Tuesday 06/12/12 -- Was watching the T.V. today and Dr. Phil proclaimed, "The way to achieve inner peace is to finish all the things you have started and have never finished."
So, I looked around my house to see all the things I started and hadn't finished, and last night I finished off a bottle of Merlot, a bottle of White Zinfandel, a bottle of Bailey's Irish Cream, a bottle of Kahlua, a package of Oreos and the remainder of my old Prozac prescription. You have no idea how FREAKING GOOD I feel today.
06/13/12 - Wednesday - I like reading the obit pages. Wouldn't obituaries be a lot more interesting though if they told you how the person died?. Here's one...
Debby Lynn Underwood Gross danced her way into heaven on Sunday, April 25, 2012.
Celebration of life: 10:30 a.m. Saturday, May 8, at the home of David and Toni Lewis in Fort Worth. Forgo the bad organ music and somber routine. Let's raise a glass, deliver our best jokes, tell some stories, stir it up and laugh. She expects old fashioned home cookin' funeral food! If you try to sneak chain restaurant brown gravy or powdered potatoes into the party, we will hurt you. Also, please don't ask us when you can pick up your covered dishes. We're keeping them! Dates are encouraged as long as you are not too closely related. Two-drink minimum. Smoke 'em if ya got 'em. Never miss the chance to dance.
Memorials: Debby Lynn's wishes were, in lieu of flowers, please consider a donation to an educational fund for her granddaughter Kaysen Ashley. Debbie Lynn Gross Memorial Fund at Frost Bank, Fort Worth, Texas.
Debby Lynn Underwood Gross was sent to us on Oct. 1, 1964. She left us almost as fast as she come into this world. The methane gas explosion of the Carmichael's fancy two-holer outdoor potty is under investigation by the Fort Worth Police Department.
The remainder of her story is written with the irreverent affinity and mischievous zest she had for life. She loved to laugh and wasn't afraid to pepper a salty word to elicit a desired response. If you don't share her appreciation of laughter at the expense of etiquette and decorum, read no further. She made no apologies and neither will we.
Debby Lynn packed many loves and tragedies into her short 45 years. During her life she excelled at mediocrity. She could do anything she wanted . . . she just chose not to! She was wickedly funny with a penchant for story telling. Her vivid and imaginative tall tales were usually combined pieces of personal experience with outlandish redneck wisdom. She was a living contradiction; part truth and part fiction. Most stories both real and humorous began with "You ain't gonna believe this shit!"
Debby Lynn loved the limelight and was a master communicator via phone, email, even broadcast radio. Her redneck character-driven calls earned her a recurring radio role in Cape Girardeau, Mo., as "Hilda the Hen" and the voice of Circle S Saddle. She also worked with Apple Orthodontics in Fort Worth.
She loved to be in the know at the center of gossip, conflict or tragedy. One of her favorite lines was "If you don't have anything nice to say . . . come sit by me!" She had a knack for "stirring the pot" for comedic effect or choosing to escalate a tense situation to get a reaction. She was equally clever at extinguishing a fire she helped to stoke. We believe Debby Lynn delighted in the resolution and redemption that comes after a "knock down, drag out fight" with the ones you love.
Debby Lynn's story would be incomplete without the mention of her husband of 20 years, Joe. He was her reserved counterpart to her over-the-top, bossy personality but his commitment was unwavering. Debby Lynn's physical deterioration did not affect her ability to throw verbal jabs. Joe maintained courage under verbal fire, exercising saintly restraint. His patience and selflessness are truly appreciated by the entire family.
Debby Lynn loves the Lord; her husband, Joe Gross; her daughter, Ashley Nicole Rickman-Cordell; her granddaughter, Kaysen Ashley; her mother, Carole Ann Underwood; her sisters, Toni Kay Lewis, Lisa Dianne Sparkman, Becki Ann Saterlee and Shelly Pooh Crudup; her and her sisters' many boyfriends, former husbands, current brothers-in law; nephews, Brandon Lewis and Garrett Sparkman (they were both born in a manger and swaddled at birth but NOT born to virgins); niece, Kaci Jo Sparkman; great-nephew, Colter James Dean Sparkman; great-niece, Ella Sparkman; family, friends, dogs, cats, music and life.
We would like to thank the staff at Barnes-Jewish Hospital in St. Louis, Mo., where she received extraordinary care from her medical team trying to piece back Debby Lynn together again. We adore each of them and will remain forever grateful for their kindness.
