Tag: Humor

Posted in Humor, Robert and …

“Robert and …” #4

Posted on by Neal Saye

A blog category of pics I’ve taken of Hubby Robert and … well, just about anything.

Robert and a Really Big Steak

A few years back, Robert and I were in Atlanta to celebrate our anniversary. On previous trips, we had passed by this architecturally interesting building off I-85 just north of the city.

Wait. What? You don’t find it all that interesting? Well, Robert didn’t either. But in the spirit of blissful anniversarial celebration, I insisted that we go for our dinner festivities.

You can see why, right? Doesn’t the name itself make you happy? All circque du soleil-ish and island-drinky!

We walked through the classy daiquiri bar to get to our table. Walked too quickly, if you ask me.

Robert wouldn’t let me stop. Even though they had a wonderful selection …

Robert was hungry, so we quickly perused the menu, and my eyes immediately found the Tomahawk for two. It WAS our anniversary after all.

Here’s Cirque’s menu description of the big steak:

Neither of us being very good with numbers, 36 ounces sounded like enough for both of us.

After endearing anniversary chit-chat (“But why don’t you want to celebrate with that pretty blue daiquiri?”), 36 ounces finally made their way to our table.

We were both simply shocked. (Why didn’t we do our math homework in eighth grade?!) Here’s my husband, with a somewhat crazed and confused look on his celebratory face, holding our dinner soon after it arrived. It was far too heavy for me to pick up, but I wanted a scrapbook pic for posterity.

Hours later, and 36 plus ounces heavier, we slowly waddled back past the daiquiri bar (I was too stuffed to take a final longing glance at the “Blue Mutha”—the Tomahawk had “Shut my Mouth”) and into the Atlanta midnight.

A BIG anniversary celebration.

Posted in Change, T-shirt Tuesday

T-Shirt Tuesday: “Abu and Rbu”

Posted on by Neal Saye

Some fourteen years ago, when older daughter Amy announced that she was pregnant with our first grandchild, I was both ecstatic and a tad nervously hesitant. A grandfather?! Seriously?! At this stage in my life? Am I even old enough to be a grandfather … officially?!

The old blog post below explains (in excruciating detail) how I ended up being called “Abu” (Abuelo = Grandfather) by that first grandchild Daniel—and all the other ones who came later.

Younger daughter Emily is a whiz at making custom t-shirts, so she recently created these two for Robert and me. Grandson Daniel came up with the idea of calling Robert “Rbu” to go along with my “Abu,” making us a weirdly matching set.

The old Abu post …

My Favorite Word Is “Abu”!

And here are a few early pics of Daniel and me …

And Daniel today …

Looking cool and in costume for “Beauty and the Beast”

Yes, my favorite word is “Abu.”

Posted in The Artful Dodger, Unexpected Art

“The Artful Dodger” #1

Posted on by Neal Saye

A new blog category about finding “art” in unexpected places and situations.

After drying my hands, I carelessly tossed the hand towel toward the bar on the outside door of our new glass shower (fully expecting it to fall to the floor as usual—the towel, not the door).

But lo and behold, I instantly became a renowned artist! InstaArt. Putting me in the same league with, say, Jackson Pollock and his brilliant “drip technique” of throwing/pouring paint onto his canvases.

See my artistic intelligence? No?! Just look! My masterpiece (well, master towel) seems “bathed” in soft light, accentuating the “clean” lines of the work. Dramatically crowned in portrait mode by the green loofah.

Enjoy!

{Holiday prints now available for a limited time only for $19.99 plus shipping and handling! 🎄}

Posted in Throwback Thursday, Post from the Past

Neal’s Post from the Past: “Sometimes I Get What I Deserve”

Posted on by Neal Saye

Here’s an old post from way back in 2014 (when I was still late middle-age).

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So today I ate lunch at Savannah’s hip Green Truck Neighborhood Pub on Habersham Street.

Here’s how the story went down.

As some of you know, I no longer bring meat into the house–it’s all vegetables, fruits, legumes, nuts and seeds there.  But I occasionally indulge while eating out.  And for some some reason, today I had an all-too-powerful-to-ignore-or-resist hankering for a hunk of grilled meat.  So I pulled up to the Green Truck, belly-ed up to the bar to avoid the table wait and ordered the  Green Truck Classic Burger, described in their menu as “plain and simple as an old truck: lettuce, tomato, onion and our soon-to-be-famous house-made pickle.”  (I added cheddar.)

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Yum.  No, double yum!

I kept furtively looking around to see if any of my vegetarian friends might have followed me inside.  I was nervously poised to slam my meaty plate in front of one of the folks on either side of me at the bar.

Anyway, I savored every moment, every bite.  (Do Not Tell Anyone About This!  It’s Just Between You And Me.)

Well, when I finished, (and be forewarned, the rest of the story is probably TMI, so stop right now, if you like, and you will still have my burger story), I went to the non-gender-specific bathroom–I’m so 2014– before waddling back to the car.

There was the coolest retro sink inside.

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And the typical cabinet.

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But for some reason I glanced at the cabinet again …

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… and thought, “I wonder what’s in that little cabinet?  And if the contents are also non-gender-specific?”

(P.S. When inviting me to birthday or Avon parties, put some of those plastic child resistant lock things on your cabinets.  I’ve never been able to figure them out.)

So, of course I reached up and opened the cabinet door.  Wouldn’t you?  No?!  (I also opened a door in a huge hallway in the Biltmore House in Asheville some years back, and a piercing alarm went off, terribly embarrassing my family and friends.  Me?  When things like that happen, I just try to go to my Happy Place inside and block out externals.  There might have been an “Alarm Will Sound” notice on the door, I can’t remember, but really, how often would the Biltmores have changed the batteries?)

Lo and behold, an alarm of sorts also went off when I opened the cabinet door inside the Green Truck’s non-gender-specific bathroom.  Here’s what was scrawled on the inside of the door:

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I walked out of the bathroom beet red.

(P.S. II:  I was so taken aback by the message that I completely forgot to see what was inside the cabinet.  If someone wouldn’t mind, would you rush over to the Green Truck, pretend to have to use the bathroom, and snap a pic or two of the inside of that cabinet so I can go to sleep tonight?  Thank you.)