Day of the Iguana
Well, here I am writing from Florida, and I promise not to gloat.
But I have to say, it’s been relatively cool here for the past few weeks. So cool in fact, that iguanas, chilled to the bone, are dropping from trees and rooftops.
This is, of course, a dangerous thing. Getting hit in the head by an incoming iguana is nothing to laugh about. Of course, I’m laughing. I mean I’ve had hurricane and tornado warnings come from my iPhone before, but the recent Weather Service Falling Iguana Warning was a first for me.
There was a giant iguana perched on the top of the umbrella over our breakfast table recently and I thought about it. If that thing turned into a popsicle and took a dive, both I and the dog on my lap could be concussed.
And here’s the thing, when they fall, they aren’t dead, just temporarily incapacitated. I’m hopeful that if I get hit in the head by a falling iguana, the reptile will recover in time to call 911 for me.
So, what’s new in Rehoboth? I understand that prep for the April Women’s FEST is coming along. This is a bit weird for me, as that project consumed me for much of the past two decades. My voluntary retirement aside, I’m looking forward to being an audience member at Chely Wright’s concert and the show by the Funny Girlz, bound to be hilarious. Check out the ad in this issue of Letters.
I will say, the new FEST Committee was gracious enough to invite me to do a show on the Sunday evening of FEST Weekend (April 10) and I’ll get the chance to do some new material—including a tale of my latest hobby, axe-throwing. Seriously.
Axe-throwing bars are all the rage these days and our friends at Lefty’s on Route One have joined in. It’s a blast. Back in December, our senior citizen squad did very, very well, and all of our rotator cuffs are still intact. You should check it out.
As for checking it out, my wife finally got sick of my answering every question she asked with the single word, “what?”
When she came home one time, she stood on the porch fumbling for her house key and realized she could hear the blaring Jeopardy theme through the front window. After the first question, she was certain our neighbors would answer “What is: ‘old farts next door?’”
So, she sent me to get my hearing checked. When I had a test last November in Sussex County, the news was hard to hear. I needed hearing aids.
I put the purchase off, but last week here in Florida, when I went to let the dog out, I could hear Jeopardy champ Amy (don’t you love her?) answering the questions from the back yard. I guess the TV was pretty loud.
Uncle. I need hearing aids.
I went to Costco to investigate the situation. The reassuring news was that my test here in Florida perfectly echoed the previous test.
But I worried. If I got hearing aids at Costco, would they be jumbo economy size? No, turns out they were exactly like the models I was shown at the doctor’s office, but a quarter the cost. This was news I was happy to hear.
I chose a color to match what my hairdresser slathers on my grey roots and ordered the things. I’ll report in with my next column. Unless of course I’m taken out first by a falling iguana. ▼
Fay Jacobs is the author of five published books and is touring with her one-woman sit-down comedy show, Aging Gracelessly. Her reports on Rehoboth’s LGBTQ history can be heard on RadioRehoboth, 99.1.