My Life
Funny things happen to me and my family.
Color of Grandma’s Eyes
My sister's adult son would drop his young 4-year old son off about 6am so that 'Grandma' could babysit while he was at work.
One such morning, having stayed up quite late the night before, she was still sleeping in bed. The young boy came into her bedroom and stood in front of her. He gently poked her in the forehead. She opened her eyes to see her grandson standing there illuminated by the bright morning sunlight. The sun hit his face in such a way that it really accentuated his blue eyes.
The day before they had both been working on learning 'colors.' So she thought this would be a great opportunity to reinforce their previous lesson.
"What beautiful BLUE eyes you have!" she exclaimed.
She then followed up with the question, "What color are Grandma's eyes?"
He quickly responded, "RED!"
I’m not deaf!!!
My car has all the bells and whistles. Most components in the car (radio, navigation, phone, etc.) can be controlled by voice commands. A button must be first pushed to activate the listening mode. The little mic is right above the driver's head. Push the button, issue your command, and wait for the command to be executed. Simple.
My wife and I attended a special birthday party for a friend at a local restaurant. After the party, we left and climbed into the car. I started the car and the GPS display panel lights up. It has two modes, daylight (black text on bright white background) and night time (soft grey text on black background). Since we arrived while it was light outside, the display was still in daylight mode. It was dark now, and the blinding display looked like a flashlight shining back onto our faces.
Just as I was pulling out of the parking lot my wife leans over towards me, and with a very LOUD voice, yells "NIGHT TIME MODE!!!"
I'm so startled at this unexpected outburst, I nearly lose control of the car.
Recovering from the near accident, ears still throbbing, I advise her, "A button needs to be pushed before you issue a command!"
"Oh, I thought it was listening all the time." she responds.
"Even if it was," I countered, "it's not deaf !!! You don't have to yell so loud!"
"I just wanted to make sure it heard me loud and clear."
"All you need to do is to speak clearly." I instructed. "Believe me, it will hear you 'loud and clear.'"
I pushed the button and said, "Go ahead…speak." She spoke. It changed to night-time mode. She settled back into her chair and smiled, obviously pleased with her great accomplishment. My ears are still ringing.
Can’t Win
While driving to a restaurant, the conversation came up about people with awkward social skills. My son says he has great social skills and can carry on a interesting conversation with anyone.
My wife counters, "Yea, except you're argumentative!"
My son quickly comes back with, "No I'm…"
He stops speaking, realizing this is not an arguement he can win.
Thanks Mom!
My wife often fixes tasty meals. On one occasion, my son must have really enjoyed the meal. He took extra portions and ate to a point where he was overstuffed. At the conclusion of the meal, he came up to my wife to extend his thanks:
"Thanks, Mom! Dinner was great! Boy, I feel sick!!"
How does one respond to that "compliment?" "Ahhhh…you're welcome…I guess? "
Sarcastic Son
On my way home from church, I was talking about this web site with my kids. I recommended that they subscribe to it since a lot of the funny stories were about them.
"Who's going to go to your site, dad?" my son sarcastically chimes in from the back seat. He continues, "Heck, I can't even spell whimsical banter!"
I replied, "Keeps the illiterate out!"
Everyone (all authors and writers) in the car laughed…except my son.
Home from Surgery
When my 82-year mother arrived at home after hospital surgery, she was pleased to see that my father had made up the bed with fresh sheets and blankets. They retired early in the evening to go to bed. Since it was wintertime, their bedroom was a bit cool.
Like many couples, the husband likes his side cooler than the wife. Fortunately, they had an electric blanket with individual controls. Both set their controls to their preferred settings and dozed off to sleep.
During the night, my mother still recovering from surgery, got a bit cold. So she cranked the setting a bit higher. Dad, like most men, was too warm, so he turned his setting down. 15 minutes later, she still feels chilled, so cranks the setting up really high. Dad, feeling very uncomfortable and profusely sweating by now turns his control off. Mom's freezing.
It turns out that while my dad was preparing the bed, he accidently flipped the electric blanket over the wrong way. Each was controlling the other's temperature without knowing it. She cranked it up and his side becomes a suana. He turns his control off, she freezes.
It's hard to blame dad. His heart was in the right place. After all, he's 91 years old.
Apple Cider
Per our tradition after Thanksgiving dinner, our family and guests retire to the living room to talk and enjoy hot spiced apple cider. My son, about 4-5 years old at the time, joined me on my recliner and sat sprawled half on my lap and half on the chair. It was a little tight for both of us to be on the chair at the same time, but as any father would, I valued his company.
As my family and friends drank our cider and dialogued with each other, my son began to uncomfortably fidget more and more.
