Couple in Search of Ersatz Cufflinks
Today was Mama Dog’s first official TGIF, so we again took shameless advantage of the halmonie factor and went out for a celebratory dinner at Rick and Ann’s. There was a wait for an inside table but seating was ready immediately on the patio. We were both starving and since we live in California, it was warm out, so we opted for the patio. I should amend that, I suppose. Because she not only lives in California but was born there, Mama Dog was of the opinion that it was cold out. This is something we have an ongoing disagreement about. I come from a place where it gets cold, and I’ve never seen “cold” even approached in twenty years off and on of living in California. It peaks here at what we’d call “starting to get a bit on the cool side,” never even making it to “a little bit nippy.” That aside, it was really a perfectly temperate evening. Not hot, calm breeze, perfect weather for dining al fresco in short sleeves. Mama Dog bundled on her thermal vest and sat down under the outdoor heater, willing it to go on. I hope Baby Dog inherits my thick and hardy blood.
Not having reckoned on eating outside, Mama Dog had brought fewer layers than she’d have liked. She pulled some socks out of her bag and put them on. She still had on her dress shirt from work, but had left the cufflinks at home. She complained that she couldn’t keep her wrists warm enough without them, and needed to think of a way to close the cuffs. “Have you got any binder clips on you?” she asked. “Why would I have any binder clips on me?” I retorted.* A picture formed in my head, of the way some women will use a pencil or a chopstick to hold their hair together. “Stick a fork through it,” I suggested. It seemed a silly idea to me, but she tried it anyway. Of course, the fork handle was too large to fit through the button holes. Up until then I had been playing along idly, but I saw that Mama Dog really was discomfited. She would not be happy until her cuffs were secured, and since it’s my mission in life to make her happy, that made it my job. I started to run through what I had in my pockets, short of binder clips, that might do the trick. “I have my billfold,” I said. It has a magnetic clasp. But it’s too big and the magnet too weak to serve the purpose—and besides I only have the one billfold. What else? Spare change, paper money, keys, BART card, credit cards, ID. Then it hit me. I pulled out my keys and wound the key ring off them. For reasons even I’m not clear on I have two sets of keys in my pockets, secured on three separate rings. I wound one of the wrings through each of Mama Dog’s cuffs, rendering her wrists snug and warm. I felt like McGyver. “You must love me,” Mama Dog sighed. And yes, I can answer without evasion, I do.
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*I don’t think Mama Dog noticed, and it really wasn’t intended that way, but that phrasing is in the form of a classic Papa Dog evasion. I answered the question with another question, rather than saying “No, I don’t have any binder clips on me.” If in fact I had binder clips on me but for some reason wanted to keep this fact covert, I would have thus withheld the information without resorting to a lie. Ladies! Remember this if you ever ask your husband “Are you cheating on me?” and he replies “Why would I cheat on you?” (For the record, I really didn’t have any binder clips. I mean, why would I?)
Not having reckoned on eating outside, Mama Dog had brought fewer layers than she’d have liked. She pulled some socks out of her bag and put them on. She still had on her dress shirt from work, but had left the cufflinks at home. She complained that she couldn’t keep her wrists warm enough without them, and needed to think of a way to close the cuffs. “Have you got any binder clips on you?” she asked. “Why would I have any binder clips on me?” I retorted.* A picture formed in my head, of the way some women will use a pencil or a chopstick to hold their hair together. “Stick a fork through it,” I suggested. It seemed a silly idea to me, but she tried it anyway. Of course, the fork handle was too large to fit through the button holes. Up until then I had been playing along idly, but I saw that Mama Dog really was discomfited. She would not be happy until her cuffs were secured, and since it’s my mission in life to make her happy, that made it my job. I started to run through what I had in my pockets, short of binder clips, that might do the trick. “I have my billfold,” I said. It has a magnetic clasp. But it’s too big and the magnet too weak to serve the purpose—and besides I only have the one billfold. What else? Spare change, paper money, keys, BART card, credit cards, ID. Then it hit me. I pulled out my keys and wound the key ring off them. For reasons even I’m not clear on I have two sets of keys in my pockets, secured on three separate rings. I wound one of the wrings through each of Mama Dog’s cuffs, rendering her wrists snug and warm. I felt like McGyver. “You must love me,” Mama Dog sighed. And yes, I can answer without evasion, I do.
___________________
*I don’t think Mama Dog noticed, and it really wasn’t intended that way, but that phrasing is in the form of a classic Papa Dog evasion. I answered the question with another question, rather than saying “No, I don’t have any binder clips on me.” If in fact I had binder clips on me but for some reason wanted to keep this fact covert, I would have thus withheld the information without resorting to a lie. Ladies! Remember this if you ever ask your husband “Are you cheating on me?” and he replies “Why would I cheat on you?” (For the record, I really didn’t have any binder clips. I mean, why would I?)
posted by PapaDogDuvalier | 11:04 PM
2 Comments:
All you were lacking was a stick of gum!
If pasta is available Rotini (spirals) or Farfalle (bow-ties) make great temproary cufflinks!
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