hank

I have this friend that we’ll call “Hank.” We’re calling him that because I use aliases on my blog for people I haven’t asked if I can out them on all of the funny (re: embarrassing) things they do in my confidence or people who don't have blogs. I mean let’s face it – if you have a blog, you’re free game. Also because I think calling him Hank is funny. And on this blog, funny is chief lawmaker.

Anyway, my friend Hank makes me laugh. So much so that I’m going to tell you why. Probably in a series of these posts because putting it all into one would be too much of a good thing - and because each time I talk to him I add to the list. (He doesn't comment on my blog but he emails comments to me or he gives me his full commentary when I talk to him on the phone.)

For example, Hank lives in a place where it’s extremely hot in some seasons (summer, fall, winter, spring). Last winter, they actually had some cold. A little bit of snow appeared (seriously it was like three flakes that lasted an hour). And as it had a meltdown, so did my friend Hank. You see, Hank does not do well with the cold weather.

In his own words:

“IT’S FREEZING. Whatever happened to global warming? I’ve been spraying aerosol cans in the back yard to try to deplete the ozone all week. It’s still freezing.”

I very much miss him. He’s one of those perfect friends you find once in a lifetime and he lives on a different continent now. Granted, that’s my fault, but still. He’s the perfect family man/husband, he’s extremely intelligent, always helps anyone in need (this is often me), has the best sense of humor in the world and is always happy. Oh, and he’s really good to look at. Plus, he’s been the best friend I’ve ever had...for more than eleven years.

So guess what? You get to hear a lot more about Hank in the future.

I’ll leave you with some Hank logic.

In a comment about this post where I was complaining about ironing:

“Buy smaller tee shirts, they stretch straight when you put them on."

And for this post where I posted pictures of Phoenix in the tall grass around the remains of St. Michael’s church on the Glastonbury Tor (which he called my “castle trip” post):

“Can they not afford someone to cut the grass?"

Are you beginning to understand the thinkings of the Hank?

(Yes, I made up the word "thinkings."  You know who'd appreciate that?  My friend Ted.  Hank would tell me I should spend less time making up words and more time eating meat.)