A Year in the Life of a Blogger

So I’ve been forced to reprint a posting from 2016. By forced I mean I didn’t write this week. (Oops, my bad.) Do people still say that? Anyway, never fear. Tonight I’m going to start writing next week’s blog just for you. In the meantime I hope you enjoy this one…

Hard to believe I’ve been penning this blog since November, 2012. In case you suck at math, that’s 169 blog posts at once a week. That’s a lot of posts. Just between you and me, sometimes I wonder if I’ll run out of words. Although, as you’ve probably discovered, days when I have little to say hardly ever happen.

I don’t write about anything life changing or probably even interesting, mind you. It’s all mainly humorous observations about my life. That’s a quote from my About Me page, which you’d know had you read it. No worries.

I forgive you

If I’m being honest here, I have to admit I didn’t post a new entry every Sunday. And the reason I know this? Because I get a stat report at the end of each year from WordPress. You can’t believe the stuff they track. Don’t worry, nobody’s stalking how often you read my blog. That would just be creepy. I don’t actually know my readers’ identities unless they comment. (Hint, hint.)

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It’s Me, The Ignoramus

So 10 months ago, I had my roof re-shingled and in doing so, they had to remove my DIRECTV dish. According to my roofers, DIRECTV put it in the wrong spot. Odd how the dish has worked nicely for the last 20 years in the wrong spot.

Anyway, apparently it became damaged when they removed it, so I contacted DIRECTV for a new one. After 20 years on their protection plan, I rarely needed them. I can think of many other things I’d rather have spent that $2400 on. But now that I’m off the plan, what do you bet next month the whole system crashes? Oh well…

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Why I Almost Killed My Sister

I almost killed my sister on my birthday.

say it isn't so

Now don’t get me wrong; I realize it’s shocking to lead with that, especially since this is supposed to be a humor blog and death isn’t funny. Spoiler alert: there will be a happy ending. Sort of.

It started 3 days before my birthday when I called Vicki to see whether her doctor contacted her with test results from the previous week. At 64, she’s lived most of her life with debilitating obsessive-compulsive disorder, is developmentally and physically disabled and now has a muscle condition forcing her to use a walker. Life has not been particularly kind to Vicki.

Bill, Vicki me at Tahoe

Me, brother Bill and Vicki at Tahoe circa 1960

Vicki sleeps late and doesn’t have a cell phone or computer. I can only contact her via her home phone. She often can’t reach it before it goes to voicemail so I leave a message and hope she calls me back. But this time she didn’t. I figured she’s probably out getting dinner and will call me later. But no. Continue reading

Oh, To Be Talented

This blog was originally posted in May, 2014

martha stewart
rachael ray

Sometimes I’m envious of people who excel in a particular area. That’s because I’m limited in the talent department. I can think of only 2 areas where I’m decent: I’m an okay writer and I can play tennis. That’s pretty much it. I love baking but I’m no Martha Stewart. I enjoy cooking but I’m no Rachael Ray. And no doubt I’d be the first to get booted from Dancing with the Stars and most definitely The Voice.

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Whirlpool Sucks. And Other Things I Learned this Week

  • Never ride your scooter on the freeway in a tank top when you’re 62 years old. And when you have upper arms that, on a good day, flap around like fish out of water. Add whipping winds while you’re scooting at 50 mph and what you get is slapped silly by your own arms. I tell you, it’s not a pretty sight. Soon you’ll find yourself riding down the freeway with your arms pinned close to your sides so as not to cause a pile up when motorists look on in horror.

flappy arms

Okay, I changed my mind. Maybe my arms aren’t so bad after all

  • Do not attempt, on a Wednesday, to push your 153 lb. sister in a wheelchair DOWN Sacramento Street in San Francisco, especially after receiving the wrong directions to your destination. You will be on your heels the entire journey, mimicking one of those barefoot water skiers, in your attempt to prevent your sister from careening down a steep city street like Steve McQueen’s car in the movie, Bullitt. Now don’t get me wrong; what goes down must come up. All 153 lbs. UPHILL, in a wheelchair.

Bullit chase

Pretty much like this

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