Haven’t written in a while.  I could try to make up an excuse, but why bother?  Sometimes I’m busy, sometimes I’m lazy, and sometimes I’m asleep.

First, some political comments.

Yes, our President is on certain, maybe even most, occasions a “bonehead” (technical term).  He handles some situations badly, and some not at all, and I personally think that most of the world is laughing at us.  The debacle around immigration and control of same is spiraling to ever higher levels of “Dude, are you serious?”  I have hope it will change, because I have faith in our system and in the American people in general, and the results from the midterm elections provide me some evidence that it will get better.  We elected a lot of people new to Congress, and with a  lot more varied backgrounds than ever before, and that is a good thing, whether you are blue, red, green, rainbow, or some weird paisley color in your views.

Until it changes, Donald Trump is the President, and let’s be real; he can’t possibly be wrong ALL THE TIME. Statistically that’s almost impossible.  Remember the old saying, “even a blind squirrel sometimes finds a nut,” (substitute “a stopped clock is still write twice a day” if you want).  And yet, even when he does somewhat “normal” presidential stuff, the talking heads are still all over him.  Look, it’s a free country, and you can certainly say what you want, but please, be consistent.  Before you rake a given president over the coals, have some perspective.

In my opinion, he’s not a good president.  We have had bad presidents before.  We have also had dumb presidents, immoral presidents, and arrogant presidents before.   We have had presidents who use their office to help their cronies before.  None of this is new.  We as a country survived (although sometimes individuals paid a price) because the country is bigger than the ego of any one man, and I hope that trend continues.  It disturbs me that no matter what President Trump does, he gets dragged through the mud solely because he did it or said it, never mind the context or the results.  Like I said above, no one is that wrong that often.

So, a simple request:  Instead of comparing every single action of our president against an impossible standard, compare it against what a reasonable person would have done.  In some arenas, he will fall considerably short; in some, his actions may actually make sense, or at least not be completely evil (short range missile treaty comes to mind…).   In other words, just because Trump did it doesn’t make it wrong; judge it on something other than that.

Ok, enough political junk.  Below is a new original work inspired when I met my lovely wife fifteen years ago.  In some form, it will be in the new book, whenever that happens. Hope you find a few smiles…

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Recently, my girlfriend moved in with me. While we have both thoroughly enjoyed the arrangement, I will admit that it required some changes from the lifestyle I was used to living.

Probably the biggest change had to do with food. For years, I was used to shopping and cooking for one, except in those rare occasions where I had company for a few days here and there. As such, since I was pretty familiar with what I liked to eat, and in what quantities, shopping was fairly easy. Now, however, I have found that there is a significant learning curve when shopping for two, and I’m nowhere near the end of it. For example, I like bananas. Therefore, I used to buy four or five bananas, which is the right amount of bananas to have on hand when you want to eat one each day before they go bad. However, if your significant other likes bananas, you need to buy more than that, or else after about two days you are banana-less.

The issues didn’t stop with fruit. I often enjoyed an occasional submarine sandwich (grinder, hoagie, torpedo, you get the point). Often, I bought a large sandwich, with the intention of saving the second half to enjoy later. Only I have learned that since my honey-b ear-moonpie-pookie-schnookums and I agree on so many things, (like bananas and sandwiches), we like the SAME submarine sandwich. As such, the life expectancy of that second half is somewhat shorter than shrimp at an all–you-can-eat buffet, and I never get to see it again. Leftover pizza shares a similar fate, and I have yet to stock enough Doritos to ensure that I get to enjoy them for longer than two days after going to the supermarket.

If fruit and chips were the extent of the changes, these things wouldn’t even be worth mentioning, and what fun would that be? So of course, there’s more to tell. Let’s take a look around what used to be my bachelor pad…

My second bathroom has been taken over by an array of sweet smelling products the origin or use of which I cannot begin to fathom. I do know both that there is a pleasing scent and no counter space, and I have learned from experience to never EVER bring this up. I have pretty much written off this room as even belonging to my house, as I am not allowed in there for any reason (unless something is broken, and even then I need a special pass). It is like this mythical, sweet smelling mystery land. With a toilet.
Continuing the tour of what used to be my domain, we have the laundry room. The changes there are fairly overt. I have yet to go down to my washer/dryer and find either one empty, accept for the one time when they were both empty, and then there was no detergent.

Next stop is the thermostat, where I learned that we have more differences. As the love of my life never forgets to point out, I am hot-blooded, and rarely feel cold. She, on the other hand, gets a chill just getting something out of the freezer, and at night she sleeps under so many blankets that I usually can’t find her. As such, we often playfully bicker over the correct setting of thermostat. She wants it set about 80, and I am much happier around 60. She has suggested a compromise in which the thermostat is set to 80 about half the time (like when we are home) and at 60 the other half (when we are out at work). I have tried arguing, but she held my teddy bear ransom until I gave in.

Speaking of my teddy bear, there is another point of conflict. She has a teddy bear named Timmy. I have a teddy bear named Oscar. I also have another bear named Stanley, a moose named Maggie, and three monkeys named Mike, Charlie, and Patty. As her stuffed animal was outnumbered by my small furry army, that apparently created a “situation” among our blended family. Recently, I have noticed that my stuffed animals are now living in a box in the closet, while Timmy has free roam of the bed.

Which brings me to yet another difference in my life now that my honey bear has moved in. She insists upon making the bed. I insist upon letting the bed go “au-natural” since I am only going to get back in it as soon as humanely possible. Again, ever the peacemaker, I offered a compromise: She makes her half, my half stays as is. She didn’t go for it; apparently that offended Timmy’s sense of order or something.
So now “I” have become part of a “we.” “My” wonderful bachelor apartment has become “our” home, and “my” stuff has, well, disappeared. In its place are now pictures of people I don’t know, decorative plates, and the occasional vase of flowers. I thought about taking the manly way out and falling on my sword, but I can’t find my sword, and I can’t find any of my tools to craft a replacement. I guess I shouldn’t complain; while looking for my tools I did find a coffee grinder, a teapot, and a crock pot, none of which I recognize.

I asked her to marry me, and she said yes, so I guess I don’t mind too much…