A Personal Chuckle

Everyone has their own way of improving their mood. Some people chant. Some people close their eyes and take a deep breath. Others go for a walk.

I think of Kitty Carlisle.

Last Saturday night Earl and I wasted time by watching “Greatest TV show moments III”. It was occasionally humorous, especially a segment of “To Tell The Truth”.

You remember the show. Three contestants try to convince a panel of four celebrities that they are a particular person.

The celebrities included the delightful Peggy Cass, the witty Gene Rayburn, the somewhat dense Bill Cullen and the always proper, regal Kitty Carlisle.

The contestants were claiming to be a bird fancier… the prince of the parakeet set if you will.

Kitty Carlisle placed her vote first, indicating that she believed contestant three was the real mccoy. Of course she used a roman numeral to place her vote.

Next was Bill Cullen, who voted zero. Apparently he had to disqualify himself because he knew who the real contestant was.

“How do you know the real person?”, asks Kitty, seemingly miffed at this disruption from the norm.

“I ran into him in the bathroom.”, replied Bill.

The rest of the panel began talking at once… “How do you know he’s the right guy?”

“He had his bird in his hand.”

Well if you could have seen Kitty Carlisle stand up, hand to her chest with a look of complete indignation and disbelief, then you’d understand why Kitty brings a smile to my face to this day.

Appreciable Laziness

When Earl and I moved to the suburbs, I had one primary concern. Competing with the neighbors. Especially when it when it comes to… the lawn.

I don’t enjoy mowing the lawn. I used to like it, but that lasted for maybe three weeks of the first year in our old house. Now its just a pain. It’s boring.

Apparently our neighbors feel the same. They don’t de-weed. The don’t use lawn sweepers. They do as I do… throw the mower to the lowest setting, and ride just on the edge of “burning rubber”.

I knew I loved this house.