Now, I ask you, am I naughty or nice? My wife has expressed her opinion, did you notice? With Christmas right on us she has decided that I am naughty.
My last blog about Santa being in trouble for HO HO HO-ING at the wrong time and to the wrong people inspired my wife to write her VERY FIRST REPLY to my blog site. She thought the joke was what she called an OFF COLOR JOKE and was below the standard I had set on my blog. She didn't just tell me once SHE TOLD ME TWICE. Check it out! TWICE, MIND YOU!
WAS IT BELOW MY STANDARD? Absolutely not! You know why? I HAVE NO STANDARD. I AM JUST ME. I am just me alone, I am just me with a friend, I am just me in a crowd. Who I am with or where I am at does not determine who I am. I am always just me.
Now you take Julie, my wife. She is truly a good woman. But, she evidently has at least two standards. How do I know? Well, when we were alone she laughed loud and long when I told her these jokes, especially about the Irishman and Carol's panties. No, she did not say "Walt, that is an off color joke". No, but she would be chagrined to have any part of these jokes in a group. WHY IS THAT, I ASK YOU? Funny in the kitchen, funny in the ball room to me.
Another thing, talking to strangers. My son discussed this with me on our amazing motor trip a couple years ago. Coming back from Myrtle Beach with Julie, passing twenty or so men finishing up their lunch in a restaurant I grabbed one by the shoulders, playfully shook him, and told the group that they were absolutely the ugliest men I had ever seen. They all roared in one voice and threatened to shove my "stick" where the sun didn't shine. We all laughed as I explained how I needed that cane.
Julie said that I had to stop doing things like that, that I'd get into trouble--I BLOGGED ABOUT THIS AT THE TIME. Since then I have been pointing out to Julie when strangers picked me out of a group to speak to me. CAN'T EXPLAIN THIS, BUT IT REALLY DOES HAPPEN.
We were waiting to be seated recently at a local restaurant in a room with several other unknown couples. One man, a WWII vet, picked me out and started a discussion. He told me he was 91. I asked him how such an ugly old man got such a pretty young girl like he was with. (She was actually a couple years older than he was) SHE JUST BEAMED, THEY ALWAYS DO!
Then, maybe a dozen people were leaving in a group. One of the guys leading the group nodded to me. WHY? He didn't acknowledge anyone else. In the rear of this departing group was a very attractive lady in her 40's. She grinned and spoke to me. I WAS DOING NOTHING TO PROVOKE THESE RESPONSES. No, she did not speak to anyone else. I pointed this out to Julie . She had observed what had happened but just shook her head.
I THINK THIS IS BECAUSE OF TWO THINGS. First, I REALLY DO LIKE PEOPLE AND I AM INTERESTED IN THEM. I think it shows. And, second, I DO NOT HAVE ANY STANDARD, I AM JUST WHO I AM. I think that shows also.
Does this make me RIGHT and Julie WRONG? Absolutely not. I have no interest whatsoever in who is right and who is wrong. When my kids were young I cut certain words out of our dictionary, words like QUIT. I did not cut out the word FAULT BUT I WISH I HAD. When Julie was a child, in her family, someone always had to be at "fault". IT SHOWS IN HER LIFE and in the lives of her children. That is so sad. Over and over again I have repeated throughout our marriage that there is never any "fault". WE ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR OUR ACTIONS, MIND YOU, BUT NO ONE IS AT "FAULT".
Six days until my surgery. Today I stopped taking all meds, high blood pressure med excepted, the baby aspirin, vitamins and food supplements. At the last doctor's check, my blood pressure was 129/70--impressive, huh? Tomorow at nine we have an appointment for the family and I to ask any last questions. REGAINING MY LOST MOBILITY WILL BE SUCH A BLESSING. We just take for granted our ability to get up from a chair or walk. I can hardly wait, I've been "banged up" for so long now.
Take care and smell the roses. Sorry, no pictures as my computer is in the shop and I am using Julie's.