Why I'm giving the gift of garbage

The fireman and I are great in a crisis. Seriously, I'm not bragging here. Professionally we've both been in disaster mitigation, response and recovery for over 20 years. Our resumes include things like New Orleans after Katrina and DC and New York after 9/11. When the shit hits the fan you want to see us, because we are really good at what we do.

Yep, fires, floods, national disasters, no problem! The problem seems to arise when we attempt ordinary everyday chores that most people never think twice about. Like taking out the garbage.

I'm involved in a secret Santa type swap right now that involves sending 12 individually wrapped gifts. Late last night I finished wrapping my gifts to send, but decided to leave the picking up of the mess until this morning.

Fast forward to 6 this morning, I'm in the shower and the fireman is asking if this is garbage pick up day, and did I put it out last night? With the holiday I'd forgotten, so I begged him to put it out quick, and while he was at it, could he grab my wrapping paper mess and put it out too.

Since he's generally the helpful sort he took care of it, and since I do appreciate him, I made him breakfast. As I was standing at the sink, looking down the driveway, we were chatting about how much snow we'd gotten, and how nice it was that the plows were out already.

Just about that time I was witness to the township plow hooking one of our bags of trash and spreading it hither and yon down the road. As I was putting my boots on to go clean it up, I mentioned that at least it was pretty wrapping paper garbage and not the cleanings from Hannah the cat's liter box that I'd get to clean up.

Imagine my surprise when I started picking up the trash, and it wasn't just leftover wrapping paper and mangled ribbon, but also my 12 wrapped gifts.

Normally I have nothing good to say about the local snow plow drivers. I'm convinced they have a points system and earn prizes for things they destroy and mangle during their routes. Today I am happy that the plow driver decided to go for the 3 pointer that our trash bags must have represented. He saved me a not inconsiderable sum of money and saved the fireman a shopping trip on black Friday!

Right as I finished picking everything up, the garbage truck rolled up. He threw the bags in the truck and tried to take the one from my hand. I had to to say no, it wasn't trash, just something I was giving to a friend.

When I got back the fireman was laughing because now the garbage man would be telling everyone that I do my holiday shopping in the neighborhood garbage cans.

How do you gift wrap a lap dance?

Last weekend we celebrated my Dad's 75th birthday. It was a lovely day, filled with lots of family, friends, good food and presents. I gave him a a gift card to his favorite butcher shop. He was disappointed.  It's not that he didn't appreciate it, and won't be thrilled when he picks things out with it, it's just that a couple of years ago, I gave him THE BEST GIFT EVER, and since then, nothing has lived up to it. To be honest, it wasn't even the gift, and I doubt either of us could remember what the actual gift turned out to be that year. It was the story of my trying to by him a gift that he loved so much.  Let me back up a bit.

Dad is a practical sort of guy,  doesn't like gadgets or anything, he hunts and fishes, but has everything he could ever need (with the possible exception of a daughter who would willingly join him in these endeavors). One thing that he does enjoy is to going out to eat. There is a supper club that I knew he liked, right on the highway I would be driving on, so I decided to stop and pick him up a gift certificate.

I pulled into the parking lot, mid afternoon, and immediately noticed that they had done quite a bit or remodeling since I had been there about a year and a half earlier. Unfortunately there wasn't anyone around, but I got out and tried the door anyway. Crap. Not open.

As I was walking back to my truck another car pulled up and out stepped one of the largest men I have ever seen.  He asked if there was something that he could help me with, and I told him that I was hoping to buy a gift certificate for my Dad's birthday, explaining that he really enjoyed coming here. The man gave me a very strange look and said he was quite sorry, but they didn't have gift certificates, and did I realize that new owners had taken over?

Obviously I hadn't but said, I really liked the remodeling they had done, and asked if they still had the great chicken. I thought the man was going to choke to death he had such a coughing fit! Finally he gasped out that they started serving a different kind of breasts and thighs. How weird I thought as I got back into my truck to leave.

As I was pulling out of their drive, onto the highway, I happened to notice the new sign to go along with the recent remodeling.  "Chubby's North Gentlemen's Club." Yes, I tried to by my Dad a gift certificate to the new strip club!

At least I'm not bald

I know I'm not 20 anymore. I know that physical changes start taking place and for the most part the process of aging doesn't bother me too much. I get along much better with myself at 40 something, than I did at 20 something, even though I'll cheerfully admit that I sure wish I could fit all this 41 year old awesome in those 21 year old's jeans!

For the last ten or so years I've noticed that every once in awhile I will get a stay hair that pops out from my chin. Since I'd rather not be considered a qualified applicant for the bearded lady job when the circus comes to town, I am obsessive about plucking them out.

Yesterday I was standing in the bathroom trying to pluck one out when the fireman walked in and wanted to know why I had my nose less than half an inch from the mirror.

Me:  I can feel a little chin hair, but I can't see it to yank it out.

Fireman: You probably can't see it because it's grey. Maybe you should try dying your beard hair the next time you get your roots done.

This from the man who thought it was a perfectly rational decision to start shaving his head so that people wouldn't notice his receding hair line!

There is no form of torture that could ever get me to admit to him that when I finally did find it, and yank it out, he was right!