The Gift of Dark Humor

Yesterday afternoon I thought it might be a good idea to take advantage of the sunshine, and comparatively mild temperatures, to go for a run. There was snow in the forecast which provided even more incentive, so off I went. I didn’t set out to break any speed records and didn’t feel quite up to a very long run so after two miles or so I slowed to a walk and headed back towards the house. Soon I felt the beginnings of some mild abdominal cramps. Whenever this happens, a parade of horrifying memories come to mind. I’ve experienced quite a few encounters with this particular ailment but mercifully none recently. My first course of action is always to take a quick mental inventory of what I had eaten earlier in the day. Had I perhaps ingested something unusual that might have triggered my agitation? I came up with nothing. As the cramps began to become more intense I quickened my pace. Once home, I had the delightful experience of three hours of umm…intestinal discomfort. The alert reader will notice the lengths I am going to avoid using the D-word.

Fourteen hours later, I am better but not totally out of the woods. I woke up from a fitful nights sleep around 3:00 am and have been up ever since, not feeling well at all but far better than I was last night. But, the point of this post is not to regale you with stories of this unfortunate illness, but rather to share with you an example of my life long fondness for—dark humor.

Last night around 9:30, I was upstairs in my easy chair trying to do some reading as a distraction, when all of a sudden a joke began to form in my head. I immediately typed it out and texted it downstairs to Pam…

What do you call it when you can’t remember how to spell the D-word?

Irritable vowel syndrome.

My wife’s reply was swift and unequivocal—“That’s terrible. Nothing about d,-,-,-,-,-,-,- is funny!”

In Pam’s defense, her experiences from a week in Maine with her parents last year probably traumatized her to the point where any mention of the word for true rest of her life will be off limits.

But still…I really was proud of that joke. For a brief couple of minutes I wasn’t thinking of how sick I felt. This is the gift of dark humor, allowing as it does a momentary escape from being the victim to the victimizer.

Now maybe the next time you are visited by this scourge, you will remember the joke and find comfort—or not. Probably not.

What Makes a Smart Plug…Smart?

As many of you know, I am married to a woman who is a technology freak. She loves all things having to do with computers and all the various and sundry gadgets that have proliferated from them over the last decade or so. While most women’s eyes light up when you give them jewelry, Pam’s eyes light up when I buy her a new gadget. It’s kinda creepy. Anyway, near the top of her Christmas list this year was something called a Smart Plug. When I did a bit of research into the thing I discovered that it was a new Amazon gadget whereby you could transform anything that needs to be plugged in into something that would respond to voice commands like—Alexa, do the laundry, or…Alexa, bring me breakfast in bed. Just kidding…but not by much.

So, I come down the stairs this morning at 5:50 am, in my usual early morning stupor. I walk into the family room. Its dark like it always is at this hour. I absently shuffle over to the lamp next to the sofa to turn on the light. Nothing. Didn’t I just replace that bulb? Cheap Chinese crap! So, I walk across the room and turn on the other lamp. Same thing. What are the odds? Two blown bulbs! But, its early and I’m not thinking as clearly as I normally do. I continue my shuffle into the kitchen. I proceed with the morning ritual of brewing my coffee. Once that’s finished, I shuffle over to the dishwasher. Pam, knowing my routine as she does has prepared a note for me…

What in the Sam Hill is this woman up to now, I think to myself. Because its early and I am vulnerable to exploitation, I obey,  “Alexa, let there be light.” Basically the entire downstairs explodes with incandescent light. It startles me. I actually jump a little…What the heck??!! I walk over to the recycling and see them all there and realize that this is basically my fault. See, her Christmas list asked for “a”…as in “one” smart plug. When I went to buy the thing I think for a minute, “Wait, she’s probably gonna want more than just one. She loves this crap.” So, overcome with Christmas generosity, I click the number 4 in the checkout cart, and last night while I slept, she struck. 

Of course, as I sit here in the luminous glow of electric light it occurs to me that she has the power to change the magic word on a whim, plunging me into darkness. I could come down here tomorrow and say, Alexa, let there be light, and nothing…while she’s upstairs laughing her head off. Another thing, I see that she did not tell me what the magic word is to turn all these lights off. Smart plug indeed!

The Puzzle of Death

Yesterday was supposed to be my first day back at the office, the day that my new business year began. Instead, we got seven inches of snow, a bunch of people lost power, and we set some kind of COVID record. How about we all just stay home in January, come back February 1st and try again?

