"Win her with gifts, More than quick words do move a woman's mind." (Two Gentlemen)

Tonight we went out to dinner with three other couples, all of whom had something to do with the production of "My Fair Lady" which we performed here a year ago, March. I don't particularly care to go to dinner with six other people because I find it difficult to get into the conversations which throughout dinner generally doesn't stop, and rarely deals with any significant or important issues. So, I beckoned Rhoda closer to me and asked her if she thought she was a "J.A.P." She said something like "Oh, definitely!" and that encouraged me to ask her if she minded if I wrote a blog about it. And she discouraged me when she said something like, "Oh, definitely not!" I reminded her about the amendment to the Constitution which allowed a free press and free speech, and she proved to be unpatriotic in that respect. However, when we got home, I, tactful as ever, and extremely diplomatic offered to let her see and edit the blog when it was finished. And to demonstrate the importance of negotiations, she agreed to that offer.

So, here I go. My wife is definitely a "J.A.P." She was raised in Freeport, LI. Anyone raised outside of the Bronx or Brooklyn was considered Jappy. So there was her start. Move ahead a few decades to when I met her on New Years Eve, 1978, at a party given by members of the B'nai Brith. She wore a brown corduroy suit which fit her like a glove. She was slim, blonde, and gorgeous...a J.A.P. It seems her son was shortly to be Bar Mitzvahed, and she invited me to be her escort, which I didn't have to do, but I did. Shortly after that, in February, she had her 40th birthday and since I wasn't aware of anyone else making a party for her, I did. And I didn't have to do that. While we were dating, I often took her and her two children out to dine in Sizzlers...and I didn't have to do that. As a J.A.P. you are required to be a clothes horse, which she admits, she is. But she not only owns a closet filled with clothes but also dozens of pairs of shoes. Certainly this qualifies as Jappiness. Then the time came when I married her, which I didn't have to do, but I did. I took her on a month long honeymoon to England where she had never been, and I didn't have to do that. Since we moved to Florida, I bought her two cars--a 1995 Cavalier and a 2008 Malibu, which I didn't have to do but I did it, anyway. I also bought a $100K life insurance policy for her which I didn't have to do, but I did because a J.A.P. requires and is entitled to that kind of protection. Following that, I also bought her a life Home Care policy. I needn't have done that either. After awhile when I was certain she wasn't going to leave here and run away to California, I put her name besides mine on the deed to the condo so she became an owner. I also named Jon and Renee, her two children as 1/6 beneficiaries to the condo to be shared with my own four kids, which I didn't have to do and did anyway. My job as her husband is to support her...no perks necessary. Her job as my wife is...well she decides what it is! That's what J.A.P.s do. And why did I do all these things for her? Well, for one, I love her, and for another, I love to watch J.A.P.s in action...it's exciting and educational.

"There is a tide in the affairs of men, which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune..." (J.Caesar)

Well, wouldn't you know it? RH+ came home from the beauty parlor with a "hissy fit" (cf.previous blog). It seems she went to get her hair cut shorter for the summer and the beautician put something in her hair without asking her and her hair came out almost brown instead of the pretty blonde that she is. Well, to say she's upset, is to say the least...I don't even want to contemplate what "the most" might be. But, she will get back to this shop and get her hair done the way she likes it without charge. But, as usual, to use a euphemism... stuff happens

On another subject, I'm getting mighty tired of reading the newspaper or the news on the internet with columnists or just plain reporters or even letter writers citing that this or that candidate "flip-flopped" on one issue or another. What is wrong with changing one's mind about something given enough information to justify it? I especially pay attention to McCain's or Obama's statements that don't square with what they've previously claimed. Obviously, you would expect them to say why their views have shifted in one direction or another. The media's complaints about "flip-flopping" make it sound as though Henny Penny's sky is falling. From now on a voter with some intelligence...and even without it, ought to pay close attention to what they read or what they watch. Particularly important, is to recognize whether or not the information is racist as it pertains to Barack Obama. If his middle name of Hussein is used, you can be certain that it is designed to frighten the voter into thinking "Muslim". Obama is Christian...an American Christian.

