You Think You've Got Problems?

The following benefits question comes courtesy of Mike, one of my wonderful students, who asked me to read it out loud in class, and by class I mean a nice comfy conference room located in beautiful downtown Burbank. I share it with you now, tweaked a bit, of course, in hopes it will be benefit you:

Dear Benefits Maven,
Many years ago, I married a widow out of love, who had an 18-year-old daughter. After the wedding, my father, a widower, came to visit a number of times, and he fell in love with my stepdaughter. My father eventually married her without my authorization. As a result, my stepdaughter became my step mother and my father became my son-in-law. My father's wife (also my stepdaughter) and my stepmother, gave birth to a son who is my grandchild, because I am the husband of my stepdaughter's mother. As the son of my father, this boy is also my brother.

As you can see, my wife became a grandmother, because she is the mother of my father's wife. Therefore, it appears that I am also my wife's grandchild. A short time after these events, my wife gave birth to a son, who became my father's brother-in-law, the stepson of my father's wife, and my uncle. My son is also my stepmother's brother, and through my stepmother, my wife has become a grandmother and I have become my own grandfather.

In light of the above mentioned, I would like to know the following: Does my son, who is also my uncle, my father's son-in-law and my stepmother's brother, fulfill the requirements of receiving childcare benefits?

Sincerely Yours,
Confused in Cucamonga

Dear Cucamonga,
I'll have to get back to you.

You're Welcome,
Benefits Maven

Belly Up To The Genius Bar

Just as one issue goes away -- I finally got a new battery for my aging iPhone6, as opposed to my aging anatomy -- a new issue presents itself. And now, I'm struggling to reconcile my old ways with the recommendations handed down by the designated Apple Genius. On a side note, how does one get such a designation? Is there payment involved? A test you have to take? Oh, wait, I just figured it out. If I can anoint myself a Rabbi, I can certainly designate myself a Genius.

Despite my best efforts to sound smart-ish, when the Apple Genius told me I could keep my new battery alive and well by not overcharging it, I looked at her askance.
"Huh?" I askanced her.
"Let it drain."
"What's that now?"
"Wait till it's almost out of juice."
"Out of Jews?"
"Power."
"What percentage?"
"10 percent."
"Oh, dear God, you want me to let my iPhone nearly die, and then revive it?"
"Yes."
"You have no idea how hard that is for me. I like my things 100 percent charged, or I feel technologically challenged and bereft."
"I need to move on to the next customer."
"How does that help me?"
"Thanks for visiting the Genius Bar."
"Where's that free drink, by the way?"
"It's not that kind of bar."

"Of course it's bendable - that's party of the new, 

improved airplane mode." 

Fingers Crossed

They, whoever they are, but they seem to know stuff, say that learning new things keeps the brain fresh and spunky. Don't they understand? The SJG Brain is a crowded zone with very little available space. There's no room to park new skills. At least that's what I thought, till I read up on the the rapidly aging cranium and realized I better get busy and learn something new if I don't want my keppy to turn mushy like a bad avocado. And so, I've made a bold decision to up my daily game and take on a new skill. I'm going to stop texting the old fart way and start texting the millennial way. You heard me. No more carefree, Fred & Ginger-style index finger tap, tap, tapping away. No more of that, sir. Starting here, starting now, it's all about the opposable thumbs. If the sons I taught to drive, wipe their tushies and open their own juice boxes can text with their thumbs, then so can I. How am I doing so far? I'm so glad you asked. Just between us, not great. The index finger on my left hand is deeply opposed to the opposable thumbs and keeps trying to shove them out of the way. I may have to hire a hand mediator to sort this thing out. But for now, I'm going to cross my fingers and keep texting with my thumbs.

That is, til I develop "smartphone thumb" and the doctor gives me permission to return to my beloved left index finger. I see nothing wrong with this plan. Do you?

Don't Bug Me

Dear SJG,
Is it too late in the season for my Mac to get a flu shot? Last week, he got a nasty bug that nearly destroyed him. Suddenly, he started scanning this, scanning that, and he wouldn't quit. I tried to shut him down. It was a whole thing. He's better, he stopped scanning, but now and then, he takes me somewhere wonky and I wonder if he's getting sick again.
Sincerely,
Panicky in Poughkeepsie

Dear Panicky,
Poor Mac. But more importantly, poor you. When our computers get sick, we suffer more than they do. Yes, it's a little late in the season, but the experts who think they know everything are saying go, get a flu shot, it couldn't hurt. Sure, your Mac may kvetch a bit, his backside may be sore, but listen, he has no choice in the matter. This is his Apple password to longevity.
You're Welcome,
The SJG

Night, Night, TV

As we put our adorable Apple TV 4K to sleepy-bye, we found ourselves taking a sweet schlep down memory lane. It went something like this:

"Goodnight, Apple TV."
"Goodnight, remote."
"Goodnight, cow jumping over Netflix."
"That makes no sense."
"Hush. Apple TV's trying to go night night."
"Sorry."
"Where was I?"
"Goodnight something."
"Goodnight, Grace & Frankie."
"Goodnight, ladies."
"Goodnight, Slim Shady."
"You've jumped the shark."
"Shush. You'll wake the TV."
"Hurry up. I think there's a game on."
"Goodnight, moon, goodnight, room."
"Enough already with the goodnights."
"I'm almost done."
"Thank God."
"Goodnight chair... goodnight air, goodnight hubbies everywhere."

Two Women Talking

Hetty and Hannah hadn’t seen each other for some time when they bumped into each other in Sherman Oaks. As they sat down for coffee, Hannah asked, "So Hetty, how is your grandson, the proctologist, doing?"
"My grandson is no longer a proctologist, Hannah. He decided to become a dentist instead."
"A dentist! Why the change in career?"
"Business is business, Hannah. Let's face it, everyone starts off with 32 teeth but have you ever heard of anybody who has more than one tuchas?"

The following was overheard at a recent party:
"My ancestry goes back all the way to Alexander the Great," Christine said. She then turned to Miriam and asked, "How far back does your family go?"
"I don't know," Miriam said. "All of our records were lost in the flood."

http://www.awordinyoureye.com/jokes33rdset.html

Sometimes We Fix Things

The weekend means the man I'm hitched to for life doesn't have to work. I get Relaxed Hubby (patent pending). This version of hubby doesn't get bombarded with emails and texts. Work-wise, he doesn't have to fix anything. On Saturday and Sunday, he can fix what he wants to fix. A loose something... a creaky what-it's... an automotive oy vey. And if there's nothing to fix at the palatial estate, he schleps over the hill to fix something at his parents' house. On weekends, hubby's a household fixer. The SJG's a nothing fixer. The way I see it, I fix plenty during the week. Problems, you got? Monday-Friday, I'll try to fix them. Dinner, you want? I'll fix you something. Blues, you got? I'll fix them with a silly emoji and some decent advice. Monday-Friday, this is how I roll. Pretty much since birth, I've been the fixer, the mediator, the negotiator. But on Saturday and Sunday, I'm off the clock. While hubby fixes, I fix bupkis. In this way, we make a great team.