Hooked! A Minnesota Fish Story

       
         I told Connie my "Life's Little Instruction Calendar" today said, "Get to know a woman who baits her own hook." 

        Three times she was puzzled,  couldn't quite hear those last words.  When she finally got them, I said, "You were one of those women."  I remembered her dad made her learn to put the worm on the hook on one of those 10,000 Minnesota lakes each summer.  Connie smiled and said, "Yes, and gut the fish too."

        I told her I had an extension to that instruction that goes it one better.  "What's that?"  Connie said.

        "Get to know a woman who baits her own hook and knows what it's intended to catch."  This time Connie smiled big right away.
        
        "And you swallowed it," she said. 

        Yep.  I married that woman too.



         

For Clocks, Telling Time Isn't Enough

        The latest Hammacher Schlemmer catalog has arrived.  It's the "Mid-Spring Supplement 2020."  Not enough to come out four times a year, plus a holiday issue.  Now "Mid-Spring" is upon us. 

     

     
        The cover tells why, I suppose:  "The Virus Eliminating Filterless Air Purifier."
        I say,  Caveat Emptor.

                                                                                                                                                                                                            But  my real favorite in this issue is "The Easy Read Full Disclosure Clock."  I never thought of a clock as hiding something I needed to know.



        Plus,  in case you weren't sure it was light or dark out, you get MORNING and A.M. BOTH.    Maybe full disclosure includes the meaning "redundant."  But including the month, date, and YEAR may reveal the true intended buyers:

        This is one of the first questions a gerontologist will ask you.
   

iPhone's perceptive dictation translation

        Son David texted me today that he "braved the outside [of his apartment] to get a fancy donut down the block" (referencing the "stay home" orders we are under to contain the virus).

        I texted back:  "Sounds good.  I know when I had the craving for brownies, I just couldn't resist."

        While I was voicing my message to iPhone, I noticed it typed "grieving," but later in the sentence and before the period, it changed its mind and realized I had said "craving."

        Now that's perceptive and resilient of it, I opined to David.

        He texted me back:  "It wises up mid-dictate."

        Yeah.  How'd it do that!


        

This snack does double duty

        In the midst of our wonders and worries about coronavirus, things like this keep happening.

        I gave Connie a kiss or three and wished her a good night's sleep (I usually go off to dreamland a couple hours later),  and she asked if I had a munchie.  Since I myself just ate half of something I had put away in the freezer, I said:

       "Would you like half a Drumstick?" (the sweet, ice cream cone-like confection I slice lengthwise down the middle to reduce the fat and cholesterol).  She looked sort of upset and a bit dismayed.  Thinking she didn't quite hear, I repeated it a little louder.

        "Oh, a Drumstick," she said, "I thought you said 'dumpster.'"
     
        Age does bring some mishearing, but the other side of it is delight.