Insofar as John McCain is concerned, here is my current view: He is 71 years old and on his way to 75. Right now we don't know whom he is going to select as his vice president who may or may not be a person we'd want in the White House in the event McCain dies. Another very personal view of McCain that I have is that I know he spent several years in captivity by the Viet Cong who were not known for their forgiving natures. This experience does not go by with the years, as I am well aware from my own experiences. I am certain that John McCain suffers many nights with scorpions inside his head. These two facts alone, age and PTSD would make his tenure as President very fragile, indeed. Of course, I could flip-flop on this. Nah. Don't think so.

What sudden anger is this? How have I reap'd it?" (Henry VIII)

Yesterday, we went to the Boynton Mall and I took my scooter for a good long ride in and out of stores and intimate apparel and petite departments. It's probably a blessing that I don't get turned on that easily anymore. Saves me a lot of energy which to me is in short supply. At any rate, the battery seemed to be kind of low--not mine, the scooter's--and so we dragged it upstairs to recharge it--except that the instructions were in Chinese English. You would think they'd hire someone who could write decent English with all the money they're making exporting everything you can think of to us, including perhaps, toilet paper. It's their trees, not ours. So right now the thing is plugged in, and the LED is supposed to turn from yellow to green when it's fully charged, so we'll keep on eye on it. Hopefully yellow and green mean the same thing to the Chinese as it does to us.

Besides the battery problem today, I made the awful mistake of taking my nighttime pills in the morning. One of them is a sleeping pill. When and if Rhoda finds out she'll throw a "hissy fit" so if you consider yourself my friend, you'll keep it "under your hat." (OK. Now I'm in more trouble. Just used two more idioms that require explanation. Well, maybe not so much explanation as much as to their origins...some people are curious and thirst for knowledge...cf.last blog.) First of all, a "hissy fit" is defined as a temperamental outburst; a tantrum. The allusion in this expression may be to the hissing and sputtering of such an outburst, or it may simply be a contraction of 'hysterical'. The term originated in the USA in the mid 20th century and is first recorded in a 1934 edition of American Speech:
'Hissy fit' was little used outside of the USA until the late 20th century. More recently, it has gained currency elsewhere, primarily due to its use in the media when describing the antics of various high-profile celebrity divas. For example, in September 2004, The Daily Mirror reported Sir Elton John's arrival at Taipei airport:

"Sir Elton, who arrived by private jet for the final concert of a Far East tour, clenched his teeth in fury when he saw a crowd waiting for him at the airport. Exploding in an extraordinary hissy fit, the 57-year-old star raved: 'You're all rude, vile pigs!'" (cf. phrases.org/u.k)

Then "keep it under your hat" obviously means to keep something a secret. On first hearing this it seems to be a rather strange phrase. Students trying to learn English would have a hard time with that one. Why should people put anything under their hats and, even if they were to, why would that be associated with secrecy? The speculation is that putting an item under one's hat would be a way of hiding it. Such trickery is recorded, as in the collection of stories, published as The Adventurer, 1793:

"By a sudden stroke of conjuration, a great quantity of gold might be conveyed under his hat." (cf.phrases.org./u.k) But I don't buy this (! can't seem to avoid these darn things!) Gold on top of the head would seem to provoke a giant headache requiring several Advils. More likely, I believe, the hat is a symbol for one's head. That's where secrets usually lie in wait to rush out...like sperm cells.

"The spirit I have seen may be the Devil; and the Devil hath power to assume a pleasing shape." (Hamlet)

On the way to China Gardens, during our conversation, Rhoda said that "The road to hell is paved with good intentions." And so I wondered how that expression originated. It was thought that Samuel Johnson first used it, but that has been shown to be false. There are various other suggestions, but none of them really comes to any theory that can be trusted. Another expression regarding a trip to Hell is "He is going to Hell in a hand basket." The only logical origin of this saying goes back to the French Revolution during the use of the guillotine to lop off a head and thus the victim is on the way to Hell in a "hand basket." Hopefully it can float on the River Styx, a la Moses. These expressions are responsible for the difficulty in learning English. At the Boynton Mall today all I heard was Spanish in the various venues we went to. There are several other variations on the subject of Hell. For example, in the poem, "The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam," Omar says, "I sent my soul into the invisible, some letter of that afterlife to spell, and by and by my soul returned and said, "I myself am Heaven and Hell." Then again, John Milton in "Paradise Lost" after the fall of Satan and his cohorts has him state, "The mind is its own place and of itself can make a Heaven of Hell and a Hell of Heaven." But my favorite Hell statement belongs to Jean Paul Sartre in his play, "No Exit" when one character says, "Hell is other people." You can't go wrong with that one.

