Another two days of near isolation with the belief I would get a lot done. Things like washing the dishes piled up in my sink. Straightening up my bedroom was avoided. Cleaning my bathroom ignored. Vacuuming my floors - well there is too much on them anyway. To vacuum, I would have to pick. If I pick up I might as well put things were they belong. I would do that if I know where they belonged, but they have been piled up so long I forgot where they go. But since I live alone and am the only one who sees this garbage - oh well. I am badly slipping into a bachelors way of life. It's not that I hate doing those things, but dislike is high in my thoughts. Instead I finished another Ted Dekker book "Bone Man's Daughter", and worked on a photo album I have had material for from 30 years ago during my teaching days. My how time flies even when you're not having fun. But I am having fun. Love the comments on the album. I look forward to them everyday.
I was also planning to get another drawing done for the weekend. Ha! That never happened. They backed the show up a week and now I think I have time to get anything done I want. I did lay out a piece of paper, select the photo from which I will draw and began the outline. Yeah. Progress. Looks I did nothing.
What's great about a weekend like this is I never bothered to get cleaned up on Saturday. Didn't even comb my hair. But I had to get a bit cleaned up today for church. Also, I shave twice a week. Sunday morning and Wednesday morning. I know! That's quite often, but beards have always itched on me. I can take about one weeks worth and the scratching begins. I can turn my face so red I look like I have been on the losing end of a cat fight. A bit of a mess.
After church I got myself back into my sloppy clothes, had a long nap, fixed dinner, watched a couple of movies and started another book. History this time. I realize that I lead a very busy life, and I do get tired from all I do. But I don't want you to feel sorry for me, I love it anyway and am willing to suffer for the joy of this life.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Friday, May 28, 2010
GOOD OLD DAYS
There is little that is funnier here than a group getting together and talking about the good old days as a child. That’s only because so many had similar experiences and stories. We had another cheesecake party today to celebrate another “in building” birthday. That is an easy excuse to get a small group together. No one ever knows where the conversation will go. The focus today was childhood fears and surprises.
It all started with the outhouse. Each had a unique experience. A common bond was the use of pages from the Montgomery Wards catalogue and/or corncobs. Cobs were better in the fall as they were softer and fresher. By the next summer they were dry and hard. We anxiously awaited new catalogues or the next crop of corn. One felt like the hole in the board was big enough to swallow them. They were actually. So many feared falling in, which of course lead to stories about that scene in “Slumdog Millionaire.” None would go there after dark. Too many stories of possible spiders biting you in “the you know where.” Chamber pots were no better. The first tinkle in the metal container sounded like thunder and you were sure you would wake everyone in the house. Then there were the morning times of stepping in or on the edge of the pot and walking through the contents to get the mop and clean up. Ahh! The good old days!
Indoor and outdoor water pumps were cool. Some had to go to out to the well before that modern convenience was invented and it moved in doors. It was fun just to pump it and let the water run and run until mom yelled to stop pumping before the well dried up. The outdoor well was great for water fights. Just fill the pail as full as you could carry it and chase a sibling, dog, cat or chicken. There was nothing like coming in the house tracking mud. No one lived in a home with anything more than patches of grass and lots of dirt. Mom was still mad that we tracked on her clean floors.
Everyone remembers the smell. It was like living in your own private stockyard. Then the day arrived when you were to learn to slaughter one animal or another. We all started with small animals. We raised rabbits for meat. We were often told the rabbit on the table was chicken. They couldn’t fool me if there was a leg on the table. That would be on large chicken leg. Dad took me to the dirt basement to teach how to kill and skin a rabbit. I was a nervous wreck. He prepared two and then it was my turn. Just kill them with a mallet to head, cut their throats and let the blood drain out. Çut the fur around the neck and feet, then split it down the middle and peal the fur off. I thought I was going to throw up. I had never gone in the basement when he was killing rabbits before, but one does not turn dad down. I grabbed the rabbit by the ears and dad held its body. I raised the mallet and brought it down on my right foot. I then did want any healthy nine-year-old boy would do. I screamed for mommy and ran out crying.
I grew up in the city but visited many a farm relative and experienced more than I wanted to. My mother preferred to purchase live chickens. We had a crate my little brother and I put on our Red Rider wagon and pulled the mile plus to the grocery store near dads work. We did this once a month. Mom would have the months worth of groceries in her basket and be ready to go home by the time dad got there from work and cashed his check. Then with our newly acquired live chickens and all the rest of the groceries some how piled on the wagon we walked home as a family with dad pulling the wagon and us boys balancing the things from falling off.
As we would get near home, the neighborhood children began to gather at the alley behind our house. Mom and dad would put everything away and mom grabbed the chickens by the neck and headed to the alley. All the kids gathered in a wide circle around her. Without saying a word, she held a chicken by the head in each hand and one at a time swung those birds around in a circle until their heads came off and the chicken began to, well a… run around like a chicken with its head cut off, which of course, it was. Mom would turn and walk back to the house until the chickens stopped running leaving .the kids to yell and scream as birds “attacked” them with blood squiring out the op of necks. They were joyfully terrified. I, of course, was humiliated. We were the only family on the block that bought live chicken. Apparently my mother didn’t know you could have the butcher chop them up for her and wrap them in brown paper so her kids didn’t have to sit around picking out pin feathers. But mom needed those feathers for feather pillows she made and feather blankets for our beds. They were nice until the tail of a feather slipped through the covering and stuck me in the ear. But they were warm and cuddly. Perfect for a snowy night.
Now don’t out early years sound wonderful. Give me plastic wrapped me and a microwave.
It all started with the outhouse. Each had a unique experience. A common bond was the use of pages from the Montgomery Wards catalogue and/or corncobs. Cobs were better in the fall as they were softer and fresher. By the next summer they were dry and hard. We anxiously awaited new catalogues or the next crop of corn. One felt like the hole in the board was big enough to swallow them. They were actually. So many feared falling in, which of course lead to stories about that scene in “Slumdog Millionaire.” None would go there after dark. Too many stories of possible spiders biting you in “the you know where.” Chamber pots were no better. The first tinkle in the metal container sounded like thunder and you were sure you would wake everyone in the house. Then there were the morning times of stepping in or on the edge of the pot and walking through the contents to get the mop and clean up. Ahh! The good old days!
Indoor and outdoor water pumps were cool. Some had to go to out to the well before that modern convenience was invented and it moved in doors. It was fun just to pump it and let the water run and run until mom yelled to stop pumping before the well dried up. The outdoor well was great for water fights. Just fill the pail as full as you could carry it and chase a sibling, dog, cat or chicken. There was nothing like coming in the house tracking mud. No one lived in a home with anything more than patches of grass and lots of dirt. Mom was still mad that we tracked on her clean floors.
Everyone remembers the smell. It was like living in your own private stockyard. Then the day arrived when you were to learn to slaughter one animal or another. We all started with small animals. We raised rabbits for meat. We were often told the rabbit on the table was chicken. They couldn’t fool me if there was a leg on the table. That would be on large chicken leg. Dad took me to the dirt basement to teach how to kill and skin a rabbit. I was a nervous wreck. He prepared two and then it was my turn. Just kill them with a mallet to head, cut their throats and let the blood drain out. Çut the fur around the neck and feet, then split it down the middle and peal the fur off. I thought I was going to throw up. I had never gone in the basement when he was killing rabbits before, but one does not turn dad down. I grabbed the rabbit by the ears and dad held its body. I raised the mallet and brought it down on my right foot. I then did want any healthy nine-year-old boy would do. I screamed for mommy and ran out crying.
I grew up in the city but visited many a farm relative and experienced more than I wanted to. My mother preferred to purchase live chickens. We had a crate my little brother and I put on our Red Rider wagon and pulled the mile plus to the grocery store near dads work. We did this once a month. Mom would have the months worth of groceries in her basket and be ready to go home by the time dad got there from work and cashed his check. Then with our newly acquired live chickens and all the rest of the groceries some how piled on the wagon we walked home as a family with dad pulling the wagon and us boys balancing the things from falling off.
As we would get near home, the neighborhood children began to gather at the alley behind our house. Mom and dad would put everything away and mom grabbed the chickens by the neck and headed to the alley. All the kids gathered in a wide circle around her. Without saying a word, she held a chicken by the head in each hand and one at a time swung those birds around in a circle until their heads came off and the chicken began to, well a… run around like a chicken with its head cut off, which of course, it was. Mom would turn and walk back to the house until the chickens stopped running leaving .the kids to yell and scream as birds “attacked” them with blood squiring out the op of necks. They were joyfully terrified. I, of course, was humiliated. We were the only family on the block that bought live chicken. Apparently my mother didn’t know you could have the butcher chop them up for her and wrap them in brown paper so her kids didn’t have to sit around picking out pin feathers. But mom needed those feathers for feather pillows she made and feather blankets for our beds. They were nice until the tail of a feather slipped through the covering and stuck me in the ear. But they were warm and cuddly. Perfect for a snowy night.
Now don’t out early years sound wonderful. Give me plastic wrapped me and a microwave.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
NO DRILLING?
I’m a little upset. Mind you it is usually only the government and their red tape hoops that upset me, and they have done it again. I am really not a very political person. I rarely get involved in choosing sides. I’m a registered independent because I don’t like taking sides with groups with whom I disagree and that’s all of them. I never believe any president is responsible for everything bad or that we dislike happening in this world. Obama is no exception. But the convoluted decision announced today that all off shore drilling will be stopped is hitting my pocketbook, our pocketbooks. The government is out of their collective minds. Since they emphasized that offshore drilling would stop even in Alaska, I suspect they are going to make Sarah Palin very mad. And you know what that means. Neither do I.
Brace yourself. We do not yet have an alternative to oil. We are not allowed to drill in our own country. Much of the oil we use from the good old USA comes from the ocean. Everything we buy will soon go up in price. Do you have any idea how much oil we use? Actually neither do I, but it’s not just for cars and heating. It’s cell phones, computers, and clothes, maybe even our food for all I know. Some of what I eat tastes like plastic.
Our president this morning assured me that the government has been on the clean up problem from the beginning. That frightens me. They blame BP, and they are the ones responsible, but the government is leading the clean up? Help! Help I’m drowning in oil. If they are so good, why hasn’t something that works begun? Resources will be drained making us even more dependent on foreign oil. Thousands will lose their jobs. Prices will go up and the end of the world is near. Run for your lives.
Yes, that may be a slight exaggeration. There are brilliant minds out there that can and will solve this, but must the government now add multiple layers of red tape. It has been fives weeks now that this has been going on. The disaster affects the Gulf coast and possibly the entire Atlantic coast. We will all soon be living off the land, searching for berries and leaves. Digging for roots that are edible. We have no idea what food at its source really looks like. We may have forage or hunt and fish. I know it should come in clear packages from very large boxes called stores. But that isn’t the source. It started with four legs or fins. Someone prepared it for us and packaged it to protect our sensitive nature. We may have to become wanders like our very far forefathers and foremothers. I can’t chop. I hate chopping wood. I don’t even like gardening. I don’t mind riding a horse, but I absolutely do not want to clean up after them. Besides they are too big for my apartment. I could not get a pet agreement. That’s what happens when I can’t afford gasoline. My life as I know it will come to an end. I don’t want to live off the land. The thought makes me shiver.
Yes I have a major beef. I’m on a limited budget. I exaggerate and make foolish projections. But isn’t it just as foolish to sit about in committees when there are options available. So what if some of them fail. Guess what. Everything approved has failed so far. Try it all. There is too much is at stake.
Whew! I feel better already. I accomplished nothing. That should qualify me for a government job.
Brace yourself. We do not yet have an alternative to oil. We are not allowed to drill in our own country. Much of the oil we use from the good old USA comes from the ocean. Everything we buy will soon go up in price. Do you have any idea how much oil we use? Actually neither do I, but it’s not just for cars and heating. It’s cell phones, computers, and clothes, maybe even our food for all I know. Some of what I eat tastes like plastic.
Our president this morning assured me that the government has been on the clean up problem from the beginning. That frightens me. They blame BP, and they are the ones responsible, but the government is leading the clean up? Help! Help I’m drowning in oil. If they are so good, why hasn’t something that works begun? Resources will be drained making us even more dependent on foreign oil. Thousands will lose their jobs. Prices will go up and the end of the world is near. Run for your lives.