She was preceded in death by her maternal grandparents, Bill and Ella McClarney of Olive Branch, Ill.; and her father, Jim Underwood of Fort Worth.
Thursday - 06/14/12 - Now that I am older, my cardiologist, Dr. Weiser, advised me to watch my diet. Now I avoid eating healthy natural foods because I read somewhere that most people die of natural causes. I'll have a double Bacon Whopper now please!
And another thing, MapQuest really needs to start their directions on #5. I may be old, but I'm pretty sure I know how the hell to get out of my neighborhood.
Do you remember when you were a kid, playing Nintendo and it wouldn't work? You take the cartridge out, blow in it and that would magically fix the problem. Every kid in America did that, but how did we all know how to fix the problem? There was no internet or message boards or FAQ's. We just figured it out. Today's kids are soft.
06/15/12 - TGIF. I was in my favorite restaurant for breakfast yesterday when I suddenly realized I desperately needed to pass some gas. The music was really, really loud, so I timed my gas with the beat of the music... after three or four songs, I started to feel better. I finished my coffee, and noticed that everybody was staring at me... then I suddenly remembered that I was listening to that damn iPod my son gave me. Senior Moment.
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06/17/12 - Sunday - On the way to a funeral home for a viewing of a friend, I reminded my three yr. old granddaughter Bella to be very quiet and respectful. And she was... right up to the end, when she asked, "Grandpa, who's the man in the treasure chest?"
Went to one of them Starbucks places and ordered a decaf cappuccino afterwards. The gal in the short skirt told me we only sell regular cappuccino. I said "Okay, I'll have one of those. Just give me your phone number so I have somebody to talk to when I can't sleep tonight."
I can't believe all those years of phone sex have finally caught up with me. I now have hearing AIDS.
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06/18/12 - Monday - I love to walk. I have to walk early in the morning though, before my brain figures out what the hell I'm doing. I really try to exercise every day so when I die, people will say, "Well, he looks pretty good doesn't he." Even at age 88, my mother was vain about her looks. At a party, an old friend exclaimed, "Clema, you haven't changed in 20 years." "Oh," said my Mom, horrified. "I hope I didn't look like this 20 years ago." Miss you mom.
I was sitting on my porch after my walk this morning and a motorist pulled up in front of my house for directions and asked me, "How do you get into town old man?" I said "Usually my son takes me." He muttered something than drove off. Hope he's still drivin' around.
Tuesday - 06/19/12 - Someone stole my wallet last week and started using my Amex card, but I didn't report it to the credit card company. Guess what? Turns out the thief spends less money than my wife does. It's a win win situation for me. Speaking of my wife, we always hold hands when we're together. If I happen to let go, she goes shopping. And I don't see what all the fuss is about same sex marriages? I've been married to my wife for 50 years and we always have the same sex. I love you Honey. I call her Honey all the time because honestly, I forgot her name about 6 years ago.
Yesterday was by 89th birthday. My beautiful and thoughtful wife, Honey, surprised me with an SUV. No, it wasn't a Cadillac Escalade... it was Socks, Underwear and Viagra. Last night I tried the Viagra. I don't need it for sex, I just want Mr. Happy to stick out far enough so I don't pee on my shoes. Here's a Viagra joke I heard while we're on the subject... One morning, two 80-year-old men sat talking about the weather and the latest in medical science and such, when one brings up the latest male medical miracle, Viagra. The other elderly man isn't familiar with Viagra and asks the first man what is it for. The first man says, "It's the greatest thing I've ever known. The Fountain of Youth! Makes you feel like a man of thirty." The second man then asks, "Can you get it over the counter? You probably could, if you took two pills," replies the first man. (Think about it).
BTW, only pissed twice last night.
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Sunday - 06/24/12 - I was listening to the radio in bed a couple of weeks ago when I hear the weather report, "A Haboob emergency has been declared. You must park your cars on the odd-numbered side of the street." So I got up, dressed and moved my car to the right side. Two days later - the same thing. "A Haboob emergency has been declared so please park your cars on the even-numbered side of the street." Again I got dressed and went outside in this 112 degree heat to find another spot. A week later they announce that a huge Haboob is coming. "This is bull shit!" I said. I'm just gonna leave my car in the garage this time.
I'm sitting at the breakfast table this morning when my wife says to me, "I finally realized something... for years I've been saying, I'm not a morning person. Then I realized it has nothing to do with morning. It's you!"
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Tuesday - 06/25/12 - Last night I was sitting on the sofa watching the TV when I heard my wife's' voice from the kitchen. "What would you like for dinner my love; chicken, beef or lamb?"
