The Bandera Courier
Bandera Courier
Thursday December 7, 2017
 
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2012-01-26

The Replacement

Mikie Baker

Seems that God is not quite done with my care-giving days. Just when I was starting to feel giddy again, a new character has appeared in my life - and he's taken up a roost at the Dancing Dog Ranch.

Over 30 years ago, when I was still a sweet young thing, I received a call from a record promoter friend who told me that TGI Friday's was looking for a music director who could record custom music tapes for all the restaurants. He gave me their number.

Now you must understand that 1979 was the height of the singles era complete with disco dancing, Afro hairdos and The Pill. Young adults were standing in line to get into TGI Friday's. They wanted three things - great drinks, great food and a hot date.

So I called the number to the corporate office and was told that I would have a job interview in the store the next evening. Man was I ever nervous. I had to stand in line just to get inside for a job interview. The only thing that could calm me down was a new dress from Neiman Marcus.

Once I finally got inside, I was escorted to a four-top table. Under a Tiffany lamp, I met a man who would become the big brother I never had.

After I'd given him a five-minute pitch on me, he said, "Okay, you're hired. Now let's go get drunk." We've been friends ever since.

I've worked for him. He's worked for me. His gift is as an artist - a brilliant, funny and creative talent.

His secret? He drinks beer and colors.

Maybe he should have exercised a bit more. Seems that a little over a year ago, he had a stroke. Luckily, he's only a little worse for wear. His thinking has slowed a bit, like dementia did to Dearly Demented Mom.

I could hardly wait to get my care-giving hands on him. Never turn a good character down.

Though the jaws have been flapping around town about The Widow Baker having a man stay at her place, he's a big brother not "a man." Ladies, hold own to your man. I'm still on the prowl.

Nope. I have my wing of the ranch, he has his. I'm trying to get the herd to stay in his room, but it hasn't worked yet.

Now that you understand the situation, I'd like to introduce you to Stroke of Genius. He's tall and skinny, is always cold and has a new malady everyday. In the last week, SOG has woken up every morning and announced what the problem is today - toothache, arthritis, dizzy, foggy, Alzheimer's, macular degeneration, B-12 deficiency, COPD or a bad knee from an old football injury. Oh, wait! That's more than a week's worth. He must be doing two-a-dayers.

Stroke of Genius can still draw, though he goes through a lot less beer these days. Evidently, a stroke can make you feel drunk even without a beer. But better than that is he can cook and fix things around the house. I've declared him our Ranch Foreman.

If I'd won the lottery, I couldn't have done better. Now when I go trolling for my perfect man, I can honestly say that all I am interested in is him. I don't need anything fixed or Weed Eat-ed and I've got a butler who cooks. Boy, I'm going to be one hot property.

So welcome, Stroke of Genius. I'm looking forward to sitting on the porch listening to your malady of the moment while we swat flies.