wings and things

I am changing my name to “Whoops”

A couple of days ago I wrote about Anthony’s 1963 stove that has recently died. My first ‘whoops’ was when I described it as being a tiny bit older than me when it is actually a tiny bit younger. I don’t feel the need to apologize to the stove since it’s dead anyway but I did want to correct that minor inaccuracy for blog posterity purposes.

My second ‘whoops’ was when one of my blog friends commented: “1963 a very good year… your stove lasted 50 years and so did our marriage.” I took this to mean that something had suddenly gone amiss with her marriage so I replied, “I’m so sorryxxx.” Then I went about my daily chores a bit sad for her.

Much later in the day, I logged on and saw that my friend had written: “What are you sorry about…… we’re still married… sorry if I confused you…” Oh, I was so relieved that her marriage was in such better shape than my stove that I laughed hysterically for a few moments, then she and I exchanged a few ‘haha’ messages.

I have done a few ‘whoopsies’ lately (I seem to have a talent for it), and some of them have gotten me into trouble, so I am beginning to realize that I need to think more carefully before I speak or write. This particular ‘whoopsie’ though was so funny that I am still laughing and laughing. I have not revealed the identity of the blogger who I ‘whoopsed’ because, well, privacy and all that, but if she is willing to comment you will all know.

I imagine she is still laughing too – argh – whoops!


Embarrassing moments 2

A few weeks ago I had to get help from a computer technician, a surveyor, and a telecommunications antenna installer for various jobs. All three of them had the name Chris, a name I really like, but a name that I will, from now on, always associate with confusion.

Once Antenna Chris had attached my no-longer-mobile phone to a dock to an antenna placed on our roof, I was relieved to once more have a working telephone (since the land-line had worn out, literally). So when Surveyor Chris (who I hadn’t yet met) rang me not long after Antenna Chris had gone home, I raved on about how wonderful he was and thanked him profusely until I realized I was talking into a strange silence. Thinking I had another phone problem, I said, “Chris? Are you there?” and Surveyor Chris said, rather hesitantly, “Yes, but I think you think I am someone else?”

An hour or so later the phone rang and it was Computer Chris to see if he could come over the next day to finish up. Once again, I thought it was Antenna Chris who had left the antenna cord dangling until I tested it out and he had planned to tidy this up by attaching the cord to the wall with a bit of plaster. So I said that would be great and raved on about how wonderful he was and thanked him profusely until he interrupted me by saying, “I don’t know anything about the antenna – I want to finish up work on your laptop.”

Just for the record, I do not have a crush on Antenna Chris; it’s just that I think he is every other Chris.

Surveyor Chris is yet to ring me back.


What did I say that for?

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This morning I wrote a post about coincidences in which I said, I was 19 when my father died. Ming is 19 now and his father is dying.

I don’t know why I said something so morbid when I wasn’t feeling morbid. I was feeling a curious mixture of fatalism and resignatiom, I guess, but not morbid.

Now, however, I do feel morbid because of my own stupid sentences and I wish I had said, I was 19 when my father died. Ming is 19 now and his father is alive.

Some people philosophize that you begin to die as soon as you are conceived which is, of course, true, but not a particularly pleasant way of thinking about life.

When Anthony was diagnosed with advanced prostate cancer and given 1-3 years to live (several years ago!) we were utterly devastated. I remember tearfully telling a friend and he said, Well, we are all dying aren’t we and another friend said, well, he’s had a good life. Neither of these comments were helpful, but they were true.

Anthony has outlived his prostate cancer prognosis only to fall into the arms of Parkinson’s disease. But I no longer think of this as cruel and tragic and neither does Anthony. In fact I have never seen the tiniest sign of self-pity from him in all these many years of illness.

Yes, Anthony is dying, but he is also living. And that’s a coincidence.

Oh yes and all the geese are alive and well, especially Godfrey!