Pay Up or Else!

"There's someone here to see you" said Richard as he limped into the bathroom with his hand out.
"Who?" as I got out of the shower.
"Louie the Gimp."
"I was just thinking that I forgot to give you your allowance."
"Well, you'd better pay up." Richard waved his open palm under my nose.
"Or I'll be wearing cement shoes?" I asked.
"I have them ready and waiting for the likes of you," he growled back.
We've been married for 22 years. The day after the wedding I took his checkbook from him, never to return it. He would round off the amount of the checks he wrote. I'm a CPA. That drove me nuts. Ever since he's gotten a weekly allowance.
Since he retired I gave him his first raise of our marriage. I upped the amount to $80 per week, but with the condition that he clean the house every week. I'm unemployed, I can't afford a cleaning lady any longer. Plus I hate to clean.
I'm not really happy with the house cleaning part. I'm still finding dried up pancake batter in the kitchen a few weeks later. I scraped something out of the microwave the other day that had obviously been there for awhile. He's pretty good about doing the laundry though. So I shouldn't be complaining.
I got my wallet and counted out four, $20 bills. I gave them to Louie the Gimp.
"You only gave me $60." as he tried to tuck one bill into his underwear without me seeing it.
"Very funny." I wasn't laughing.
"I'll let you off this week, but you'd better not do it again. You'll be swimming with the fishes."
Oooo. I was shaking in my cement boots.

Happy Birthday to Me!

Today is my birthday. I'm old enough. Let's just leave it at that. I slept in until eight o'clock, Richard made me a wonderful breakfast and then he brought me a card.
The envelope wasn't sealed, and there was no writing on the front. I suspected the fat package had the usual array of scratch off lottery tickets inside. I pulled the card out of its envelope.
"Wait! Where's Ginger? This will make her crazy." Richard yelled across the living room.
The cover of the card has a picture of a funny looking kid with a bunch of balloons standing next to a tank of helium. I opened it. It's a singing card. A group of kids with high squeaky voices sang Happy Birthday.
Ginger went wild! She tried to bite the card, her lower lip started to quiver, she ran in circles around the room. I closed and opened the card again so I could watch the show! She came over and barked at the card after I did that for the fourth time.
Inside the card Richard paper clipped a piece of paper that said "Happy Birthday, Love Richard and Ginger.
Are you getting it now? No writing on the envelope, no writing on the inside.
"I paid $5 for that card. Walmart didn't have any 38 cents cards that I liked." I laughed. This was so Richard.
"We have to recycle the card. If we use it for you, me and Ginger for 5 years, that's a dollar a year and only 33 cents per birthday. Put it in a safe place so we'll remember where it is."
I can put it in a safe place. It's the remembering part that will be challenging. I'm having a birthday, remember?

Tattoo or Not to Tattoo

The City of Cocoa is having a debate on whether to allow another tattoo parlor within its city limits. Eighteen thousand people live there and the town boasts five parlors. You do the math.
Richard's new pastime is shopping. It's a little difficult for me, since we are unemployed. I cringe every time the credit card comes out. He's been hanging out at Pier One and Ross and one day I went with him. Now I know why he's hanging out in these places.
"Wow!" he said to the young girl behind the counter. "Look at that great tattoo."
Immediately she held out her arm so he could examine it more closely.
"Do you have any with color on them?" He should have been an actor. The girl believes he's truly interested in her tattoo. She pulls the neck of her blouse open so that he can peek at one on her chest.
I've never understood the attraction to having a tattoo but that Richard, in the blink of an eye, can get a person to practically bare all to show him is a mystery.
"That's nice. Do you have any more?" She blushes. She won't reveal where thank goodness.
The clerk grinned from ear to ear. They get a whole conversation going about tattoo artists, how much it hurts, how much it costs, what she's planning when she can save up some more money.
Now there are many well documented stories of Richard as an unruly child. He enlisted in the Navy as a teenager. Before he shipped out, his father reportedly grabbed him by the ear and twisted; hard. He put the fear of God into his son that if he came home with a tattoo, he'd be disowned. Obviously it worked. Richard has not a single mark and for a 17 year old in the Navy, in the sixties, that's remarkable.
Does he have a fascination with tattoos? Probably not.
Does he like having conversations with attractive young women? Probably yes.
Does he think Cocoa should have another tattoo parlor? Sure! The more the merrier.

