Liza and I have a date to have breakfast at our local diner tomorrow morning.  I took her there a couple of weeks ago, and we had a great time.  I think we'll have a great time tomorrow, too.

Why the title?  Well, because yesterday Liza and I were watering the plants on our deck.  She was in her bathing suit, and I was in my regular clothes.  I put the bathing suit on her so she wouldn't get her nice dress all wet.  She started out with a watering can, and I started out with a hose.  Before long, she wanted to switch, so I said okay.  That was the mistake.  When I had the hose, I sprayed it on her bare legs, and she laughed and giggled and jumped.  When she got the hose, she turned it on me full blast.  She was between me and the only two unlocked doors into the house.  I was screaming to Beth for help so I could get in and away from this hose-child, and the louder I screamed, the harder Beth laughed.  She was watching the whole thing through the French doors into the den.

I thought about running around to the front door, but I knew it was locked.  I didn't have my keys on me, and I knew Beth wouldn't cooperate.  I was like a possum caught in a tree by a pack of angry dogs.  One of the most important females in my life was hosing me down, and the other most important female was inside trying to catch her breath from laughing so hard at what Liza was doing to me.  I was laughing pretty hard, too.

Flash forward to today.  I came downstairs because I knew Liza and Beth were out on the deck playing with water.  I opened the French door and stepped out onto the deck.  Liza turned to face me with hose nozzle in hand, and I immediately ducked back inside.  She wanted to hose me down again, and she would have if I hadn't protected myself.

What you must know to fully appreciate this is that I absolutely HATE to be wet.  I used to love to swim, and I even got a few medals for that when I was a kid.  Now I won't go near a pool or the ocean.  I don't even really like taking showers.  I take them, of course, but getting wet with clothes on just drives me crazy (crazier?).  Yesterday, I had to come inside after Liza hosed me down and change everything I had on, including wet underwear. 

Despite all this, I'm not sorry she did it.  She had a great time holding Grandpa at bay, and I sincerely hope she remembers that into the future.

ED

I bought a new 19-inch digital flat-screen TVon Sunday for Liza's room.  It's officially our second guest room, but it's where Liza takes a nap on Saturday afternoons and where she sleeps when she spends the night with us.  She likes to watch about a half hour or so of some princess DVD when she goes down for a nap or for the night, and I don't have a problem obliging her doing that.  She usually covers up her head when I go in to turn it off, presumably hoping I won't see her or will think she's asleep already.

The TV in that room was a really old one, and the picture was awful.  There was color, but it was really very dark.  I wouldn't have watched that TV.  Sunday Target advertized a TV set for $149.00.  The original price was $249.00, so I thought I had me a deal.  I bought one for Liza.

I had to screw the stand on, and that took forever.  I had to put these tiny little screws into these tiny little holes with virtually no finger room.  I was forced by circumstances to say some words that I ordinarily don't say and will eventually have to confess saying, but, damn, it was hard doing that.

Then I tried to hook it up.  The RCA cord has a white nib, a yellow nib, and a red nib at both ends.  You simply plug those nibs in to the corresponding color holes on both the DVD player and the TV, and you're good to go.  NOT!

The DVD player was working with the old TV, albeit not so good, so I didn't mess with those.  I plugged the cords into the new TV, and nothing.  I must have done it 30 times or more, again saying some of those confessional words.  I could not get the damn thing to work to save my life.  I even tried a different RCA cord, but nothing.  I called Target and talked on the phone with the salesman for a good 30 minutes, and we tried everything he could think of.  He asked me to bring in the TV and the DVD player today, so I did.  He worked on it, and I could tell he was getting frustrated.  Finally, he plugged the yellow cord into a second white hole, and it worked.

Well, of course, he and I felt like complete idiots.  He apoligized and said he had never seen anything like that before.  I thanked him profusely for his time and effort, and he apologized again.

Now here's the irony.  Those TV sets went on sale when the store opened Sunday morning.  He had 20 to sell when they opened, and he only had six left when I got there at noon.  Today they were sold out, as a sign announced.  Of the 20 sets that were sold, did nobody but me and the salesman have trouble hooking up a DVD player to those things?  In all fairness, John, the salesman, was off on Monday and Tuesday, but still.  Or did I just get a strange TV set?

Either way, mine works now, and I'm satisfied.  But should a consumer have to go to this much trouble, even for a really good deal?

