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Still Home 11-21-09
By Milt Abel | November 22, 2009
| November 22, 2009I know she meant well, but I can’t refrain from making fun of an offer of generosity last night.
My wife is an amateur triathlete. She bikes and swims and jogs for no money, no endorsement deals or sponsors. If she was to get a sponsor it would be something very domestic and staid, nothing about cutting edge performance. She’s a good athlete but many years from the physical peak we all reach in our twenties. So at the short course triathlons she competes in, while competitive for her age group, she is noticeably behind those who might be sponsored by Gatorade or Speedo. My wife’s steady jog brings her across the finish line well after the out-and-out winners, male and female, had the time to change their shoes. But seeing her show up like that reminds us that the race is not over, there’s more to do, and presents itself for some niche marketing. I could see my wife being sponsored by a phone company, “call a friend’ stenciled across her back, or maybe a gentle reminder from a local auto service to change your oil.
Every month my wife’s circle of bike enthusiasts host a dinner party. The host responsibilities rotate through the pedal-bike gang, and last night’s hosts did a stellar job with food, spirits, and hospitality. Because of my frequent traveling I don’t attend many of these affairs so I’ll hold self imposed pop-quizzes with my wife as we drive over about names and spouses names. Last night I did well on the drive over and am now getting a solid ‘C’ in Names, it looks like I’m going to fail Occupations unless I turn in some extra credit.
Several new faces were present last night, but again, I travel and they may been more regular attendees than me. One lady, who was a charming conversationist through dinner, and possessed an obvious sense of social responsibility, showed up to the post -dinner gathering in in family room where most of us were watching the closing minutes of the University of Oregon vs. Arizona football game. She bravely watched a game that obviously didn’t interest her, and threw the occasional comment in the mix that floated around after each down. Then, during a change of possession, she held out a packet of foiled covered pills and generously offered to the entire room, “Anybody want an anti-gas pill?” There was laughter, and I try to make it louder by picking out a jovial soul in the group and said, “I think that message is for you.” But she had no takers. When you think about it, who would? “Yeah, I just can’t seem to stop farting. Give me one of those.”
I know she meant well, but it just brings out the prude in me. At least her example kept me from offering the gang, “Who wants hemorrhoid creme?”
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