Family Affairs

By

William D. Dannenmaier

Since going on my enforced diet, my breakfast three mornings a week consists of one soft-boiled egg (unless I sneak in a piece of buttered, jellied toast.)  I like soft-boiled eggs.  The white should be hard, there should be a minuscule hard layer of yellow around the yoke and the remainder of the yoke should be runny – to add flavor to the white.  This morning the egg was perfect.  Normally it isn’t: sometimes the white runs out when the egg is cut, more often the yellow resembles a new form of concrete.  My bride watched me open the egg and noticed its perfection.  “You are really enjoying that, aren’t you?” she asked and continued, “You may think the usual variety I provide you is an accident.  It isn’t.  If I provided perfect eggs every time, you would soon be bored.  You would never get pleasure in breakfast. This way, I keep your morning one of anticipation and provide real pleasure every so often.  This is part of being a thoughtful and loving wife.  You are a very lucky man.”

Billy, I believe the second oldest man in church - next to me - patted his paunch the other day and said, “The better I treat my stomach the more it grows and the worse it treats me.”  What a beautiful parallel to our welfare system: recipients, social workers, managers et al.  The more they receive, the more they want and the more complaints we hear.

I’ve been spending our money on books recently.  I purchased Ann Coulter’s If Democrats had brains, they’d be Republicans.  It was a fun read if you like irony and sarcasm with occasional novel points, which I do, but I rather regret the $15, as Sheila quit after a half dozen pages.  On the other hand, the autobiography My Grandfather’s Son by Clarence Thomas was outstanding and should gain a lasting place in literature.  Talking about it to my son Eric, he said he had heard it was a very angry book.  Not at all.  Detailing Thomas’ life and employment progress, it gave a vivid picture of the growth of a man from a poverty stricken childhood, through a radical demonstrating youth to conservative maturity.  He is highly critical of black “liberals,” in fact of liberals in general, but if chronicling specific political figures, their lies and failures, is anger, we need more of it.  Incidentally, he is highly complimentary of many people, including, interestingly enough, the residents of Jefferson City, Missouri, where he worked for several years for several years. 

Next month will continue the wild spending on books.  Doug Giles, in his blog on Townhall.com (October 21), which is always worth reading, described two books, What’s So Great About Christianity by Dinesh D’Souza ($17) and The Politically Incorrect Guide to the Bible by Robert Hutchinson ($14), both of which sound quite interesting.  (My prices are all from Amazon.com.)      

I slept late one recent morning.  It was almost six o’clock and Sheila was still asleep, or so she seemed.  Affectionately, I put an arm around her and, quite accidentally, touched her ribs.  There was an immediate giggle and she pushed my hand away (so much for affection).  She claims that it is unfair of nature that I am not ticklish anywhere and she is, everywhere.  I tried to explain it was not nature’s fault.  My older brother and sister tickled me mercilessly when I was small and helpless.  There were even times when, had it not been a hot dry summer day, I would have had to change my pants later.  Anyway, perhaps preparing me for Sheila, they taught me not to be ticklish.

Something, perhaps the above, reminded Sheila of a saying Ruby Leach believed and told her.  Shortly after we were married, while I was at work, Ruby was visiting and saw Sheila preparing a special treat for me.  Ruby asked what she was doing, and Sheila explained it was a treat for me.  To this Ruby responded, “Remember Sheila, dogs and men are easy to spoil, but hard to fix.”  That is feminist slander of course, but Ruby was, and Sheila is, an old fashioned feminist, one who has little trust in the competence of men. Husbands who have great cooks for wives can always accept a bit of such nonsense.

Currently, we have five dogs in the house.  We are baby sitting a small one for Joanne, Brandy and Leslie Edwards that is the most spoiled dog I’ve ever seen, more so than Joyce Melton’s Paisley, who held honors until now.  The darned thing will stand at the top of a one step stair and bark to be carried down.  It also considers thunder the barking of a distant dog which must be answered.  During a thunderstorm the other night, late the other night, it answered each clap of thunder, no matter how distant, with a round of barking.  Now, to complete the picture, Megaera and Shane arrived for the weekend bringing with them a four month old German Shepard puppy, a non-house trained puppy which thinks it must be with humans at all times.  I’m considering moving to a motel until Monday when our canine visitors return to their respective homes.