Didn’t do shit yesterday, but the nice thing about dementia is that I won’t remember doing nothing for long. Now, what was I saying? Oh yeah, the day I sat on my ass until beer o’clock. My next-door neighbor, Jeff, messaged that he was meeting Matt and his wife at Hops and Brew at 5:00 p.m., and we were welcome to join in. Jeff said there was room in his car, which was an extra bonus, given the ongoing rain. When five rolled around, I was waiting on the porch for Jeff to come out, and he never did. It is not like a retired Marine Colonel to be late. I sent a message to see what was up and then re-read his original message. The dinner meet-up is for FRIDAY. Damn, I didn’t have reading comprehension on my next-to-go Bingo card.
Well, Swan and I were all dressed up and had nowhere to go, so I made the command decision to spend the rainy evening on Baloy. We walked under umbrellas to the highway, then grabbed a trike to take us to the beach. We hadn’t been to DaKudos for a while, so we started there. It turns out that my old friend Jessa no longer works there. That new owner keeps finding new ways to diminish his business. We had one drink and left. I gave Swan the option of Lagoon Resort or Treasure Island for dinner, and she chose TI because it has bay views. That girl sure does love the water. We plopped down at the bar (the only place with a roof over our heads) and watched the raindrops fall while waiting for our dinner to be served.
When we finished eating, we grabbed a trike for home. And so ended a pretty much empty day, but I have no complaints. I’m still driving the body vehicle on the road of life, and if I occasionally want to spend it at a rest stop, so be it.
Speaking of life and its alternatives, Swan’s dog Snickers died today. He barked his way through eleven years here on Earth (that’s 88 in people years), and I hope I can live a similarly long life. The vet said it was a liver problem (as far as I know, Snickers never tasted alcohol), and he died peacefully here at home.
Facebook shared this memory with me today:
Today’s YouTube video features Reekay providing three reasons expats wind up broke in the Philippines. They all seem to have stupidity in common. I live on a federal pension, so my financial security is every bit as solid as the US government. Oh shit! I’ve got some savings as a safety net, so that’s as strong as the US dollar. Fuck! Well, my fallback plan is that I’m an old geezer who won’t live forever anyway. Dying in a Chinese air strike is rising on my list of ways I might go, but it is still behind crossing the National Highway in Barretto.
Things that pass for humor in my weary brain:
The Smiths were unable to conceive children and decided to use a surrogate father to start their family. On the day the proxy father was to arrive, Mr. Smith kissed his wife goodbye and said, ‘Well, I’m off now. The man should be here soon.’
Half an hour later, just by chance, a door-to-door baby photographer happened to ring the doorbell, hoping to make a sale.
‘Good morning, he said, “I’ve come to…”
“Oh, no need to explain,” Mrs. Smith cut in, embarrassed, “I’ve been expecting you.”
‘Have you really?” Said the photographer. “Well, that’s good. Did you know babies are my specialty?”
“Well that’s what my husband and I had hoped. Please come in and have a seat.”
After a moment she asked, blushing, “Well, where do we start?”
“Leave everything to me. I usually try two in the bathtub, one on the couch, and perhaps a couple on the bed. And sometimes the living room floor is fun. You can really spread out there.”
“Bathtub, living room floor? No wonder it didn’t work out for Harry and me!”
“Well, none of us can guarantee a good one every time. But if we try several different positions and I shoot from six or seven angles, I’m sure you’ll be pleased with the results.”
“My, that’s a lot!” Gasped Mrs. Smith.
“In my line of work a man has to take his time. I’d love to be In and out in five minutes, but I’m sure you’d be disappointed with that.”
“Don’t I know it,” said Mrs. Smith quietly.
The photographer opened his briefcase and pulled out a portfolio of his baby pictures. “This was done on the top of a bus,” he said.
“Oh, my God!” Mrs. Smith exclaimed, grasping at her throat.
“And these twins turned out exceptionally well, when you consider their mother was so difficult to work with.”
“She was difficult?” Asked Mrs. Smith.
“Yes, I’m afraid so. I finally had to take her to the park to get the job done right. People were crowding around four and five deep to get a good look.”
“Four and five deep?” Said Mrs. Smith, her eyes wide with amazement.
“Yes”, the photographer replied, “And for more than three hours, too. The mother was constantly squealing and yelling I could hardly concentrate, and when darkness approached I had to rush my shots. Finally, when the squirrels began nibbling on my equipment, I just had to pack it all in.”
Mrs. Smith leaned forward. “Do you mean they actually chewed on your, uh .. . . .equipment?”
“It’s true, yes. Well, if you’re ready, I’ll set-up my tripod and we can get to work right away.”
“Tripod?”
“Oh yes, I need to use a tripod to rest my Canon on. It’s much too big to be held in the hand for very long.”
Mrs. Smith fainted.
Swan and I took a walk to the Subic marketplace this morning, and we’ll be going for a foot spa later this afternoon. If the weather cooperates, I’ll treat her to some beachside dining at Papagayo this evening. Yep, we’re getting back to normal—or as normal as it gets around here anyway.
A man calls Pizza hut to order a pizza…
