You know you're doing something right...
...if when you’re 81 you look like you did twenty some years ago and have a hot girlfriend.
If you read my last post and the comments you saw that Seth was perturbed that I swept him aside to talk about Susie our blind friend.
So here’s your post Seth.
Ever known someone, even when they aren’t happy that doesn’t show it? Someone that is almost always on. Someone that’s generous to a fault.
There’s a Yiddish word for it, named after Seth. Mensch. (Word doesn’t have that spelling and suggests menace.)
Need something? He’s there, probably having thought of what you need before you thought of it.
I do have a bone to pick with him though. Back in the Miami days he arranged a weekend canoeing in the Everglades, moving up to Central Florida for a rodeo on Sunday. (As an aside, either Susie or another female friend told us she’d go to the Everglades with us the minute they built a Hyatt.) His motel arrangements were one room short the night before we went to the rodeo; and, I and another friend were the odd men out as the others were either girls or girls with guys in tow.
So we had to find a place to stay. Except, there was a rodeo in the fairly small town. We found a place the third or fourth try, cheap, and not worth the pittance we paid. Mold. Bugs. Running water in places where you don’t want running water. Loud noises too close to the thin walls that enclosed us. We were out of the place at about five in the morning, having slept a couple of hours.
I’d forgotten about it until Seth reminded me over the weekend, conveniently forgetting about the one room short part. Being a mensch isn’t everything.
1 comment:
Your post left me weeping in front of my computer...for truly the good ole days. We had so much fun. What was it? The times or us? Life seems so sane now. As for the post about me and my dog, you got exactly, as in groked, what my life is like. Being partially blind isn't too tough with a fabulous, funny, social, smart dawg. Also, remember when we were in the restaurant and I was complaining about the noise? Two smart people like us couldn't come up with the answer - it was fireworks. When I got back to my room I put the dawg under the comforter and covered her head with a pillow, leaving only her snout out for air like a submarine.
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