Days of Our Lives

My mother used to love watching the soap opera Days of Our Lives. For her, it was a welcome break from the somewhat mundane life of a farmer’s wife on the plains of Minnesota, and she watched with fascination as other lives played out on the screen. I never got hooked on that series. By the time it began, I had already left home and was living my own life, like most people my age. Now that I’m retired, my days may not be worthy of a television show, but they are still important and meaningful to me. I try to find as much humor and enjoyment as I can in the ordinary routines of my everyday life.

My doctor won’t approve a DMV handicap placard for my car! I guess I’m not as decrepit as I thought. Maybe I should be glad I’m too healthy to qualify. Still, I sometimes struggle to find my car in a crowded parking lot and end up taking extra steps just to locate it, which also makes me anxious. I considered telling my doctor and the DMV about this anxiety, but then I had an epiphany: if I mention it, they might decide I’m not capable of driving at all!

However, not all is lost. Sometimes, while wandering around the parking lot searching for my car, some young man will take pity on me and offer to help. It gives me flashbacks to my dating years, when a young man might have stopped to chat just to hit on me. So, I still get attention but for different reasons! Of course, that doesn’t happen every time, so as a backup, I’ve scoped out most of the parking lots I regularly use to identify the spaces closest to the front door. Unfortunately, those spots aren’t always available. When they’re not, I circle the lot, looking for a car that’s about to leave. With gas prices so high now, I’ve cut back on that.

The other day at Costco, I circled the parking lot a few times and was ready to give up on finding a spot. Then I saw a group of people loading a van with a ton of stuff—clearly stocking up for their restaurant or business. Since they were parked in one of my favorite spots, I decided to wait for them to leave. Fortunately, no one was behind me honking or riding my bumper, so I was able to relax. It took longer than I’d expected. They got in their van and just sat there. Their taillights never came on. I was just about ready to give up when, lo and behold, the van moved—not backward, but forward. There was no one parked in front of it! If I had known that, I would have parked there myself. It would have meant a few extra steps, but I would have found my car easily. And I wouldn’t have wasted gas idling there for so long!

We recently got a new streaming box for our TV called XUMO—pronounced with a Z sound. I love it, but it’s taken a while to get used to all the features. One of my favorites is the voice control. Instead of thumbing through more than 400 channels or trying to find the program guide, you just say what you want to watch, and it takes you right there. Hubby never uses it—I suspect it has something to do with his masculinity. I have some friends who are also hesitant to use the voice feature. Others I know love it because they have trouble seeing the buttons on the remote. I occasionally run into problems because the voice feature doesn’t always understand my Minnesota accent, so the channel it takes me to can be a surprise.

I took great pride in mastering my new XUMO remote control. Then one day, everything came to a screeching halt. I tried to pause and fast‑forward, but instead the show rewound—and did it even faster. When I tried to change channels, it scrolled in the opposite direction. Was I losing my mind? Should I call Spectrum? I almost called Hubby for help, but instead I took a minute to see if I could work it out on my own. Boy, it’s a good thing I did—I was holding the remote upside down. In my defense, it’s really not that easy to tell which way is up. All the buttons are black, most of them are round, and while there’s writing on a few, they’re hard to see. I think I’ll ask Hubby to put a little sticker on the remote to show which side is up and which is down. Apparently, I’ve now reached the age where I can’t tell up from down, but don’t tell anyone!

My days tend to be pretty unexciting, but now and then something in the news catches my eye. Recently, I came across a story saying that a cup of coffee at Starbucks can cost $9.00—yes, $9.00. I can get a glass of wine for that amount! Naturally, those pricey coffees are specialty drinks. But what exactly are they? Starbucks offers a selection of coffee specialties, spanning unique seasonal creations, classic espresso-based drinks, and smooth cold brew options. Standout iced choices include the Iced Mango Cream Chai, Iced Cube Coconut Macchiato, and Nitro Cold Brew. Their signature hot beverages feature the Flat White, Pistachio Latte, and Caramel Macchiato.

Is it really safe to drive after having one or two of those? And what if you just want a plain cup of coffee instead? A typical cup of black coffee costs about $3 to $5, depending on the size. If you add a small dollop of cream yourself, there’s no extra charge, but if the barista does it, you’ll pay a fee. One more thing about coffee: It costs more per gallon than gasoline. Hubby estimates the cost of a Starbucks coffee at around $60 per gallon.

A local news story also caught my attention. The owner of a female dog took her to a neighborhood dog park, where a male dog was also present. The female was apparently in heat—and you can imagine what happened next. She became pregnant, of course, which was no surprise. Then the dog poop really hit the fan. The female dog’s owner decided to sue the male dog’s owner, filing a paternity suit on her dog’s behalf. She sought reimbursement for her veterinary costs and the expenses associated with raising the puppies.

Is this a valid suit? I asked Hubby, and he pointed out that anyone can bring a lawsuit as long as it’s not frivolous. He assumed that nowadays, such a lawsuit would not be automatically thrown out of court.

He asked me, “Can the female dog owner prove by a preponderance of the evidence that this particular male dog is the father? Did her dog engage in unprotected sex with any other male dogs?”

I wasn’t sure about the female dog’s morals, but I explained that they could have a DNA test done to determine paternity with 99.99% accuracy. But then the question is, who would pay for the $150 cost of the DNA test?”

“The female dog owner,” Hubby says, “But she may or may not get reimbursed.”

“And if the DNA tests confirm that the male dog in question is the father?” I ask.

“Well, if he’s truly the father, I suppose the plaintiff has a case against him, but the male dog’s owner has several legal defenses to any financial liability. For one, bringing a female dog in heat to a public dog park may be considered contributory negligence on the part of her owner. Also, another defense is that the owner likely assumed the risk when she brought her female dog to the dog park where there were male dogs.”

So I ask, “And what happens if the puppies don’t all share the same paternal DNA?” (Don’t smirk – it’s entirely possible with dogs).

Hubby sighed, “Okay, if it’s proven that this particular male dog was the father of some, but not all of the puppies, any financial liability would be proportional.”

Then he asks me, “Did the female dog’s owner consider abortion? I know dogs sometimes get abortions for reasons of accidental breeding or health risks if it’s within the first 30–40 days of pregnancy.”

So I say, “I don’t know—I’m guessing not—but honey, I just have one more question. If the puppies are born and the male dog’s owner is required to pay for their care, should his dog be granted visitation rights?”

Hubby must have better things to do. He suddenly exclaims, “Good grief, Roberta, I don’t know! What a ridiculous situation, anyway! Don’t bother me anymore, I’m busy!”

And on he raves.

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