not fade away

As my wife's hair grows back from the chemo treatments, she's become extremely insecure about her appearance. She wears hats or a wig, but her actual hair isn't much longer than mine. She refuses to have it styled or trimmed as she's trying to grow it out to pre-cancer lengths. And I think it's really getting her down.

This was exacerbated the other day when I told her that she looked like Michael Richards.

That's pretty mean. Even for me. So I softened the blow by telling her instead that she looked more like a young Bob Dylan. That didn't go over well idea either. So we settled on "Teenaged Jewish Boy Preparing for his Bah Mitzvah". Which is just about right.

So although she's goyim, she keeps kvetching about her hairstyle, which I keep telling her I don't mind because I'm strangely attracted to teenaged Jewish boys (not true). But that doesn't keep her from calling me a schmuck and a nudnik and we end up getting into a big shemozzle over it.

Oy vey.

Call me meshuggah, but I seem to remember vowing to love her through sickness and health. Now I take that also to mean through looking-like-a-Jewish-teen and health, but no amount of convincing will do. We joke about it, but I know how important it is for a woman to take pride in her appearance.

I apologize if this comes across as schmaltz, but it's not bubkes, I promise.

I come home every night and I see my beautiful wife. I see her regardless if she's wearing a bandana or a wig or a ballcap or sporting her Kramer haircut. She's still my wife.

I don't care if she puts on her glasses and looks just like Buddy Holly.

I see my wife and am attracted to her as much as if she had hair down to her knees.

Soon enough - maybe it'll be a few months or another year - her hair will grow back and she'll be back to looking like the girl I married. But that doesn't matter to me though.

One day we'll both lose our looks for good. One day she'll be shriveled and old and saggy. She'll shuffle around with rheumy eyes and false teeth. Her hair will be thin or gone and liver spots will mark her hands.

And I'll still see my beautiful wife.

Appearance is fleeting.

In time, looks fade away.

But in the words of Buddy Holly - who died 50 years ago today - my love will not.

I've Discovered Craigslist. My House Will Soon Be Empty

Do you know about Craigslist? If you don't, you are woefully lost. I was like you until last week. But now I am found. Because it was last week that I discovered Craigslist.
For those who are still stumbling around in the darkness, Craigslist is like an online garage sale. You post listings of all the junk you want to sell and, through some glorious Internet magic, emails start to pop into your inbox asking about your used Foreman grill. It's amazing.
I woke up this morning and checked my account. Some Asian woman wants my dishwasher. I don't know her, but she digs my Kenmore Ultra Wash. Some fella named Neil likes it too. Willing to pay asking price, even. Score.*
Craigslist almost makes a dude wanna become a used widget entrepeneur. If there's anything I have in spades, it's used widgets. Matchbox cars, baseball cards, underwear - I have tons of used junk to sell. And until now, I haven't found a willing buyer. So yes, furbylover4evah3000@craigslist.com, you can have my popcorn popper.
And now it is time to say goodbye to my wife, my dog and my vintage action figures. They will all be sold. I will keep my turtle Mr. Jenkins, however, because he is an indespensible lifelong companion.
These are tough economic times. One cannot afford to have useless stuff just lying around. I don't know why I kept all that Dukes of Hazzard memorabilia, but I did and it fills up several boxes (I am NOT making this up).
Nor can one turn to a site like Ebay where bidding wars force prices up, up, up. No, these tough times call for cheap wares. From an online consignment shop.
President Obama has pledged to shore up the economy with a far-reaching stimulus package. Chances are, because I don't have seven children, didn't make bad fiscal choices and I don't live way beyond my means via credit cards, it will never actually reach me, per se.
However, if your house is in foreclosure, there's more money to be found in your couch cushions than in your 401(k), and Uncle Sam has his hands deep in your pockets, you can rest easy that there is a website out there where you can sell your antique glass harmonica.
So thank you Craig.
For your generosity. And for your eponymous list.
You sir, are a true American hero.


*UPDATE: Neil got the dishwasher.

The Tortfeezor will return shortly