Yes, that may be a slight exaggeration. There are brilliant minds out there that can and will solve this, but must the government now add multiple layers of red tape. It has been fives weeks now that this has been going on. The disaster affects the Gulf coast and possibly the entire Atlantic coast. We will all soon be living off the land, searching for berries and leaves. Digging for roots that are edible. We have no idea what food at its source really looks like. We may have forage or hunt and fish. I know it should come in clear packages from very large boxes called stores. But that isn’t the source. It started with four legs or fins. Someone prepared it for us and packaged it to protect our sensitive nature. We may have to become wanders like our very far forefathers and foremothers. I can’t chop. I hate chopping wood. I don’t even like gardening. I don’t mind riding a horse, but I absolutely do not want to clean up after them. Besides they are too big for my apartment. I could not get a pet agreement. That’s what happens when I can’t afford gasoline. My life as I know it will come to an end. I don’t want to live off the land. The thought makes me shiver.
Yes I have a major beef. I’m on a limited budget. I exaggerate and make foolish projections. But isn’t it just as foolish to sit about in committees when there are options available. So what if some of them fail. Guess what. Everything approved has failed so far. Try it all. There is too much is at stake.
Whew! I feel better already. I accomplished nothing. That should qualify me for a government job.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
EXPECTATIONS
Things are getting weird. Maybe I should say weirder. Maria is on a rampage about how little she perceives our manager works. But she does that about anyone and everyone who does not live up to her expectations. The fact is that the manager does not work very many hours. She is limited to 15 hours a week and it must be divided between two sites. She works only 4 days a week, two here, two at the other site. She is only on duty 7 ½ hours a week, and head office will not tolerate her working one more hour. When she first arrived, she responded to any and all demands working 30-35 hours and was told that would not be tolerated. Since this is a government run facility and she is on an hourly wage, minimum wage, they naturally would send her items to post, notes to hand out after she was off for the day. When she was doing that they were happy as long as she didn’t report the hours. She has a preschooler and was exhausted and getting nothing for it. Everyone, including Maria, told her to only work her required 15 hours. No one was thinking those 15 hours were spread over two sites. But they were, and now the campaign against her is growing. It is being led by stupidity. She was not hired to referee inmate squabbles. She was not hired to clean, cook, or talk without end to the inmates. She was hired to keep up the paperwork. They estimate that takes 10 hours a week, so they have given her 7 ½. Love the way government thinks.
When she is here she can hardly get to her office without being grabbed in the hall by some tenant or other. Carmen wants her in her office for all office hours. But head office will send notices for her to post or deliver. I know for a fact it takes 30 minutes to deliver a newsletter to every tenant. For her, that is work time. We get a notice once or twice a week. We get notices correcting notices. We get notices a day or two after the newsletter goes out about an even that will happen in just a few days. Organization is not on the top of anyone’s minds.
What Maria is really angry about is that she and a friend went to Goodwill (second hand store) to buy decorations for our downstairs lounge. Over time, all ornaments were removed from that lounge, most likely as retaliation (why not). The problem is that my two friends have old lady tastes (of course, that’s what they are) and what they purchased is not suitable - to old, but not antiques. If we had a teapot they would cover it with one of those chunky knitted multicolored cozies. Cheap trash. The big boss will not allow our manager to put their items out, but this has not been communicated to the women. I was told a couple weeks ago and mentioned then that they were going to have to be told as steam was building up and an explosion is coming. The ringleader went looking for the manager today and she is way past self-control. No need to be waiting nearby, this will easily be heard in my apartment. Thankfully the manager was at the other site. I have to see the doctor tomorrow.
When she is here she can hardly get to her office without being grabbed in the hall by some tenant or other. Carmen wants her in her office for all office hours. But head office will send notices for her to post or deliver. I know for a fact it takes 30 minutes to deliver a newsletter to every tenant. For her, that is work time. We get a notice once or twice a week. We get notices correcting notices. We get notices a day or two after the newsletter goes out about an even that will happen in just a few days. Organization is not on the top of anyone’s minds.
What Maria is really angry about is that she and a friend went to Goodwill (second hand store) to buy decorations for our downstairs lounge. Over time, all ornaments were removed from that lounge, most likely as retaliation (why not). The problem is that my two friends have old lady tastes (of course, that’s what they are) and what they purchased is not suitable - to old, but not antiques. If we had a teapot they would cover it with one of those chunky knitted multicolored cozies. Cheap trash. The big boss will not allow our manager to put their items out, but this has not been communicated to the women. I was told a couple weeks ago and mentioned then that they were going to have to be told as steam was building up and an explosion is coming. The ringleader went looking for the manager today and she is way past self-control. No need to be waiting nearby, this will easily be heard in my apartment. Thankfully the manager was at the other site. I have to see the doctor tomorrow.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
CONSPIRACY UNEARTHED
Amazing. A civil war has been averted. Too bad! I had worked on a number of, what I believed would be, effect plans of attack. The timing is perfect. With the smell present with the refinishing of the floor it would have helped as a cover for my unwashed body. Real soldiers rarely have time to shower, you know. I think I want a small civil war just for something to do. It’s not that I don’t have things to do. It’s like I want a little more excitement and a war would do that. Maybe a good rumor would put the war back on. It doesn’t seem to take much.
When I went out this morning, the plants looked dramatically better. I understand someone watered them. Amazing what that accomplished.
Shucks! The conspiracy theory proved false. I don’t know why we should stop the war just because the theory wasn’t true. Other conspiracy theories continue even when proven wrong. I think people just see a boogey man behind every action. Since we are not responsible, someone else must be and if we can’t find the actual guilty party, we just make on up or blame it on someone we don’t like. Someone must be responsible and that someone certainly cannot be me. It’s probably the government.
Someone saw the plant owner dump an abundance of Miracle Grow in his plants. Since he does not believe he did anything to hurt his beloved plants, someone must have done something to them. Welcome to the Twilight Zone. Do do do do do do do. do. Who knows what evil lurks in the heart of man (play eerie music here) the Shadow knows. (More eerie music ending in Dah Dah (a sound like that on Law and Order).
As we return to our story, Ethel has just learned that Hebert is really her son she had given up for adoption when she was only 13. She has longed for him but has given up all hope of ever finding him, but there he is — mowing her lawn. Meanwhile her estranged husband is in jail awaiting trial for the murder of Ethel’s mid 20 –year-old lover. The boy had barely begun life. But it took Ethel no time at all to replace Derek. The new lover is 19 years old. Ethel must be approaching 55. Either that or she galloped right over it. She looks 70. No one knows what the kid sees in her, unless it is money (good reason). As the heiress to a large garbage empire, she has no want for money and plenty of men to do her evil bidding (mafia you know). That lets her always look innocent.
The boy does not know that Ethel was the lover of his present mothers second husband and he is their love child. She is torn about whether to sleep with him. She wants to, but….. They are not having sex — yet, but they are so cuddly in public that everyone believes they are. Ethel is proud of that fact and flaunts the pretend affair. She is a nasty woman, one with an evil heart. Derek, the boy her husband murdered and Conrad, the present lover are really brothers, but would have called each other cousins, had they known one another, It’s complicated. We return you now to “As the World Churns.” In this episode, more complications will arise that you will never understand or figure out. I guarantee it.
It feels like that around here at times. Now you know why I don’t need daytime TV.
When I went out this morning, the plants looked dramatically better. I understand someone watered them. Amazing what that accomplished.
Shucks! The conspiracy theory proved false. I don’t know why we should stop the war just because the theory wasn’t true. Other conspiracy theories continue even when proven wrong. I think people just see a boogey man behind every action. Since we are not responsible, someone else must be and if we can’t find the actual guilty party, we just make on up or blame it on someone we don’t like. Someone must be responsible and that someone certainly cannot be me. It’s probably the government.
Someone saw the plant owner dump an abundance of Miracle Grow in his plants. Since he does not believe he did anything to hurt his beloved plants, someone must have done something to them. Welcome to the Twilight Zone. Do do do do do do do. do. Who knows what evil lurks in the heart of man (play eerie music here) the Shadow knows. (More eerie music ending in Dah Dah (a sound like that on Law and Order).
As we return to our story, Ethel has just learned that Hebert is really her son she had given up for adoption when she was only 13. She has longed for him but has given up all hope of ever finding him, but there he is — mowing her lawn. Meanwhile her estranged husband is in jail awaiting trial for the murder of Ethel’s mid 20 –year-old lover. The boy had barely begun life. But it took Ethel no time at all to replace Derek. The new lover is 19 years old. Ethel must be approaching 55. Either that or she galloped right over it. She looks 70. No one knows what the kid sees in her, unless it is money (good reason). As the heiress to a large garbage empire, she has no want for money and plenty of men to do her evil bidding (mafia you know). That lets her always look innocent.
The boy does not know that Ethel was the lover of his present mothers second husband and he is their love child. She is torn about whether to sleep with him. She wants to, but….. They are not having sex — yet, but they are so cuddly in public that everyone believes they are. Ethel is proud of that fact and flaunts the pretend affair. She is a nasty woman, one with an evil heart. Derek, the boy her husband murdered and Conrad, the present lover are really brothers, but would have called each other cousins, had they known one another, It’s complicated. We return you now to “As the World Churns.” In this episode, more complications will arise that you will never understand or figure out. I guarantee it.
It feels like that around here at times. Now you know why I don’t need daytime TV.
Monday, May 24, 2010
JUST USE WATER
I enjoyed a cup of coffee while shooting the breeze with a couple of friends and watching workman put up a plastic sheet barrier between the dining room and a potion with a wooden floor. They were about to refinish it. The building is fourteen years old and it had never been refinished. It needed it badly. At about 10:15 I left to return to my room and check my email to see if there were any corrections for “The Home’s” newsletter. I wanted to get that done and out of my hands.
As I was climbing the steps to our building I noticed that the two hanging planters on either side of the steps looked droopy. It appeared that the flowers around the edge of the pot were wilting and dying. I was somewhat surprised as they were less than three weeks old and Chas is very careful with his flowers. I made a note to tell him about the flowers if I saw him later that day. I figured they just needed to be watered. I know nothing about plants. I have only one that will not die. Lord knows I tried. I’ve left it without water for weeks at a time, often only remembered they need water to live when the leaves are laying down the side of the pot. It was my wife’s plant and I have always had every intention to keep it alive. So far so good – no thanks to me! God made it strong.
When I saw Chas I mentioned his plants and of course he already knew. He also had two planters on the porch that died last week. He said the flowers were pulled out at the root and left lying on top of the planter. Someone had purposely destroyed his plants. Mean son-of-a-gun. I could not believe anyone would destroy the property of another person. Not here. Not at “The Home.” It didn’t make sense.
No one had pulled these plants out like the ones last week. Instead, they appeared to be poisoned. That’s seems to me to be even worse. I may have to purchase a gun. No, I won’t. I need food more. But I would like to get my hands on the jerk. There are suspicions as to the culprit, but, as usual, no one really knows for sure. It is assumed it is someone from the other building.
Here is comes, a civil war between buildings. We will post a 24-hour watch. I must take a day shift. I’m useless at night. Spies will have to be sent out to well, ahem, spy, I guess. A recognizance team must reconnoiter Attack plans will have to be drawn, evaluated and redrawn. I’m the best drawer here. I have rulers and paper. I guess I will have to draw the plans. I’ll start on blueprints tomorrow. Bugging various rooms must be done. It’s essential if we are to learn anything of importance, especially the room of their general. We will also bug the places where they meet and plot their evil strategies. Maybe we can get a double agent to pass us secret plans. The next thing you know they will want our lounge furniture. I think I know who will turn against that building. I think we need sand bags at the front to protect us from certain onslaught. Weapons! Yes, we will need weapons. I have about a dozen balloons from last summer. We could fill them with water. Add a little soap and they will get a bubble bath when hit. We should probably set up trip wires to knock them down. Not necessary. They can hardly walk as it is. I wish I had kept my old pith helmet. It makes me look important. Also makes me look like I’m on safari. Looks cool. Add a monocle and I look British. Once we get all these plans in place they will never hit us again.
On the other hand, I just think the flowers could be watered, but a conspiracy theory is always fun.
As I was climbing the steps to our building I noticed that the two hanging planters on either side of the steps looked droopy. It appeared that the flowers around the edge of the pot were wilting and dying. I was somewhat surprised as they were less than three weeks old and Chas is very careful with his flowers. I made a note to tell him about the flowers if I saw him later that day. I figured they just needed to be watered. I know nothing about plants. I have only one that will not die. Lord knows I tried. I’ve left it without water for weeks at a time, often only remembered they need water to live when the leaves are laying down the side of the pot. It was my wife’s plant and I have always had every intention to keep it alive. So far so good – no thanks to me! God made it strong.
When I saw Chas I mentioned his plants and of course he already knew. He also had two planters on the porch that died last week. He said the flowers were pulled out at the root and left lying on top of the planter. Someone had purposely destroyed his plants. Mean son-of-a-gun. I could not believe anyone would destroy the property of another person. Not here. Not at “The Home.” It didn’t make sense.
