking and feeling. She, however, was basking in the glow of her favorite show and wouldn't be able to remind me of this wisdom until I'd slunk my way home.

2

That was the temperature when I got out of bed yesterday.  A thick sheet of ice had formed on the inside of the windows.  Cold.  But it was nice not being able to see it snow again.

 

The Boiler Room

Mark asked if I smelled something "burnie".   I did.  I went to find building management.  I figured I'd have to go upstairs to find them.  Y2K having passed without incident, most professionals continue to set up shop above ground.  Two flights and an elevator later I found Judi who told me Mary was out but would get Susan.  Judi wanted to know what she could relay to Susan.  This is where I had a hard time minimizing any panic while still relaying that something in their building was burning.  I went with Mark's low impact and more child-friendly emergency lingo.  "We're down in the basement and we think we smell something burnie."  As I spoke I imagined an old, stinky person named Bernie.  Puzzled, Judi asked if it was something I smelled "burning," and I thought I'd whip out some wordplay and joked "no, it's not so bad that it's a full-fledged verb."  Judi relayed what she could and within moments I was surrounded by property management professionals either ready to save some lives or, in recognizing Judi's tone of voice, knew there was freak up front that everyone should see.   I whittled the team to two, Susan and Roger, and we descended to the realm of dot com start-ups.  

In short order we were standing under a ceiling vent that was responsible for the burnie.  And Roger, a champion of comforting the masses, casually explained to Mark and myself that it was just natural gas.  Susan wholeheartedly agreed.  That's all.  Methane seeping into our working quarters.  We should be fine.  With that solved we started the long goodbye that accompanies groups of individuals all making sure each other person understands what each other is saying.  After an over-explanation of the heating system and how little control anyone had over it (the furnace is like rogue appliance, the HAL of commercial real estate) Roger and Susan left all their numbers and co-workers numbers.   I was waiting for them to give us a frozen pizza, a movie rental and a bedtime.  And then our building surrogates were gone. 

I'm wondering if it's all in the intonation.  Had Roger exclaimed "crap, it's natural gas" and crashed through the window, then I'd be more concerned.  But he was so calm and confident.  It was like he'd just pointed out the color of my shoes.  So we're all good.  Or just getting very, very sleepy.