Professional Back-Scratcher.

JoeI just finished my commute from Seattle to Portland via train to arrive at Joe and Dot’s house, where I was greeted with two great big smiles.

After we all chatted for a bit, I asked Joe if he needed anything.

Joe:  “Like what?”

Me:  “Like a glass of water or a snack?”

Joe:  “Nah, I think I’m alright.  There is one thing though…”

Me:  “Yeah? What’s that?”

Joe:  “Well see, I’ve got an itch on my back here…”

Me:  “Uh-oh…sounds like you need a back scratchin’.”

Joe:  “Yeah, I was thinking that you looked like someone who could do a pretty good job at that.”

Me:  “I do huh?”

Joe grinned:   “Yep.”

Me:  “Okay, turn around and I’ll scratch your back for ya.”

Joe:  “Now that’s what I call good service!”

Guardian Angel.

JoePoor Joe just looks terrible today.  He had a bad fall last night that put him in the ER for stitches on the bridge of his nose, and the right side of his face is very swollen and bruised (see previous post).

When I woke him up for his bed bath this morning, I was curious to see if he had any memory of his fall so I said, “Whoa Joe, what happened to your face?”

Joe looked really serious:  “Some idiot ran a stop sign!”

Me:  “That’s terrible!  So…you were in a car accident?”

Joe:  “Yes I was, but I wasn’t driving.  The dumbass who was driving MY car just about got us killed!  I sure as hell won’t be riding with THAT GUY ever again!”

Me:  “I don’t blame you!  That sounds pretty rough.”

Joe got teared up:  “But thank God the kids are okay…”

Me:  “Oh yeah, the kids are just fine.  You did a good job making sure that they had their seat belts on.  You’re a good Dad, Joe.”

Joe’s bottom lip trembled:  “I’m so happy about that.  We were very lucky.”

I patted him on the shoulder:  “Yes you were very lucky.  Everyone is going to be okay, Joe.  Your face is bruised up pretty good, but soon enough you’ll be good as new.  You must have had an angel looking after you huh?”

Joe grinned:  “Yes I did.  I really did!”

The Mack Truck.

Lois the FinThis afternoon, Lois woke herself up from her nap with the most gigantic fart I’ve ever heard.This is what happened next:Lois: “Who is making all of the racket in there!”

Me: “Everything’s okay Lois, you can go back to sleep.”

Lois: “How the HELL do you expect me to go back to sleep when you’re making so much racket that it sounds like someone’s driving a Mack Truck through my living room?!”

Me: “Lois, do you want to know the truth about what woke you up?”

Lois: “Of course I want to know the truth and I demand an apology as well!”

Me: “Okay then, but you’re not going to like it…”

Lois: “Just tell me for heaven’s sake!”

Me: “You passed gas while you were sleeping and woke yourself up.”

Lois: “You mean…I’m the one who was making all the racket?!”

Me: “Yes it was you.”

Lois thought about it for a second and laughed: “Boy, that was a doozy!”

Me: “It was pretty impressive all right.”

Lois: “I guess I’m the one who owes you an apology!”

Me: “Oh it’s okay Lois, I’ve heard worse. I have brothers.”


JoeI got Joe all tucked into bed the other night and he started snoring almost instantly.  Five minutes later, Dot and I were watching TV in the living room and we heard a giant THUD!  

Joe had climbed out of bed (over his bed-rail) and hobbled into the bathroom where he did a complete face-plant on the linoleum floor.  When I found him he was unconscious and non-responsive, so I asked Dot to call 911 while I checked to make sure that he was still alive.

While I was checking for a heartbeat, Joe came to and started laughing.

Joe:  “What the HELL am I doing on the floor?!”

Me:  “Dot, tell the operator that he’s talking!”

Joe:  “Who’s talking?”

Me:  “You are.”

Joe:  “I am?!”

I got up and grabbed the phone from Dot so that I could tell the 911 dispatcher what was going on.  She told me that paramedics were on their way and that I shouldn’t let Joe move.  

I hung up the phone and went back into the bathroom with Joe.  He was already trying to get up.