No one had pulled these plants out like the ones last week. Instead, they appeared to be poisoned. That’s seems to me to be even worse. I may have to purchase a gun. No, I won’t. I need food more. But I would like to get my hands on the jerk. There are suspicions as to the culprit, but, as usual, no one really knows for sure. It is assumed it is someone from the other building.
Here is comes, a civil war between buildings. We will post a 24-hour watch. I must take a day shift. I’m useless at night. Spies will have to be sent out to well, ahem, spy, I guess. A recognizance team must reconnoiter Attack plans will have to be drawn, evaluated and redrawn. I’m the best drawer here. I have rulers and paper. I guess I will have to draw the plans. I’ll start on blueprints tomorrow. Bugging various rooms must be done. It’s essential if we are to learn anything of importance, especially the room of their general. We will also bug the places where they meet and plot their evil strategies. Maybe we can get a double agent to pass us secret plans. The next thing you know they will want our lounge furniture. I think I know who will turn against that building. I think we need sand bags at the front to protect us from certain onslaught. Weapons! Yes, we will need weapons. I have about a dozen balloons from last summer. We could fill them with water. Add a little soap and they will get a bubble bath when hit. We should probably set up trip wires to knock them down. Not necessary. They can hardly walk as it is. I wish I had kept my old pith helmet. It makes me look important. Also makes me look like I’m on safari. Looks cool. Add a monocle and I look British. Once we get all these plans in place they will never hit us again.
On the other hand, I just think the flowers could be watered, but a conspiracy theory is always fun.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
FRESH MEAT
It’s catch up day. I always have so many plans, but rarely get around to them. I finished the June newsletter after writing a profile of one of our residents who spent 14 years as a cook with the same fishing company that appears on Deadliest Catch. She even worked on the ships a few times. She has an absolutely amazing story and takes it all as just ordinary work. I don’t know. I don’t know, 14 years in rough seas where your ship is never still, but rocking all the time and often violently. Three months on, one month off. Quite a way to live! When she retired from the Alaskan waters she spent three years on a tugboat that went from Ketchikan to the Columbia River. It’s got to be in the blood.
Got my laundry done and worked on the puzzle. Three people joined me and we talked about everything. Three of us had done foster care work and got around to sharing stories. We all enjoyed it. If every parent could call up a patrol officer and send their kid to juvenile detention, we wouldn’t have the fights with them that we often did (did in my case – do for some of you).
We have had a lot of people moving in lately. There is only one apartment empty and that is in my building. It’s rented, but they haven’t moved in yet. The women wanted to know why none of the newer men come out of their apartments. I was told of one who felt so threatened by the women that he promised never t come out. Apparently he already had a girlfriend but was given the seemingly standard new man greeting of “Wow, fresh meat.” Only one does this, but she is bold and she is aggressive. Others share the same aggression, but are somewhat subtler. He is now petrified, to be near a woman here. I also have a namesake who would like that attention, but with all the problems he has, will never get it.
The conversation moved on to house cleaning, laundry and ironing. Don’t old people have terrific discussions? Reminds me of a cartoon I saw with a small girl talking to her grandmother, “My teachers says we can be anything we want. So, grandma, did you want to be old?”
I doubt it. It just happens if we live long enough. Women are so much better housekeepers. I did great while I was working. Don’t know what happened. Old age, I guess. I love being able to blame everything on old age. There were a couple women who had not heard my storage story, so I relayed how to save space. Stack all your clean dishes on the dish rack and drain board. When you need them, use and place in the sink. When there are no clean dishes, wash them, put them back on the rack and start over. That way you have space for you gun rack.
Ironing is a senseless activity. When you put them on they get wrinkled immediately. I don’t iron. May I would if there were a special event like being invited to the white house, but otherwise why bother. I was told I would look better. But ever since I was told I was fresh meat on my arrival I don’t want to look any better than I already am. I little rott9ing around the edges might protect me.
Got my laundry done and worked on the puzzle. Three people joined me and we talked about everything. Three of us had done foster care work and got around to sharing stories. We all enjoyed it. If every parent could call up a patrol officer and send their kid to juvenile detention, we wouldn’t have the fights with them that we often did (did in my case – do for some of you).
We have had a lot of people moving in lately. There is only one apartment empty and that is in my building. It’s rented, but they haven’t moved in yet. The women wanted to know why none of the newer men come out of their apartments. I was told of one who felt so threatened by the women that he promised never t come out. Apparently he already had a girlfriend but was given the seemingly standard new man greeting of “Wow, fresh meat.” Only one does this, but she is bold and she is aggressive. Others share the same aggression, but are somewhat subtler. He is now petrified, to be near a woman here. I also have a namesake who would like that attention, but with all the problems he has, will never get it.
The conversation moved on to house cleaning, laundry and ironing. Don’t old people have terrific discussions? Reminds me of a cartoon I saw with a small girl talking to her grandmother, “My teachers says we can be anything we want. So, grandma, did you want to be old?”
I doubt it. It just happens if we live long enough. Women are so much better housekeepers. I did great while I was working. Don’t know what happened. Old age, I guess. I love being able to blame everything on old age. There were a couple women who had not heard my storage story, so I relayed how to save space. Stack all your clean dishes on the dish rack and drain board. When you need them, use and place in the sink. When there are no clean dishes, wash them, put them back on the rack and start over. That way you have space for you gun rack.
Ironing is a senseless activity. When you put them on they get wrinkled immediately. I don’t iron. May I would if there were a special event like being invited to the white house, but otherwise why bother. I was told I would look better. But ever since I was told I was fresh meat on my arrival I don’t want to look any better than I already am. I little rott9ing around the edges might protect me.
Friday, May 21, 2010
MR. BIG
From 11-4, Mr. Big and his minions are meeting to decide theirs and our fat. They have invaded our common room, the only place large enough for them that is free. Naturally, we are not invited. The previous Mr. Big (lets call them old and new Big) gambled millions of dollars of corporate money on some fancy condos at the ferry terminal. It may have worked out had the economy not fallen into a black hole. As it turned out, the condos have not sold as expected and the corporation in debt 42 million. I suspect in some big business that’s a drop in the bucket. Here it is tragic, and especially since the sole goal of the corporation is to provide subsidized housing for senior citizens. The condos were not built for us, but to earn a profit. Big mistake.
As you can imagine, when anyone loses 42 million their tenure is short lived. The county had to assume the debt and everything is tight as a hornet trying to get through the eye of a needle (camel would be a major exaggeration). So a new Mr. Big is here fighting with the county board of directors who want them to move downtown into a smaller, but less expensive building. No one wants to leave here.
Years before the old Mr. Big, and back to a few Mr. Bigs of the past, they purchased a downtown building that has more stipulations as to who can rent than Carter has pills (never really knew how many pills Carter has). It must be rented to only government agencies or non-profits. They have been trying to rent the unrented remaining space for 2-3 years with no success. Who knows when (maybe 10-14 years ago) these buildings went up, they build a new and larger office next to our “Home Sweet Home.” They love that building, and why not! It faces the inlet, has free parking and space for them all. PROBLEM: They own more money on it than the one downtown. So the bigger powers than Mr. Big want them to move downtown and sell the one they are in. PROBLEM: No buyers or renters for either building are forth coming AND no one wants to leave the beautiful spot by the bay. Me either.
They were ordered to move by March 30. That failed. Then it was April 30, that also has failed. May 31 was the next absolute board deadline decision. Now it is July 1. They can’t even evict themselves, but if we were told to be out the Sherriff would be on our door putting our things in the street.
The residents are pretty safe. The Feds are protecting us and we all know how helpful that is. Should I be afraid, very afraid? We are assured none of this affects our homes. I’ve heard that just before everything falls apart. They forget we have been through all this stuff before.
The meeting has just got under way and Chas is at my door to see if I want to get a listen in by sitting in a nearby room. Of course I do. Be back in a few hours.
Well never went. Four hours to sit through 10 minutes of information is silly. We will find out in time. Employees will be unhappy about something and will whine to someone around here. Either that or someone will simply start a rumor that all will believe and past on as truth with their own twists and turns added. You have to love the gossip line. Beats any soap opera, plus its like a stage performance and I like live theater.
As you can imagine, when anyone loses 42 million their tenure is short lived. The county had to assume the debt and everything is tight as a hornet trying to get through the eye of a needle (camel would be a major exaggeration). So a new Mr. Big is here fighting with the county board of directors who want them to move downtown into a smaller, but less expensive building. No one wants to leave here.
Years before the old Mr. Big, and back to a few Mr. Bigs of the past, they purchased a downtown building that has more stipulations as to who can rent than Carter has pills (never really knew how many pills Carter has). It must be rented to only government agencies or non-profits. They have been trying to rent the unrented remaining space for 2-3 years with no success. Who knows when (maybe 10-14 years ago) these buildings went up, they build a new and larger office next to our “Home Sweet Home.” They love that building, and why not! It faces the inlet, has free parking and space for them all. PROBLEM: They own more money on it than the one downtown. So the bigger powers than Mr. Big want them to move downtown and sell the one they are in. PROBLEM: No buyers or renters for either building are forth coming AND no one wants to leave the beautiful spot by the bay. Me either.
They were ordered to move by March 30. That failed. Then it was April 30, that also has failed. May 31 was the next absolute board deadline decision. Now it is July 1. They can’t even evict themselves, but if we were told to be out the Sherriff would be on our door putting our things in the street.
The residents are pretty safe. The Feds are protecting us and we all know how helpful that is. Should I be afraid, very afraid? We are assured none of this affects our homes. I’ve heard that just before everything falls apart. They forget we have been through all this stuff before.
The meeting has just got under way and Chas is at my door to see if I want to get a listen in by sitting in a nearby room. Of course I do. Be back in a few hours.
Well never went. Four hours to sit through 10 minutes of information is silly. We will find out in time. Employees will be unhappy about something and will whine to someone around here. Either that or someone will simply start a rumor that all will believe and past on as truth with their own twists and turns added. You have to love the gossip line. Beats any soap opera, plus its like a stage performance and I like live theater.
WHO EVER HEARD OF BLUE INDIANS
Hardly have time to get out and connect this week. Art show comes in 3 ½ weeks. Wanted eight new drawings, but may have six if I keep plugging away. I will have four portraits. Been working on this. Think I’ve gotten better. Must get the eyes right or the whole picture is off. The next most important is the mouth, with the nose third. When I’m on a roll, I love portraits. I will offer 8x10 head drawing at $200 matted but not framed. Larger ones with more of the body will go up from there. I’m not ready for multiple people yet. It’s a big challenge, but…
Granddaughter #2 is done and I’m beginning on my grandson. Got an order here in the building for a baby granddaughter. Looks fun.
I watched parts of Avatar last night. The special effects were great. But the story was a laugh. Really now – blue Indians who can defeat modern weapons with bows and arrows. They could not have done it without the animals. Since went has any animal but Lassie and Rin-Tin-Tin come to the aid of people. Sure, Trigger came when he was called. So did Silver. Arnold the pig was OK to have around, but what did he ever do to help his owners? He was just a big joke. I have nothing against pets. Have even had some. We can teach some a few tricks, but the whole forest coming together to help blue Indians? HA! They would have turned on one another just for a quick snack.
The worst thing Avatar has done for the movies were to raise the price. So many went to see Avatar that the big new trend will be 3-D movies for everything. So get ready. The price is about to take another big leap. Yuck. I’m going to have to go back to drawing cartoons on the edge of my school textbooks just so I can afford a moving picture.
Went to see my best friend yesterday. He gave me another pill to take and charged me for our time together. Lousy friend. I need a friend who is not a doctor.
Granddaughter #2 is done and I’m beginning on my grandson. Got an order here in the building for a baby granddaughter. Looks fun.
I watched parts of Avatar last night. The special effects were great. But the story was a laugh. Really now – blue Indians who can defeat modern weapons with bows and arrows. They could not have done it without the animals. Since went has any animal but Lassie and Rin-Tin-Tin come to the aid of people. Sure, Trigger came when he was called. So did Silver. Arnold the pig was OK to have around, but what did he ever do to help his owners? He was just a big joke. I have nothing against pets. Have even had some. We can teach some a few tricks, but the whole forest coming together to help blue Indians? HA! They would have turned on one another just for a quick snack.
The worst thing Avatar has done for the movies were to raise the price. So many went to see Avatar that the big new trend will be 3-D movies for everything. So get ready. The price is about to take another big leap. Yuck. I’m going to have to go back to drawing cartoons on the edge of my school textbooks just so I can afford a moving picture.