Besides the voyage to Hell, there are other proverbial expressions in the language whose origins are difficult, if not impossible, to record. But some can be found in print. Par example: "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder."

This saying first appeared in the 3rd century BC in Greek. It didn't appear in its current form in print until the 19th century, but in the meantime there were various written forms that expressed much the same thought. Shakespeare expressed a similar sentiment in Love's Labours Lost, 1588:

"Good Lord Boyet, my beauty, though but mean, Needs not the painted flourish of your praise: Beauty is bought by judgement of the eye, Not utter'd by base sale of chapmen's tongues."

The person who is widely credited with coining the saying in its current form is Margaret Wolfe Hungerford (née Hamilton), who wrote many books, often under the pseudonym of 'The Duchess'. In Molly Bawn, 1878, there's the line "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder", which is the earliest citation of it that can be found in print. I don't want to belabor the point at this time...and I really don't know what the point is. However, I will continue with some other overused expressions in a future blog...Tomorrow is another day.

"What sport shall we devise here...to drive away the heavy thought of care?" (Richard II)

Daughter Robin called this morning from her home on the ranch in Montana. I learned from Rhoda that Robin's schooldays friend, Riza, had her father visiting and because of the elevation found breathing difficult and her dad had to leave. I can understand his problem. I live on the fourth floor in this condo and have trouble breathing here. We also have eight story condos in HLakes, but I certainly dasn't go in the elevators there and punch the "8" button without an oxygen mask--which I don't own. Unfortunately, I had another goal in my life-- to climb Mt. Everest, but I'm afraid that particular goal is unattainable at this time. However, behind our building there's a golf course with a little hill by a lake, built (I believe) by red ants, and I believe I can climb that hill without trepidation, fear, or sneakers. But I should bring a bottle of water and some sunscreen. Tally ho!

I finished watching the Olympic Trials and now have to wait until August 8th to see events in China, particularly track and field which I coached in high school. These Olympians are pushing themselves to the outer limits of human endurance. Like Tyson Gay who ran a world record 9.68 in the 100 meter dash. Those who do not follow this sport have no idea what kind of speed that is...it's other worldly. And these athletes have been working very hard on their events for at least four years and if they finish fourth in the trials, they don't go to Beijing. I always aspired to be an Olympian myself, but they don't have my specialty, shuffleboard. But perhaps someday, they'll allow my scooter in the Marathon. It's a 3-speeder.

"Receive what cheer you may, the night is long that never finds the day." (Macbeth)

Sunday? But it's raining--no sun. So, instead of playing golf in the sunshine--Oh, I forgot, I can't play golf anymore--I find myself playing games. First, while having a cherry jello lunch, I tried my hand at the NY Times crossword puzzle. Didn't do too badly, but when I finished the jello and got stuck on the puzzle, I retired to the computer and did some scrabble, some jewel quest, some solitaire, some blackjack, some super text twist, and some Tut's Tomb. I'm sure there are more games hidden somewhere on the hard drive but I'm dizzy enough now with these games. Of course, when I was a kid-a long time ago--I would go out on the play street for some stickball, or ring-a-levio, or Johnny on the Pony, or three steps to Germany, or kick the can, or skelly. At night, I would go down to the Apache's cellar club and play Spin the Bottle. Or if I was feeling wicked, I'd fill some balloons with water, go up on the roof and drop the water-loaded bomb on some unsuspecting passerby.

Ho Hum. Now at this stage, all my activities involve a lot of sitting down.

Tonite, we are fortunate enough to dine with Mike and Helen. Mike is the Babe Ruth of Fartyrdom and the Tiger Woods of Weirdness.. (See blogs 6/18 and 6/25)) And it is an honor beyond redemption to sit opposite this manchild and watch him eat his meal while the spouse keeps his plate filled with her own repast. It's a joy to watch her not eating as she keeps transferring her food to his side of the table. I suppose she doesn't want to see him lose the title of Sir Fartyre. I'm certain she is filled with pride about being the wife of the Mother of all Fartyrs.