Me:  “Joe, don’t move okay?  Just stay right where you are.”

Joe:  “Well okay, but I’m on the floor.  How the HELL did I end up on the floor?”

Dot:  “You fell down Joe, and the ambulance is on its way now.”

Joe:  “Who fell down?”

Dot:  “You did!”

Joe laughed:  “Oh I never fell down.”

Dot:  “Then why are you on the floor?”

Joe:  “Because it looked comfortable!”

Joe tried to move again.

Me:  “Joe, just stay where you are okay?  The paramedics will be here any minute…”

Joe:  “Paramedics?  Why are they coming here?”

Me:  “They just need to check you over to make sure that you’re healthy.”

Joe:  “Oh I’m healthy.  I eat all of my vegetables, don’t I Dot?”

Dot:  “Not that kind of healthy.  They need to check your bones.”

Joe:  “My BONES?  What the hell do my bones have to do with anything?”

By then the paramedics had arrived on the scene.  They all know Joe because Joe used to be a volunteer fireman.  I spoke to the man in charge to explain what had happened, and the other guys went right to work.

Fireman:  “Hi there Joe!”

Joe turned his head so that he could see the man kneeling at his side.

Joe:  “Hello.”

Fireman:  “What seems to be the trouble?”

Joe:  “Nothin.”

Fireman:  “Well it looks like you had a pretty bad fall, and you’re banged up pretty bad.”

Joe:  “Is that right?”

Fireman:  “Yep.  We’re going to get you loaded up and head on over to the hospital okay?”

Joe:  “I guess that’s alright.  Are we going in the fire truck?”

Fireman:  “We’re going to load you up in the ambulance actually.”

Joe:  “Oh yeah, okay.  Well if you need any help just let me know.  I can help you load up the hay barrels.”

Fireman:  “Okay Joe, we’ll let you know if we need a hand.”

Dot stayed at the house while Mike (Joe and Dot’s son) and I followed behind the ambulance.  Thankfully it was a slow night at the ER so Joe was seen by a doctor right away.

Doc:  “Hi there, Joe.  How are you feeling tonight?”

Joe:  “Not too bad.”

Doc:  “I’m going to check you over okay?”

Joe:  “I guess that’s alright.”

The doctor started at the back of Joe’s neck and worked his way down the spine, asking Joe at various times if he felt any pain.

Doc:  “Does it hurt here?”

Joe:  “Nope.”

Doc:  “How about here?”

Joe:  “Here what?”

Doc:  “Does it hurt when I touch your back here?”

Joe:  “Oh.  Nope.”

Doc:  “Does it hurt here?”

Joe:  “Boy, you sure do ask a lot of questions.”

The doctor smiled:  “I’m just trying to figure out if you have any injuries.”

Mike (Joe’s son):  “Dad, you had a bad fall tonight.  The doctor just wants to make sure that you’re okay.”

Joe:  “Well…I guess that’s alright.”

Doc:  “It actually seems like you’re doing pretty well Joe.  Do you have any pain anywhere?”

Joe:  “Well, now that you mention it, my knee is a little sore…”

Doc:  “I will have the nurse take you back for an X-ray.  Anything else?”

Joe:  “My ass feels kind of funny.”

Doc:  “Do you mind if I take a look?”

Joe:  “Well you can take a look if you want, but it’s not going to be a pretty picture.”

The doctor laughed:  “I think I can handle it.”

Joe:  “I will tell you what you’ll find if you look back there.”

Doc:  “What will I find?”

Joe:  “A pile of shit.”

Mike:  “Dad!”

Joe:  “Well?  He asked!”

Doc:  “I will have the nurse get you cleaned up.”

The doctor wrote down a few notes, smiled at all of us and left the room.

Joe:  “Boy, we sure had to go through a lot of trouble to get some clean pants!”

Joe was discharged from the hospital with a minor knee sprain, a few bumps and bruises, and a clean pair of pants.  While we were driving back to the house Mike patted Joe on the leg and said:  “I’m just so glad that you’re ok, Dad.  

Joe:  “Of course I’m okay, why wouldn’t I be?”