Went to see my best friend yesterday. He gave me another pill to take and charged me for our time together. Lousy friend. I need a friend who is not a doctor.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
I LOVE MOVIES
I love movies, especially ones based on actual events or man against nature. I’m not limited to those alone. Give me action. Car chases, explosions, chases, fights – violence. Yes, I really am a very loving, sweet, tender and gentle guy. I could go on, but I digress. This “like” undoubtedly has some sort of deep psychological meaning. Like maybe, I’m one sick puppy. I can do without the ones marked “Adult,” or “Sexual Situations,” which I hope means I have some redeeming value.
I’ve seen two movies in the last two weeks. Iron Man 2 and Robin Hood. I was ticked at the ticket (ha ha) window when purchasing my ticket for Iron Man to discover my beloved senior citizens discount was raised from $5 to $6. It sure beats the evening price, which is all over $10 in my area. Even that is probably cheap compared to other places. I am sure $6 is still a good deal, but I’m still ticked. I’m also addicted to popcorn. I can no longer afford movie popcorn so I must eat before I go to the theater. Why, or why must I suffer like this?
I have a theater card that gives me some free items (hardly ever) and discounted items. I had to laugh at the great discount offered when I purchased my ticket for Robin Hood. Save 25¢ on a combo. What? They cost $12 and up. That’s not even tempting. If they want me hooked, raise the discount to 50%. No don’t. I don’t want to spend any more money than I already do.
I am not super-critical of my movies. I do not over analyze. If they hit me right, I like them, If they don’t I complain about them. I don’t even mind shedding a tear or two, sitting on the edge of my seat, or laughing at something terribly funny (preferably situational humor). I liked both movies. Robert Downey Jr. seemed born to play Iron Man. His attitude was perfect. The franchise will continue. Robin Hood was the first movie I saw that I could actually see the pitch to the money people. Robin Hood meets Gladiator meets Saving Private Ryan. When the French land on the shore of England the scene feels identical to the Normandy landing of Saving Private Ryan. I laughed out loud when the attack boat dropped the front and the soldiers could run to the shore. I was looking for Tom Hanks. Couldn’t find him. By the way, there will be a sequel.
Would love to see Prince of Persia when it opens, but my budget is two movies a month (or less). Will have to wait until Tuesday of the next week for senior’s day. I’m still ticked off about the price. I would boycott the theater if I weren’t addicted to movies.
I’ve seen two movies in the last two weeks. Iron Man 2 and Robin Hood. I was ticked at the ticket (ha ha) window when purchasing my ticket for Iron Man to discover my beloved senior citizens discount was raised from $5 to $6. It sure beats the evening price, which is all over $10 in my area. Even that is probably cheap compared to other places. I am sure $6 is still a good deal, but I’m still ticked. I’m also addicted to popcorn. I can no longer afford movie popcorn so I must eat before I go to the theater. Why, or why must I suffer like this?
I have a theater card that gives me some free items (hardly ever) and discounted items. I had to laugh at the great discount offered when I purchased my ticket for Robin Hood. Save 25¢ on a combo. What? They cost $12 and up. That’s not even tempting. If they want me hooked, raise the discount to 50%. No don’t. I don’t want to spend any more money than I already do.
I am not super-critical of my movies. I do not over analyze. If they hit me right, I like them, If they don’t I complain about them. I don’t even mind shedding a tear or two, sitting on the edge of my seat, or laughing at something terribly funny (preferably situational humor). I liked both movies. Robert Downey Jr. seemed born to play Iron Man. His attitude was perfect. The franchise will continue. Robin Hood was the first movie I saw that I could actually see the pitch to the money people. Robin Hood meets Gladiator meets Saving Private Ryan. When the French land on the shore of England the scene feels identical to the Normandy landing of Saving Private Ryan. I laughed out loud when the attack boat dropped the front and the soldiers could run to the shore. I was looking for Tom Hanks. Couldn’t find him. By the way, there will be a sequel.
Would love to see Prince of Persia when it opens, but my budget is two movies a month (or less). Will have to wait until Tuesday of the next week for senior’s day. I’m still ticked off about the price. I would boycott the theater if I weren’t addicted to movies.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
WHAT MAKES ME LAUGH
I love comedians because I love to laugh. The question we have at The Home is where did they all go. It all started with a question of who planned to watch the Last Comic Standing. As you might expect — no one! That led to a few blasts at contemporary so called comedians. All the ones we could remember took a beating. Admittedly we couldn’t remember that many. It was interesting that even the ones whose own language is a little salty had the same frustration. Too blue! When trying to think of a comic show, sketch or movie that didn’t have something suggestive or just plane vile. And the language! If you have been to the theater lately you already know what we are talking about.
As we were talking there are one-liners right after the other. Naturally we all thought we were funnier that those being paid to be funny. We have no illusions. Not one of could sustain five mf the stage alone. But we have a question for those who are: Don’t you have any family friendly material?
As conversations usually go, memories were pooled. All agreed that The Carol Burnett was out favorite and that Tim Conway made the show. He constantly tried to make Harvey Corman and Carol breakup. He made us all crack up. That was must see TV, and most everyone did. We know there were only three choices a night, but it was always talked about the next day. We each had a different favorite episode. I loved that Gone With Wind take off when Carol came down the stairs in a curtain with the rod in her shoulders. It became even funnier when I learned the costumer for her show was Bob Mackie (designer to the stars today)
As the list of outstanding comics developed there was Red Skelton, Victor Borge, Jack Benny and only Bob Hope came close to the suggestiveness of today. We could not forget Jackie Gleason. I guess knocking your wife to the moon has lost something over the years. But among the great were George Burns and Gracie Allen, Lucile Ball, Eve Arden, and countless others. There was sexuality in some of their material, but not obscene, not grotesque, not embarrassing.
Maybe it’s just the generations. Maybe tastes have just changed and we haven’t kept up. But maybe real humor has not changed. Have you ever attended a spontaneous comedy family friendly show such as Sportz Comedy? That laughter is nonstop. I have seen some pretty raunchy comedians and the audience is in an uproar, much like our generation and our hero’s. But for us, there are huge loses to all generations.
As for me, I’ll stick to puns, play-on-words, or just plain stupidly. I’m not smart enough for much more. But I want to laugh at something that does not embarrass me.
As we were talking there are one-liners right after the other. Naturally we all thought we were funnier that those being paid to be funny. We have no illusions. Not one of could sustain five mf the stage alone. But we have a question for those who are: Don’t you have any family friendly material?
As conversations usually go, memories were pooled. All agreed that The Carol Burnett was out favorite and that Tim Conway made the show. He constantly tried to make Harvey Corman and Carol breakup. He made us all crack up. That was must see TV, and most everyone did. We know there were only three choices a night, but it was always talked about the next day. We each had a different favorite episode. I loved that Gone With Wind take off when Carol came down the stairs in a curtain with the rod in her shoulders. It became even funnier when I learned the costumer for her show was Bob Mackie (designer to the stars today)
As the list of outstanding comics developed there was Red Skelton, Victor Borge, Jack Benny and only Bob Hope came close to the suggestiveness of today. We could not forget Jackie Gleason. I guess knocking your wife to the moon has lost something over the years. But among the great were George Burns and Gracie Allen, Lucile Ball, Eve Arden, and countless others. There was sexuality in some of their material, but not obscene, not grotesque, not embarrassing.
Maybe it’s just the generations. Maybe tastes have just changed and we haven’t kept up. But maybe real humor has not changed. Have you ever attended a spontaneous comedy family friendly show such as Sportz Comedy? That laughter is nonstop. I have seen some pretty raunchy comedians and the audience is in an uproar, much like our generation and our hero’s. But for us, there are huge loses to all generations.
As for me, I’ll stick to puns, play-on-words, or just plain stupidly. I’m not smart enough for much more. But I want to laugh at something that does not embarrass me.
Monday, May 17, 2010
LIFE LOOKS ROSIER AFTER 50
“Life looks a little rosier after 50, a new study finds. Older people in their mid- to late-50s are generally happier, and experience less stress and worry than young adults in their 20s, the researchers say.” Just read that on the Internet and we all know everything on the Internet is true. It’s strange, but I want to know where those people are that find life a little rosier. It is just a color or is it an experience. I admit my on life feels rosier now than it did in my 50’s. That was a period of loss. 20 years later I have accepted those things and moved on. Everyone here has suffered loss. They have all adjusted. We have adjusted to regularly meeting with doctors, our new best friends, and we hangout we always pick up the check. Some friend.
Actually there are many very contented residents. The hurt, crushed, angry and discouraged ones are just louder — way louder. It is not unusual to hear things like, “Don’t ever talk to me again.” “I hate you.” May you trip and fall down the stairs of life (kinda like that one). Most comments are not repeatable by me. These few do things to hurt others. They tell absolute lies to get others to hate the same enemies. Fortunately, most can’t seem to remember how hurtful they were the day before. Old-timer disease. Actually it beats asking forgiveness since they would never admit they did anything wrong. These people make my day.
It is interesting that so many simply accept the newly gained physical limitations and are thankful for what they have. One can walk up stairs, but not down – she laughs. Several push walkers as much for balance or for the seat that’s attached. That way they can always rest when they want. We laugh about organizing walker races. We could extend it to cane racing as well. Limping would be a well-attended event. We have a much smaller group in wheelchairs, but that would be our fastest race.
Many are powerful speed-readers. You would not believe that quantity of books people read in a week, or the number of puzzles that are done. Those could also be races. If we keep up this dreaming we may have enough events to start a non-athletic Senior Olympics. There’s also sun sitting (to old to sunbath), gardening, smoking (cough, cough), drinking (gin is popular), dusting, and then there is complaining, gossiping, yelling, criticizing. By Jove, I think we have it. A very competitive list of Senior Olympic events
Actually there are many very contented residents. The hurt, crushed, angry and discouraged ones are just louder — way louder. It is not unusual to hear things like, “Don’t ever talk to me again.” “I hate you.” May you trip and fall down the stairs of life (kinda like that one). Most comments are not repeatable by me. These few do things to hurt others. They tell absolute lies to get others to hate the same enemies. Fortunately, most can’t seem to remember how hurtful they were the day before. Old-timer disease. Actually it beats asking forgiveness since they would never admit they did anything wrong. These people make my day.
It is interesting that so many simply accept the newly gained physical limitations and are thankful for what they have. One can walk up stairs, but not down – she laughs. Several push walkers as much for balance or for the seat that’s attached. That way they can always rest when they want. We laugh about organizing walker races. We could extend it to cane racing as well. Limping would be a well-attended event. We have a much smaller group in wheelchairs, but that would be our fastest race.
Many are powerful speed-readers. You would not believe that quantity of books people read in a week, or the number of puzzles that are done. Those could also be races. If we keep up this dreaming we may have enough events to start a non-athletic Senior Olympics. There’s also sun sitting (to old to sunbath), gardening, smoking (cough, cough), drinking (gin is popular), dusting, and then there is complaining, gossiping, yelling, criticizing. By Jove, I think we have it. A very competitive list of Senior Olympic events
I DREAMED OF THAT
I went to a BBQ at my daughters Saturday afternoon. Hubby and the two girls were out of town for a soccer tournament. It was just her, my grandson, two neighbor kids and the boys she was sitting. What a perfect piece of property. Five acres of mostly forest. I was taken on a tour of forts. I envied my grandson. I would have loved to have a place like this at his age. Instead, I had a couple of city blocks with tolerant neighbors who never yelled at us for running through their yard. Except for Mrs. Withrow. She didn’t want anyone touching her cherry tree. That was sad, because her cherry’s tasted great.
He had one fort that was so well constructed with branches and moss that it is doubtful if it would get wet inside. It appeared more like a cave. Open face. It looked much like the cave that often appears on Hallmark cards at Christmas with a mother, father and child inside. There were a total of six forts. I would have been happy for one. Instead I had cardboard stapled to a 1x2 frame leaning against the back of the house. I was thankful. I was the only one who had a fort. It was very important then as we usually played cowboys and bad guys. My fort was frequently the jail. Thankfully not one ever tore the cardboard off to escape. Dad did put up a somewhat descent roof covered with tarpaper. It had quit an overhang and kept the rain off the fort most of the time. Come to think of it, I miss those days. I actually preferred to be a bad guy as you got to be shot and roll down hills, fall off walls or even low roofs. I loved that, but then my goal in life was to be a stunt man. Yea, I know. I can’t believe it either. Now I can hardly get up on a small wall outside the building door by my apartment without feeling like I will lose my balance, fall and break something. The wall is 14” high. What a wimp.
Conversation around coffee this morning was an attack on the architect who designed this place. The two building are quite different. Apartments are all the same in my building. There are several different floor plans in the other building. Don’t get us wrong. We all love this place. But like any home you have, there is always something you would like to change or wish you had. We want storage. The other building has almost done. Out building has more and could have even more if the door to the closet went to the ceiling. Then shelves could be all the way to the ceiling. As it is, we have the air, but very limited access. I’d like to cut a hold about the closet doors and put storage in.
