You can ring my be...eh...ehll

A couple of weeks ago, H & I were home on a Friday night, having kind of a *cocktails and snacks hour* (formerly known as Happy Hour but now that we are no longer hanging out in bars, we have renamed it to suite our more geriatric at-home theme), and watching TV. As per usual, H had full control of the remote so we were watching nanoseconds of every channel on cable tv. Also as per usual, he stopped at a station that drives me batty, the local cable access channel. It isn’t that I don’t care about all things local; it is more the home-video look of the set. The people, especially the one county sheriff who is the host of most of the shows look washed out, oddly shaped, and generally in ill health due to the low video quality and amateur-ish format. So I hate watching it. Anyway, H’s channel-surfing came to an abrupt halt on this cable channel because it was a show about the local Salvation Army chapter.

H: I thing I wanna ringa bell thisyr.

As if on cue, the washed out oddly shaped sheriff in ill-looking health seemed to have heard H’s drunken proclamation.

WOOSS: Sooo, what’s that number again? Can we put it up on the monitor, Bill?

H: I’ma gonna ringa bell. Wherz thphone?

(Note to self: Do not, I repeat DO NOT sign up for anything having to do with serving the public during *cocktails and snacks hour*!)

Since H was probably the one and only caller that evening, The Captain from the Salvation Army called almost immediately to assign him to a 3-week schedule of bell ringing. At WalMart.

Last night was H’s premier as the WalMart Bell Ringer! After work we went thru a lengthy discussion on whether he should go with the traditional “Merry Christmas” or the more politically correct, “Best wishes for a happy holiday, Christmas, Kwanza, etc.” when he receives a donation in his *kettle*. Of course I suggested he go with a complete religious theme and shout out a hearty “Peace be with you child of the lord!”. H carefully chose his tasteful yet thermo-protective clothing as standing outside WalMart in a north wind calls for some serious layering. He left the house a man determined to spread holiday cheer. And to stay warm.

When he got home, I immediately asked him if we should consider suing the Salvation Army for damages due to carpel-tunnel syndrome in his bell-ringing hand. He stoically said no, but maybe we could do something about the psychological damage of having to watch WalMart patrons for an entire evening. In particular, there was one child who was handed some money by his mother so he could put it in the kettle. H said that as the kid went to put the money in, he FAKED putting it in the slot and kept the money for himself.

Welcome to holiday time in NW Indiana…