ED

Today is a very special day for me because it's our wedding anniversary.  Thirty-six years ago today Beth and I became partners for life.  We were already soulmates and best friends, but on September 1, 1973, we made it official before God and everybody.  I can't imagine what not being married to her would be like.  We had a very romantic dinner tonight of homemade hamburgers and canned baked beans, to the flicker of the romantic fire light on the TV screen of California burning down.  We've raised two wonderful daughters, who are smart, funny, beautiful, and highly successful in their chosen fields.  We're helping to raise a granddaughter who we think will also be smart, funny, beautiful, and highly successful.  We've done our job of passing on our genes, and we've been gloriously happy in the meantime.

Happy anniversary, my pet.

ED

This morning I had to take a package to the post office, and I went the way I've been going for years.  I've always gone east on 24th Street and turned left into the post office parking lot.  This morning I discovered that someone had built a concrete median that extends about 8 feet beyond the entrance to the post office.  I had to make a very sharp U-turn against on-coming traffic, and the shoulder was so small I almost ran into a deep ditch. 

I expressed my ire to the postal clerk after I transacted my business, and she said they had had many complaints about that situation.  She told me, and she was echoed by her colleagues (I was the only customer in there at that moment), that the City of Lynn Haven was responsible for doing that.

I went on to deliver my Meals on Wheels route, but I called the City of Lynn Haven Streets Department when I finally got home.  I made my complaint, and I was told that they had nothing to do with that.  The girl agreed that the median was crazy, and she said it was all the fault of the Postal System.  She gave me the name and phone number of the Postal System traffic engineer in Atlanta.  I called him, got voice mail, and I figured that was the end of that.

But he called me back in a couple of hours.  I explained the problem, and he, too, agreed with me.  He said that the Postal System had argued with the City of Lynn Haven for two months over that, but the Postal System had lost.  He said the City of Lynn Haven was responsible for that decision.

It's a classic run-around.  Everybody agrees that what they've done is stupid and counterproductive, and nobody will take responsibility.  I didn't pursue it any further after I talked to the Postal System guy because I didn't think I'd get anywhere with my complaint.  I mentioned in my conversation with the Postal System guy that it had been a while since I had been to that post office, and he said I should be a better customer of the Postal System.  I assured him we are good customers and that my wife gets every catalogue published in the United States and some foreign countries, as well.  He said he would reward my public spirit by sending my wife even more catalogues, and we ended the conversation with a laugh.

The Postal Service guy, talking from Atlanta, told me precisely how to get to the post office without using 24th Street, and that's the way I'm going to go from now on.  Who do you believe in a situation like that?

ED 

I watched the funeral Mass for Senator Edward M. Kennedy this morning, and I made all the appropriate responses.  It was a magnificent ceremony in a beautiful church in a working-class neighborhood of Boston, and I felt like I was right at home.  Having Placido Domingo, accompanied by Yo Yo Ma, sing the Panis Angelicus at Communion was glorious (we sang that at Mass last week, but not nearly as well).  My criticism of the Mass is that it wasn't egalitarian Catholic liturgy.  Clearly most of those people in the church were Catholic, and they could have easily sung the parts that the congregation ordinarily sings.  Two of my personal favorites are "Be Not Afraid" and "I Am the Bread of Life."  Both of those would have been completely appropriate for a funeral, and they would have been especially appropriate for Senator Kennedy.

And what was Cardinal Sean doing sitting on the side, all decked out in red robes?  He received Communion, so he was clearly there as a participant and not merely as an observer.  Why didn't he preside at that Mass?  Was he afraid to alienate some right wingnut Catholics?  Well guess what?  He alienated this progressive Catholic, and probably many more besides.

I only caught a little of the burial service, so I won't comment on that.

Beth didn't watch the funeral Mass, but I told her I did (although Liza made me turn it off before Obama finished his eulogy so we could watch The Swan Princess on my computer via Netflix with her sitting on my lap).  Beth asked who was there, and I said "everybody, even the Boston cardinal."  She said she was surprised the Pope wasn't there, but we decided he was watching it on closed circuit TV from the Vatican.

I went to Mass this afternoon at my parish church, and I thought that I had already done that today.  I didn't leave, of course, but it crossed my mind to get up and go.  Let that be the irony for today.

ED 

The nation is mourning the death of Ted Kennedy, arguably the most effective Senator in the history of the United States.  Some people are still mourning the death of Michael Jackson, arguably the biggest freak who ever gained public noteriety.  I will concede that grabbing one's private parts on stage was, uh, "innovative," and I guess the "Moon Walk" as a dance step impressed the teeny boppers, but, in my humble opinion, Jackson was a freak.  It will be interesting to see if the media coverage of the aftermath of Kennedy's funeral and burial will even begin to approach the clownish circus surrounding Michael Jackson.  I suspect the Kennedy family will opt for restraint and dignity as befits the passing of one of the greatest Americans of the 20th and 21st centuries.  And I bet no homicide indictments will be handed down in Kennedy's death. 

