THE CARD...

In our life we receive many cards. We start out with happy birthday cards, holiday cards, special event invitation cards and more. As we get older, we move to a different kind of notice complete with school acceptance cards, wedding invitations, and graduation cards. And then in adulthood, we morph to a whole other category of card. Gym membership cards, store courtesy cards and airline frequent flier cards. And this is where the story begins. First a little background information. I have a small family. One teenage son and a wife. That’s it. The dog and cat never get mail so they are out of the equation this time around. In the spirit of fairness, I will not mention which family member the rest of this story is about. Recently this family member received a note…and a temporary card welcoming them to the “club.” It’s a club that only certain people can be a part of, and while I am sure there are rules to this club, after awhile everyone can get in. It’s like the worst kid playing hide and seek, after a few hours you have to come out and say “Hey, I’m right here…duh!” Back to the card story. So anyway this family member was not happy to be a prospective member of the club. I on the other hand thought it was sweet of them. It included a pretty gray and red courtesy card and had 4 letters on it. It also talked about all of the wonderful things you can do while being a member of this club. There were discounts, and a free tote bag and information, lots of information about medicine and insurance. That was the area that my family member groveled the most about. For me the 10% off at every Hampton Inn was a deal breaker. Sign me up. Ahh, but there was the rub. I cannot be a member of this club. I am not eligible yet to be a member of this club, maybe next year. Oh wait, nope not next year either. I am assuming that is why my family member is not happy. I can’t be in the club, but they can. How sweet. I just don’t get it. This month’s article about the wonderful advancements of knee replacement was fascinating. And the one on one with the last surviving member of Teddy Roosevelt’s cabinet was pretty interesting too. The other member of the family is indifferent about this membership offer. If it can’t be used in combination with a GameStop gift certificate, then it’s useless. So here we are right in the middle of the holiday season, and our first card is an offer to join the club…for free no less(if we act soon), and my family member is not happy about this. I am trying to be understanding of their angst, but maybe it’s immaturity on my part. Yeah that’s it immaturity. I’ll keep you posted on how this turns out. It’s 5pm and if we get to the local restaurant before six we get an extra 10% off. It says so right on the card. Happy Holidays everyone.

Looking for Mr. Goodbar!

It’s Halloween night and the last of the kids has trick or treated their way from our home. A light mist kept the overall kid count down this year as maybe 40 or so children and a few big kids showed up. Like most, we handed out the fun size version of candy bar, with each child getting 2 “minis.” It’s a standard giveaway these days, or is it? While looking at my son’s catch of the evening, complete with dumping it on the kitchen table, I noticed two things. People give out more than candy, and “Where in the world did Mr.Goodbar go?” For those of you who don’t know about Mr. Goodbar, it was my dad’s favorite candy bar and really nothing more than a chocolate bar with peanuts, pretty pedestrian by today’s standards. The reason it carried such weight in our household was that it was a great bargaining chip. If I handed over all my Mr.Goodbars, then I knew I could cash this in at a later date. Let’s keep in mind the negotiating skills of a nine year old usually consisted around being able to stay up to 10pm on a given night, instead of 9pm. Even still, having a Mr. Goodbar was gold in these parts of town. Back to the treats that were littered across our kitchen table, a deadliest catch of candy. There were eye balls, key rings, wrist bands and other knick knacks. It was a cross between a candy store and the check-out of a dollar store. My favorite was the candy eyeball which was popped into my son’s mouth without hesitation. “It’s just bubblegum dad.” No, it was icky and not going anywhere near my lips. He lamented over the fact that someone gave him pretzels. Hey, I’ll take that over an eyeball any day. The other thing I noticed was the absence of full size candy bars. In total there was one sitting in the middle of the table. A Baby Ruth, sitting there all proud, standing out like a six foot fifth grader during an awards ceremony. I negotiated for it, but kids today are different. I was offering items like a ride to school in the morning. He countered with a new video game. Enjoy the Baby Ruth kid. So here we sit, the day after another Halloween, a mini pile of treats await us as we try and figure out how to ingest these little treats while tricking our minds that there are no extra calories associated with these tasty snacks. It useless as the holiday snacking period has officially begun. Even without Mr. Goodbar!

The Other Colors of Autumn!

As temperatures drop and days shorten, the next natural occurrence of nature is to have leaves fall from their trees. Of course before then, we are invited to watch a truly awesome visual display of colors. I offer up that poetic introduction as I recently did another time honored tradition, that of chopping wood. Actually I was splitting big sticks to start a fire, but the thought was there. As I was doing this manly chore I got a splinter and as most manly men will do, I attempted to remove the splinter by biting on my finger, hoping the pressure would push the mini tree back to the outside of my skin, and all will be right with the world. After several attempts of biting my finger, complete with walking in circles while attempting this medical treatment, I realized that all was lost and I was going to need medicine. And for those of you who are saying, just get a needle and stab is out, you have sadly mistaking me for that other type of manly man, the one that endures pain. In the medicine cabinet there used to be three colors of medicine. Black, Pink and Red. All I could find was a bandage with antibiotic on it. Perfectly fine, but not what I needed for this medical emergency. This job called for something slimy, heavy duty and painless. This was a job for Ichthyol. For those of you may not be familiar with this salve, it comes in a small tube and has the consistency of used oil sludge. Its job was to make the particle loosen up and slide out. It also smelled like used oil sludge. In either case, we did not have any, and probably have not had a need for it in 30 years. In we have no black, we’ll move onto the red. This will help sterilize the area while I figure out what to do next. The red in question is Mercurochrome. A red substance that would help with the bacteria and this too had no pain attached to it. Upon further review, we also had no Mercurochrome. It appears it was taken off the shelves like 25 years ago due to concerns about Mercury poisoning. A bit over the top for me, but whatever… The third color in the arsenal of preventative medicine was pink, and we all know what that is; Calamine lotion. For any person on the losing end of a poison ivy attack or sunburn, your mom would lather you in pink. Here is the kicker. In 2002, the FDA issued a report saying that they cannot find any reason to list Calamine lotion as an effective remedy for skin issues of any kind. Thousands of kids…and adults…every year looking like cotton candy. Not sure how this was allowed to happen, but the Calamine lotion sales guy is feeling pretty good about things. So, here I stand, still walking in circles, biting my finger and hoping the mini tree lodged in my skin pops out. I have no red, no black and no pink. Just something called Neosporin. Sure it works, but it’s clear, and boring…What’s the fun in that.