The kitchens are poorly laid out. That really bothers the cooks around here. Me too. There is practically no counter top. Above counter cupboards are too high and not enough. There is 8’ linear about the counter with another six feet about the stove and fridge. You can’t make it without a step stool. The under counter space is 4 ½ feet. Only a bachelor who eats out could make it, that’s what I’m told. Enough. I’m happy. Everyone who ever moved into a retirement center has downsized and is basically happy for it. I did it before I got here. Have done it twice since being here and need to do it again. Emotional sentimental things! Never look at them but they mean something – to me. My daughter will burn them when I am gone. So why can’t I do that now. I don’t know. I might want to look at them sometime. I just won’t do it.
He had one fort that was so well constructed with branches and moss that it is doubtful if it would get wet inside. It appeared more like a cave. Open face. It looked much like the cave that often appears on Hallmark cards at Christmas with a mother, father and child inside. There were a total of six forts. I would have been happy for one. Instead I had cardboard stapled to a 1x2 frame leaning against the back of the house. I was thankful. I was the only one who had a fort. It was very important then as we usually played cowboys and bad guys. My fort was frequently the jail. Thankfully not one ever tore the cardboard off to escape. Dad did put up a somewhat descent roof covered with tarpaper. It had quit an overhang and kept the rain off the fort most of the time. Come to think of it, I miss those days. I actually preferred to be a bad guy as you got to be shot and roll down hills, fall off walls or even low roofs. I loved that, but then my goal in life was to be a stunt man. Yea, I know. I can’t believe it either. Now I can hardly get up on a small wall outside the building door by my apartment without feeling like I will lose my balance, fall and break something. The wall is 14” high. What a wimp.
Conversation around coffee this morning was an attack on the architect who designed this place. The two building are quite different. Apartments are all the same in my building. There are several different floor plans in the other building. Don’t get us wrong. We all love this place. But like any home you have, there is always something you would like to change or wish you had. We want storage. The other building has almost done. Out building has more and could have even more if the door to the closet went to the ceiling. Then shelves could be all the way to the ceiling. As it is, we have the air, but very limited access. I’d like to cut a hold about the closet doors and put storage in.
The kitchens are poorly laid out. That really bothers the cooks around here. Me too. There is practically no counter top. Above counter cupboards are too high and not enough. There is 8’ linear about the counter with another six feet about the stove and fridge. You can’t make it without a step stool. The under counter space is 4 ½ feet. Only a bachelor who eats out could make it, that’s what I’m told. Enough. I’m happy. Everyone who ever moved into a retirement center has downsized and is basically happy for it. I did it before I got here. Have done it twice since being here and need to do it again. Emotional sentimental things! Never look at them but they mean something – to me. My daughter will burn them when I am gone. So why can’t I do that now. I don’t know. I might want to look at them sometime. I just won’t do it.
Friday, May 14, 2010
HOUSEHOLD HINT #1
Hey, I just figured out a new household tip this week. If you have never tried this it may make doing dishes less stressful. This is only for those without dishwashers, which is almost nobody these days, but you may want to pass this on to your kids at college. Did you know washing dishes is far less stressful if you do them every day rather than waiting until you have no more clean ones left? It is also easier on the back. I probably knew this once upon a time, but being a long-term bachelor does dull your brain (on the bright side there are also no honey do lists). Some of you may have already known about this handy dandy helpful hint. You are wise indeed.
The missing table was near its proper place this morning. It has been moved to a side window, and it is not that badly placed. However, a table small round table and four chairs have been situated in such a way that it will be hard to play pool. Also shrimp (one of our really short ladies and still shrinking) removed the clock from the room. I had heard it was her who had done it so I expressed disappointment that it was gone. She commented that she was pleased someone missed her clock. She had taken it back because she was annoyed that the puzzle table had been moved. There is a lot of the putting things out for everyone to use and then taking it back if you get offended. Altogether now, sing: And the wheel goes round and round, round and round.
It’s a great day again today. I am getting very little done. Too nice to be inside. I can’t draw in the sun. My colored pencils are made of wax and they start to melt if you are out to long. I’m set up perfectly at a west window. Of course that means I can hardly see a thing from 4:00 until it drops behind the western hills. The light it perfect most of the day. I like that. A wonderful friend gave me a glass top drawing table. I can use it for a light table and lay it flat for a dining table. Haven’t laid it flat yet. I will when he comes to visit again. I know he would like to eat off a table not a TV tray. Really, why do I need a table? I would only pile things on it. I have my sofa for that.
I went to give a couple of people some photos I corrected and reprinted for them at about 4:00. There was a group playing dominos so I picked away at the puzzle for awhile. That is until the bickering got on my nerves. I simply went over, scolded them and sent them to their rooms with supper. OK, so I didn't do that. I sent my self to my own room. So glad I live alone.
The missing table was near its proper place this morning. It has been moved to a side window, and it is not that badly placed. However, a table small round table and four chairs have been situated in such a way that it will be hard to play pool. Also shrimp (one of our really short ladies and still shrinking) removed the clock from the room. I had heard it was her who had done it so I expressed disappointment that it was gone. She commented that she was pleased someone missed her clock. She had taken it back because she was annoyed that the puzzle table had been moved. There is a lot of the putting things out for everyone to use and then taking it back if you get offended. Altogether now, sing: And the wheel goes round and round, round and round.
It’s a great day again today. I am getting very little done. Too nice to be inside. I can’t draw in the sun. My colored pencils are made of wax and they start to melt if you are out to long. I’m set up perfectly at a west window. Of course that means I can hardly see a thing from 4:00 until it drops behind the western hills. The light it perfect most of the day. I like that. A wonderful friend gave me a glass top drawing table. I can use it for a light table and lay it flat for a dining table. Haven’t laid it flat yet. I will when he comes to visit again. I know he would like to eat off a table not a TV tray. Really, why do I need a table? I would only pile things on it. I have my sofa for that.
I went to give a couple of people some photos I corrected and reprinted for them at about 4:00. There was a group playing dominos so I picked away at the puzzle for awhile. That is until the bickering got on my nerves. I simply went over, scolded them and sent them to their rooms with supper. OK, so I didn't do that. I sent my self to my own room. So glad I live alone.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
ALL OVER A TABLE
Time to seriously get back to reality. I can’t miss a thing or everything goes to pot. I hate being the primary peacemaker, but the other levelheaded people will not say anything. They just walk away and hope for the best. It never rises to the top.
I stayed in my apartment drawing today. Big mistake. At 5:30 I went to see who was in our lounge. No one so I sat down to work the puzzle for a few minutes of distraction. Maria arrived with major distractions. How can so much pain be meted out in such a short time?
It began and ended with the puzzle table in the poolroom. It’s just a regular eight-foot folding table. They are found everywhere. This table has sat in front of large picture window since I have lived here. It was only moved at Christmas to place a Christmas tree in front of the window. That all changed this week! And the usual suspects are getting the blame. And also as usual, it is likely the usual suspect, but no one knows the truth.
As I understand, and I may not, it began with one woman who wanted the puzzle table moved as it blocked her view of the bay. Huh? The bottom of the window is table height. One cannot see out of the window below the ledge unless they have X-ray vision and then they could sit at any wall. And the last time I checked, puzzles lay flat on the table. No one is doing 3-D puzzles, thankfully. At any rate, she (whoever she is – and I can make as good a guess an any) moved the table so that it blocked the walkway past the pool table to the window side of the room. That’s the most used entrance to the area. She then placed a chair right next to the window. Do you think there was a reason that was done? Giving the benefit of the doubt is a waste of time. There are no doubt benefits here. It’s intentional. Why? To rile people up, of course! That seems to be the goal of two women in particular. It is done at least once a week ready or not.
I found out about it when Maria arrived at our lounge puzzle table. She could not believe people would do that just to irritate others. I almost choked. She would do that at the drop of a hat. No one holds a grudge longer or deeper. She would do it under the guise of making improvements. She believes it is her right. This is just another grudge move by the most annoying tenant from our building. She is getting challenged so often here she has moved to the other building. That caused fur to fly (yes old people have fur). Accusations, verbal attacks, threats. I’m thinking of filling a small pool with Jell-O and forcing four people to compete. It would draw the largest crowd we would ever have for a residents’ event.
Chas arrived a few minutes later with his own frustrations. No one has asked him but they are taking over the care of his flowerbeds. They are watering without his permission. Maria is one of those people. Since she was there when he brought it up, she is now offended when all she was doing was trying to help. Actually, she was trying to take over like she often does. He reported that one woman is trying to put the puzzle table in storage. Huh? It wasn’t hurting anyone. It did not block any view. It’s not the only window to the bay. Are we all going crazy?
Tomorrow morning I am going to put a sign on the table. “Get your hands off my table.” Unsigned of course. Can’t cause more trouble than the activities today. I’m glad I was a youth pastor. I have some training and experience with this behavior. What we really need is a King or Queen for this little fiefdom so someone can yell “off with their heads.”
I stayed in my apartment drawing today. Big mistake. At 5:30 I went to see who was in our lounge. No one so I sat down to work the puzzle for a few minutes of distraction. Maria arrived with major distractions. How can so much pain be meted out in such a short time?
It began and ended with the puzzle table in the poolroom. It’s just a regular eight-foot folding table. They are found everywhere. This table has sat in front of large picture window since I have lived here. It was only moved at Christmas to place a Christmas tree in front of the window. That all changed this week! And the usual suspects are getting the blame. And also as usual, it is likely the usual suspect, but no one knows the truth.
As I understand, and I may not, it began with one woman who wanted the puzzle table moved as it blocked her view of the bay. Huh? The bottom of the window is table height. One cannot see out of the window below the ledge unless they have X-ray vision and then they could sit at any wall. And the last time I checked, puzzles lay flat on the table. No one is doing 3-D puzzles, thankfully. At any rate, she (whoever she is – and I can make as good a guess an any) moved the table so that it blocked the walkway past the pool table to the window side of the room. That’s the most used entrance to the area. She then placed a chair right next to the window. Do you think there was a reason that was done? Giving the benefit of the doubt is a waste of time. There are no doubt benefits here. It’s intentional. Why? To rile people up, of course! That seems to be the goal of two women in particular. It is done at least once a week ready or not.
I found out about it when Maria arrived at our lounge puzzle table. She could not believe people would do that just to irritate others. I almost choked. She would do that at the drop of a hat. No one holds a grudge longer or deeper. She would do it under the guise of making improvements. She believes it is her right. This is just another grudge move by the most annoying tenant from our building. She is getting challenged so often here she has moved to the other building. That caused fur to fly (yes old people have fur). Accusations, verbal attacks, threats. I’m thinking of filling a small pool with Jell-O and forcing four people to compete. It would draw the largest crowd we would ever have for a residents’ event.
Chas arrived a few minutes later with his own frustrations. No one has asked him but they are taking over the care of his flowerbeds. They are watering without his permission. Maria is one of those people. Since she was there when he brought it up, she is now offended when all she was doing was trying to help. Actually, she was trying to take over like she often does. He reported that one woman is trying to put the puzzle table in storage. Huh? It wasn’t hurting anyone. It did not block any view. It’s not the only window to the bay. Are we all going crazy?
Tomorrow morning I am going to put a sign on the table. “Get your hands off my table.” Unsigned of course. Can’t cause more trouble than the activities today. I’m glad I was a youth pastor. I have some training and experience with this behavior. What we really need is a King or Queen for this little fiefdom so someone can yell “off with their heads.”
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
RETIREMENT?
This is a little more serious than what I usually write, but I wanted to respond to an article written by a friend. "A response to the article “Is retirement Healthy, Biblical or Smart?"
I would not disagree with the assumptions of the writer that
1. At retirement, we no longer have a full-time job.
2. When we retire, we will receive some kind of fixed income (pension, annuity, Social Security) to support us.
3. We will be able to do all the things we didn’t do before retiring because we were working too hard to make money — for retirement (among other things.
4. The money we spend in our retirement is our to do with as we please. As the motto on the back of the motor home says, “We are spending out kids’ inheritance.”
These goals are probably the dream of some and maybe many achieve that dream. But from another end of that dream there is heartbeat, disappointment, frustration and pain.
1. Retirement does mean we no longer have a full time job. We now have part-time jobs, volunteer positions, and friends or family we help or care for.
2. We do expect some sort of financial assistance. Everyone here receives Social Security. We invested 40-50 years with the promise that it was our money and it would care for our retirement. That was the lie my generation bought. Your generation knows better. It may be our money, but we have to argue, fight and claw for every penny and even then we are on keep on subsistence income for the USA. We need the help because we all have health issues. We complain and whine about are physical problems, but mostly we are making jokes. We bemoan the loss of skills, mobility and mental capacity. This is not the party we hoped for.