"Daddy," he said softly. I ignored him since I was engaged in conversation with others. I picked up my cider from the coffee table beside the chair, took another sip.
"Daddy!" he said a little bit louder.
I don't know about you, but my parents taught me as a child that you don't interupt an adult while they are speaking to another adult. I intended to carry on that instruction with my own children.
"DADDY!!!" he cried out loudly.
Finishing the remaining cider in the cup and being completely annoyed at the interuption, I firmly placed the empty cup with a thud onto the coffee table, turned to my son, looked him straight into the eyes and asked with all the irritation I could muster, "WHAT?!!!"
Everyone in the room stopped talking and their entire focus was on this situation.
"My sock," he gently replied.
"Your sock?" I asked, confused.
"My sock, Daddy."
"What about your sock?"
"It's wet!" he replied.
Now more confused than ever, I asked, "What do you mean your sock is wet??!"
The bottom third of his sock starting at the toes was completely soaked.
"How on earth did your sock get wet while you were sitting on my lap?" I asked with incredulity.
He pointed to my now-empty apple cider cup.
As I realized what just transpired, I nearly gagged! Everyone in the room laughed uncontrollably.
My wife chimes in, "Need a refill on that cup, honey?"
Native American Dialect
Early in the 70's, I traveled with a small Christian band. At times we, along with other bands, would sing at huge youth rallys of 5000+ kids. Usually there was a meet and greet after the concert with fans.
At one such concert, a couple of young teenage girls from the midwest came up to meet us. We told them we were from the Pacific Northwest, in particular, Seattle.
Now you need to understand that in the early 70's, Seattle was not as well known as it is today for their coffee, technology industries, and music scene. People from the mid-west and east coast perceived Seattle and all of the Pacific Northwest as some remote outpost in the great white north. As far as they were concerned, the land was still filled with fighting cowboys and indians.
We asked them what they were taking in school. Listing their classes, they both mentioned they were taking a foreign language, one French and the other Spanish. Aware of their naivety in regard to the Northwest, we decided to mentally toy with them.
"You
are aware," I began to say, "that every school student in the Northwest is required to take 'two years' of a native american dialect?"
"Really?!!" both said in astonishment.
"Absolutely!" I replied, realizing they were actually believing my claims.
"Can you speak to us in your Indian dialect?" they queried, both obviously very impressed.
I began to fidget. I had not thought this far ahead in order to be prepared to respond. My mind quickly ran through the options. It suddenly occurred to me that a lot of towns along the coast of Washington have Native American names.
Not missing a beat, I began to recite some of the names:
"Skykomish Nisqually Chimakum Walla Walla Makah."
"Wow!" they said in unison. "What does it mean?"
I realized I hadn't thought out the answer to that question either. So, I said it means:
"Man who runs behind car gets exhausted!"
We all laughed. They left not really knowing whether or not we actually could speak a native american dialect.
We would never tell.
Baby, It’s Cold Inside.
[This whimsical banter occured during summer time]
Let's face it, all women are COLD!!! They are like addicts, never willing to admit they are one with the problem. It's always someone else with the problem.
"Close the window! It's freezing in here!" she commands.
"Honey," I respond, "it's 78 degrees in here."
"LIAR!!!" she accuses. "That thermostat obviously is broken."
Reluctantly, I turn up the temperature, mindful of the huge power bill I will receive in the near future.
My son walks into the room, totally unaware of our conversation. She turns her attention to him.
"I'm not the one with the problem! I'm normal!" she screams, as if to convince herself and those around her.
My son looks at me with a quizzical look. We both shrug our shoulders. He continues on, out of the room without saying a word.
Once one woman starts complaining, every other female within 50-100 feet joins in a cacophony of WHINE.
Could be why the band Foreigner released the song, "You're as cold as ice!" Some songs really have a double meaning.
A quick observation reveals she is not wearing any socks, and that she is wearing a thin top and pants. I don't claim to be a genius, but I suggest to her that she might want to put on some socks and a sweater.
"That's not going to help any!" she barks back. "You don't love me. You want me to freeze in this igloo!"
"Men!" she mutters, as she stomps off down the hall. "They are so insensitive to our needs."
I'm left speechless…and sweating.
Spiders
My wife has been using the blue car to go to work. I used it to go get firewood from her father’s farm. The car is still stuffed to the brim with wood.
I told her last night that the car was now probably infested with spiders. She said she dreamed about scary spiders last night. She threatened me that if I didn't get the car cleaned out today, she would 'WALK' to work.
I suggested she might want to try a different type of "threat" that holds some consequence or motivation for me. I responded, "Dress warmly!"