Pfunksfoolosophy

That’s an old George Carlin bit, but it rings true. We all need a place for our stuff.

My best friend is a crafty woman. She crochets, she does counted cross-stich and she does some scrapbooking as well. She recently learned how to knit. So with all of that crafting going on, she needs good storage. She usually uses heavy duty plastic containers, but you know…with paper and yarn you need something sturdier and definitely water tight.
We used to store everything in crates and boxes in our garage and our basement, but there’s no way of telling what kind of varmints can get to you.
I like checking things out online, so I’m going to advise my pal to look at
some storage bin options for her shed.
   Go out and get some cool storage bins for your next project.

There’s a sleep study that says people sleep better when they sleep alone.

Are you kidding me? I’ve been saying this forever. Sleeping is serious business. Now monkey business in the bedroom is another story. That’s serious business, but not nearly as serious as getting forty winks. As I grow older, I grow wiser…I like sleeping alone. I adore the fact that I can spread out like a starfish or cocoon myself up in my blankies.

My past beaux have seemed a bit offended when I ask that they return to their own homes in order to sleep. I don’t want anyone touching me or keeping me awake because I can’t get comfortable. This could be another reason I’m still single after all these years.

Hmm.

I have to call my married friends and gloat…ahem.

My Mom bought a house about a year ago in North Carolina. She’s got homeowner’s insurance
, but she’s been shopping around for something a little better. Mom’s house is pretty groovy and in a rural area, so I suppose she’ll have to try to get some insurance for natural disasters…like revenuers (ha ha)…or moonshiner’s insurance…

Since I’m online most of the day (don’t ask), I’ve been doing her research for her. I found some cool free insurance quotes and I’ve given her the lowdown.
Shopping for insurance shouldn’t be such a hassle, but you’ve got to get exactly what you want. is nothing to take lightly, right?
The internet is a great resource and I’m online anyway, so it’s the least I can do for my Marmy.

 I  hope she can find a better insurance company soon.

Yesterday marked my brother’s FORTY-NINTH birthday.  I know that it’s killing him. He’s not someone who looks forward to getting older. He’s a brat like that. When we were younger, he and I were really good friends. He taught me how to play baseball and I even played Little League with him. I was underage and a girl…unofficially the first girl to play Little League baseball. Unofficial because I was underage, so my stats didn’t count. Didn’t matter.
Over the years, we’ve drifted apart. I’ve often wondered how or why, but I suppose it’s just because of choices. His choices have led him down a different path. He’s got a lot of talent, artistically speaking, and was a great pre-K teacher. He chose to retire…I think before his time. The school is still after him to come back. I wish he would. He was happiest when he was working with those little ones. You can’t live someone else’s life, though.

My brother and I call one another ‘Pookie’. He was my ‘Jake’ and I was ‘Elwood’. The Blues Brothers was our flick because I probably would have met him outside the prison gates in a refurbished police cruiser. We would have driven through the mall and said, ‘Wow, this mall has everything’ in the midst of a high speed chase.

We used to be a great comedy team. In the summers on our way to the beach, we would stop off at Cumberland Farms, a convenience store, and have our beach towels tied around our necks, wearing masks and enter the store like superheroes. We’d pick up an odd assortment of food items: Cap’n Crunch, sour cream and onion chips and ginger ale…whaaa? The cashier always delighted in seeing us jumping around the store. Then one day we came in ‘normal’, the cashier was disappointed. Funny stuff, that.

Another time, we were trying to remember all of the addresses for the families on our favorite t.v. shows from our childhood and we drew a blank for Rob and Laura Petrie. WHAT?!? The Dick Van Dyke Show was my absolute fave. I wanted to be a comedy writer because of that show. What did we do? We called information. Do you know that the operator called us back? We thanked her profusely and sent her a thank  you card.
For the record: The Petries lived on Bonnymeadow Road in New Rochelle, NY.

One of my favorite stories is when my brother, my pal Angie (not the blog Angie) and I were talking on the roof of our house one early evening. We looked down on the street below and saw a woman wearing a cape and walking a three legged dog. My brother started singing–’devil with a three legged three legged…devil with a three legged dog!’ to the tune of ‘Devil with a blue dress’…you know the number. Funny stuff? You bet.

My brother does a mean Elvis (circa comeback/Vegas) singing ‘Suspicious Minds’ and ‘Hunk o’ burnin’ love’…He also does a good ‘Teddy Bear’.

Man, he used to be sooo much fun. He’s not so much now.

I remember when Ricky Nelson died that horrible New Year’s Eve.

My brother was in Florida partying with his buds and he called us:

“Awww, Pookie…he’s GONE, man! The red-headed stranger is GONE!”
I had to gently tell him that it wasn’t WILLIE Nelson but Ricky Nelson (also a family favorite due to the Ozzie and Harriet Show). Without missing a beat,my brother whined, ‘OH….the TRAVELIN’ MAN…aww, he made his last stop…awww, man…Hey GUYS! It wasn’t  WILLIE it was RICKY!’  He was drunk. It was cute, though. He was still heartsick that Rick was gone, but he was relieved that it wasn’t Willie. He has a special fondness for his potsmoking brethren, I suppose.

Anyway, that’s my brother…he was cool. There’s a sensitive side to him. I just wish he’d find it.

I think he shares his birthday with Sting. That’s gotta hurt. Groucho Marx and my brother share the same birthday…that’s pretty cool.

So, happy belated birthday brougham.