Sometimes things turn out much, much better than we expect. And sometimes they turn out a lot worse. I remember once coming home to find my young son with an enormous 6’5” mountain of a man, I had never met before. When I went to ask him who he was I noticed he was teaching my son the alphabet. Turns out he was the boyfriend (and later husband) of our nanny who was taking care of our older daughter at the time. He was partially the inspiration for Sonny, the tattooed, ex-con, mountain of a man who is quietly becoming the best nanny we’ve ever seen. Sam and Shellie hit the nanny-jackpot with Sonny. We combined this story with another one that takes place outside my window several times a week. What I have observed is a mommy-exercise class. All these new moms have their babies in jogging strollers, including the instructor, who shouts out exercises they do while hanging on to the backs of their strollers. My daughter, a recent mother herself, enrolled in such a class in Brooklyn. One of the funnier incidents she recalled occurred when the instructor was demonstrating leg lifts (expertly illustrated by John) while simultaneously changing the diaper of her own baby! Anyway, since this is about Sonny, we changed the class to a nanny-exercise class. There really isn’t a big difference between a mommy class and a nanny class except for the fact that the nannies aren’t clad head-to-toe in Lululemon gear.

Now you might be wondering why I first talk about the second comic you see. I have reasons but they are both complicated and boring, not the stuff for a blog. Suffice it to say that the latest comic you enter appears first in the newsletter. Now you probably have no idea what I just said do you? That’s okay because I don’t either.

Moving onto the second strip (which of course appears first - don’t ask, I’m beggin’ you), we revisit the constantly evolving world of bicycles. There are two basic types of riders. One, like John, have carbon-fiber bikes that weigh only a couple pounds, and they also have pedals that require a special bike shoe that clips into said pedals. They think nothing of taking a 50-mile ride (I think that’s a lot of distance even when i’m in a car). Apparently, you have to wear brightly-colored spandex (which is a total non-starter for yours truly). As for the clip-on shoes, you just have to remember to unlatch one of your feet before you come to a stop, otherwise, crash! The other type of bike rider is like me. I have an electric, pedal-assist bike that helps me get up steep hills (after which I turn the motor off, I promise!!). It weighs about 55 pounds and has upright handlebars and a comfy seat. Readers, no matter which type of rider you are, we all experience the occasional fall. But when you pass 60 years of age, a fall exposes a dichotomy. The dichotomy is between the way we perceive ourselves as bike riders and the way others perceive us. I know this because I fell about a year ago after just passing the entrance to my apartment building. I sheepishly got up and before I could hop on the bike again, 5 or 6 workers, gardeners, delivery guys, etc., all came sprinting to the scene of the accident and asked if I was okay. ‘I’m fine,’ I insisted as I ignored the pain in my left buttock. Marv stands in as a cross between my type of bike rider and John’s.

That’s it for this week. We will see you (at least virtually) next week with two new ones. Until then, have a great weekend and if you happen to go for a bike ride, please, unclip your foot BEFORE you stop.

Andy and John