Mud, Dogs and My Sweet Al

What’s on your mind these days? For me, it’s mud, dogs and my Sweet Al.

Do you ever remember February with so much mud? I’m loving the weather, but the mud is wearing me out.

Al said I should write nice things about him. A wife should never talk bad about her husband or his dog.”

 Are you kidding me? It’s been 55 years since I said my vows, I don’t remember dogs and mud being a part of the deal.

Al and our daughter went to town and left the dogs with me. I was trying to get some writing done.  I don’t have time to mess with them, so I put them outside and forgot about them.

When Al and our daughter came home, they drove through a foot of mud to get to the house. My daughter was fit to be tied. She said, “What is Daisy doing outside? It’s too cold for her.”

I said, “Don’t give me that attitude, it’s 40 degrees and they have hair. They are outside dogs. They have three inches of mud on their feet. I’m tired of cleaning up mud.”

“It’s inhumane.” She started to cry.

Al came in the door with three dogs clamoring to get into the house with him. He said, “The mud is so deep, I could hardly get through the driveway. I almost ruin my clothes.”

I said, “All those muddy dogs, jumping up on our glass door trying to get in, would make anyone ruin their clothes. My friend says, one or two shocks, their dog doesn’t jump up anymore. Why can’t we have well-behaved dogs like our friends?”

Al said, “I put the shock collar on Whiskey and I had the other end on my neck trying it out. I ended up shocking myself.  I put the loop around my neck and was wearing it. Whiskey is so smart, she knows something’s going on. But I don’t want to do it, I’m afraid I might shock myself again. And, I don’t want to hurt my dog. I love my dog.”

It’s your brother’s fault you have this dog in the first place.

This week, we were with David, Al’s brother and I was telling him about my hearing aids. In the conversation, dogs and mud became the focus.

He said, “Your hearing aids have to be programmed for background noise. When you are in the bar, it’s so noisy. I took my hearing aids back. I couldn’t hear because of all the bar noise.”

David, I’m not going to a bar. But since you do, how do you hear the young girls?

“It’s easy. I just get real close and tell them to whisper in my ear.” Then he had a good laugh.

I wasn’t laughing when I said, “Well David, I’m not going to whisper in your ear, but read my lips, so you can hear. Don’t ever talk Al into another dog. Al’s in the doghouse now. I don’t care if your trainer’s dog got your dog pregnant and you think Whiskey’s the smartest dog in the world.  Al’s wearing the shock collar around his neck thinking he’s threating Whiskey and I’m cleaning up mud.”

Then Al jumped into the conversation, “Dogs like Whiskey are high powered and it’s hard to train them.”

Al, I’ve been trying to train you for 55 years, and I know what you’re saying. Then I said to his brother, “If you ever convince Al to have another hunting dog, I’m going to wrap that shock collar around both of your necks. You get my drift?

Final Brushstroke! With all this mud around here, there could be some serious mudslinging and you could be reading it on the front page,  “Two old men found with a shock collar twisted around their neck, and the wife can’t be found. It’s been reported that she has gone on vacation until after mud season is over.”

What? I can’t hear you.

Can you hearing me now? I’ll move closer.

With the family, I’m huddled two feet away from the television and they are all lounging ten feet back on the sofa eating chips and dip, talking and having a good time. I need to join the party.

I contend they keep the sound on the television too low.

My family says, “You can’t hear, you need a hearing aid.”

I said, “I can hear just fine.”

My son-in-law says, “We say something, you just grin. It’s so unnerving when people do that.”

“Not me. I hate it when people do that.”

I could hear just fine if the family would speak up. I’m in a family who talks very low. Remember, they’re introverts and they don’t want to be heard. My daughter’s co-workers tell her to use her outside voice. She’s four feet away from them inside. My son talks so low on the phone I can’t tell if it’s him or not. He says, remember you have a son.

My Sweet Al says I need a hearing aid, but he can’t hear either, so he doesn’t know if I answer him or not. He’s not the best gage for my hearing ability.

On the way home from the football game in Pueblo, My Sweet Al and I rode in the backseat, our children were in the front. They were talking straight ahead at the windshield.

