I got to babysit our Zoë today, and believe it or not, I decided that was more important than getting today’s post written and up on time! We had a ball! In our kitchen we have two plastic baskets to hold our paper recycling, one for mixed paper/magazines, and the other for plain non-coated paper. Zoë decided it was her job to take pieces of paper out of a basket, walk around the kitchen island with them, holding them up into the air while pretending to read it (Maybe she wasn’t pretending – but she was making more sense than most of the third-class mail!), then coming full circle, either handing us the paper, or putting it back in the basket, and then taking out some other pieces, and repeating the process. We got dizzy watching her, but it was fun! And surprisingly exhausting!
Hubs and I are great fans of The Prairie Home Companion and Garrison Keillor. One of his “News From Lake Wobegon” stories had to do with a trip to the mall in the “big city,” and some observations about the people there. (For those of you not familiar with the fair town of Lake Wobegon, please click on the link to the Wikipedia article – very enjoyable.) That was the first time we heard him talk about the “geezers,” and the “geezerettes.” As soon as we heard him talking about them, we knew that we were both “geezer/ettes-in-training!” I am happy to report that neither one of us is quite there yet (our kids might disagree), as we have not yet started wearing the uniforms that are required for membership. For instance, a geezer in the summertime must wear plaid Bermuda shorts – especially if his legs are lily-white and marked with varicose veins, sandals with black mid-calf socks, a beret-type hat, extra points if it has a pom-pom on top in a contrasting color, and the shirt can be a polo shirt of any color, as long as it doesn’t match the shorts, and it must be tightly tucked into the shorts which are cinched with a wide white belt – as high above the waist as the crotch will allow.
I am not trying to be mean, nor am I looking down my nose at the geezers and geezerettes that populate our planet. I say, “God bless them!” they are obviously concerned with the important matters of life – like staying alive and well and happy – and not with conforming to the fashion or styles of the moment. More power to them. The only problem with the uniform is that it immediately identifies one as part of that group. Maybe that’s not a problem, though. Anyway, it doesn’t appear to be to them.
One quick anecdote about spotting geezers/ettes: Shortly after hearing Keillor talking about the G/G’s at the mall, Ashley and I were visiting one of the lighthouses on the OBX. It was summertime, and quite warm, and the gentleman walking toward us as we walked into the gift shop was dressed for the weather! He had obviously been to the store recently and purchased the latest in geezer fashion. He was dressed exactly as I described above, except his socks were white and just short of knee-length. He had the colorful beret with requisite pom-pom, and in addition, in case a chill came into the air, he sported a sweater in a color that had no relationship whatsoever to anything else he had on. But the absolute kicker to this whole incident was that as we passed by him, he was making a very rhythmic “putting” sound. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, he was farting along for all he was worth. Hubs and I had a hard time controlling ourselves, but on due consideration we looked at each other and said, “I guess we’re not as far away from G/G membership as we thought!”
So with that picture firmly in your mind, here is a little Monday Joy cartoon. Imagine my story as the soundtrack to this strip. Frank and Ernest have done it again. I just wonder where their better halves are. . .