3. We are not doing all the things we dreamed. We are doing the same things we have always done — without pay. Some work at minimum wage jobs, but most cannot stand long enough to do that. So we care as we can for our neighbors and family, we help care for the public spaces where we live. We encourage do what for one another. We visit doctors with the promise of gaining a better life but instead are given (read sold) more pills we don’t want and cannot afford. The pills are a life support system that feels like extraneous measures not unlike tubes and machines that keep our heart, blood or lungs pumping. Some have cars, but most are walking to many places and taking the kind of time to get a meal together their parents and grandparents did. Without transportation, everything takes significantly longer. There is no free transportation in this area. The charge is a burden to many with major health concerns. They skip some appointments to their own determent. But one cannot do what they cannot afford. The donut hole many face at the end of the year means medication is stopped until a new calendar year. I have a van. I run a free transportation service for medical trips until I have used all the gas I have that month and must wait for the next pay period to fill up again. They would help, it they could.
We have all listened to what we should have done to prepare for a successful financial retirement. Great, if you had the job that let you. I did. I ran through plenty of money in my day. I took care of family, send my kids to college, helped them with cars and paid for a wedding. When that was done and the family could manage themselves, I did what my wife and I always did. I gave much away to care for the poor and help the needy (another Biblical concept). I never tracked what I gave away. The rule of thumb was don’t loan what you can’t afford to give away. I didn’t need it to live and so I gave it away. My situation is not painful or unpleasant. I am happy and continue to give away what I can. Most of us here work as hard as we have always worked. We just don’t get paid. We don’t take these marvelous trips. A day trip is a luxury. None I know were wasteful with what they had. They never had it in the first place.
4. We hoped we would have money to do with is as we desired. We are still spending our kids’ inheritance — on them and those more needy.
No one I know asks if it is healthy to do anything. The real question is do we have the health to continue what we are doing for one another. We don’t want to live to be 100. We just want health to continue to function. I may be the only one living here who ever worked behind a desk. These are primarily low paying labors unable to collect all the toys their own generation gathered. There are no useless lives here. There are used up lives sitting in their room because they can do little more. The others reach out. Their personal faith makes little difference. There are people that need help. It beats sitting around.
I am not denying there are those who sit around while others love the casino. Smart or not, the typical play is with $20 on nickel slots. The hope is this might improve their life and if not, they were out for a day of fun.
The article uses some Biblical saints as examples. Few of us are or will be like King David, Paul, John or Daniel. We are regular people doing our best and praying for the health to continue to be of value in this world. Let us contribute and serve. But Lord, when those days are over, let us leave. Today’s medicine makes that mush more difficult. Many have family members that will not let go. I know of know one who wants tubes and machines keeping them going. There was a day that when our useful life was over, we were over. There is a new medical reality. A world that prolongs our life, but not our usefulness seems to be in control. There is no here who wanted to retire. Consider those for whom there was no other choice.
I know and like the author. He is a great guy and a terrific pastor. His article is not wrong or offensive. It is simply addressed to a much wealthier retired group than I know and live with. To read his article check out at: http://natomaschurch.wordpress.com/2010/03/17/is-retirement-healthy-biblical-or-smart/
I would not disagree with the assumptions of the writer that
1. At retirement, we no longer have a full-time job.
2. When we retire, we will receive some kind of fixed income (pension, annuity, Social Security) to support us.
3. We will be able to do all the things we didn’t do before retiring because we were working too hard to make money — for retirement (among other things.
4. The money we spend in our retirement is our to do with as we please. As the motto on the back of the motor home says, “We are spending out kids’ inheritance.”
These goals are probably the dream of some and maybe many achieve that dream. But from another end of that dream there is heartbeat, disappointment, frustration and pain.
1. Retirement does mean we no longer have a full time job. We now have part-time jobs, volunteer positions, and friends or family we help or care for.
2. We do expect some sort of financial assistance. Everyone here receives Social Security. We invested 40-50 years with the promise that it was our money and it would care for our retirement. That was the lie my generation bought. Your generation knows better. It may be our money, but we have to argue, fight and claw for every penny and even then we are on keep on subsistence income for the USA. We need the help because we all have health issues. We complain and whine about are physical problems, but mostly we are making jokes. We bemoan the loss of skills, mobility and mental capacity. This is not the party we hoped for.
3. We are not doing all the things we dreamed. We are doing the same things we have always done — without pay. Some work at minimum wage jobs, but most cannot stand long enough to do that. So we care as we can for our neighbors and family, we help care for the public spaces where we live. We encourage do what for one another. We visit doctors with the promise of gaining a better life but instead are given (read sold) more pills we don’t want and cannot afford. The pills are a life support system that feels like extraneous measures not unlike tubes and machines that keep our heart, blood or lungs pumping. Some have cars, but most are walking to many places and taking the kind of time to get a meal together their parents and grandparents did. Without transportation, everything takes significantly longer. There is no free transportation in this area. The charge is a burden to many with major health concerns. They skip some appointments to their own determent. But one cannot do what they cannot afford. The donut hole many face at the end of the year means medication is stopped until a new calendar year. I have a van. I run a free transportation service for medical trips until I have used all the gas I have that month and must wait for the next pay period to fill up again. They would help, it they could.
We have all listened to what we should have done to prepare for a successful financial retirement. Great, if you had the job that let you. I did. I ran through plenty of money in my day. I took care of family, send my kids to college, helped them with cars and paid for a wedding. When that was done and the family could manage themselves, I did what my wife and I always did. I gave much away to care for the poor and help the needy (another Biblical concept). I never tracked what I gave away. The rule of thumb was don’t loan what you can’t afford to give away. I didn’t need it to live and so I gave it away. My situation is not painful or unpleasant. I am happy and continue to give away what I can. Most of us here work as hard as we have always worked. We just don’t get paid. We don’t take these marvelous trips. A day trip is a luxury. None I know were wasteful with what they had. They never had it in the first place.
4. We hoped we would have money to do with is as we desired. We are still spending our kids’ inheritance — on them and those more needy.
No one I know asks if it is healthy to do anything. The real question is do we have the health to continue what we are doing for one another. We don’t want to live to be 100. We just want health to continue to function. I may be the only one living here who ever worked behind a desk. These are primarily low paying labors unable to collect all the toys their own generation gathered. There are no useless lives here. There are used up lives sitting in their room because they can do little more. The others reach out. Their personal faith makes little difference. There are people that need help. It beats sitting around.
I am not denying there are those who sit around while others love the casino. Smart or not, the typical play is with $20 on nickel slots. The hope is this might improve their life and if not, they were out for a day of fun.
The article uses some Biblical saints as examples. Few of us are or will be like King David, Paul, John or Daniel. We are regular people doing our best and praying for the health to continue to be of value in this world. Let us contribute and serve. But Lord, when those days are over, let us leave. Today’s medicine makes that mush more difficult. Many have family members that will not let go. I know of know one who wants tubes and machines keeping them going. There was a day that when our useful life was over, we were over. There is a new medical reality. A world that prolongs our life, but not our usefulness seems to be in control. There is no here who wanted to retire. Consider those for whom there was no other choice.
I know and like the author. He is a great guy and a terrific pastor. His article is not wrong or offensive. It is simply addressed to a much wealthier retired group than I know and live with. To read his article check out at: http://natomaschurch.wordpress.com/2010/03/17/is-retirement-healthy-biblical-or-smart/
CHANGE
Change. It does not matter how you feel about it. It will come like it or not. Not all change is good change and seniors, probably more then most, decry the loss of what change has brought.
The be certain, no one misses cooking on a wood stove, having an ice box kept cold with real ice, or a wringer washing machine or scrub board. But some technological changes bring some lose. Take the phone. Not literally mind you. I’ll keep mine. No doubt a younger generation loves all the gizmos on the new phones, but most of my generation wants to know why you cannot buy a phone that just makes and receives calls. I just up upgraded to a more economical cell phone plan. Of course, I could not keep the phone I hand and finally understood with my old plan. I was sent a new one. The only alphabetical and numerical identification on the phone is the brand and the keys. AND THERE ARE NO DIRECTIONS FOR ANY OF THE OTHER FUNCTIONS I USE!!!! OK, I’m upset. There were instructions for texting, web browsing, and other features I don't care about. There is nothing to help me put names and numbers in the memory (which by the way is different than my previous phone). I still can’t find the volume control. Are they trying to make me feel stupid? There are certain new features about phones beat the old crank box party line where you had to go through Ethel (whom you knew personally) to reach another person. I’m glad there is no Ethel to pass along family news. I like the ability to save names and numbers. I like that the phone collects messages from calls I missed. I like knowing who is calling. And I really like that I can actually talk to people in other places. Why would I ever want to text when I can talk or leave a message? That’s just me.
I’m sure these other features are nice, but most seniors do not want to pay extra for these advances that we do not want. I cannot afford what they charge for texting. I cannot afford the web on my phone. Everything is extra. Since they can make these marvelously creative machines, why can’t they leave those things off and make a basic phone for the technologically illiterate? The hard part is the phone I just purchased specializes in phones for members of AARP. Help! We don’t want all the extras!
We had our day of keeping up with the Jones. Then you reach and age when you no longer even know the Jones, let alone keep up. We do not resent the toys of the day. We had ours. We just don’t want them any more.
Do you have any idea how much change most of us have already seen? Several of us grew up still using a horse and buggy for transportation or maybe a Model A. There were no free ways and if you planned a long trip you better know how to fix the car over those cross country dirt roads. Most people did. Many started on the farm. They know how to work hard. We did not begin our young adult life with all the toys; we earned them along the way, adjusted to them and appreciated them. We have had to adjust to more change then you can imagine right now. However, we know you will face even more change in your lifetime than we can imagine or ever faced. If our grand kids are shocked at what we didn’t have as a kid, wait till yours come along. Our lives will have looked easy in change adjustment to what yours will be. Brace yourself. You are about to spend an absolute fortune upgrading and getting the latest, newest and best of whatever great invention comes along.
If you do not now hate built in obsolescence, you will. If you do not hate a minor upgrade causing everything related to that item having to also be upgraded, you will. If you don’t hate younger generations being shocked that you don’t have, can’t work, have no interest in — you name it because you will come to point where you just say — let me be.
We have appreciated every advance we purchased along the way. But we are tired of learning all these new things and even more tired of paying for them all. However, I do like my microwave.
The be certain, no one misses cooking on a wood stove, having an ice box kept cold with real ice, or a wringer washing machine or scrub board. But some technological changes bring some lose. Take the phone. Not literally mind you. I’ll keep mine. No doubt a younger generation loves all the gizmos on the new phones, but most of my generation wants to know why you cannot buy a phone that just makes and receives calls. I just up upgraded to a more economical cell phone plan. Of course, I could not keep the phone I hand and finally understood with my old plan. I was sent a new one. The only alphabetical and numerical identification on the phone is the brand and the keys. AND THERE ARE NO DIRECTIONS FOR ANY OF THE OTHER FUNCTIONS I USE!!!! OK, I’m upset. There were instructions for texting, web browsing, and other features I don't care about. There is nothing to help me put names and numbers in the memory (which by the way is different than my previous phone). I still can’t find the volume control. Are they trying to make me feel stupid? There are certain new features about phones beat the old crank box party line where you had to go through Ethel (whom you knew personally) to reach another person. I’m glad there is no Ethel to pass along family news. I like the ability to save names and numbers. I like that the phone collects messages from calls I missed. I like knowing who is calling. And I really like that I can actually talk to people in other places. Why would I ever want to text when I can talk or leave a message? That’s just me.
I’m sure these other features are nice, but most seniors do not want to pay extra for these advances that we do not want. I cannot afford what they charge for texting. I cannot afford the web on my phone. Everything is extra. Since they can make these marvelously creative machines, why can’t they leave those things off and make a basic phone for the technologically illiterate? The hard part is the phone I just purchased specializes in phones for members of AARP. Help! We don’t want all the extras!
We had our day of keeping up with the Jones. Then you reach and age when you no longer even know the Jones, let alone keep up. We do not resent the toys of the day. We had ours. We just don’t want them any more.
Do you have any idea how much change most of us have already seen? Several of us grew up still using a horse and buggy for transportation or maybe a Model A. There were no free ways and if you planned a long trip you better know how to fix the car over those cross country dirt roads. Most people did. Many started on the farm. They know how to work hard. We did not begin our young adult life with all the toys; we earned them along the way, adjusted to them and appreciated them. We have had to adjust to more change then you can imagine right now. However, we know you will face even more change in your lifetime than we can imagine or ever faced. If our grand kids are shocked at what we didn’t have as a kid, wait till yours come along. Our lives will have looked easy in change adjustment to what yours will be. Brace yourself. You are about to spend an absolute fortune upgrading and getting the latest, newest and best of whatever great invention comes along.
