Scott has a number of philosophies he lives by, taken from various places and sources in the world including Jesus, Buddha, Steven Stills and the Muppets. His latest maxim, which he created himself, is "Less Drama, More Duh".
This idea struck him after he went to the doctor for some issues he was very concerned about, he was near panic about what the diagnosis might be. Turned out he needed to make a small change in his diet, and that took care of it, all better.
He came home and said from now on, he was going to be going with the 'Less Drama, More Duh' approach.
If the car is making a weird vibration, first see if it's the texture of the road before assuming the power steering fluid has all drained out and you'll be crashing in about 30 seconds because you're going to lose control of the car.
What's that smell? Oh no! Toxic leak! Get out of the house! Grab the kids! Run! Run! Run! Oh, no, the dog farted.
Less Drama, More Duh.
Assume the simplest solution first, instead of preparing for the worst, you know, just in case. What's the saying? Hope for the best, prepare for the worst? Has your left arm gone numb? Before calling 911, shift the way you're sitting to see if you've cut off circulation to that limb. By the way, I've done this in the middle of the night, yah, I'm something of a dork.
This week, my family had a 'Less Drama, More Duh' situation. My paternal grandfather is 94 and still kicking. He drives, he walks a mile and a half a day, does a bunch of volunteer work and is active in the assisted living community where he lives. He is one of the residents who will show a new tenant around, introducing them to people, sitting with them in the dining room and generally helping them get settled in to the new digs. He's so busy that if you want to visit him and have lunch, you need to give him about 10 days notice so he can cancel things. He's a busy guy.
He's also quite popular with everyone he meets, everyone loves Art. One day not long ago, he fell down at the gas station trying to put air in his tires. He got tangled up in the hose and it tripped him, which has happened to me as well. The next day, my father was talking with the property manager who handles my grandfather's rental property, the old tenant was moving out and a new tenant was moving in so there was going to be a walk-through of the house with all parties attending.
The property manager asked my dad if grandpa was going to be able to attend, was he okay? My dad replied that of course he was, why wouldn't he be?
She told my dad that Art fell down at the gas station and his former neighbor, Molly, had gotten him to the doctor.
Apparently, my father paused for a while and then asked "How do you know all this?"
You know, maybe I should draw a chart, but I'll try to explain. Molly called the center where my grandfather was supposed to be volunteering that day to let them know Art had fallen down and wouldn't be there. The woman who coordinates the volunteers knows the tenant who's moving out of my grandpa's house to tell her that Art fell down and might not be able to do the walk-through. SHE called the property manager to inform HER that Art fell down at the gas station and might not be on the walk-through. The property manager called the new tenant to say Art fell down at the gas station so they might have to reschedule.
Then the property manager called my dad, who knew nothing about the spill his dad had taken. The point is that Art is a happenin' guy in his community.
One of the people who works at the assisted living center where he resides called the other day to tell my dad Art was disoriented, having trouble getting around and babbling about unrelated subjects. Many people, including me, jumped to the conclusion that Art had had a stroke. I wonder if there were any candlelight vigils for Arthur in downtown Orange to pray for a speedy recovery, not that anyone would call the family to tell them about it. Or if there were arrangements being made for hospital visits to be taken in shifts so he would never be alone. Who knows what kind of hysterics were going on the way the phone tree works where my grandpa is concerned.
My dad took his father to the doctor who examined my Grandad carefully.
He was dehydrated. He's on antibiotics for an upper respiratory infection and doesn't drink water, so he got all dried out making his brain a little loopy. Now he's pissed that he has to drink water because it makes him pee.
Less Drama, More Duh.
Amanda's beauty tip of the day: If you are going to be wearing clown white on Halloween, put a layer of cold cream on your face, spread it thin and then power it to death. Now you can lightly scratch your face when it itches and will remove easily with the cold cream. After the cold cream, wash your face again with your regular cleanser to get all the petroleum jelly out of your pores to prevent getting a bunch of pimples.