Posts Tagged ‘health’

Tricia’s Mind Almost Tricked Her Into Giving Birth

Hello and ahoy, dear readers. Did you take the time to read my grandson Max’s guest Blog for this here “lifestyle column” yesterday? Well, you should have. He talked all about his art. If he keeps up his pace, he’s going to become the new Jackson Polanski. You know, the one who splattered paint all over the walls and called it art, because it was…regular people just needed to be told it was for them to realize it.

As Max told you, I had to go to the store yesterday morning. I had to pick up some kibble for Hannah Montana, a tube of Dr. Rembrandt’s Tooth Paste, a box of oatmeal, and a few other sundries. Did I tell you that my groatmeal I ordered over the Internet came in the mail the other day? It did. Turns out, it was bird feed. I gave the rest of it to the birds outside, but that left meal without a meal! That’s why I had to pick up the oatmeal. It might be a while before I give groatmeal another try.

Well, no sooner did I walk in the door than I heard my grandniece Tricia making all kinds of a ruckus. Now, I’ve gotten used to Tricia and her friends making noise around the house, but this took the cake! She was screaming that the baby’s coming! When we got her to the clinic, the good doctor told us she was having what are known in medical circles as “Braxton Hicks Contractions” and that she wasn’t really having the baby. It was all in her mind. She must get that from her mother’s side of the family…that mother of hers has always been a touch on the nervous side. After that, I was so relieved that I went to get the car while Tricia finished up with the doctor. I believe that it was only the contractions that she was imagining, not the entire pregnancy. I’m going to ask her to guest Blog for you again tomorrow to tell her side of the story.

Until next time!

Ahoy,

The Codger

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There’s Nothing Like a Big Bowl of Piping Hot Groatmeal

Good morning, dear readers. Thank you for taking the time to spend some time with this round table discussion “lifestyle column” this morning. Did you get a load of my grandson Max’s ghost writing yesterday? It was dynamite! Now that’s some real talent there! I felt like I was reading a spooky Hallowe’en article written by myself, not by a ghost writer at all.

The next time your missus offers to make you a full breakfast, be sure you show her this Blog first: Health Food Made Easy. It’ll tell her everything she needs to know about the different kinds of oatmeal (that is, if she doesn’t buy you Dino Egg Oatmeal). Now that that blogger brought up the difference between the original Irish Oatmeal and those commonplace “Scottish Oats”, I’m convinced that the common-law Mrs. Codger doesn’t understand the difference (and thus, may be depriving me of some nutritional value). I’ll take the real Irish Oatmeal, thank you very much. The missus probably just saw “Scottish” in the name and bought it because she thought it was cheap.

Or better yet, I might go ahead and order up some whole oat “groats”. They say they’re more nutritional than even the Irish Oatmeal. It sounds like they’re hard to find, but thankfully, we have the internet. The Amazon bloggers are selling a canister with a special “Health Blend” of oats and groats, and it has an absolutely beautiful parakeet on the packaging:

I hope it gets here soon so I can turn to the missus and have her get me a nice big bowl of piping hot groatmeal.

Until next time!

Ahoy,

The Codger

I Have an Upset Stomach

Good morning, dear readers. Or I should say that I hope you are having a good morning, because I certainly am not. I just got done making a batch of my famous Bicarbonate of Ovaltine Elixir on account of my upset stomach. The cause? I’m willing to bet that it was that dinner I went out to last night. Oh, that brings me to my good news: My grandson Max is home from California, and me and the missus wanted to take him out to a nice welcome home dinner (since his own parents didn’t even do that much). Of course, I let Max pick the place.

He selected a restaurant in the city that serves Indian cuisine. Not Native American Indian, but India Indian, from the foreign country. I’d never had that type of food before, so I went with the one dish on the menu that I knew: Chicken Marsala. No sense in taking chances on a dish when you might not like it.

The last time I had that Chicken Marsala, it came over spaghetti noodles, and there were mushrooms on it. But at this Indian restaurant, they made it different. It was in a spicy sauce, which didn’t sit well with me. But I ate it just so I wouldn’t offend the chef. I guess this means I won’t be moving to India any time soon!

Until next time!

Ahoy,

The Codger

The Codger Survives Childhood Illness

Good morning to you all, dear readers. Well now, I suppose you are all wondering why I wasn’t here with you yesterday. The answer is simple: My grandniece Tricia arrived yesterday, along with her housemates Derek and Jessica, and their newborn baby, Nevaeh. As soon as they got here, they came inside, where Nevaeh promptly vomited onto my computer.

It went everywhere: In between the keys and the buttons, into the speakers, into those buttons you can use instead of the mouse that I never use, into the paper clip storage compartment, into the disk slot, just everywhere. I cleaned it up as best I could, but by that point I thought it best to let the remainder dry on its own. And that’s what did the trick: I turned on my computer this morning, and it fired right up, just like usual. But as for yesterday, after the incident with Nevaeh’s vomiting, my creative process had been completely disrupted.