A Bit about Ginger

I thought I should give you a little background on Ginger and her role in the family. Ginger is a 3 year old Boykin Spaniel who still looks and acts like a puppy. She's all of 22 pounds of pure energy. She looks like a chocolate lab. I can't tell you how many times one of our neighbors comments on how big she's getting. We've lived here for 8 months and she hasn't grown an inch.
Ginger flunked out of obedience school as a puppy. Was it because the instructor called her a spazz? Or maybe she lost interest in her education when she was accused of smoking a cigarette in class.
The class was held in the parking lot of the pet store. Needless to say, if it wasn't nailed down it was going in her mouth. She dangled that cigarette butt out of the corner of her mouth as if she'd been smoking for years. One of her classmates ratted on her.
She has no regard for the value of money either. Ginger grabbed two, $100 bills off my dresser and devoured all except the picture of Ben Franklin. We saved her poop for a week and sent the pieces to the Federal Reserve. They sent us a check in return, believe it or not. This story did get her a write up in the local newspaper. I tried to keep the fame from going to her head.
These days she still likes to steal things left within her reach. She has become more studious however. Now she steals reading glasses, pens, books and the occasional shoe when she's looking for some attention.
Ginger believes the world revolves around her. She wants her biscuits when it suits her, toys when she says it's time to play. When she's ready to go to bed, she lets us know. And we'd better go or she'll fuss until we do. In other words, Ginger rules the roost.

I Live at the IHOP

"Buy this. Buy this."
It was a huge bag of pancake mix in a plastic resealable bag.We were in Sam's Club.
"What the hell are we going to do with that?" I asked. Stupid question.
A few days later I spotted the bag sitting on the kitchen counter, a fry pan on the stove and a mixing bowl and spoon ready and waiting to go to work. It must be pancake day. I retreated to my office facing the kitchen to see the cooking show unfold.
Richard carefully measured out the pancake mix. He slowly poured in the water as he stirred.
Mix, mix, mix. Pour, pour, pour. Cook, bubble, flip.
Stacks of golden brown circles began to form on a plate on the counter. The aroma of the freshly cooked breakfast treat filled the house. Soon another fry pan made its way to the top of the stove. The piles increased in number as I watched from the sidelines.
It was two in the afternoon.
I heard the burners on the stove click to off. The zip lock bags came out of the drawer. I could sense that soon I would be recruited to help clean up.
"I need help."
My instructions were this. Two pancakes in a small bag. Ten small bags in a big bag. Richard is all about portion control. Only take out of the freezer what you need. I packed all of the smaller bags, burped and sealed them. Then I packed ten small bags into each of ten larger ones.
Richard attempted to clean up. Pancake batter dripped down the front of my new stainless steel range. The floor was gritty with pancake flour. The sink was filled with dirty pans and bowls. This mess was necessary because now we have 200 pancakes in our freezer.
"How long will it take us to eat that?" I asked.
"We don't have jobs. At least we won't starve."
The next time I'm at Sam's Club I'd better stock up on syrup or strawberries and whipped cream. Can I keep those in the freezer too? There's still some pancake mix left in that big resealable bag.

Welcome to my new life!

Earlier this year I joined the ranks of the unemployed. I'm fine with that. After 15 years at the same company, I agree, it was time to move on. Just like the Beverly Hillbillies, we packed up and moved to start a new life in Central Florida.
We picked a town called Viera. It's beautiful here. We didn't know anyone that lived here we just thought it was a pleasant place to start over. We cut our ties to South Florida and began our journey. And what a journey it's been!
What we didn't know was the adjustment we'd have to make. In this economy there are days that job searching seems pointless. Richard says he already has a job called a check from Uncle Sam each month. And Ginger... She could care less as long as she gets walked and fed her daily ration of biscuits.
Some days I just shake my head. I don't think anyone would believe what goes on in my house each day. I watch from my executive chair in my office. While I'm attempting to find gainful employment, Richard and Ginger are having the time of their lives. And oh what a time it is!