So. Where was I?
Blogging fell apart as life starting going biblically wrong. Disappointing our dozens of readers, for which we apologize. But good news, fans and foes, Roberta and I have decided it’s time to resume our scribbles.
Amid all the tragedies, life has continued on its usual cray-cray way. Another typical day in the life of Wiggles:
Guess who’s accompanying her hard-of-hearing hubby to a computer repair store run by a heavily accented, pidgin English speaking Taiwanese man? You know what the vows say, “for better or for worse.”
Not to mention the Lord & Master’s next stop at the DMV, where he’s going to take both the vision and written driving tests. (For a professor, he’s got a surprisingly intense case of test taking anxiety.) And then he’ll have his mug memorialized onto the new license with a honking huge upper lip cold sore the size of Montana.
When the new license arrived, the L&M groaned that he looked like a Russian mobster. He did. An angry one. “I thought I had a pleasant expression,” he protested. Well, now he knows his version of pleasant looks more like “one step closer and I’ll blow your brains out.”
I have landed smack dab in the middle of a goddam Tennessee Williams play. Clearly, a lesser known gem. Perhaps you’ve heard of it: A Crumbling House to Match Our Crumbling Lives? We’ve got our very own Big Daddy and the requisite forlorn heroine – yes, dear Sassafrass has returned to the nest – lolling the day away in her cluttered quarters. But I, Wiggles, am a reformed JAP from the east coast, now mellowing out in SF. How did I wander into this production?
Our father, who art in the Actors Home in Englewood, New Jersey, used to quote his beloved Abraham Lincoln: “I laugh because I dare not cry.” Daddy, I concur.