Not that I’m mad at Nevaeh, mind you, and you shouldn’t be either (even if she is the reason why you were deprived of your daily helping of The Codger’s pearls of wisdom, such as this very one you’re reading as we speak). This was my first time meeting Nevaeh, and I was very excited to meet her (since I’ve never met anyone else whose name was “Heaven” spelled backwards). Apparently she was a bit overly-excited to meet me. Perhaps her mother had read to her from my lifestyle column. I need to go spend some quality time with my new houseguests now.

Until next time!

Ahoy,

The Codger

Advice on Sending a Card

Ole’ to you all, my dear readers. That’s how all the locals say “hello” in the countries where they speak Spanish, and believe me, there are several. I just got off the phone with my old pal Bill. We don’t get to see each other much these days since he doesn’t like to take the car on the highway anymore, and if you stick to the back roads, it takes over ten hours for him to get here. But he does just fine around town, though. Well, Billy called this morning to tell me that he had heard from his neighbor that the borough treasurer has taken ill, and he wanted to know if I had heard anything.

Back when Billy and I were in school together, that borough treasurer had been our class president. Howard was his name. I’m not sure why he made the transition from the executive to the financial branch of government, but that’s exactly what he did. I asked Billy what was wrong with him and he said he didn’t know, and that’s why he was calling me. I told him that I haven’t lived in town for over fifty years, so I wasn’t privy to the gossip the way he still is. Billy said that the last time he had seen Howard was during the last campaign, and he had seemed healthy as a horse then, going around kissing babies and widows and whatnot.

Billy gave me the address of borough hall so I can send a get well card, just to be on the safe side. That’s what you do when you’re not sure if someone is ailing: You send them a card, but you have to make sure it’s one of the ones that’s completely blank on the inside and doesn’t say anything like “get well soon” on the outside. Something with a picture is nice, like a picture of a sun or a porpoise…something neutral. You get the idea.

Until next time!

Ahoy,

The Codger

Does Jessica Have Postpartum Depression on YouTube?

What a fine Sunday morning it is! As you have no doubt figured out already, I was not with you yesterday and my grandniece Tricia guest Blogged for this “lifestyle column”. The reason for this was that I wanted her to share her good news with you before you heard it someone else: Her friend Jessica, with whom she lives in my pop up trailer (along with their boyfriend Derek), had given birth to a new baby girl named Nevaeh. That’s “heaven” spelled backwards—how marvelously creative! When she gets to be of school age, she’ll certainly be the only one with that name in her class!

When I awoke this morning, the first thing I did was fix some breakfast. Then I went to the YouTube video search engine. YouTube is one of my favorite stations on the Internet. That’s why, when I turned it on this morning, I was surprised when I saw this ridiculous video of a young lady singing and crying like a crazy person. But then I realized that it looks just like my grandniece Tricia’s friend Jessica, the one I was just telling you about who gave birth to a new baby. Here is the video link:

If this isn’t Jessica in the video, I’ll eat my hat…she lived in my trailer in my own yard for over a month, and it’s the spitting image of her. Well, I don’t know why she loaded this video into the Internet, but it appears that some Spanish people got their hands on it and submitted it to YouTube. They even got her name wrong. They say it’s “Io Che Canto El Muelle De San Blas” when it’s really “Jessica”. And it looks like Jessica is suffering from what is known as postpartum depression. I am going to give Tricia a call right now to make sure that Jessica doesn’t need me to call Life Alert for her.  

Until next time!

Ahoy,

The Codger

Taking Hannah Montana to the Dog Park


Hello to you today. How have you been? Have you been getting enough rest and exercise? My Welsh corgi Hannah Montana has been getting enough exercise. Yesterday I took her to the dog park, where we successfully intermingled with other dog/owner pairs. Without a doubt, my Hannah Montana had a better time there than the time I took her to the skating park.

If it were up to me, I’d knock down a few of those new pharmacies that keep springing up and replace them with dog parks. They would probably be just as beneficial for people’s health as the pharmacies, but that’s just my opinion. You’d just wake up, eat some hen fruit for breakfast (not the salmonella ones), pat your dog on the head, and breathe a few deep breaths of fresh park air. That’s something that not even Medicare can take away.

On the way home, I surveyed my block for suspicious activity. I didn’t notice anything too suspicious. I also kept an eye open to see if any of my neighbors had begun making the home improvements I recently suggested they make. I didn’t see anything yet, so perhaps I need to set a stronger example. That’s why I’ve decided to undertake my latest kitchen “reno” later today. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.

Until next time!

Ahoy,

The Codger