|An underwear flip kick from a record 11.3 feet|
I had a nice birthday. It was absolutely party-less. Been my experience, a party can really mess up a perfectly good day.
I received gifts this year from Kay and one of the neighbor’s cats. That was one more gift-giver than I anticipated. I did get a lot of attention on Facebook. Jill, Big Al and a few of my friends mentioned my birthday and I got a lot of wishes to be happy. Just look at me. See? It worked.
I know you’re eager to find out what Kay got me. She did great. Two weeks ago we were strolling in Sams and I saw a whole crate of pillows in cardboard boxes with a pillow picture on each box. This made it quite difficult for me to squeeze the actual pillow.
The picture did look cool, though. Literally. It showed the pillow to have a thin layer of that blue gel stuff on it. You know, that gel that they put inside ensoles to make you’re steps feel soft? Like you’re walking across the bottoms of some giggling babies, and they’re lovin’ it. It doesn’t get softer than that. I imagine.
So, I summoned Kay over to the pillow box and asked her to open one so I could squeeze the pillow to see if was soft and cool just like in the picture. I didn’t want to do open it ‘cause I don’t think you’re supposed to open stuff before you buy it. Kids do it all the time, but I don’t adults are supposed to. Kids get to open anything they want. Cracker Jacks, potato chips, bananas… Today’s Moms don’t care. Elsie would’ve smacked me across the back of the head with a sack of dried beans.
I’m sorry. I’m just a little jealous of today’s youth. Anyway, Kay wouldn’t open the box for me, but she did something better. She sneaked back to Sam’s and bought me the pillow. I really like it, too, ‘cause it keeps my head cool during the night. I’m fairly sure it’s psychosomatic. If you tell me that putting a boiled egg in my armpit will cause constipation, I’ll get constipated. Even without the egg. Maybe “psycho” is the word I’m looking for.
Kay also got me two big jars of cashews. That adds up to four pounds and two ounces of nuts. A four-day supply. They’re the whole nuts. Not the extra salty, halves and pieces. I’m telling you, they’re the big ones.
Oh, oh, and she also bought me this compressed web-like hoop thing that springs out to form a four oval-sided webbed basket. That’s the best description I’ve got. It’s light as all get out. You can kick it down the stairs, sail it off the roof, or stick it over your head. I’ve tried two of those. One of ‘em almost emasculated me. The little wire oval things have pent-up energy just waiting to thwack something.
Anyway, Kay got me the basket ‘cause she was tired of me throwing my socks and underwear on the bedroom floor. She thought if I had a fun basket, I’d make a game of flipping my underwear toward it. This woman is gold.
Oh, and the cat? The cat did great. About two weeks ago, Kay opened the backdoor from the outside and yelled, “Mark!” Boy, I hate it when she does that. I’ve given up thinking she might’ve found a dollar bill in the yard. Anyway, she said, “The neighbor’s cat just chased a coral snake across our yard!” – I yelled back, “Okay!”
Five seconds later, a winded Kay was standing in the doorway of the living room with her hands on her hips giving me the ol’ stink-eye. I gradually hurried out of my recliner and followed her to the backyard, all the while praying, “Please, please let the snake be gone.”
Prayer answered. The thing was hiding in the little wooded patch on the edge of our property. I honestly believe Kay wanted me to go in there and flush it out. It’d be like in the movies when the stupid person goes into the attic to catch the old ghost woman who has been terrorizing the family for months. The ghost can make the walls and doors bend, yet, one person has got to go in and find her. I don’t think so.
Kay eventually ran back to the house and called the neighbors on both sides of us. Warned them about the coral snake. I would’ve done that, but I still have just a hint of masculinity left. – “Hey, Mark called. He’s afraid of a snake.”
Well, eight o’clock this morning, the neighbor’s son called Kay. “Ms. Kay, my cat killed the coral snake and put it on our porch. Cut its head off and everything.” Cats are always showing off.
That was actually my first birthday gift of the day. While I still hold no true affection for cats, I will no longer shoo them away from the yard. Any animal that has the tenacity to bite the head off a poisonous snake can roam my yard day or night. In fact, I insist. – Yeah, this year’s birthday will be hard to top. I insist no one try .
Mark@rooftopwriter.com and www.rooftopwriter.com