If you do not now hate built in obsolescence, you will. If you do not hate a minor upgrade causing everything related to that item having to also be upgraded, you will. If you don’t hate younger generations being shocked that you don’t have, can’t work, have no interest in — you name it because you will come to point where you just say — let me be.
We have appreciated every advance we purchased along the way. But we are tired of learning all these new things and even more tired of paying for them all. However, I do like my microwave.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
THE DOCTOR IS IN
You know you're getting old when the longest list of phone numbers and the people you see most often are all doctors. It is definitely a pill world we live in. Each new visit to any doctor means you will now have two additional pills you must take daily. The seniors competition is about who takes the most pills. Having the most is not necessarily the winner. Spoke with two women this morning who each have four medical appointments this week. I plan to pass on that phase of aging — I pray.
Monday, May 10, 2010
IS IT RECESS YET?
Two residents took over the poolroom this weekend, folding up the puzzle table and moving it to a storage room. They then used one of the heavy-duty card tables to place a TV and DVD player they brought from who knows where. They wanted to watch movies. They also moved two of the comfortable lounge chairs from the sitting room into their newly decorated TV room so they could watch movies over the weekend in comfort. They might have gotten away with it as a weekend project had they returned everything to it original place. No! They wanted it to become a permanent TV room.
OK, not bad except that the commons room which is right next door and open to the pool room already has a larger TV, VCR and DVD player. The chairs are quite comfortable and they could have moved the larger cushy sitting room chairs to that area. Would have been a lot less work! No one believes it was just for their personal convenience. The consensus is that it was done to stir the waters. And stir the waters it did.
People were hot and bothered this morning by their arrogance, audacity, and brazen behavior. What right did they have to rearrange the public area? Who do they think they are? Now stop for a moment. Yes, they did not have the right to do what they did. But whom did it hurt? No one! That’s right, not one person was hurt or mangled in the making of this redecorated room. It met all PETA requirements. But the decorating duo won. They were told to clean it up immediately, which they did willingly. It didn’t matter because they had already accomplished what they wanted. They upset several people, made their actions the focus of today’s discussions and they got to watch their movies the way they wanted. There are often easier ways to do what we want, but if you can do what you want and stick a knife into a few people’s backs, it seems to be more fun. I think they should just be sent to the principal’s office and get a week's worth of detentions. That would be a win-win for everyone.
There was a complex wide meeting at 1:00 today. When Rita took over running the meetings about three months ago she stopped the discussion of the many problems at The Home. They only turned into arguments and even great problems. People hated it, but the good side was that arguments stopped. The bickering went down. But a couple people shouted out their concerns today and the arguments began. Someone is putting a rock at the back door. This isn’t a very secure building if someone is doing that. “IF,” you just said they were. Did they or might they. Others added their comments and expressed their disgust. How horrible. Call the police. Let’s get the National Guard. Where is the President on this issue? What about FEMA? Should they be called? The offender goes out that door to smoke and sits on a chair within view the door. He doesn’t want to have to unlock the door again. It’s a guy thing. Reduce work when ever possible.
Rita cut off discussion about the poolroom being turned into a TV lounge. It was all cleaned up with no trace of evidence left. Thank goodness. 90% knew nothing about that. Problem solved. But we must talk about the possibility that something like that might happen again and warn people about how bad that is? Help. We’re in danger from silly acts. Our way of life will suffer. Our rights and freedoms are impinged on. We must stop this now. Hire a 24-hour watchman to patrol the place for our safety and protection. We are not adults. We cannot take care of ourselves. We cannot take a joke. We can’t overlook anything. We fall into every trap to get our goat and it is then got for a long time. Is it recess time yet? Can we go out and play? Do I have to play with Joey? He spits! We really do need a principles office.
OK, not bad except that the commons room which is right next door and open to the pool room already has a larger TV, VCR and DVD player. The chairs are quite comfortable and they could have moved the larger cushy sitting room chairs to that area. Would have been a lot less work! No one believes it was just for their personal convenience. The consensus is that it was done to stir the waters. And stir the waters it did.
People were hot and bothered this morning by their arrogance, audacity, and brazen behavior. What right did they have to rearrange the public area? Who do they think they are? Now stop for a moment. Yes, they did not have the right to do what they did. But whom did it hurt? No one! That’s right, not one person was hurt or mangled in the making of this redecorated room. It met all PETA requirements. But the decorating duo won. They were told to clean it up immediately, which they did willingly. It didn’t matter because they had already accomplished what they wanted. They upset several people, made their actions the focus of today’s discussions and they got to watch their movies the way they wanted. There are often easier ways to do what we want, but if you can do what you want and stick a knife into a few people’s backs, it seems to be more fun. I think they should just be sent to the principal’s office and get a week's worth of detentions. That would be a win-win for everyone.
There was a complex wide meeting at 1:00 today. When Rita took over running the meetings about three months ago she stopped the discussion of the many problems at The Home. They only turned into arguments and even great problems. People hated it, but the good side was that arguments stopped. The bickering went down. But a couple people shouted out their concerns today and the arguments began. Someone is putting a rock at the back door. This isn’t a very secure building if someone is doing that. “IF,” you just said they were. Did they or might they. Others added their comments and expressed their disgust. How horrible. Call the police. Let’s get the National Guard. Where is the President on this issue? What about FEMA? Should they be called? The offender goes out that door to smoke and sits on a chair within view the door. He doesn’t want to have to unlock the door again. It’s a guy thing. Reduce work when ever possible.
Rita cut off discussion about the poolroom being turned into a TV lounge. It was all cleaned up with no trace of evidence left. Thank goodness. 90% knew nothing about that. Problem solved. But we must talk about the possibility that something like that might happen again and warn people about how bad that is? Help. We’re in danger from silly acts. Our way of life will suffer. Our rights and freedoms are impinged on. We must stop this now. Hire a 24-hour watchman to patrol the place for our safety and protection. We are not adults. We cannot take care of ourselves. We cannot take a joke. We can’t overlook anything. We fall into every trap to get our goat and it is then got for a long time. Is it recess time yet? Can we go out and play? Do I have to play with Joey? He spits! We really do need a principles office.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
HAPPY MOTHERS DAY
I figured it out. It's not puzzle elbow, it's TV channel changer elbow. It comes from changing the channel so often — I think. I was trying to find a movie this afternoon and could feel the pressure in my arm as I went from channel to channel. I had no idea watching TV could be such a physical strain. I know it leads to bubble belly. I also leads to wobbly legs, sore feet and a dozen or so other things caused by a lack of physical activity. That's why I gave up and had a nap. No good movies anyway.
Beautiful day. The sun was out and the small park down the street was loaded with families. Some boats were in the bay. It felt great to get out. I know it's mothers day, but that must mean that just have more to do. I watched a family arrive for a picnic. Apparently a single parent family, or maybe a military family with the dad deployed. Mom was herding a brood of four. The oldest looked to be 13-14 and they stair stepped down from there with the youngest being about 8. I would have expected the youngest would head directly for the playground, but they all did. Mom never called for them to come and help, instead she made a couple of trips to the selected table to bring all their things together and get set up. It wasn't long until the kids began to gravitate back to mom as they kids were thirsty and hungry. They started digging through the boxes to try to find something. Clearly they looked up in disgust. They shrugged their shoulders and seemed to argue and whine a bit, but eventually drug themselves back to the car and slowly began bringing handfuls of picnic items to the table. They made several trips each and finally seemed to have all they needed. I begin to laugh. Mom had brought a table cloth and clips to hold the cloth down, two empty boxes, a lawn chair and a book. She set up the chair in the sun and began reading her book. She had left all the contents in the car. There was no yelling at them, no no correcting, no screaming or finer shaking at the kids for heading to play and leaving everything for her to do. She was not going to wait on them hand and foot. It was her day and they were going to wait on her. The oldest made her a sandwich and brought her a cold drink from the cooler he carried in. She thanked them, gave each a kiss on the cheek and stayed in her chair. They ate and left the park about an hour later happy and content. She had a happy mothers day. It was hard for me to read my own book.
The Home is filled with mothers. All are here because it is home or moved here because children live here. It was a quiet day. I was up early this morning and had some coffee in the upstairs lounge over looking the entrance. It was nice to see a line up of cars picking mom's up and heading out for the day. In time Maria showed up. We worked the puzzle for awhile, picked up our books and walked to the park. My kids were likely with the mother-in-law. Carmen did not need to be alone. Chas joined us later when he powered down in his wheelchair. Happy Mother's Day.
Beautiful day. The sun was out and the small park down the street was loaded with families. Some boats were in the bay. It felt great to get out. I know it's mothers day, but that must mean that just have more to do. I watched a family arrive for a picnic. Apparently a single parent family, or maybe a military family with the dad deployed. Mom was herding a brood of four. The oldest looked to be 13-14 and they stair stepped down from there with the youngest being about 8. I would have expected the youngest would head directly for the playground, but they all did. Mom never called for them to come and help, instead she made a couple of trips to the selected table to bring all their things together and get set up. It wasn't long until the kids began to gravitate back to mom as they kids were thirsty and hungry. They started digging through the boxes to try to find something. Clearly they looked up in disgust. They shrugged their shoulders and seemed to argue and whine a bit, but eventually drug themselves back to the car and slowly began bringing handfuls of picnic items to the table. They made several trips each and finally seemed to have all they needed. I begin to laugh. Mom had brought a table cloth and clips to hold the cloth down, two empty boxes, a lawn chair and a book. She set up the chair in the sun and began reading her book. She had left all the contents in the car. There was no yelling at them, no no correcting, no screaming or finer shaking at the kids for heading to play and leaving everything for her to do. She was not going to wait on them hand and foot. It was her day and they were going to wait on her. The oldest made her a sandwich and brought her a cold drink from the cooler he carried in. She thanked them, gave each a kiss on the cheek and stayed in her chair. They ate and left the park about an hour later happy and content. She had a happy mothers day. It was hard for me to read my own book.
The Home is filled with mothers. All are here because it is home or moved here because children live here. It was a quiet day. I was up early this morning and had some coffee in the upstairs lounge over looking the entrance. It was nice to see a line up of cars picking mom's up and heading out for the day. In time Maria showed up. We worked the puzzle for awhile, picked up our books and walked to the park. My kids were likely with the mother-in-law. Carmen did not need to be alone. Chas joined us later when he powered down in his wheelchair. Happy Mother's Day.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
HEALTHY DAY
It's rare when I eat right. I actually had pulled that off for two months until I hit all the April birthdays. Cake and cheesecake did me in. You don't know how good they were. No for me and my health, but for my mouth. Yum! I could have done it again today, but turned down an over of a slice of ice cream cake. I bought it for my daughter for mothers day. Before she took it home she wanted to cut me a piece and I insisted she not do that. Instead I went looking for sweets after she left. You know one does not gain weight when they eat in secret. Joke. Don't panic. I just playing with you/
Instead I have scrambled egg whites with some onion, light cheese and two ounces of Italian sausage. N o toast. Love that meal. Plan to put it in my recipe book, if I ever write one. Haven't made that meal in a long time. Ate it as a brunch about 10:30 Then about 3:00 I had a salad with a very light balsamic dressing and fake crab. Can't beat the fake crab. I've had a fondness for fake crab every since I met the scientist in Kodiak, Alaska who was part of the team that created it. They were charged to come up with mew ways to use white fish. Fake crab was their first creation. I understand there are a couple of others now, but with my memory I can't remember them. Had a light snack about 6:00. Great food day.
Just after I ate brunch a neighbor came knocking at my door. I'm bored, she said. What am I suppose to do about that? Can you come out and play? Well, I have laundry to do so I can work on the puzzle while my clothes are washing. OK. I had other plans, but maybe I am my sisters keeper? We barely talked at the table, but she was happy. It makes me happy that she was happy. She came with me to Dairy Queen to pick up the ice cream cake I got for my daughter. She had never been in Dairy Queen. What? I couldn't believe it. Hasn't everyone been in a Dairy Queen at least once in their life. She's been in every eating establishment I ever mention. She will argue with anyone about any menu and its quality and taste. She knows everything. I was so proud I knew of a place she didn't yeah for me!
Instead I have scrambled egg whites with some onion, light cheese and two ounces of Italian sausage. N o toast. Love that meal. Plan to put it in my recipe book, if I ever write one. Haven't made that meal in a long time. Ate it as a brunch about 10:30 Then about 3:00 I had a salad with a very light balsamic dressing and fake crab. Can't beat the fake crab. I've had a fondness for fake crab every since I met the scientist in Kodiak, Alaska who was part of the team that created it. They were charged to come up with mew ways to use white fish. Fake crab was their first creation. I understand there are a couple of others now, but with my memory I can't remember them. Had a light snack about 6:00. Great food day.
