Jimmy Needs Glasses

Me Knows Better Than to Say This… but I will.  Yup… it’s that time.  The ole eyesight is just not there anymore.  Of course it has been a gradual disintegration starting back a few years.

The first indication occurred while we were on vacation in Hawaii and my wife was looking for a particular store without really knowing the name (that’s how we shop)… so as a dutiful husband, I tried to help the situation by pronouncing the stores that appeared on my side of the road hoping the correct one would come along so we could get back to the fun stuff.  Off in the distance was a store I could barely make out… I started slowing reading it as it came into better focus, “Boogie…” the words faded and I then I saw more, “Boogie Boards…,” I added still unable to see it all.   I strained again, “Boogie Boards and… Miscellaneous.”  That was it… I could see the entire sign.

My wife questioned what she heard as it sounded a bit ridiculous to her, “What?” 

But the store name was well within the realm of possibilities since this was after all Hawaii. 

“Boogie Boards and Miscellaneous,” I repeated matter-of-factly and positive in the possibilities that we would not venture into that shopping establishment.

“Where do you see that store?” my wife questioned… disbelieving a fact uttered from my lips.

I pointed it out almost to the point of indignation, “That building over to the left that says Boogie Boards and Misc. in big red letters.  Can't you see it?”

Then my gracious wife mentioned, “You mean… Borders Books and Music?”

“Yeah – that’s what I said,” and I continued driving past the big sign written as an obvious optical illusion.

Jimmy Has Been Duped

Me Knows Better Than to Say This… but I will.  A while ago I noticed a small lump or growth in the palm of my hand.  As a man, my first reaction was to ignore this obvious sign of trouble and insist to myself that it would “eventually go away.”  A few months pass and my healthcare wife noticed it and suggested that I have a specialist take a look.  My response, “Don’t worry honey, it will eventually go away.” 

A few more months pass and a second lump has connected itself to the first and apparently it’s not going away.  Now Jimmy is a bit more concerned since whatever this growth is, may require surgery and if that happens, it might wipe out the golf season.  Since golf is apparently more important than good health, I make an appointment. 

Soon Jimmy is waiting for the doctor.  As he enters the room and before he has physically inspected the patient (me), he throws a pamphlet in my direction and confidently declares, “You have Dupuytren’s Syndrome.” 

Uh?  This sounds ominous and the casual abruptness of the physician isn’t making me feel any better.  He has already given up any hope for my chances… the callous bastard.

I pleaded, “Doc, before you give me the bad news, how ‘bout you first take a look to make sure the diagnosis is correct.”

 “Don’t worry, I see this all the time.  As a matter of fact, I was one day away from getting to do this same surgery on Ronald Reagan but he had it done the day before I arrived at Bethesda Naval Hospital.”

Jimmy was feeling a bit better about his chances and the expertise of the doctor.  If the President of the United States would trust this guy, I should too… but then again the President opted for a different surgeon moments before going under the knife.

“This is a hereditary contracture of the fingers where the growth overtakes the tendon and starts to curl your finger.  Chances are that your father has the same thing.  The only other characteristic I can tell you about this disease is that your ancestors came from Northern Europe and we don’t know what causes it.”

My suspicions of this quack mounted… hell he didn’t need to be a clairvoyant to predict my ancestry with my fair skin and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to say “we don’t know much about this.”  Thanks for the confidence boost doc and the reason we don’t need government in healthcare.

 He continued, “But it is relatively common and nothing to be concerned about.  Chances are you won’t require surgery unless it bothers you.  And even if you get surgery, it will probably grow back anyway.”

“Don’t worry doc, unless this disease screws up my golf game, you won’t see me again. Thanks,” and I left.

Shortly thereafter, Jimmy decided to call his dad.  He sounded a bit concerned when I mentioned that I had seen a specialist about a health issue.  When I told him about the growth on my hand, and before I could say anything else, he interrupted me.  “You mean a growth on your right hand under the ring finger?  I have that too.”   

“How long have you had it?” I asked.

“About thirty years.  I thought it would eventually go away.”

“Dad, let me save you two hundred bucks.  It doesn’t go away.”

“I know that.”

"Well that's good info to know... If you want to know...  it's called Dupuytren’s Syndrome... now send me two hundred bucks."

.