Mike:  “You had a pretty bad fall tonight, Dad.”

Joe laughed:  “Not me.  I never fell.”

Mike looked at me in the rear-view mirror and shook his head:  “You’re a pretty tough old bird, you know that?”

Joe smiled:  “Damned right!  

A few minutes later he looked back at me:  “Now, what’s for supper?”

It was 1AM.

Let’s Make a Deal.

I was having a challenging time getting Joe to go to bed tonight.  He was determined that he wanted to get in his truck and “go home”.

Me:  “Hey Joe, how about we make a deal?”

Joe:  “Well that depends…”

Me:  “On what?”

Joe:  “It depends on the conditions.”

I laughed:  “Okay, here’s what I’m thinking.  If you will let me help you get tucked into bed, then I will give you a bowl of ice cream.”

Joe’s eyes lit up and he grinned from ear to ear.

Me:  “How does that sound?”

Joe:  “I think that sounds pretty good.”

Me:  “Okay, great!  Let’s get you out of your chair and into your bed then, huh?”

Joe:  “Why would I go and do a thing like that?”

Me:  “Well you want your ice cream don’t you?”

Joe:  “Yeah…”

Me:  “Well, you have to get into bed first.”

Joe:  “Well shit, if I had known that that was part of the deal I never would have agreed to it!”

Me:  “Okay, well what do you think would be a fair deal?”

Joe thought for a minute:  “How about you go and make me a bowl of ice cream…”

Me:  “Okay, and what will I get from you in return?”

Joe chuckled:  “I’ll give you a ride home in my truck!”

Pedal to the Metal.

Joe was having a moment of clarity this afternoon, so I asked him if he would tell me how he and Dot first met.  Dot was sitting next to him on the couch.

Joe:  “We went to school together, didn’t we?”

Dot:  “No, we met at a dance.”

Joe:  “At the school?”

Dot:  “Well yeah, but at my school.  The boys from your school came to our dance.  I went to an all girl’s school.”

Joe laughed:  “Oh yeah, now I remember.  There were so many girls there!”

Dot:  “And out of all of those girls, you decided to ask me to dance.”

Joe:  “Well, either that or you’re the only girl who said ‘yes’.”

Dot:  “No, no.  You only asked me.  I know cuz I was watching.”

Joe:  “You were watching me?  What were you watching me for?”

Dot:  “Because I thought you were kinda cute…”

Joe burst out laughing.

Me:  “I think you just made Joe a little shy.”

Joe:  “Not me!  I’m not shy.”

Dot:  “Oh and tell Whitney about when we had our first date.”

Joe:  “Which one?”

Dot:  “There’s only one, FIRST date, Joe.”

Joe:  “Oh yeah, I guess you’re right.  I must’ve lost count.”

Dot:  “Well my sister brought her date along so that we could have a double date, because that’s the only way that my parents would let us go out with boys.  My sister and her date drove behind us, and Joe let me drive his car…”

Joe:  “I remember that!  That was a bad idea letting you drive, Dot.”

Dot:  “It wasn’t my fault that the gas pedal got stuck!”

Me:  “Wait…What happened?”

Dot:  “Well I was driving pretty fast, because I must’ve been trying to show off or something, and the next thing I knew, the gas pedal was stuck!  And I couldn’t get the car to stop!”

Joe laughed:  “Yup, I remember that.”

Me:  “So what did you do?”

Dot:  “Well, my sister and her date were driving behind us, and they said that they could see sparks coming out from under the car and everything!  I didn’t know what to do.  But lucky for me, Joe was there.”  She reached over and patted his leg then.

Joe:  “Yeah, lucky for you.  Not so lucky for me!  You darn near crashed my car!”

Dot:  “We didn’t crash.  You told me to turn the engine off and just focus on keeping the car on the road.  Eventually the car slowed down.  And do you remember the best part of the story, Joe?”

Joe looked confused:  “Better than you almost wrecking my car…?”

Dot:  “Do you remember where the car finally came to a stop?”

Joe:  “On the side of the road somewhere I guess…”

Dot:  “It stopped RIGHT in front of Mildred Johnson’s house.”