I said, “If you want me to hear you, you have to turn around and talk to me.”

Our daughter handed me the megaphone, which I had used to cheer on the football players. I laughed, turned it around, put the small end in my ear and heard just fine. I said, “Wow, this red plastic megaphone only cost a dollar at Dollar tree, that’s a far cry from a $5,000 hearing aid. Maybe I won’t need to buy one after all.”

We had a good laugh over that one, but apparently no one’s laughing anymore. I tell them I have selective hearing. I’m dreaming, I’m creating in my head, I’m in another world, I only hear what I want to hear. But they’re not buying any of it.

I remember talking to my friend.  She was exasperated. She was really having difficultly talking loud enough for her husband to hear. So she bought him a hearing aid. The hearing aid bothered him so he put it in his shirt pocket. She says now when she talks to him, he just grins and she talks to her $5,000 in his pocket.

Years ago when I was struggling to tell someone something and they couldn’t hear, it angered me. I got louder and louder. I said then, I’m not going to do that to anyone. It provokes people. The day I can’t hear I’m getting a hearing aid. That day has come.

I was reading this morning about grace, that we might know a concept or a truth, but we are separated from the reality of it until we become one with that truth. We might say we believe it, but until we actually know it, we don’t own it. I’ve put off believing I needed a hearing aid. It’s time to own up to it.

So, I made the call. I’m taking the plunge. It’s not vanity, it’s just the effort of finding the right one without spending an arm and leg for something I don’t need. There are a slew of ones to pick from. They can run from $300.00 to $5,000. There are little one, simple ones, level of sound, 4 bands all the way up to 16 bands. There are different guarantees, with or without the remote and batteries.

I struck up a conversation with my daughter’s father-in-law who can’t hear a thing. He grins a lot, too. He told me all about hearing aids and said, “Put mine in your ear.” Oh me, I felt a little funny. It’s like using someone else’s toothbrush. I sheepishly took it and put the little flower bud in my ear. He must really be deaf. He had his up on the highest level. It blew me out of my seat. But, I could hear just fine.

 Final Brushstroke! So, I’m grinning and bearing it. Sometimes we have to do what we dread doing. I’m becoming one with the truth, I don’t want to believe it, but I can’t hear.

Inflated Egos & Deflated Balls

When I met my friend for lunch, she wanted to talk about a book she was reading. She said, “Before the 1900s people valued and looked up to people of character. Since then the industrial age came in, and now people look up and applaud those of personality.”

I said, I see that, look what is happening in the sports and the “pretty people of Hollywood.” They have big personalities, pretty faces, clout, power, and money, and we look to them as people of creditability.”

Those who are in high places and big jobs seem to do it all right. It’s not necessarily so. Give them enough time and opportunity, their real selves will be fleshed out—their character will be found out.

My friend is a dyed-in-the-wool Bronco fan. Deflated balls and inflated egos were on her mind that day. I was treading lightly on the subject because I knew how she felt about her team. She said, it wasn’t right what Elway did to Fox. Elway played Manning hurt and Fox didn’t lose that game. Fox took them to several play-off games.

I told her, we don’t know what went on behind closed doors. Maybe it was decided before the game. Elway already had a new coach in the wings. Fox has been hired and has a new team. I guess, it’s all been forgiven and forgotten.

I’m sitting in the middle of Bronco Country and I know just enough to be dangerous. I’ll probably get heat on this one. I resisted the urge to retort but told her anyway. “I saw a flaw in Elway several years ago. I believe it played itself out again.”

Maybe the flaw is all about winning the Super Bowl Trophy, no matter the cost or who gets in the way. He wants it, it’s not about people, it’s about who can get him to the Super Bowl. And the fans expect him to do it. I guess that’s the world of football.

I told her I followed the Ravens to the 2012 Super Bowl Win. They are a faith team and have coaches and players of character. They’ve made the playoffs ten times since 2000, with two Super Bowl wins. After that game and every other game, they pray together and give God the glory.

That year at the Super Bowl, I couldn’t take my eyes off of a 37-year-old Christian middle linebacker, by the name of Ray Lewis. He glorified God after his big win. He pulled off his jersey to reveal a sleeveless black shirt that read "Psalms 91.”

