The Wait Is Over!

My gosh, has two weeks passed since I last wrote a blog?

(Well, Rich, if you'd look at the date, you'd see how long it’s been, you dummy!)

So, today's question is ... "Does getting older automatically mean you start talking to yourself, and even answering at times?"

No, that's not today's question.  It's just a way to keep from talking about all the medical problems that have hopefully been taken care of.  Hubpages.com has the medical stuff, so if you're interested (see link below), that's the place to visit after you read what is going to be discussed here ... whatever that may be.

One of the greatest inventions ever developed by the Sadists Of America Club Is The Hospital Gown!  
It has provided doctors and nurses laughs for decades!

* I do want to thank all of you for being patient and understanding why I haven’t been visiting a lot of blogs as of late.  When dealing with double and triple vision, reading is close to impossible.  Even now, I have to take it easy for a while.  I overdid it the other day and started getting blurry eyed again.  Give me time and I’ll be back to making my stupid comments again!

Since this isn't a "Mommy" blog, I have to come up with something that will keep everyone interested.   Please, don't take me wrong!  There is nothing wrong with "Mommy" blogs!  In fact, I get a kick out of them.  It's sometimes extremely funny to see others struggling through some of the things they did to their parents years ago.  

These are my oldest daughter's angels (lol).  I have a
feeling the young man may make his grandfather
proud and be a pain in the neck to his teachers
just like his grandfather was!

The truth is that I am of the wrong gender to write a "Mommy" hub.  I guess I could write a "Grandfather" blog, but that almost sounds like something advertised on a porn site (or so I’ve been told).  Besides, Grandfathers are only known for farting, complaining, and falling asleep after eating.  Writing anything else would seem like only embellishments.  (Excuse me, I forgot belching, "Errrrrrp.")

My oldest daughter should probably start writing a "Mommy" hub.  She constantly moans and groans about the various things the kids are doing, and has started filling in as a substitute teacher in the elementary school grades.  So far, she's discussed three of them getting sick and visually reviewing their cafeteria offerings during the afternoon session, one that didn't want to raise her hand in time to make it to the bathroom for normal bowel movement, and one that brought his father's pocket knife to class.  (I guess he wanted to clear the way to the bathroom if he needed to get there quickly.)

Gabriela has just settled down for a long winter's nap,
or at least one until breakfast is served.  

Another topic I could talk about would be my cats.  Gabriela (better known as the “Demon Cat”) has made a 180 degree turnaround.  No longer is she a vicious creature of Satan. She's become a feline garbage disposal.  Gabriela’s getting fatter by the day, as she’ll eat her bowl full of food, and then squeeze Faletame away from his bowl and finish what he's not yet eaten! 

And, she’s requiring more and more love and attention.  She’s recently discovered she can jump to the top of my computer chair and lie against the back of my neck.  It does provide a nice, soft head rest for me, and it’s fairly comfortable.  

Like most men, Faletame (Fa-let-a-me) has changed somewhat since a woman came into his life.  He is still a growler when strangers approach the house, but he's not quite so brave when dealing with his mate.  Actually, he's puzzled how Gabriela has sharper claws and teeth than he, and even though he won't say it, I suspect a little jealous!

Foul Mouthed Faletame is a little upset
over being woke up for a photo session,
but he never will shy from the camera.
Still, I'm sure he'll be vocal about the
interruption when I get done publishing.

Oh, he’ll chase her until she turns, faces him, and hisses!  It's then when he goes into his Woody Allen routine.  “I don’t understand why you’re upset.  My mother used to get upset like that and my father would question her about it.  Never did any good though.  He'd say, "That’s what happens when you’re Jewish and you marry outside the church!"  He always told me never to marry in an alley!  Oh, there's plenty of room for your friends and you don't have to worry about cleaning up the mess, but there's a lot of garbage that comes with it!  There's enough garbage in a marriage that you don't need to bring more into it!“

In addition, Faletame feels somewhat slighted by all of the attention Gabriela demands, and is constantly searching for ways to receive more of it for himself.  His latest trick is to climb up on the table, put his front paws on the chair closest the counter, and reach out to paw you in the back as you’re trying to prepare a meal.  If you don’t turn and give him a pet or two immediately, he starts screaming some of the phrases he’s learned from my wife.  (Modesty forbids repeating them here, but if you've ever heard Al Pacino in the movie Scarface ... )

Anyway, that’s enough for now.  Much more, and you’ll never come back again for fear of being bored to death.  I’ll be back to normal soon (if there is such a thing for me), and exciting topics like German Chocolate cake and earthquakes will make their return.  


Or, maybe I’ll go back and have another operation so I can qualify to write a “Mommy” blog!


“What’s that, Faletame?  You’ve been there and don’t recommend it!  Nuff said!”


PS:  Here's the link to the Hubpages.com article discussed above
http://rcrumple.hubpages.com/hub/Hospital-Treatment-or-Torture

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