Noodling in Science

Me Knows Better Than to Say This… but I will.  I always thought I was destined to be a science teacher, but then I analyzed the career move and thought better.  After hearing my daughter complain about science class, I went into a lecture about the virtues of science and I told her she was lucky I wasn’t her science teacher.  “Good warning dad,” she retorted.  Jimmy made the right career choice.

The conversation started when she was having a hard time eating supper.  We were in the midst of a delicious meal of Chinese lo mein noodles and she started to gag and refused to eat any more. 

“Hey, finish your meal,” I snorted between bites.  “There are starving kids in Indianapolis… or somewhere like that I have heard.”

“I can’t.  We just finished dissecting worms in science class and I can’t eat this stuff.”

I went into my tirade again about what a great science teacher I would’ve been in my day and continued, “Oh come on, it can’t be that bad.  You have to put that out of your mind if you want to be in science.  If I were teaching, I would've sent a note home to all my students yesterday urging that their parents have spaghetti or some stringy noodle for dinner after this biology class.  Then everyone could enjoy science even more.”

Yes… Jimmy would have been a great science teacher.

“Good warning dad.” 

  

Jimmy's Three Rules for International Travel

Me Knows Better Than to Say This… but I will.  I have determined that there are three basic rules for international travel.

1.      Any sleep is good sleep.  

2.      Whenever food is placed in front of you, it must be time to eat.  You never know from where you next edible meal will come.

3.      Start each and every day with a healthy breakfast.  That way you know the day can only get better after eating that crap.

Jimmy’s Stained Glass Hell...o to Reality

Me Knows Better Than to Say This… but I will.  Jimmy was reminded of my misadventures in stained glass when I received word that a friend from high school, Colleen Smith, was publishing her novel, GLASS HALO.  This is very coincidental on several fronts as now I have a reason to read a book for the first time since high school… and since I know her, this is my one degree of separation from a celebrity.  (Just hope she remembers to sign my copy likes she actually knows me).

The story line is intriguing and getting great reviews.  A portion of the synopsis begs for more… “GLASS HALO is the story of an intellectual, romantic and spiritual relationship between a lapsed Catholic stained glass artist and a charismatic but alcoholic Catholic priest. Through one another and with one another, the two investigate the mysteries of life and death, love and lust, spirituality and creativity. A passionate story of hellish temptation and heavenly grace, above all, Glass Halo addresses vocation, conversion, and the healing power of art.”  I couldn't do justice to the fine work, so I copied the paragraph from Colleen's website.   

 I am asking that my two followers log onto www.fridayjonespublishing.com/Friday_Jones_Publishing/Glass_Halo.html for more details and purchase advanced copies… or by the time my followers read this… it will be on its second printing and in paperback.

What more can you want from a book that delves into the mysteries of life and death, lust and love… Well that is where the similarities end for Jimmy other than the mystery of my foray into the art of the stained glass world.

It all started as a brilliant idea near the end of finishing  my basement.  My thought, “Wouldn’t it be cool to have matching stained glass panels on either side of the fireplace?”  I had an extra day or two in the schedule, so why not slap a couple of chunks of glass together and finish this project off right.

I found the nearest store and sauntered in, glanced at some of the fine work hanging from the ceiling and tracked down the clerk.  “Hey, can you direct me to the part of the store, where I can get a few pieces of this colored glass to assemble my stained glass window idea?” 

The clerk had a puzzled look on her face, so I asked again.  “I’m looking for some parts to assemble.  Where do you keep the kits?” 

Her mouth hung open… no words came out.  Since she didn’t understand me, I pantomimed hand motions with the words, “Pieces… put together… where?”

Finally she spoke, “Ah… It doesn’t work that way.”

“Huh?  I know what I want; I just need some help with the colors.  I’m an engineer… I can put anything together… How hard can this be?  As a man, I’ll make an exception and actually read the directions… but I’m pretty sure I can slap these bad boy parts together this afternoon.”

To her credit, she refused to sell me anything stating that I would not be happy with the results. 

Three classes later, a year down the crapper and a boat load of equipment, I tackled my idea.  I guess she knew what she was talking about.  Glass is an art which can not be measured in equations.  There is a feel and it takes inspiration to create the treasure. 

Next time I will commission the work from someone that knows what they are doing… Colleen, is Nora Kelley available?  Everyone else, you will just have to read the book to understand.

