Thursday, July 12, 2007


Sometimes I am overwhelmed by my own excellence. I just received a message from the St. Regis Hotel in New York, where I am being offered a luxurious suite. The offer said that "this is an example of your unprecedented elegance."

Well, I guess so! I did launder my sheets yesterday and managed to get them back on the bed before I retired last night. That is unprecedented, but whether it is elegance or not is a matter of conjecture. It's the dog hair that causes "elegance" to be a questionable description of my sheets. Jedi seems to prefer my bed to hers.

It is comforting to think that the major difference between myself and those ensconced at the St. Regis is the thread count in our sheets. Of course, they do enjoy the comforts of maid service and room service, while I am relegated to self service, but that is a minor difference. Just who is St. Regis anyway? Any relation to Regis Philbin?

It is uplifting to receive these kinds of offers. I presume Donald Trump gets them, too. The only difference between myself and The Donald, besides the obvious gender disparity, is the fact that I have $17.65 left in my wallet and he has supposedly unlimited resources. He is obviously better at making a deal than I am. The only successful deal I ever made was when I dealt myself a Royal Flush while playing poker. The trouble is, I was playing with my four year old granddaughter and the stakes were jelly beans.

Sometimes I have suspected that Fate is against me. What I ever did to Fate to make it so hostile is more than I know. When I reach the Pearly Gates, I intend to ask St. Peter, "Why me?" Then I will ask him, "Who killed JFK?" because I have always been curious about that.

Because of my hearing impairment and the fact that I only have about 25% of hearing in one ear, I can talk on the phone if the volume is loud enough to alert the whole neighborhood to an impending attack. But, for some strange reason, I can't hear computerized voices. So, when I get into one of those "If you want a legible voice to talk to, Press One," I just press any old number and hope for the best.

After about 45 minutes of hanging on the telephone the other day when I was trying to call ATT, I finally was connected to a girl called Brenda. Brenda was from India and obviously had learned English by watching a few sessions of Sesame Street. She was, however, extremely courteous and even asked me if her accent was causing me to say, "Eh? What? Repeat that, please," over and over. However, it was not in my psyche to hurt Brenda's feelings so, of course, I denied that this was a problem.

"No, Brenda," I should have said, "the fact that you are slaughtering our language with garbled, stuttering phrases is no problem at all, considering the fact that I can barely make out perfect English, let alone the New Delhi variety!"

I didn't say this and I didn't get a solution to my ATT problem, either, so that was an hour of my time that was wasted. I found myself hoping that the Executive Powers had wiretapped that call. If I had to hang on the line for forty-five minutes, why shouldn't they? If they wiretap foreign calls, Brenda should have been of great interest to them.

Of course, if I could afford my suite at the St. Regis, I could just have a secretary make such calls. However, if I could afford my suite at the St. Regis, I probably wouldn't be having such trouble with ATT. I'd just buy the company and solve the problem, after calling my good friend, Trump, and having him finagle the best deal.

You may ask just why a woman as fortunate as me should end up with just $17.65 to last her until the next checks come in? I blame the whole situation on Kroger. Yes, Kroger! You see, I have suffered from a malady called Kroger Mania. I enter the store for a loaf of bread and exit with enough supplies to feed a military brigade. I live alone, so what need do I have for those ten cans of pinto beans? Why do I need ten jars of peanut butter? How long will it take me to eat those ten packages of bagels? I am on Bagel Package Number Four at the moment and, frankly, if I never see another bagel, it will not bother me at all.

Yes, I have been caught in the Kroger Ten for Ten trap! Like a mouse faced with a tasty tidbit of cheese, I have delightedly tossed ten of this and ten of that into my cart. Then I read where Kroger has made a great profit this quarter and I have realized that this is why they have the profits and I have $17.65. But don't worry. I won't starve. Tonight's dinner is pinto beans and peanut buttered bagels.

I have learned to outsmart Kroger. Now, when I need a loaf of bread, I send my son into the store. For some reason, he has the capacity to pass up the ten for ten specials and follow a list of needed supplies. He doesn't have my imagination and creative capacity. After all, there are an unlimited number of tasty treats one can make with pinto beans. And when the Big One hits and those terrorists Bush is always warning about blow up the grocery stores, my son and his family will be at my doorstep begging for a portion of my pinto bean supply. Maybe even the bagels, too, even though they will smell a little moldy.

With all of these troubles and a good supply of bagels, but no money, I am in a quandary. Perhaps I should hit Trump up for a loan. I have a feeling that just won't work. It might have been easier to explain my problem to Brenda. She might have mailed me some mangoes. If Bush can trade nuclear information for mangoes, I ought to be able to do the same thing with pinto beans. The trouble is, I don't like mangoes. Neither does Kroger, obviously, because they have never been included in the ten for ten sales.

With the help of bagels and pinto beans, I will make it until the checks come rolling in. If nothing else, I can get a job with ATT. "You are having problems with your e-mail? Eh? What? Repeat that again, please! I can't hear a word you are saying." It couldn't be any worse than trying to carry on a conversation with Brenda, so ATT ought to jump at the chance. Of course, I will want a living wage. I don't work for peanuts...or peanut butter! I have enough of that already, thanks to Kroger.

I won't be getting a suite at the St. Regis right away, it seems, because something tells me they will want more than $17.65 as a down payment. But I appreciate being included on the list of possible clients and, if anyone from their real estate division wants to contact me, I will courteously offer them a cup of tea and a bagel.