Dollar Daze

Hors d’oeuvres

Prior to climbing into my personal slumber zone Jan and I kneel and have prayer together. We feel that’s the glue to our marriage. I get tired in the evening. Past 8:00 pm and the brain, body and spirit have entered an alternate reality. My eyeballs begin to wobble in their sockets, my breathing becomes heavy, speech becomes slurred and, occasionally, a few of the words formed by my lips may trail off into a soulful mumble.
When I pray there are certain items that are always on the shopping list. One of those check-off items is health. I ask for the health for the two of us so we can accomplish what is needed. One evening I was particularly weary. We knelt beside the bed. Here’s what I said:
“…and please bless us with health.”
Jan was a little upset after the amen’s.
“You just asked Heavenly Father to bless us with hell?”
“I did not.” I replied defensively. “I asked for health.”
“You asked that we be blessed with hell. I heard it.”
“Why would I ask to be blessed with hell?” I queried.
“I don’t know, but you did.” Jan was getting a little feisty. “We have enough hell already. Why would we want more?”
I had no answer.

Dessert

I have been impressed with the creativity of the dates our children have gone on with their spouses. Actually, if you put me to it, I can’t remember any of them. But, I am impressed with the date that I took Jan on.
I created a little invitation or warning depending on how one feels about my “surprises.” The note was a little larger than a green back. The left side displayed an illustration of a hand holding dollar bills, fanned out like playing cards. Here’s how it read:
“Jan” (it’s not like there were anyone else around who would assume this note was for them.)
“Welcome to $One Dollar Friday!”
After that “wowzer” of a headline scanning eyes naturally drifted to the small type below; “Your husband will tell you what this is all about. Just be ready by 5:30 pm Friday for a really great time. Well, I think so anyway.”
I carefully carried my masterpiece and taped it to where I knew Jan would see it. No, not the screen on the computer monitor. But right smack, GPS guided, in the middle of the bathroom mirror. I stood back and admired my work. Snickering at my cunning design, I quietly left Jan sleeping as I left for work.
Throughout the morning I checked my watch every few minutes, waiting for the magical phone call acknowledging my cleverness. Returning from a meeting there was a call on my voice mail. It was from Jan. I grinned as I locked into the message.
“Greg, this is your wife. I’m going to Wal-Mart to look for some shirts. I’ll try to be back by the time you come home for lunch.”
Then silence…
There was no indication of excitement at finding my invitation. No gushing glee of a wife filled with anticipation. I thought she would at least acknowledge that there was a piece of paper taped to the mirror.
I called her cell.
“Did you see anything unusual taped to the mirror this morning?”
“Oh yes. The unusual thing is that you were actually asking me out on a date.”
“Well, did you want to go or do you need to wash your hair or something?”
“I’m not sure what this is.”
“This will be guaranteed fun!”
Date time came. I came home around 5:15, changed my clothes then escorted Jan out to the coach. I asked her if she had any idea what was going on.
“I see two envelopes, is one for me?”
“Ahh, you don’t really see this yet.”
Earlier that day I had gone to the bank to deposit the expense check I had received. I asked that the $20 cash back be all in ones. The clerk replied, “You must have something planned, like a One Dollar Friday”
Wait! I thought I originated the idea. I was crushed. I should have patented this imaginative icon of dating dynamics.
Before we left I placed ten dollar bills in each envelope, writing our name on each.
The idea for this romantic rendezvous was to first get dinner from fast food dollar menus. I reviewed menus on line. I knew Jan would not eat anything on the discounted menu except from KFC. I parked behind the fried chicken coop and brought out the envelopes. As I handed one to Jan I told her that the idea was to use a little as possible in buying dinner off the dollar menu. As I mentioned, she couldn’t find anything worthwhile on the cheap menu so she spent $6.00 on a chicken breast meal. That left her only $4. I sacrificed my life and bought two chicken snackers along with a pair of apple turnovers. I spent $3.
After downing the pieces of fried fowl I drove to our next destination, The Dollar Store. I instructed Jan that with the money left we were to go into the store and buy items for one another. It could be anything.
The problem she had created with her dinner was that she only had $4 to spend on me. Being more frugal and caring, along with knowing the plan, I had $7. Realizing I was going to be on the losing end of present receptivity I gave her one extra dollar to even things out. I realize the math doesn’t quite add up but that’s OK.
Entering the store I picked up a shopping basket and gave it to Jan. We parted company as we embarked on this mini spree.
I quickly went to the candy aisle and plucked a bag of chocolate turtles from the shelf. I next wandered to the cosmetics row and placed a roll of cotton pads in the basket. I then found a book light that I thought was really cool if it worked. Shuffling to another aisle I picked up a spring green colored tote bag.
Lurking around the store like a spy following a foreign secret agent I was cautious to stay out of Jan’s sight. Turning down one aisle Jan suddenly appeared. Hiding my basket behind my back I jokingly acted like I was trying to peek into her basket to see what treasures she had snooped out for me.
“Here it is.” She unabashedly said while showing me her cavernously empty basket. “I don’t have anything yet. I don’t know what to buy.”
I closed my eyes and grimaced.
“Just think of things I might like” I instructed. “I can’t give you any hints. That destroys the whole purpose of this exercise. “
We parted company again.
Earlier that day Jan became frustrated because she couldn’t find a pen by the phone that worked. Going on that hunch I strolled over to the stationary section of the store. There I found what I believed were the ideal pens, The Executive Series Ball Point retractable pen set. The added bargain bonus was that there were three pens in the package.
I raced to the cashier, forked over my five dollars, and then ran to the car to hide the bag in the trunk. I went back into the store to find Jan finally at the check out counter.
Following our Dollar Store splurge we stopped at Redbox for a one dollar movie. But, before the movie we gave each other our bags. I was as excited as a kid anticipating the contents of his Christmas stocking. Jan went first. She pulled out the chocolate,
“I’m trying to cut back on sweets”
She pulled out the tote bag- “Oh this is nice.”
Then came the book light. “This is nice too, if it works”
Reaching in again she grabbed the cotton pads, “I already have a lot of these.”
Finally out came the Executive Series Retractable Ball Point Pens. She smiled widely. I thought at least one of my purchases passed the test of acceptance.
My turn was next. I plunged into the bag and lifted a small first aid kit. The next item was a fuzzy golden towel that promised it could be used a thousand times without unraveling.
“I tried to get things that were practical,” Jan explained.
I simultaneously yanked out a seven day pill box and a canister of Barbasol shaving cream. However, it was the last item that was most surprising. Out of the thousands of one dollar novelties stocked in the store Jan and I had given each other … the exact same Executive Series Ball Point Retractable Pens.
And that is why we have been married for 32 years, or is it 33?

