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Michael Picarella: 'News briefs' from the Picarellas

Picarella Family Report

Posted: January 30, 2009 8:17 p.m.
Updated: January 31, 2009 4:55 a.m.
Michael Picarella Michael Picarella
Michael Picarella

TV broke, conversation a must
At 9:22 p.m., Sat., Jan. 3, the TV in the master bedroom of my home stopped working.

For the remainder of the evening, my wife and I were forced to hold steady and focused conversation.

"At almost 10 p.m. on a Saturday, after our 5-year-old and his slumber buddies had already gone to sleep on the living room floor, what were my husband and I to do but talk quietly in our room?" my wife told sources.

"We couldn't leave the house, we couldn't watch TV in the living room and neither one of us was tired.

"Any slight noise we made, aside from talking very low, woke at least one of the kids. Yup, my husband and I talked - for two whole hours."

When asked how I held out during the Jan. 3 Talk-a-thon, I answered, "Anything and everything I said was held against me."

Kid is paranoid
On the night of Tuesday, Jan. 6, in my 5-year-old son's bedroom, my own flesh and blood asked that I not kiss him good night.

He said he was contagious. "I had the hiccups," my son said, the morning after his recovery.

"I didn't want to hiccup on my daddy and get him sick." The kid is very cautious.

For example, when he feels the slightest stuffed-up nose coming on, he knows to ask for the humidifier to moisten the air and clear his sinuses before matters get worse.

Tuesday evening, when my son became hiccup-positive, he begged for the humidifier, claiming it would cure his convulsive gasps.

My wife and I humored the boy and put the humidifier in his room. Once the hiccups passed, normality in my son's life was restored.

On Saturday, my wife, son and I attended Scooter's Jungle for a birthday party. While playing on the slides with my son, I scraped my elbow.

My son saw the bruise on my arm and he demanded I stay away from him again. "I'm allergic to people's bruises," he said. Experts suggest that my kid is paranoid.

Bad memory a bad thing
Studies show that my memory sucks, and I concur. Last week I met up with a friend of a friend.

The stranger told me his name, and then he continued to tell me a story. After less than a minute, I already forgot the stranger's name, and because I was trying to think of his name, I wasn't listening to his story. When the stranger asked me a question, which I presumed had relevance to his story, I fumbled for an answer.

That's when I decided to pay attention from then on. I planned to ask for the stranger's name after his story - just before we parted - and then I could write it down to remember.

"What happened?" my wife asked me later that day. According to my memory, I got the stranger's name again after he finished his story.

But just before we parted ways, he decided to tell me one last story, causing me to forget his name again, fail to listen to another one of his stories while I tried to remember his name, and fumble for another answer to another question, which I presumed had relevance to what he was talking about. That's all I can recall.

R.E. Pool Memorial Shelter closes
My father-in-law's cherished R.E. Pool Memorial Shelter for Downtrodden Husbands in Santa Clarita, which provided local support and outreach to downtrodden husbands, shut its doors yesterday after eight years of service due to a lack of participation and attendance. According to local wives, husbands have never been happier.

"There is no need for such a ridiculous shelter," said one area wife, who wished to remain anonymous. Several other wives echoed the statement, and said their spouses would certainly agree. Husbands, however, weren't allowed to comment on the matter for this report.

Michael Picarella is a Valencia resident and a proud husband and father. To contact Picarella or to read more stories, go to His column reflects his own opinion and not necessarily that of The Signal.


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