I married my father.Oh, not really. But:Dad is a grumpy alte kocke from the Bronx.The Man is a grumpy middle ages Filipino American who was born--in the Bronx.And let me underline that word. No, not Bronx. GRUMPY.I just spent a hour on the phone help
I married my father.
Oh, not really. But:
Dad is a grumpy alteh kocke from the Bronx.
The Man is a grumpy middle aged Filipino American who was born--in the Bronx.
And let me underline that word.
No, not Bronx. GRUMPY!
I just spent a hour on the phone helping my dad with his computer. Figured out his password--he'd forgotten it, but I hadn't so I could log into his account.Dealt with a scam e-mail--no, they are NOT going to close your Hotmail account, they want your info. Cleared out his junk mail--256 messages--and his regular mail--98 messages. Helped him figure out where the files of slides SC and the Man put on his computer were located and how to look at them and delete ones he didn't like.
Hung up the phone. And what did I have to do?
Help the Man get into his e-mail account because he couldn't remember his password, and I'm the one with administrative rights on the Comcast mailboxes.
And he was as grouchy as Dad was. Grouchier, actually. Dad was sweetly apologetic. He doesn't rail about the technology, just his own age and presumed ineptitude. Which I don't see--at 89, I'm proud he tries so hard to do all this stuff.
And he said "thank you". Which is more than the Man did.
Do I have to wait till HE's 89 to get some appreciation for stuff like this?
Published: Fri, 07/02/10
Is becoming obsessed with bicycles a symptom of mid-life crisis?The guy at work I call "the nebbish" has been obsessed with many things over the years. Historical re-enactments ranging from the colonial era to (especially ironic since he ne
Is becoming obsessed with bicycles a symptom of male mid-life crisis?
The guy at work I call "the Nebbish" has been obsessed with many things over the years.Historical re-enactments ranging from the colonial era to (especially ironic since he never served in the military) WWII. The local sports teams--the football team my husband calls the "Fore-skins" and the new baseball team in their multimillion dollar stadium built in a city with an incredibly high poverty level.
But lately it has been the bikes. And being the Nebbish, it couldn't be just a modern, up to date bike. Oh, no. The Nebbish has that--in fact I think he has several bikes. I heard him talking to someone about how he wanted to have a "stable" of his bikes. But what he normally rides is this:
It's a "Schwinn Stingray", probably circa 1964. The Man insists that this is a boy's bike. All I know is that it looks like the one my friend Lauren was riding around Bailey Avenue in the Bronx around 19701, minus the basket and the tassels!
Not only that, but the Nebbish is tall. This bike might work for me, at about 5 feet 4 inches, but the Nebbish is a good 6 feet. When he rides, his knees come up as high as the handlebar bases. And he rides wearing a football helmet instead of a regular bike one...
Closer to home (at home in fact), there is the Man. Last year he bought a very good used bike from a pawnshop. JR rode with him on an old hand me down bike from a friend until this spring, when we got her a nice new bike--a late Christmas gift. And this spring I found a nice modern Schwinn bike at BJ's, and the Man brought it home for me.
The amount of time he has spent fussing over the bikes is monumental--first his, then JR's, then mine. Each needed minor repairs. Each needed an astonishing amount of accessories and equipment. My husband who is tight with money has spent hours in REI and The Sports Authority fussing over racks and bells and water bottle holders. WATER BOTTLE HOLDERS!
All 3 bikes are finally stored in the laundry room. We have great bike trails and the Man and JR have ridden along the Potomac into DC and beyond on other trails in the area.
I still haven't gotten on my bike--no time and then the heat set in. I haven't ridden in years, and apparently the Man and JR are planning on giving me a refresher course. And SC still doesn't ride.
We're hoping to teach her because the bikes will go to Chincoteague with us in August. Last year we rented bikes for the Man and JR, and I hung out with SC. This year I want to ride the Assateague Island trail to the beach too!
But the Man continues to fuss over the bikes. I haven't seen him fuss over anything like this in YEARS.
So please, tell me. What is it with these men and their bikes?