Joe:  “Who’s Mildred Johnson?”

Dot:  “Your ex-girlfriend.”

Joe laughed:  “Oh yeah…I thought that name sounded familiar.”

Dot:  “You’re not fooling me.  I know that you remember who she is.”

Joe looked all starry-eyed:  “Yeah, I remember Mildred…”

Dot cracked up:  “Yeah, I just bet you do.”

Joe:  “But I remember you best of all, Dot.”

Dot:  “Yeah, you’d better say that.”

Joe looked at me and winked.

The Car Wash.

My new favorite thing is going through the car wash with Joe.

Joe:  “What the hell is this fandangled contraption all about?!”

Me:  “It’s a car washing machine.”

Dorothy sits in the backseat when we go through the noisy car wash, and since she can only hear out of one ear, she is completely oblivious to Joe’s running commentary.

Joe:  “Why the hell did someone make a machine to wash cars?!  Is there something wrong with a bucket of soapy water, a hose, and a wash rag?”

Me:  “Well this is just faster.  And easier.”

Joe:  “Oh hell, it doesn’t seem any faster and easier if you ask me!”

I rolled the window down to hand over 5 bucks to the guy running the car wash.

Joe:  “What’d you give that guy money for?”

Me:  “To pay him for the car wash.”

Joe:  “What the hell?!  You gotta pay to go through this goddamned thing?”

I didn’t respond, and instead just focused on rolling up the window, lining up the tires onto the tracks, and putting the car in neutral so that we could get started.

When Joe noticed that I had taken my hand off of the steering wheel but the car was still moving, he reached his arms all over the place trying to find something to hold onto for safety.  He finally settled on having both hands clutching his seat belt strap.

Me:  “It’s okay Joe, just relax.  We’re letting the machine do the work.”

By that time, we had gone through the first part of the wash, where it sprays the car down with water and then covers it in soap.  As soon as Joe saw the ropey looking things that start scrubbing down the car; that’s when the running commentary began.

Joe’s eyes were huge:  “Oh. My. God. We are getting closer to that…THING!  IT’S PULLING US IN!”

Me:  “It’s okay, it’s just material that is going to get the car all clean.”

Joe:  “The hell it is!!  That’s going to rub the paint right off of my car!”

Me:  “No, it’s really gentle.  It won’t rub off the paint.”

Joe looked at me:  “You show me two cars.  Put them side by side; one that goes through this fandangled mess, and one that just gets washed by hand, and I will show you how much worse off that car is than the other.”

Me:  “Okay, I’ll do that.”

Joe:  “Oh my lord, just look at that.  We’re sitting in here and just letting this thing ruin my car.  Whoever built this thing should be shot.”

Me:  “That’s kind of harsh, don’t you think?”

Joe:  “It’s not harsh enough, in my opinion.”

Me:  “Okay, look Joe, we’re almost finished.  We’re going through the dryer now.”

Joe:  “What do you mean ‘dryer’?  My car can’t stand too much heat.  It could melt!”

Me:  “It’s not that hot.”

Joe:  “Do you want to go out there and stand in it?”

Me:  “Well, no…”

Joe folded his arms:  “Well okay then.”

When we finally got through the machine and all of the wheels were on dry land, I looked to see Joe completely craning his neck to look back at the car wash.

Me:  “We’re all finished now, Joe.”

Joe:  “Do we have to get out and walk back through it now?”

I laughed:  “Walk through the car wash?”

Joe:  “Yeah, let’s get out so we can walk through it now.”

Me:  “No, Joe.  We’re not going to get out and walk through it.”

Joe:  “But, how else am I going to take a shower?”

Dot:  “What is he talking about up there?”

Me:  “Joe’s asking if he can get out and walk through the carwash to take a shower.”

Dot laughed:  “Sure, go ahead!”

Joe reached for the door handle.  I stopped him by saying, “You already had your shower today, Joe.”

Joe:  “I did?”

Me:  “Yep.  You did.”