ED

I haven't said anything about health care reform because, frankly, every time I hear a discussion of the topic on NPR I get a different take on what is, essentially, a moving target.  Today, ironically, I came face to face with a situation which proves the experts' point that something must be done, and it must be done NOW!

Ordinarily our lawn service crew comes on Friday morning, but they came today.  I went outside to talk to the crew chief to find out what was going on.  He told me he has to take his son (age three and a half) to the doctor tomorrow for yet another ear infection.  Kyle, the young crew chief, is probably 21.  He and his wife and son live in a trailer on his father's property in the middle of nowhere.  Kyle works like a dog in the hot sun all day, every day.  His wife works full time in a veterinarian clinic in some capacity.  They struggle to make ends meet.

Kyle told me his son needs tubes in his ears, which is something he's told me several times over the last couple of years.

"You really need to get those tubes, Kyle," I said. 

"Yes, sir, I know, but we just can't afford it.  We don't have health insurance or Medicaid or anything else like that.  Maybe we'll be able to do something when we get our income tax refund next year," he said.  By then the little boy will be four.

A child his son's age should already have gone through most of the language acquisition process.  Liza was slightly late in talking, and once she got tubes, she was talking up a storm within six months.  Ditto that for my great-nephew.  But that was two years ago for both of them.  Liza loves rhyming words, and she sings along with songs on the DVD's she watches.  She can count; she recognizes many of the letters of the alphabet, and she can even read some words. 

A language delay for a toddler can have lifelong learning consequences.  It's quite possible a child like my lawn man's son will have to have speech therapy when he goes to school, and he might even end up in a special needs class for children with learning disabilities for years.  The fluid build-up that tubes drain usually causes temporary minor hearing losses at certain frequencies, and those minor hearing losses interfer with language development.

Because of the health care reform debate currently underway, I did some research on the cost of tube implantation.  I called an ear, nose, and throat surgeon, and his part of the bill (which includes a full hearing test) is $700.00.  I called an outpatient surgical center, where they do that kind of procedure, and their charge is $800.00.  I called the anesthesia office that the lady at the surgery center gave me the phone number for, and their charge is $1,136.00.  The anesthesia lady said that if the patient pays on the day of the procedure, they'll get a 30% discount, which will take that bill down to $795.20.  If you add that up (at the discounted rate for anesthesia), the total is $2,295.20.  Ironically, the first question all three places I called asked was, "What kind of insurance do you have?"  The answer, of course, was "none." 

The parents of the child in question can't possibly afford that.  But, when you think about the enormous additional cost of speech and language therapy once he starts school in a year, and the incredibly high cost of possibly educating him in a special needs classroom, $2,300.00 is nothing.  It's chicken feed, and the financial costs don't even begin to measure the human cost for that child over a lifetime.

I hear these crazy right wingnut Republicans rail on about the evils of health care reform, and I think about my lawn man's son and the millions of other kids like him, or worse, around the country.  Ironic?  You betcha!

ED

He gave so much of himself for us.  May God now give him eternal rest.

ED

For the last three days, the weather here has been bearable.  June fried us; July fired us, too, but just not as bad; this week, though, the temperatures have been bearable.  Don't get too excited.  It got up into the low 80's the last three days, but at night it's gotten down to the low 70's.  For Florida in the summer, that's remarkable.  I don't know what this bodes vis-a-vis global warming or climate change, but it's a welcome relief right now.

ED

Liza spent the night with us Friday night, and this morning she woke up around 7:45.  I woke up at 7:30, went downstairs to start the coffee, and came back upstairs to check my email.  In a few minutes I heard her calling me, so I went down to her room to get her.

"Grandpa, can I have waffles for breakfast?" she asked first thing.

"You can have pancakes, but we don't have any waffles," I said.  Frozen pancakes, of course, and it would have been frozen waffles, if we had had any.

"But I want waffles," she said.

"Would you like to go out for breakfast with Grandpa?" I asked.

"Yeah.  Let's go," she said.

I took Liza to Flap Jacks, which is a little diner near us that's been there for years.  Liza's mother and her friends haunted that place when they were in high school, and I go there occasionally when Beth is out of pocket because the food is really good and because it has the feel of a "neighborhood place."  There are always four or five older men sitting on the benches in front, smoking and chewing the fat, and that was the case this morning.  I'm sure they were all grandpas like me, and they all grinned and nodded at us when we went in.  They all knew exactly what was up, and I was sure they had done the same thing with their grandchildren.

When Liza and I left, those same men were still there, sipping coffee and smoking cigarettes.  We told them "bye," and they told us to have a nice day.  I can't think of a better way to start a Saturday.

ED