My Tie

I’ve always wondered how wearing a tie is supposed to enhance male formal attire. Ties are the most purchased gift for Fathers Day. Fashion has caused ties to vary in width, pattern, designs and even how to knot the accessory. Bow ties and bolero string ties have never caught on with the masses. Both are considered nerdy. Is there such a thing as a nerdy cowboy? Just put a bolero tie with a belt buckle slide around the neck and you have a cockamamie cowboy who thinks shoe laces laced beneath his collar is fashionable.
I’ve worn these chokers for close to thirty years six days a week. Sometimes even seven.
Despite my disgust for the tradition I feel naked without a tie. Ties are my comfort cloth.
Ties should also come with warnings. Such as not closing the car door on your tie. Yup, I’ve done that. Luckily I was already in the car. A coworker once tried to live dangerously and dangled his neck wear too close to the shredder. He sang praises for a close by pair of scissors.
The alarm went off one morning, I rose from the bed and did the usual get ready for work routine. It was the first day of Jan’s summer vacation from working at school and she was sleeping in. I moseyed through the hour or so prior to leaving. Brushed the hair, the teeth and the pants, then strutted to the car. This was going to be a great day.
All the traffic lights turned green and small doves fluttered around the car as I drove to work on smooth city streets. The other vehicles pulled to the side to clear my way. I soon realized that one of those green lights was actually red and the dove feathers were flying everywhere because the dang birds didn’t get out of my way fast enough. It is true the other vehicles pulled over as I drove close to them but that was because the Medford Police car with lights pulsating was chasing me as I had streaked through that red light. That’s not entirely true; in fact I made all that up, especially the part about smooth city streets.
Routine equals security for me and everything that morning was orderly and tight. I pulled into my parking space beneath the tree that, depending on the season, rained leaves, pollen or sap on the car.
I caught up with a few of the co-workers who were heading toward the building. I engaged them in small talk, even opening the door for them. Once in I went through my opening work pattern of checking email, faxes, phone messages etc…
All was normal, sane and peaceful.
After an hour on the job I gathered up a few newspapers to take to a client. Bending over to pick up the papers I noticed something…blue shirt. Yes, blue shirt. That was all. No streak of maroon, no pallet of blues and greens, no strip of browns swaying in front of my blue shirt.
I grasped my neck like a man signaling to a crowded restaurant that he was choking on a pork chop bone. Fumbling frantic fingers searched the inside of my shirt collar, and then hurried down the now revealed buttons. My fears were confirmed. I had forgotten to put the tie on.
Instead of panic, I laughed. Not just a little chuckle or giggle. This was a loud boisterous convulsed whoop. Curious heads popped up from their cubicles reminding me of a life-sized “Whack-A-Mole” arcade game.
I don’t know why I thought this was so funny. Perhaps it was because in thirty years the tie had never forgotten to wrap around my neck. Maybe it was due to the fact no one, even my manager, seemed to notice I was tie deficient. However, I think this glorious outbreak was because I was now free, free from the ties that bind. I could now inhale the sweet smell of donuts wafting in the morning air. I could eat the donuts freely without fear the exquisite morsels would get stuck in my throat, and I could move my neck from side to side to snap at the donuts that appeared peripherally within my grasp. Actually, Jan won’t let me eat donuts but I can dream!
When my guffaw quieted I retuned to my desk, snatched my keys, headed out the door and drove away, shirt collar open, flapping in the breeze, to live happily ever after…
Sounds good but I just went home, put on a tie then returned to work.