Joe:  “Okay then, if you say so.  We’d better get the hell out of here now, before that thing chases us down and swallows us!”

Dot:  “What’s he saying?”

Me:  “He’s worried that the carwash is going to swallow us.”

Dot shook her head and smiled:  “What an adventure, huh Joe?”

Joe:  “Something like that.  We’re all alive anyhow.”

Me:  “Yep, we’re all alive.”

Joe:  “Remind me never to go through one of those goddamned things ever again.”

Me:  “Okay, I will.”



The Old Turkey Shed.

When I arrived at work the other day, Joe’s brother, Bart, was at the house.  He wanted to take Joe over to their farm to check out the Old Turkey Shed.  Dot was helping Joe put on his jacket, and getting him ready to head out the door with Bart (who is ninety years old and should NOT be driving).  I suggested, “Hey, why don’t I go with you guys?”  Bart grinned at me and said, “Sure, you’re welcome to come along.”  I offered to drive, but Bart told me that he’d better drive because, as he reminded me,  “My truck is a stick shift”.  (Apparently women weren’t trained to drive stick shifts back in the day, because this isn’t the first time I’ve heard reference to the inherent belief that a woman is incapable of driving a stick shift.)  Dot insisted that I take my jacket as well (thank god, since the weather report said it was going to be in the mid eighties) so I took it along to humor her.  I said a short prayer as I wedged myself into the back seat of Bart’s pickup.  Bart took the driver’s seat, Joe rode shotgun, and we headed out to the farm at around 10am.

As we made our way up the gravel driveway with a flurry of dust at our backs, I noticed Bart pointing out the Old Turkey Shed to Joe, and it did not take me long to figure out that in order to get to the shed, we were going to have to climb under a hot-wire fence.  And sure enough…

Bart said, “I’m not sure if this wire is hot or not.  Here, let me check..”  That said, he simply put out his hand and grabbed hold of it.  I cringed, waiting to see smoke shoot out of his ears, but with a grin he announced, “Nope.  It’s not hot.  I’ll hold it up here so that you guys can crawl under it.”  Before I could even register what was happening, Joe took off like a rocket and said, “I’ll go first so that I can help you step through here…”  He put his right foot over the lower wire and began to crawl between the two wires.  I thought to myself, “Wow, Joe is more agile than I thought” but of course I came to that conclusion much too soon.  His left foot seemed to have forgotten that it needed to step over the bottom wire and instead he put his shoe in the precise location to best trip himself.  Thank goodness that Joe is an extremely strong man, because he pretty much did a face plant and did not end up with a single bruise to prove it.  Unfortunately, he landed directly in a cow-pie.

Lucky for Joe (and myself, since I who would be the one to clean him up) that it was not a steaming hot, fresh puddle of dung.  It was instead an old, dried up, crusty pile of manure, but by scientific standards (and by the vast knowledge of cow feces that I gained during my childhood in Sedro-Woolley, WA:  Home of the Logger-Rodeo) it would definitely still be considered a cow-pie.  That being said, Joe hollered out as he was falling, “What the HELL?!” and then when he started to try to get back on his feet, he looked at the ground and then looked at his hands and said, “Well SHIT…”  Then he took one more look at the ground just to be sure and added, “I just FELL in SHIT!”  He looked up at me and said in exasperation, “I’m pretty sure I am completely covered in shit.”  I tried not to laugh as I helped him up.  I said, “Oh Joe, it’s no big deal.  It’s all dried up.  Look here,” I demonstrated as I began to dust the cow shit off of his pant legs, “it just comes right off.”

I know that you must be thinking that this must be the punchline of the story, but oh no, I assure you there is more…

As I was helping Joe dust off his pants, while also trying to ensure that Bart didn’t do a cartwheel right behind us in the process, I had this strange sensation that something very terrible was about to happen.  That is when I looked up just in time to see that not one, but two, incredibly large and furious looking animals were heading right towards us.  Being the brave and steadfast care provider that I am, always ensuring the safety of my clients, I quickly ran and hid behind Joe and yelled, “THEY’RE COMING RIGHT AT US!”

