MY HUSBAND COLLECTION

Gentle Readers,

I have purchased a very nice collection of husbands. A while back I wrote about how I only collect loss. I was depressed that day. I have come to realize that I collect something, but it's not Hummel  figurines (think they're ugly), glass chickens (don't see the point), art work (have enough and can't afford a Frida Kahlo), or fancy dolls (also think they're ugly and don't see the point). The doll in this picture looks like she would come alive at night and murder me in my bed. Does she look pissed, or what?

The thing is, if you collect stuff, then you have to dust it, and I don't like to dust. What I have to dust now is plenty, and even if I wear gloves, touching cleaning products or dirt gives me itchy hives on my hands. Why, a few nights ago I was putting laundry in the washer and I got a little tiny bit of detergent on my hand, and it was the mild detergent I have to use because anything else gives me a rash all over from my clothes. Even though I rinsed off the detergent immediately, within minutes I had hives. I took antihistamines and rubbed hydrocortisone cream on my hands, but by morning, both hands still hivey and the left one, which had actually had the detergent on it was swollen. Took hours to get them better.

And of course this is the time of year that I am the feeding ground for all the mosquitoes in the world.

Well, so anyhoo, I am collecting husbands. There's Rad at the AT&T store, who takes care of all my telephone, television, and computer needs, and I have two at the credit union. They're both nice looking and polite and I've finally gotten them to call me Lola instead of Ms. Plotnik. Plotnik is not my last name, so I never understood why they called me that anyway, but now they're all Hi Lola when I go in the credit union. They are named Bouvier and Spaniel. 

And now I have added two house husbands to my collection - Bono and The Edge.

This morning they mowed the lawn, weed whipped, edged (of course), and removed all the vines and debris from the garage roof. And they didn't even put the stuff from the garage roof out front for the yard waste people to pick up. THEY TOOK IT AWAY WITH THEM! Oh my God, I am so in love.

Two days ago they replaced my two cracked windows.

I adore these men.

Purchasing these husbands has not been all that expensive. Best of all, they don't bitch and complain. I don't have to do their laundry, and I don't give a damn whose bed they're in at night as long as it's not mine.

There wouldn't be enough room left for the dogs.

I love my husbands, every blessed one. And if they ever misbehave, there's no divorce agony.

I shall simply replace them.

Infinities of love,

Lola

WHEN I RUN FOR PRESIDENT

Gentle Readers,

When people run  for president, they're always talking about who they want to be like because it's never good enough to just be yourself. Nothing can simply be what it is. The names I hear coming up the most often are Lincoln, Truman, and Reagan, and we get an occasional Rooseveltian, Teddy or Franklin.

Well, when I run for president, I'm going to say I want to be like Calvin Coolidge.

When Coolidge was president, the United States was not in debt; we had a surplus of bucks. Coolidge answered his own telephone and he took a nap every afternoon. He sent his sons to the same prep school more recently attended by Lola's Favorite Young Woman (sadly, one of them died from an infected blister he got while playing tennis on the court at the White House - no penicillin then).

Also, he was known as Silent Cal Coolidge for a reason. He knew better than to run his mouth. Now that could be tough for Your Lola, but when I run for president, I will do my best to be just like Calvin Coolidge.

Coolidge's Dinner Companion: Mr. President, I made a bet that I could get you to say more than two words.


Coolidge: You lose.


Infinities of love,


Lola