I'm Not Dead Yet

So there I was drowsily sitting on a bench in downtown Lanesboro next to the Root River in southern Wisconsin when I heard a noise in front of me and thought I must have died and gone to heaven. "But, wait," I thought as I slowly came to my senses, "I thought there were supposed to be seven.  What's the extra one for?"  Then I realized I'm not even Muslim and it was probably too late to make a death-bed conversion at that point.  Upon further reflection, I knew I could never be a martyr, even with my reward just three feet away.  And, finally, as I recovered from my vision, I said to myself, "I'm 68 years old, just who do I think I'm kidding?

After I calmed down, I noticed the girls were trying to take a picture of each other, and could really use a volunteer to push the button of their i-phone.  I decided all was not lost despite my non-Muslim and unwillingness to become a martyr status.

So, I quickly volunteered, forgetting in the excitement that I have lost about half my vision, particularly to the left of my nose.  Try as I could to point the camera towards the middle of the bevy, I kept cutting the last three ladies on the left out of the frame. The young women were good-natured about my difficulties and kept giggling and trying to help me get the camera positioned in the right direction.

Rosalee was in the antique shop across the street and when she came out all she saw were a group of  giggling young women in bikinis clustered around me.  She quickly perceived that someone needed her help; if not me, then some seriously under-dressed young ladies.  She took the photo I had so gallantly struggled with, then prevailed on the women to pose with me for a picture I could send to make my three bachelor brothers jealous of my chick magnetism.