Joe and Bart looked at the creatures and time stood still momentarily as they tried to come up with the best course of action.  By best course of action, I mean that they took their hats off and scratched their heads.  At the last second, when I was almost five hundred percent positive that we were all going to die that day, Joe waved his bright green trucker hat in the air and shouted, “GET OUT OF HERE YOU STUPID SONS OF BITCHES!”

And just like that, the beasts stopped in their tracks.  It was not good enough to Joe that the monsters merely put the brakes on, so he began to run toward them flailing his John Deere cap in their faces yelling, “GO ON – GET!  You STUPID. Sons of… BITCHES!!!”  Bart just stood there shaking his head and cracking up and he said, “This reminds me of when we were kids…”

Once Joe felt that the enormous cattle-type-creatures were far enough away, he put his cap back on and turned and gave us a giant smile.  I shouted, “WELL YOU SHOWED THEM WHO’S BOSS, DIDN’T YOU JOE?!”  He shouted back, “DAMN STRAIGHT!”

The monsters, as it turned out, were called Brahman Bulls, which are some freaky type of bull that weigh more than my car and have huge humps on their backs.

After all of the ruckus in merely getting out to The Old Turkey Shed, the actual visit to the shed was pretty uneventful.  Joe and Bart just wandered around the shed making comments and grunts about this and that.  Joe wanted to get up and drive the tractor in the shed, but was disappointed when he realized that he’d forgotten the key (the tractor was probably 100 years old, covered in cobwebs, and had only one tire with rubber on it – the other tire had been eaten away by rats and Father Time).  I told him that we’d be sure to bring the key next time and he felt much better about it.

Once we all managed to get back into Bart’s pickup I was finally starting to relax a little and able to see the humor in the events that had just taken place.  But that peace was short lived when Bart said, “Hey, what’dya guys think about going and taking a look at the tree that fell over down the road there…”  Joe shrugged his shoulders and said, “Sure, why not?”  I said, “Well Bart, I’m pretty sure that Dot may start to worry about us because we’ve been gone a long time…” Bart:  “It’ll just take a minute.  You guys don’t even have to put on your seat belts because it’s only a few blocks from here.”  At that, Bart put his truck into four wheel drive and started heading up the road before I could even respond.

Bart was correct about one thing:  It really wasn’t a long ways away.  He was also wrong about one thing:  We most definitely needed our seat belts on!!  Between the bumps in the road that nearly cracked my head on the ceiling, I managed to get Joe and I belted in.  At one point even Joe said, “I don’t know about this Bart.  This is an awfully bad road.  I think we oughta turn the car around.”

I am just going to take the time to clarify one thing:  If a man with fairly severe dementia and almost zero short term memory suggests that you turn your car around, you really should listen, ok?  Ok.

Bart reassured us:  “We’re almost there…it’s just a little further.”  By the time I realized that Bart was bouncing us down a muddy road toward the Columbia River, it was too late to even say my Hail Mary’s (plus I don’t know how to say them since I’m not even Catholic).  Joe saw the river at the same time and tried to find something to grab onto:  “GODDAMMIT BART!  YOU’RE GONNA PUT US ALL IN THE RIVER!”  Leave it to Joe to find exactly the right words to say.  He read my mind.  Bart just laughed and reassured us:  “Don’t worry, I drive down here all the time!”  Not exactly as reassuring as he had hoped, I’m sure.

With pride in his eyes, Bart took us to a screeching halt and announced:  “There it is.  The tree.”  Both Joe and I kept both hands on whatever we had chosen to cling to for safety and took a moment to take in the most exciting thing we’d ever seen:  A fallen tree.  Whoop-dee-do!

Joe said, “It’s a tree alright.”

Bart corrected him:  “It’s a fallen tree.”

I kept my voice as calm as possible as I interjected, “Do you know how you are going to turn your truck around and get us back out of here Bart?”  Bart chuckled at me like I’m such an amateur:  “I told you, I drive down here all the time.”  Even Joe appeared nervous, which wasn’t helping my nervous stomach, and for me – nervous stomach means diarrhea.  Oh great.