Jimmy’s Version of Planes, Trains and Automobiles

Me Knows Better Than to Say This… but I will. My blog update was delayed this past week due to unforeseen delays in Brasil. (Yes – that is the correct spelling in Portuguese.) First of all… great country, friendly people and a wonderful time, but getting out was another story. I just have to remember that “Life is a journey, not a destination.”

Travel started with a boat ride on the Amazon followed by a few days in São Paulo. Then due to scheduling and flight constraints, I had to coordinate travel through another city just to get back to the United States. This included a three hour layover with plenty of time to check bags for the final leg of my journey. However, a thunderstorm delayed my departure out of São Paulo and upon sprinting to the other terminal (something Jimmy does not do anymore), it turns out that I missed the boarding window and the last plane out by a half hour… even though the plane still had another thirty minutes before closing the door. No ticket, no boarding… no flight home… no place to stay. Delay number one. That was the bad news.

While still trying to catch my breath, another passenger in the same predicament tracked down a hotel with a few available rooms. Apparently he was able to speak while I just settled for the basics of trying to stay alive. Even though the situation looked bleak, I had to remember my new motto and see the opportunity… this is a part of the journey in life to enjoy. Now the good part… did I mention I was stuck in Rio de Janerio and Carnival was starting? Not sure if I mentioned that vital piece of information or not.

So while most of the US was basking in freezing temperatures, Washington had three feet of snow and Atlanta frozen to the ground, I decided to show off my gringo white skin on the beaches of Rio. I won’t scare you with any photos, but let’s just say that besides the lack of a tan, I noticed that the only other difference between me and the rest of the population was the profuse presence of six pack abs compared to my more valued approach of a midsection keg. Another saying in life is “Why settle for a six pack when you can have the whole damn keg.”

So after a stroll in the surf and the beginnings of the inevitable pink tinge of pre tan burn (which was 10 minutes later), it was time to make the pilgrimage to Corcovado where Christ the Redeemer overlooks the city. See the photo at top.

The panorama was amazing and the statue the same. The final few steps to the top brought back a reminder of my airport sprint… time to consider the value of a lighter keg.

Next stop home. Of course, now the only way home was a rebook to Brasilia (the capital) to catch the last international flight home with another three hour layover prior to the midnight flight. Note - every bit of the three hours was needed to go through the new security searches thanks to the tightey-whitey underwear bomber. Now the only problem was Atlanta could not handle anymore airplanes due to the snow. Luckily they provided that essential bit of information only after everyone had boarded and we were all settled into our seats. Only the airline provided the information in Portuguese and Jimmy couldn’t figure out why everyone was pulling luggage out and mumbling. Time to follow the crowd and exit. One hour later and one mob scene (again only in Portuguese) to get taxi and hotel vouchers, Jimmy was standing in another one hour line to check into the hotel with the sweet bliss of sleep and an opportunity to soothe the sunburn.

Lesson learned… enjoy the journey. You never get enough chances to show off your tan… or your physique. A vida é uma viagem, não um destino.  “Life is a journey, not a destination.”

Environmentalists of the World… UNTIE… Your Brains

Me Knows Better Than to Say This... But I will. If you are a Tree Hugger, then you may not appreciate this... but Jimmy thinks this is hilarious. I'm not saying anything about the political correctness of society, or the hypocrisy of it all, but I'm a bit confused by the purpose or intent of the sign.  I took this photo in the men's restroom at the Science Museum in Chicago.

Well, it seems pretty apparent that I should look for an air dryer around me because it "Saves trees, water, oil and landfill space" that is according to the sign.  And they apologize for not providing paper towels even though everyone perfers those.  I understand we need to protect our environment and all and I'm OK with that.

Which should I use? … Hot Air or Tree Pulp?

I'll help, but let me know where can I find something to dry my hands?  That's all I want.  I'll use the air dyers even though I prefer paper towels... but where are those damn air dryers which are supposed to be good for the environment?

Apparently not here!

Or are they just trying to insult the intelligence of the environmentalists?

So what are they implying here? I thought the Science Museum espoused a friendly environmental policy.. a green society... perhaps they are making a subtle hint at some people's intellect.

Apparently from the widespread use of paper towels… it didn’t bother anyone. And the ones that were concerned probably couldn’t read the sign.

(I should know better than to say that).  I did warned you if you were a tree hugger.