M - I love watching women  fish for their car keys in a purse filled with organized debris. In fact, if keys didn’t jingle, they’d never find them. Friday morning, during the show, Tracy decided she had to locate her car’s registration (which she never found). Watching her purse purge reminded me a lot of the 12 clowns that come out of a Volkswagen at the circus.  A reverse black hole. Out came Dunkin’ Donuts receipts, a Tootsie Roll wrapper and a smashed Fiber-1 bar. “I can’t eat these. They make me gassy,” she announced. “I’m sure there’s a can of Fabreeze in there just in case,” I suggested. Then I got the “Tracy look.” Like your keys, maybe they can start making car registrations out of metal, so you can find it easier in the future. Hey, just trying to be helpful.

M - There is one thing Tracy and I never disagree about. We both enjoy working on our yards. She has beautiful flowers and I like the challenge of wrestling with clover. Unfortunately, the clover is winning that battle this season. I have reluctantly enlisted a lawn service to help me regain control. Other than a few brown areas and some random weeds, my grass is OK, except for the increasing areas of clover! The lawn guy actually told me some people like having clover, because it’s GREEN, unlike the rest of their lawns. The only clovers I want to see are on the jerseys of the Boston Celtics. Perhaps Tracy has a secret for banishing clover from her lawn. Maybe she scolds it when it sprouts. Do share, my green-thumbed goddess!Are you more cost-effective than a lawn service?

T - …and then there was one.  Yes, two of our polliwogs have died.  I have no idea what happened.  I could see if they all died, then it may have been bad water or food, but that’s not the case. Two of my daughter’s polliwogs died, the third continues to grow.  I admit, it’s not as fun watching one swim around.  I did what every good parent does when a loved pet passes, I waited till my daughter was gone and then I flushed them!

M - When Tracy told me about her daughter’s adopted amphibian friends, it made me smile. As a kid, I raised polywogs every spring. I would well up when the little guys sprouted legs and would hop off to a life of dining on crickets and avoiding speeding cars when crossing the road. Raising them prepared me to be a parent. Once you’ve diapered a polywog, a human child is a piece of cake. Unlike children, polywogs leave the house for good at 2  months old. They never call asking for money and they rarely return to move back in to live in your basement. Polywogs are the quintessential perfect pets. They don’t eat much, don’t shed and you can clean up their dropping with a Q-tip. They are loyal, obedient and are fun to play with in the bathtub. I salute you, Tracy, for adopting these future frogs. Have you hugged a polywog today?.

T - Two dogs and a cat are not enough apparently.  I told my daughter it was okay to bring home tadpoles from her classroom.  Last Friday she got off the bus with her little container and the three little critters inside.  One was lying at the bottom of the container and I was heart broken.  How do I explain to her that one didn’t make the 1.5 mile journey by bus?  To my surprise, she explained it was resting and sure enough, it began swimming around again.  I did a little research and learned all I needed was some lettuce and clover.  That’s simple.  Put a rock in the container after they grow legs.  Simple.  Set it free in a nearby pond when it’s fully grown.  Not so easy.

By the way Mike, Charcoal Gray for that Honda Pilot, please.

10 - To buy Tracy a new Honda Pilot. Suzie Orman said, “Denied,” when I asked for her approval. Bummer, huh Tracy?

9 - To get a job at Frederick’s Pastries so I could lick the buttercream frosting from all the spatulas at the end of the day.

8 - Do 1,600 sit ups after working a week at Frederick’s.

7 - Wear a hospital johnny backwards.

6 - Google everybody I ever met.

5 - Buy income property in Cougartown.

4 - Start a Facebok campaign to get Betty White on “Dancing With The Stars.”

3 - Put my Christmas tree up in June.

2 - Order my next Dunkin’ Donuts coffee in Russian.

1 - Resist the urge to buy Tracy a new Honda Pilot.

T- Well Mike, I left work yesterday and debated which stores I wanted to hit.  Clothing?  Houseware? Lawn and Garden?  I can’t really explain why I had such an urge to shop.  However, I gripped the steering wheel and turned away from the stores.  I went directly home, Mike!  I didn’t spend a dime.  I was bummed out the rest of the day, which made my workout that much more difficult to get through.  Can you fight the urge, Mike?  I doubt it.

M - Do you ever get in one of those moods? This morning, off the air, Tracy confessed that she was in the mood to go shopping. I didn’t act surprised because I thought she liked shopping. Tracy, I think I understand. About 2 to 3 times a year, I spontaneously head to Macy’s to buy clothes. I circle the sale racks and buy an armload of clothes for $87.  That seems to cure my shopping jones for another few months until the unpredictable urge strikes again. This time, though, I locate a kitchen store and buy baking stuff. Then I’m good again for several months. Am I a typical guy when it comes to shopping? I get in, score some merch, then get out. Maybe it’s a guy-hormonal thing, these urges to splurge. Think I’ll Google my symptoms and see what pops up. See you at the mall, Tracy.

M - I’m happy to hear that Tracy “Cruisin’ for a Bruisin’” Caruso never gets hurt at sporting events…however, anyone remotely acquainted with her usually suffers some form of contusion or concussion when she’s around. I must say I’ve had my share of oddball recreational injuries. When I was 14, I was clocked on the forehead by a baseball bat by the next door neighbor kid, Arthur.  It was the 4th of July and luckily we found a clinic with a doctor who hadn’t reached for his first Budweiser of the holiday yet. I took a few stitches after my own personal fireworks. Also, as a career slow-pitch softball pitcher, standing 45 feet away from a guy with an aluminum bat has put me in harm’s way a few times. My strangest sporting injury came at age 8 when I attended day camp. The counselors were showing us how to cast a fishing line, when some kid (no, not Arthur), cast his rod and instead of pulling in a bass, hooked my right ear instead. I wanted to put up a fight like those 500 pound marlins but decided if I did, I’d lose my ear and my radio headphones would likely keep falling off someday when I got into radio. Sorry, Charley.

T - If you recall, last year during Little League season, my son was hit a handful of times by pitches.  I believe it was twice in the head, once in the face, once in the shoulder and once in the thigh.  (who’s counting?) I was a wreck!  I remember at one particular game, when he got up to bat, the announcer actually said, “third inning and he hasn’t been hit, yet!”   It was that same game, that my daughter, in another field, was hit in the head by a fly ball.  It brings comfort knowing in each case, besides a bump and bruise, they were fine. 

That brings me to Monday night.  Scott and I were sitting in the bleachers watching my son play and BAM!  Was my boy hit with the ball, again?  NO…  poor Scott got hit while sitting next to me.  He too is fine and I’m sure the bump will go away soon.  I’m thinking, maybe I’m the ball magnet, not my kids.