For the next twenty minutes, as I tried to figure out how I was going to save two ninety-something year old men, and myself once we were all sinking in the river belted into a Chevy, Bart would back up four millimeters, get out to assess the situation, get back in and move forward two millimeters, and so on and so forth, until…


Bart:  “It’s not a creek.  It’s a river.”


One of the rear tires actually began to spin in the mud at the top of the embankment before Bart managed to get his truck turned around and heading toward home.  I was pretty sure that my heart had become a permanent part of my throat by then, but with a sigh of relief I reached forward and patted Joe on the shoulder as a sort of “Congratulations!  We’re Alive!” kind of a gesture.  Joe responded by turning around to look at me and then asking his brother:  “Hey Bart,  who’s that girl in the back seat…?”


When we went into town today, Joe insisted that it was his turn to drive.

I said, “I’m pretty sure it’s my turn to drive today.”

Joe:  “Is that right?  Well, okay then, but just don’t be such a hot rod…”

Me:  “I promise, I’ll try not to.”

Joe was skeptical:  “I really think that I should drive…”

Dot:  “No Joe.  The last time you drove, you backed out of the driveway and went right into the ditch and we had to call James (their son) to come rescue us.”

Joe:  “Is that right?!  Well by god, I guess we’d better let this lady drive then!”

When we arrived at our destination, Joe kept trying to open his door at the same time that I was hitting the unlock button.  He was getting super frustrated about it.  I said, “Joe, just wait a second!”

He let go, but not enough for the button to unlock all the way.  He yanked on the door handle and hollered, “Goddammit!”

Dot:  “Joe!  Watch your language!  The Catholic church is just up the road!”

Joe:  “I don’t give a damn where the church is!  I just want to open my door!”

Me:  “Okay Joe, I want you to totally let go of the handle.”

He let go.

Me:  “Now I’m going to count to three.  When I say ‘three’ then you can open the door okay?”

Joe giggled:  “I guess it’s worth a try…”

Me:  “One, two….THREE!”

I unlocked the door, Joe pulled on the handle and amazingly enough, the door opened!

Joe was impressed:  “How the hell did you do that?”

Me:  “Magic.”

What Wedding?

I asked Joe and Dot if they had a nice time at their grandson’s wedding over the weekend.

Joe: “What wedding?”

Dot:  “Aaron’s wedding.  Remember we drove for three hours one way and the caregiver got car sick on the way home and threw up in a McDonald’s cup…?”

Joe cracked up, “Oh yeah, I remember the lady puking, but I don’t remember any wedding…”

Dot:  “Well, we went to our grandson’s wedding and you were there.  You had to have a BM in a Honey Bucket.”

Joe:  “I had a BM in WHERE?”

Dot:  “A Honey Bucket, you know, those portable toilets that construction workers use?”

Joe:  “I was doing construction…?”  Dot rolled her eyes and looked at me to help her out.

I said, “No, you weren’t doing construction, you just had to go to the bathroom in one of those outdoor toilets.”

Joe giggled:  “So, in other words, I was constructing a BM…?”

I laughed and replied, “Exactly!”

Joe looked over at Dot:  “Did your hair look like that?  At our grandson’s wedding…?”

Dot:  “Like what?”

Joe:  “Like it looks right now.  Like a poodle who licked a light socket!”

Dot felt her head:  “Oh yeah.  I got this damned perm and I HATE it!”

Joe:  “Well, what’d you get it for then?”

Dot:  “I didn’t mean to.  Toots just used tighter rollers than usual and then my head got all sweaty during the long drive and made my hair get all kinked up.”

Joe:  “I’ll say…you can’t even see any hair!”

Dot:  “Yes you can too see my hair.  Here, feel it!”

Joe felt it:  “Yep, it’s hair all right…but it looks more like yarn.”

Dot:  “Well it’s not yarn.  It’s hair.”

Joe:  “You could-a fooled me!”

I decided to try to change the conversation:  “Boy, the weather sure is nice today, isn’t it?”

Dot:  “Oh, the weather was just beautiful at Aaron’s wedding!”

George:  “What wedding…?”