Honk Honk, Said the Goose...Phyllis

I like material things. I’m not a hoarder, so don’t go there. But I do have a lot of interesting, unusual items. I have a small tin toy collection. I have a full size set of bongo drums and a tiny replica of the same set that’s about 1/3 the size. I have about 60 or 70 Pez dispensers, a genuine pith helmet, 6 die cast Volkswagen buses and beetle cars, and speaking of Beatles, I have an unopened set of all 4 Beatles action figures, two Rubic’s cubes which I can solve in just under two minutes. I have a pretty big key chain collection.

Yesterday, Sue bought me a new thing. It’s a goose honker call. It’s really beautiful. It’s made from some kind of hard wood. There is a simple design carved into it with a lathe. If you blow softly into it, it makes a low goose sound. If you blow hard, it makes a high sound, like the sound they make when they’re flying overhead. It feels nice in my hand.

We were at Big 5 to look for a bicycle seat. Sue said, “Remember I was going to buy you a present? Do you see anything you like?”
I looked at the yo-yos, watches, all the colorful shiny things they keep up by the cash register. I didn’t see anything I needed. I went over to the guns. “Do you want a gun?” she asked.

“Yeah, I want a handgun.” I was joking.

She said, “How about a Swiss Army knife?”

I already have one of those. It was my 5-year anniversary gift from Pacific Bell. It has a little brass SBC logo imbedded into the plastic on the other side of the Swiss Army cross. It has a plastic toothpick, tweezers, scissors, screw driver, bottle opener plus several size blades.

Then I saw a duck caller! I said, “Sue! Look at this!” She came over and we looked thru them. There was one for ducks, quail and geese. “Which one do you want?”, she asked.

“The geese caller, of course!” I love watching geese fly. I used to think they were migrating, but I learned these Canadian geese here in Denver migrated from Canada, but they never went back. When I see them flying overhead, they’re just going from one park to another. They never fly back to Canada.

The first thing Sue ever bought for me was a real didgeridoo. She bought it for me before I moved here. It’s the real thing, too. It’s about 4 ½ feet long. It takes some practice, but once you get the hang of it, it’s very loud. It’s also a very beautiful item.

Another thing Sue bought for me is a pocket trumpet. A pocket trumpet has the same length of brass tubing as a regular trumpet, but it’s coiled up tighter and so it appears smaller. I can play it some, but I really need to practice more. It was a super nice gift and it was really nice of Sue to buy it for me. And she bought me a genuine safari pith helmet and a Kindle. She has also bought me some books for my Kindle. And one time on a trip to Boulder, she bought me a marionette puppet. It has red hair, a satin red shirt, green vest and satin gray and black pinstripe pants. Sue is so generous with gifts that it’s hard to reciprocate.

Not that I don’t try. Just the other day, I bought her a whole case of Slim Fast.

Calling All Geese - Sue

Phyllis and I had gone to Big Five to look for a new bicycle seat and tee shirts. True to my word, I bought Phyllis a present. I hope it will appease her for the time being, and she will reconsider murdering me in cold plasma.

I've been doing better the last few years than ever. I paid off my Miata and my personally commissioned oil portrait by a New York artist of Rachel Maddow. I've finally put that gambling thing behind me. I've cut back my tithe to a reasonable ten percent, and I don't squander nearly as much of my employer's weekly deposit on booze, dope and lavish parties with famous rock bands. So that is why, when it comes to buying Phyllis a present, money is no barrier. It's just sitting around here in piles like laundry anyway. I may as well bribe her with it. Are you sitting down? I got her a goose caller!

Don't you just want to pinch yourself? I know what you're thinking. What did Phyllis do to win a prize like me? Who manipulated the stars the day we met, and injected me with intravenous love sick? (We're gay, by the way, and that's a whole other story, so stay tuned. And contrary to the liberals in California, I wasn't born that way. I decided to be gay when I was 40 BECAUSE I JUST WASN'T A BIG ENOUGH SOCIAL PARIAH YET. Ahem, sorry for the outburst.) I'll tell you what Phyllis did. She tricked me into this whole thing. She moved here from a thousand miles away, JUST TO CONVINCE ME SHE IS NOT TRYING TO KILL ME. I'm wise to the whole charade, so I have to keep giving Madam presents or I get foreign objects in the lunch she makes me for work. That's how it's all going down. And that's why I don't have any more lavish parties with famous rock bands.

Lucky for me, the goose caller lit her up like Independence Day meets Christmas. With a little practice on her part, we should have half the Canadian Geese from City Park in our back yard, so instead of pooping in the park where all prissy park geese poop, guess what? Our back yard is going to be covered like the Virgin Mary at St. Peter's Basilica, only it won't be from pigeons. It will be from MUCH LARGER BIRDS. One added bonus is that Phyllis may learn to play the Star Spangled Banner on her goose caller, just to regale the neighbors, in much the same way she can fart to that timeless melody. Oh and, by the way, Phyllis got me a present too! An entire case of that nutritious diet drink, Slug Fast.

P.S. If Rachel ever comes to town, I'm going to invite her over for popcorn and a movie. I'll have Phyllis sprinkle the Parmesan cheese on the popcorn while it's still hot, just the way I've dreamed Rachel likes it.

A Better Way to Mop Up Spills...Phyllis

Pete doesn’t know anything because he never reads. I have never seen him even pick up a book. He can’t name even two former presidents, or the capitols of any state, including the one he lives in. He doesn’t know who his Senators are. He doesn’t know who the Speaker of the House is. He doesn’t know that Africa is a continent and not a country.

When it comes to world history, he couldn’t care less. Ask him his opinion on our involvement in Afghanistan, he will respond with a look as blank as my checkbook register. Ask him his views on evolution, church versus state, abortion, race relations, the Keynesian economics, Marxism, global warming, cap and trade… you’ll get a more intelligent response from Lindsay Lohan.

Pete’s philosophy, if you can call it that, is to live from minute to minute. He doesn’t care about anything in the past nor is he concerned about tomorrow. He doesn’t care about what is going on a block away, in the next county, or on the other side of the globe. It’s a very selfish way to live if you ask me. Selfish and shallow.

A conversation with him is like trying to discuss world affairs with Sarah Palin. It’s not going to go anywhere. And if Tina Fey is Sarah Palin’s alter ego, Pete’s alter ego would be…hmmmmm…Howie Mandel…cute and eager, but hello?...anyone home?

No, Pete will never invent any new software, or a better way to mop up spills. He won’t impact our culture with a new, innovative school of thought. He won’t write the Great American Novel, or win a Nobel Peace prize. But when I come home from work and Pete greets me with his wagging tail and his jiggly dance, I think he’s the smartest dog I know.