Mr. Healthy

I never knew it took so much time and effort to be healthy. I was at the gym this morning when I noticed there were more people than usual in the lobby area. I soon realized we were hosting a ‘health fair’ event. I decided to investigate. Again, I never knew it took so much to be healthy.

I started out with a chair massage to get relaxed. After that I moved on to the botox stand to take care of the wrinkles in my cheeks, followed by a microderm-abrasion facial. Since my skin now had that newly buffed pinkish glow, I headed straight to the skin care product stand for some anti-aging lotion that I thought should work well with the botox. Next stop was Mary Kay for some much-needed make-up to cover the now skinless areas from the microderm-abrasion facial.

Now that my back was relaxed and the top two layers of skin gone from my face, I headed to the shoe stand for some new shoes to keep my back from hurting. Right next door was the jewelry booth where I found some nice things to accessorize my new healthy look.

With my new healthy body and new healthy accessories it was time to sign up for my tennis lessons at the tennis center booth. Since I’m now playing tennis, I needed to stop at the insurance booth to make sure I’m covered just in case I get hit in the eye or twist an ankle.

After all this, I couldn’t leave without stopping at the photographer’s booth for a portrait of the new healthy me. Almost out the door, I noticed the local Walgreens folks also had a stand. I dropped off my prescriptions and got my flu shot to make sure I STAY healthy. When the needle stuck in my arm, my back tensed up. Yep, you guessed it – one more massage before heading to the car.

Oh, and by the way, I did spend 45 minutes actually doing exercise while I was there. Just call me Mr. Healthy!

I Didn't Get Shot

I pulled up at a church in a fairly rural area for an evening program. The pastor was running a few minutes late. So I got out and loaded up the hand truck, so I could take in the first load as soon as he got there. I was already running a little later than I was comfortable with because the roads didn’t look that curvy on the map.

The hand truck was loaded when I heard a single gunshot. I used to hunt when I was a kid, so I knew it was a small caliber gun and I knew it was CLOSE!

I thought to myself, “That’s an odd thing to hear in a church parking lot.” That’s when I heard two more gunshots. Bang! Bang!

About that time I saw a guy come out of the woods. He was looking up into the trees across the street from the church. He didn’t have a gun.

“There he is!” the stranger shouted. I looked up from my phone where I was texting a buddy telling him he wasn’t going to believe what was happening. I realized the shots were intended for a single squirrel who was frantically leaping from tree to tree.

“There he is! Shoot ‘em again! Shoot ‘em again!” they shouted. The command was followed by more gunfire. I had determined that this squirrel was BETWEEN me and the unknown gunman. That put me IN the line of fire. I stood behind my car, figuring that TWO windows would slow the bullets down a little before they hit me.

About that time, my phone beeped. It was my buddy, who simply said, “DUCK!” I quickly replied back, “NO! It’s a SQUIRREL!” Isn’t technology great?

The pastor finally arrived, the show went great, and I didn’t get shot. Amen.

16 Sizes

My son hates long pants, nice shorts and his sister. Well, he doesn’t really hate her, but she IS his sister. He always wears gym shorts and tee shirts. Even when it’s cold out, he wants to wear shorts.

Being conscientious parents, we thought we should at least buy him a couple pair of jeans in case he wanted to avoid frostbite. So while in a local department store, I bought him two pair – kids size 14. This summer he wore size 12 shorts, so I figured we’d be OK.

As it turned out, he had grown more than I thought. He’s not a heavy kid, but he is rock solid and athletic just like his dad. When he tried to button them, it wasn’t even close . . . just like his dad’s pants. That evening we headed back to swap them and this time, have him try them on.

First up were some size 16 jeans. One pair buttoned, but were uncomfortable. Next were the size 18’s. They all buttoned, but had zero room for growth, which he will definitely need . . . cause he’s just like his dad. He was getting frustrated and said, “We’ll never find any to fit my big ol’ self.” I had to laugh because he’s not big but we weren’t having much luck with the pants.

The final pair of size 18’s had a defective button. When he buttoned them, the metal button snapped off, hit the floor and bounced into the next dressing room. All he said was, “SEE!”

I decided we should try on some of the smaller men’s sizes and have them hemmed if needed. It turns out a kid’s size 18 is the same as a men’s size 28 waist. I grabbed a couple pair of men’s 30 waist and we headed back to the dressing room.

He tried them on . . . and . . . success! They fit great with even a little room to grow. He asked what size they were. I told him they were 30’s. He shouted, “I WENT UP SIXTEEN SIZES!” I said, “No, you didn’t go up sixteen sizes.” He said, “I went from a 14 to a 30. That’s SIXTEEN sizes!” How could I argue with that logic? Besides, he KNEW I’m no good at math!

On the way to the checkout, I explained the sizing differences. Here’s a kid that just spent the better part of an hour trying on several pairs of jeans that were too small. Finally he learned his size was, in his mind, sixteen sizes larger than last week. On the way to the car, he amazed me completely when he asked, “Can we get an ice cream now?” I was almost speechless, but did manage to utter, “What flavor?” He really is like his dad after all!