Regardless of conditions, I will go in this morning. One day at home for snow is quite enough for me. But Pam is happy as a clam. She is using her snow days to take down Christmas decorations, organize her new planner—don’t ask!— and continue her pitched battle against the puzzle of death:

Last summer while we were in Maine Pam thought it would be fun if we worked on a puzzle at the cabin. So she bought a Maine-themed 1000 piece monster and we all spend time working on it over a period of days. To my great surprise it was actually kinda fun. When my family does this sort of thing during the beach trips, I always take a hard pass. It looks so…slow and tedious…requiring way too much sitting for my taste. So, I was skeptical. 

But it turned out to be a cool project and a surprising good time. 

But the Christmas vacation version of puzzle fun has been a slow slog of frustration, and it lays there—daunting and unfinished. To make matters worse, the kids are all long gone and we kinda need our kitchen table back. So, it’s just Pam and me…mostly Pam fighting this battle. She is determined that she will finish this thing, no matter how long it takes. Long ago, this thing stopped being fun. Now its war. Its labyrinth of tree limbs, weeds and expanses of white nothingness are the gauntlet between us and our kitchen table being reclaimed, and Pam is on a mission.

Meanwhile, the only positive about snow is the opportunities for photography. May I present our deck at 6:45 this morning…

My Perpetual New Year’s Resolution

I could use less cynicism. It might be nice to look on the bright side every once in a while. It might help to be less critical, more empathetic, less of a smart-ass. My contentment level would probably rise if I was less obsessed with the future and more invested in the present. I should attempt to be a better listener, offer my opinions less frequently, and not hold those opinions in such high regard. I should pursue friendships with more vigor, hold grudges less tightly. I should spend more time in prayer. I should read the Bible more and the Drudge Report less. I should recommit myself to my hobbies, more golf and fishing, fewer excuses. Greater enthusiasm for my profession, more thankfulness, less fatalism. I need to escape the treadmill of politics since it only breeds frustration and resentment, and give the guys on the other side of the aisle the gift of my indifference.

My perpetual New Year’s resolution, first written in 2012.

2022 Predictions

Every year around this time I write a Predictions post. The 2012 post was my best since I absolutely nailed my first two predictions—2012 ended without peace in the Middle East, and the Federal Government did spend more money in 2012 than they did in 2011. But, I must admit that some of my more recent prediction posts haven’t exactly been Nostradamus-like. This beauty from 2016 comes to mind— President Obama, exhausted after seven years of being both a Christian and a Muslim, declares himself the first Buddhist president. 

Lucky for readers of The Tempest, I am not discouraged by miserable failure. So, without further delay, may I present to you…

2022 Predictions

1. Just about the time when the world thinks it has finally beaten back the COVID pandemic, scientists discover the Zebra variant, which originates in a diner in Canada, and whose primary symptom seems to be transforming it’s victims into polite human beings.

2. Joe Biden will survive the second year of his Presidency, costing members of his caucus a fortune since they all took the under on 18 months.

3. A team from the SEC will win the college football National Championship for the 12th time in the past 16 years, which will bring calls to reform the playoff system to allow more inclusion and equity. Suggestions include forcing SEC schools to play with only 9 players.

4. Speaker of the house Nancy Pelosi will die from a fatal reaction to a new anesthetic drug administered during her record 9th face lift operation. Fortunately for the Pelosi family, her husband, venture capitalist Paul Pelosi had recently shorted the drug makers stock.

5. Former President Donald Trump announces plans to build a five star luxury casino inside the Vatican. He promises that all the proceeds from the venture will go to Catholic charities. In an unrelated move, Trump announces his conversion to Catholicism.

6. The 2022 Major League Baseball season is cancelled by the ongoing labor dispute between the grossly overpaid and coddled players and their insanely wealthy and coddled owners. In a last ditch effort to save the season, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez is brought in to mediate based on the fact that she once was a waitress at a sports bar.

7. Senator Joe Manchin upsets the political balance in the Senate by declaring himself a Republican. In response, Bernie Sanders, figuring what the hell?, finally decides to declare himself a Communist.

8. The much anticipated 2022 midterm elections set a modern record of being referred to as the most consequential election in history a staggering 6 million times by the media. After all the votes were stolen, faked, forged, and finally counted The Republican Party takes control of both houses of Congress. Barbara Streisand, Bette Midler, and Michelle Obama announce plans to move to France. The French government immediately closes its border.

9. The stock market continues to move up and down wildly in ways that no human being alive or dead can explain or predict.