He played his entire career with the Ravens, and then announced that he would retire because God was calling him. Throughout his career, Lewis built a reputation as a leader and intimidating force and gained a reputation as a complete defender.

My son-in-law reminded me that Lewis had allegedly killed a man. After the murder allegations, Lewis's image was recovered in the minds of some. There still remains a blemish on the minds of some about him.

I saw Ray Lewis as a man of faith and character. He’s been forgiven. He knows who gets the glory. For me, that’s what this game of life is all about.

Final Brushstroke! This week, allegations about deflated footballs, inflated egos and a Super Bowl Trophy are on everyone’s mind. For some, it’s all about the win. In time, their character will be revealed, for good or bad. It depends on what everyone is looking for.

Who’s thinking for who these days?

My friend, Julie, wrote an article titled Does Marriage Lower Your IQ?

Apparently it does. It’s taking a mastermind and great effort for My Sweet Al and I to understand each other these days. He doesn’t connect and I don’t hear. Heaven forbid, when did all this come upon us?

I said to Al, “I like the way the neighbor did his barn with the boards in front, that’s how I want to do our garage.”

“Who’s that?”

I said, “The fish man.”

“The only barn I can think of belongs to the turkey man.”

“No. I’m talking about the fish man, you told me yourself he owned the Seattle Fish Company.”

“That’s the man with the turkeys in his yard.”

I needed to take a carrot cake to a function. One pound of carrots makes one cake. I sent Al to the store to buy one five-pound bag of carrots. He came home with two ten-pound bags. I said to our daughter, “Why did you let him buy all those carrots. I don’t have room in the refrigerator for twenty pounds of carrots.”

She said, “Daddy was going to buy five ten pound bags and I had to stop him.”

“That would be fifty pounds of carrots.”

“He had them in the basket ready to check out. I had a hard time talking him down to two bags. He said you said 5 bags.”

I said to him, “What in the world were you thinking?”

He said, “You always make carrot cakes for everyone else. I just wanted a carrot cake for myself.”

I guess you can’t fault the guy. I said to the family I don’t know what to do with all those carrots.

Everyone had an opinion. My son-in-law said, “You can make twenty carrot cakes and freeze them.”

I don’t have that many cake pans or freezer space and that’s a lot of work. My daughter said, “Chop them up, measure them, and put them in freezer bags. You could Google it and find out how to blanche them.”

I don’t have time and I don’t want to blanche carrots. I’m thinking that the neighbor’s chickens are going to be on an organic carrot diet for a while. They’ll have great vision and produce big orange eggs. We’ll have happy neighbors and I won’t have to worry about the carrots.

Al contents that a man who doesn’t make mistakes, doesn’t do anything. I guess he’s right. He was willing to go to the store for me.

We were riding with some friends and listening to them. She was telling her husband how to drive. She said turn at the light at the Mall. He said I’ll turn at Home Depot. He was determined not to turn at the light. She was determined he was going to turn where she said. She was worn out by the time he finally made the turn.

It was too close to home. So I had to recap my story about the fish man. She said, when they were first married, he came home and said he was complacent about their marriage.

She heard him say, he was tired of the marriage and wanted out. So, she started saving her pennies, made plans for childcare for their daughter and packed her bags to leave.

The day she was leaving, he looked at her and asked her where she was going?

You said you were complacent about the marriage.

He said I am.

That’s why I’m leaving.

I said to my friend’s husband, you almost lost your wife, were you aware of that?

He said no. That happened a long time again. I meant to say I was comfortable with our marriage.

I told him, only by God’s grace you are sitting here as a married man.

He shrugged.

I said it again, “You almost lost your wife.”

He didn’t respond. So I said to his wife, “I don’t think he got it.”

She said, “He didn’t.”

My Sweet Al tells everyone that before he can say it, I say it. We’ve been married so long that I finish his sentences. We think alike.

I don’t think so. We might be saying the same things, but we’re not thinking the same these days. How in the world have we made it together all these years? Our IQ is going down and our lack of understanding is going up.

Final Brushstroke! I believe my friend is right. Marriage makes the IQ go down. I’m wondering, who is thinking for who these days?