I said, "Thank you, I'll have chicken."
She replied "You're having soup, you ol' fart. I was talking to the DOG."
Working people frequently ask retired people what they do to make their days interesting. Well, for example, the other day I went downtown and into a hobby shop. I was only there for about 15 minutes, and when I came out there was a cop writing out a parking ticket. I said to him, "Come on, man, how about giving a retired person a break?" He ignored me and continued writing the ticket. I called him a "Nazi." He glared at me and wrote another ticket for having worn tires. So I called him a "doughnut-eating Gestapo." He finished the second ticket and put it on the windshield with the first. Then he wrote a third ticket. This went on for about 20 minutes. The more I abused him the more tickets he wrote. Personally, I didn't care. I came downtown on the bus, and the car that he was putting the tickets on had a bumper sticker that said "Guliani in '08."
I try to have a little fun each day now that I'm retired. It's important.
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I was in the express lane at the supermarket today and a woman slipped ahead of me pushing a cart piled high with groceries. Pissed me off. Imagine my delight when the cashier told the woman to come forward, looked into her cart and asked sweetly, 'So which six items would you like to buy?'. Made my day.
So later we went to the Mall. I got separated from my wife so I approached a very beautiful young gal and said, "I've lost my wife here in the mall... can you talk to me for a couple of minutes?" The woman looked puzzled and said, "Why do you want to talk to me?" "Because every time I talk to a beautiful young woman like you, my wife appears out of nowhere!" Yep, she appeared.
Here's some good common sense advice... Don't spend three dollars to dry clean a shirt. Donate it to GoodWill instead. They'll clean it and put it on a hanger. Next morning buy it back for a buck.
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Memory is a remarkable gift and memories are very precious. We all carry them on life's journey. Everything we have ever experienced is etched somewhere in our minds.
For most people the idea of becoming aged is something to be held in dread. Many have little or no communication with the elderly, apart from helping an `old lady' on or oft the bus. But we older people are all around, and many of us have a wealth of knowledge and experiences to share, to those who care to listen.
Memories
Who says my mind has gone away
I see my youth there every day
I replay my life where none can go
I meet the friends who've had to go
So don't tell me I'm getting old
And now must do just what I'm told
I laugh and play inside my head
And wander paths that once I tread
So when it seems I am not there
It's just a thought I cannot share
Please be patient with me when I'm slow
I might be somewhere else you know
I hope you too can store away
The memories of what we share
Then in the late days of your time
You can recall as I do mine
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A day in the life of a geezer
Yesterday started out good enough.
Like most folks my age, I got up early. Drank coffee. Took my pills. Read the paper. Feigned a couple of squats and stretches. Remembered my father's caution "What don't hurt, don't work.
Nothing unusual so far.
As you pass age 70, and into your eighth decade, a long dormant section of the brain suddenly awakes, its synapses constantly taking inventory of aches and pains, immediately noting every new creak, twinge, ache, and strain that now so frequently assaults our bodies.
So any morning when we septuagenarians actually get up and get going without complaint is a Good Morning! indeed.The sun was out, the breeze was fresh, and all was well with my world. That is, until doctors' appointments for my age-related nemeses — an enlarged prostate and suddenly failing eyesight — took me onto the shoals of geezerdom.
A tiny amount of blood in my urine forced me to a urologist where, for the first time in my life, I was introduced to what I thought was a torture devised for women only: stirrups.
Before I knew it, I had a flexible fiber-optic tube tipped with a camera, lighting and water systems, pushing up my urethra.
"That hurts!" I grunted.
"It's nothing," the doctor said, "Just wait till it hits your prostate."
Such passionate stirrup-side manner! (Much like his earlier statement: "Hmm, that is big!" fingering my prostate while invading yet another body opening.)
Next thing I knew, he said, "You can let me go now."
I looked down and saw that my legs, no longer in the stirrups, were tightly wrapped around the good doctor's waist in a wrestler's death squeeze.
And it was over. (Except for the pain of urinating razor blades following the procedure.)
Next stop: my eye doctor. For some reason, my right eye was out of focus, forcing me to use an eye patch to read and use my computer.
Turns out that the second most-performed operation among ophthalmologists is breaking up a film that often forms after cataract operations.
As I learned about an hour later, sitting in a head brace while a machine went Pow! Pow! Pow!, it's done using a laser as a shotgun, your eye as clay pigeons.
No pain. Just fragments of film, floaters that may or may not disappear with time.