10. Doug and Pam Dunnevant finally buy their dream lake house in Maine.

Christmas in Pictures

We had the privilege of having all of our kids with us for four whole days over Christmas. This is a rarity since our life stories have placed us in three different cities. To prepare for this event took teamwork. I did my part, helping with some of the cleaning, wrapping most of the presents, and running errands. But Pam was the brains behind the project, and it was her attention to detail and eye for beauty that made the house look magical…

Once everyone arrived, the dogs took over. After the initial burst of energy and frenetic craziness, they all settled down and behaved themselves beautifully.

Jacko and Frisco love Pops the most.

A rare shot of all three of them in the same room.

My favorite picture of the Three Amigos.

So…what did we do with ourselves for four whole days? Lots of fun stuff.

We attempted to put together a puzzle.

We took in a show—It’s a Wonderful Life Radio Show. 

You’re never too old to decorate sugar cookies…

And, of course, what Christmas celebration would be complete without a fire out on the deck?

It’s not like Pam and I slaved away 24/7 waiting on our kids. Every once in a while we put them to work…

It was a magical few days, made so primarily by just being together. Now that they’re all gone the house seems excessively quiet. But, we’re not sad, just grateful. 

When it was time to take the obligatory family Christmas picture, Lucy wanted no part of the chaos, leaving a gaping hole in the finished product…

When Pam posted this on Facebook last night, many people noticed and wanted to know, Where’s Lucy?

Well, we did manage to get this one…

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Dead Week

I simultaneously love and hate dead week. The seven days between Christmas and New Year’s Day serves the dual purpose of providing time to rest up for the new year while boring you to tears. Add to this the inevitable post Christmas letdown, the disturbing weight gain, and the physical exhaustion from two weeks of non-stop holiday hustle and you find yourself mostly sleepwalking through dead week. What snaps you out of the malaise is the eventual resolution list making. But before you can get there you must first endure a few days of reflection. What exactly happened in 2021?

For me, this is easier than for most people since I do not have to rely on my increasingly faulty memory. I have this blog, which conveniently keeps a tidy record. I can look back and see which posts were the most popular each month. I can then easily recall what we were all terrified by back in January or May or that weird week in August. Here are some observations:

Last January it was all about the events of the 6th—the (pick your preferred modifier), riot, insurrection, violent coup attempt, theatre of the absurd, storming of the capital, or glorious exercise of free speech. I wrote a piece entitled Character is Destiny and a bunch of you read it.

February lived up to its well earned reputation for dreariness. Nothing of consequence transpired, evidenced by the fact that my most popular post concerned my adorable next door neighbor kids showing up at my door to deliver the Girl Scout cookies I had bought back in the Fall. Entitled, The Garland Kids Strike Again, it once again reminded me that people love cute kids about as much as anything.

March featured a scary COVID outbreak at my office which shut us down for a week and sent us all scurrying to get tested. The post I wrote about it called, The Return of Covid, was my most read post of 2021. Nothing sells quite like bad news.

April, May and June all featured sentimental posts about nostalgic visits to places I used to live, trying to decide whether I was happy or sad about the disappearance of men’s suits from the modern wardrobe, and a collection of creepy photographs of weird evangelicals. Apparently there is no accounting for the tastes of the average Tempest reader.

Our time in Maine always leads to a pronounced reduction in readership. Although I post something nearly every day while I am up there, people don’t care to keep up with the Dunnevant’s while we are joyously frolicking away in our paradise. Maybe its because its 15 degrees cooler in Maine, and you guys resent being reminded of this unhappy fact. Or maybe, nobody wants to hear all my blubbering about how perfect it is to be living on a lake in Maine. I get it.

For the rest of 2021, my ego took quite a beating due to the fact that the three most popular posts were by guest bloggers!! First, my daughter blew me out of the water with the story of her slapstick accident at the lake, then my friend, Tom Allen, topped the charts not once but twice, with his two posts—Mistakes and Pumping the Brakes. The nerve of that guy!!

While reflecting on 2021 it occurs to me that it wasn’t an awful lot different than 2020. We were all expecting it to be the year when we all got over the COVID thing and got back to our lives. While much improvement was made, COVID is still very much with us, meaning that 2021 has been basically a big disappointment. But that doesn’t mean everything was bad. I made some money. Business was good. Many fun things happened. And best of all, I have not assumed room temperature.

Now, its time I got started on those resolutions. But that is a blogpost for another day.