Just after I ate brunch a neighbor came knocking at my door. I'm bored, she said. What am I suppose to do about that? Can you come out and play? Well, I have laundry to do so I can work on the puzzle while my clothes are washing. OK. I had other plans, but maybe I am my sisters keeper? We barely talked at the table, but she was happy. It makes me happy that she was happy. She came with me to Dairy Queen to pick up the ice cream cake I got for my daughter. She had never been in Dairy Queen. What? I couldn't believe it. Hasn't everyone been in a Dairy Queen at least once in their life. She's been in every eating establishment I ever mention. She will argue with anyone about any menu and its quality and taste. She knows everything. I was so proud I knew of a place she didn't yeah for me!
Friday, May 7, 2010
SURPRISE
I really am not surprised easily. I'm usually quite aware of my environment or an event that might be celebrated. Just seem to read the tale tell marks of a surprise coming. That's why getting caught twice in one day bowled me over.
Chas had been grocery shopping. When he returned and knocked on my door and said he needed help. Chas is in a motorized wheel chair and does need help from time to time. I am only two doors away and can quickly respond. He had asked for my help once today to set up one of his outside plants that has fallen over. A second request was not that unusual. When I returned from getting paper goods at Target (Maria swears they are the cheapest there). Haven't done any comparison pricing so don't have a clue. I'll tell you this, it is closer than WalMart.
I rarely answer the door. I just scream "come on in" or "are you coming in or not." That's my favorite. My upstairs neighbors always says I haven't been invited and I respond that never stopped you before. Not true she never comes in without being invited.
But I digress as usual. When Chas pushed open the door and said he needed help I jumped up to see what I could do. He wanted something removed from is shopping bag which was hanging on the back of his chair. I assumed he could not get turned around enough to reach it. See that ice cream in there? Yes. Can you get it out for me. So I dig through his bag and find the Banana Split ice cream and while I am holding it he drove off without saying a word. You forgot your ice cream. No I didn't. I'm addicted to ice cream and will try most flavors. I'm not interest is spinach flavored chocolate. It has no appeal.
I get a call around 6:00 and can see it is from my upstairs neighbor. Seeing her name I began speaking in some trumped up make believe Asian language. I don't really know any. I keep going and she is trying to talk over me. It's not her. What? I start to listen and it's the lady whose parking space I often steal during the day. Ir's midnight — do you know where you car is? Yes, in the garage. But where in the garage? Memory is jogged and I gasp. In you parking space. I am so sorry. I had plans to move it but never did. It's OK. I parked outside and am leaving first thing in the morning. Just leave it. I didn't want to but I finally did. The upstairs neighbor took her phone back and said, I just wanted to harass you. You did and made me feel very guilty. I would like to promise I will never do that again, but I probably will. Her spot is so close to the door. Now If I can just get my heart back to a regular beat.
Chas had been grocery shopping. When he returned and knocked on my door and said he needed help. Chas is in a motorized wheel chair and does need help from time to time. I am only two doors away and can quickly respond. He had asked for my help once today to set up one of his outside plants that has fallen over. A second request was not that unusual. When I returned from getting paper goods at Target (Maria swears they are the cheapest there). Haven't done any comparison pricing so don't have a clue. I'll tell you this, it is closer than WalMart.
I rarely answer the door. I just scream "come on in" or "are you coming in or not." That's my favorite. My upstairs neighbors always says I haven't been invited and I respond that never stopped you before. Not true she never comes in without being invited.
But I digress as usual. When Chas pushed open the door and said he needed help I jumped up to see what I could do. He wanted something removed from is shopping bag which was hanging on the back of his chair. I assumed he could not get turned around enough to reach it. See that ice cream in there? Yes. Can you get it out for me. So I dig through his bag and find the Banana Split ice cream and while I am holding it he drove off without saying a word. You forgot your ice cream. No I didn't. I'm addicted to ice cream and will try most flavors. I'm not interest is spinach flavored chocolate. It has no appeal.
I get a call around 6:00 and can see it is from my upstairs neighbor. Seeing her name I began speaking in some trumped up make believe Asian language. I don't really know any. I keep going and she is trying to talk over me. It's not her. What? I start to listen and it's the lady whose parking space I often steal during the day. Ir's midnight — do you know where you car is? Yes, in the garage. But where in the garage? Memory is jogged and I gasp. In you parking space. I am so sorry. I had plans to move it but never did. It's OK. I parked outside and am leaving first thing in the morning. Just leave it. I didn't want to but I finally did. The upstairs neighbor took her phone back and said, I just wanted to harass you. You did and made me feel very guilty. I would like to promise I will never do that again, but I probably will. Her spot is so close to the door. Now If I can just get my heart back to a regular beat.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
PUZZLE ELBOW
I think I have puzzle elbow. It can't be a tennis elbow, I haven't played tennis in years. It might be arm chair elbow for sitting and watching TV, but I never heard of that before. One friend said it could be puzzle elbow. We tend to lean on the table with one arm while finding pieces with with the other. Made me think. How to I sit or stand when working on a puzzle? Don't really remember and didn't work on the puzzle today so haven't checked it out. I probably just got it twisted while sleeping. That won't stop me from calling it puzzle elbow.
Oh the drama. There is always drama. There has been a lot of talk about the fellow who moved in at the beginning of April. He definitely is developmentally hampered. I young woman came to see him last night. Clem met her at the door and they went up to his room. She came back down fifteen minutes later crying. Clem had hit her. Where? Right across the face. The people in the commons room called the manager who came down to talk to the woman. That conversation is very confidential, but the rumor mills are working over time trying to guess what was said and why the police came, what they did, who did they talk to and was anyone taken away. It's a secret. No one knows. That makes the discussion really outrageous. Clem beat a girl to a pulp. No kidding! How bad was it? She was badly hurt. Black and blue all over. No she wasn't. He broke her arm. How'd he do that? I heard he slammed it in the door. Did you hear the noise at your apartment? No, I must have been sleeping. What time did it happen? Two a.m. I thought it was closer to midnight. No, it was late. What was she wearing. It looked like a nice blouse, but it was nearly torn off her body and she had some blood dripping from her nose. She came in with a coat, but left without one. That's terrible. That's horrible. I can't believe they let people like that in here? The place is going to hell in a hand basket. Makes me wonder how that trip is made.
Whew! The imagination is better than what really happened, I suppose. Her face was slapped. No clothes were torn, the was no blood and no marks. The police did come, but no one really knows why. That has not stopped two from calling the office today and demanding his removal because he is dangerous and they are now fearful for their lives. He may be dangerous. I don't know, but no one wants to wait until the true is known to make a decision. They want him gone. He did not have the right to slap her. I guess they had been in the same housing before. She has the same issues Clem has.
If anything of a somewhat serious nature happens here, the guesses go so far beyond the true that it gets very hard to sort it all out. Even harder to believe anything being said. They should just ask me. I always know what actually happened. I wasn't there, but I can figure it out. I think there was a shooting. No one heard a gun, but a silencer was used. They haven't found the body yet, but if they were to look in the blackberry forrest in the lot next to us they will find the body was dumped out the window and it still there. I'm afraid to look. I do not want to see a dead body. I hate violence. I think they hauled Clem off and have charged him with murder. The investigation is ongoing — I think! I hope they don't ask me any questions. I might have to say I don;t know anything. If I did that I will be left out of the conversation.
Oh the drama. There is always drama. There has been a lot of talk about the fellow who moved in at the beginning of April. He definitely is developmentally hampered. I young woman came to see him last night. Clem met her at the door and they went up to his room. She came back down fifteen minutes later crying. Clem had hit her. Where? Right across the face. The people in the commons room called the manager who came down to talk to the woman. That conversation is very confidential, but the rumor mills are working over time trying to guess what was said and why the police came, what they did, who did they talk to and was anyone taken away. It's a secret. No one knows. That makes the discussion really outrageous. Clem beat a girl to a pulp. No kidding! How bad was it? She was badly hurt. Black and blue all over. No she wasn't. He broke her arm. How'd he do that? I heard he slammed it in the door. Did you hear the noise at your apartment? No, I must have been sleeping. What time did it happen? Two a.m. I thought it was closer to midnight. No, it was late. What was she wearing. It looked like a nice blouse, but it was nearly torn off her body and she had some blood dripping from her nose. She came in with a coat, but left without one. That's terrible. That's horrible. I can't believe they let people like that in here? The place is going to hell in a hand basket. Makes me wonder how that trip is made.
Whew! The imagination is better than what really happened, I suppose. Her face was slapped. No clothes were torn, the was no blood and no marks. The police did come, but no one really knows why. That has not stopped two from calling the office today and demanding his removal because he is dangerous and they are now fearful for their lives. He may be dangerous. I don't know, but no one wants to wait until the true is known to make a decision. They want him gone. He did not have the right to slap her. I guess they had been in the same housing before. She has the same issues Clem has.
If anything of a somewhat serious nature happens here, the guesses go so far beyond the true that it gets very hard to sort it all out. Even harder to believe anything being said. They should just ask me. I always know what actually happened. I wasn't there, but I can figure it out. I think there was a shooting. No one heard a gun, but a silencer was used. They haven't found the body yet, but if they were to look in the blackberry forrest in the lot next to us they will find the body was dumped out the window and it still there. I'm afraid to look. I do not want to see a dead body. I hate violence. I think they hauled Clem off and have charged him with murder. The investigation is ongoing — I think! I hope they don't ask me any questions. I might have to say I don;t know anything. If I did that I will be left out of the conversation.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
IS THIS JUNIOR HIGH
it's still early in the day and a lot more can happen, but already my blog is full. Let's begin at bread wars. No issues with the other shoppers, it was all an inside job. First, Maria tries to get in the door before me and successfully slows me down giving our competitors a better change at pulling what they want first. This is normal. This time she decided to pull bread for a while before she packed the bread in boxes. She does not trust Gail and I to get the kind of bread she wants. By the time she began packing she is several trays behind and upset that we were piling so much bread that she could hardly move. That's the idea. If she had moved to packing immediately, we would not have been that far in front. Then she began complaining about what free bread we got. Does she not understand the word FREE. With the word comes the implied message that you will get what excess they have, not what we want. She really does know this better than most. I suggested placing an order for what we want them to have extra. It may help. I'm not sure why that raised her temper. Duh!
To many hands available on arrival. A mini war broke out in the commons room between Maria and her predecessor. Agnes knew how to upload and stack the bread and got into a full out argument over how it should be done. A newer lady took Maria's side and esculated the conflict. I thought it was going to break into a fist fight. On the inside I was cheering for one, but kept my enthusiasm to myself. Very wise young man. A change for me, right?
While we were having coffee an age discussion began. Apparently one of the new men is at the minimum age for entry. So, he qualifies. Not good enough. He looks like he could be on the upped end of the scale. But he isn't. That seemed to be a big deal. Go figure. If you are sixteen you can drive. You may not look ready to drive, but the law says you can. The laws says he can live here. Should be the end of the discussion. It's not.
I made more errors on last months newsletter — again. In my trivia questions I had all the answers but missed one question. So shoot me. The calendar looks nice. Man is suppose to look on the outward appearance, What's this about checking for my errors. I am a very imperfect person even if I am cute. I asked my grand son one time what he really liked about himself. He said, I'm cute. How do you know that? Everyone tells me. He is cute and the girls already flock over him. He will be nine in a couple of months and basically unaware of the attention he is getting. That will change.
We have a lounge on the first floor. It has become a growing place of petty contention. One resident has considered this lounge an extension of her apartment. Unfortunately the area includes bulletin boards, sign up sheets and the mail boxes. The assumed owner has been gradually removing all decorations she does not like (basically all of them). Yesterday she removed the final two ornaments. An other person put a bottle of "Pediasure" on the table by the mail boxes. Things people want to give away are placed there for up to a week. Two others decided that since there was nothing on any of the stands or small tables that this item should be placed as an ornament. That was last night. This morning the the give-away was moved to the main building. So three residents have decided they will decorate the first floor lounge and have left for Goodwill to purchase many more items with which to decorate the lounge.
Hold on. The war is just beginning. I must get a small little camera to hide in the lounge so I can tape the conflict. It is going to be fun. Wish I could sell seats to the showdown.
To many hands available on arrival. A mini war broke out in the commons room between Maria and her predecessor. Agnes knew how to upload and stack the bread and got into a full out argument over how it should be done. A newer lady took Maria's side and esculated the conflict. I thought it was going to break into a fist fight. On the inside I was cheering for one, but kept my enthusiasm to myself. Very wise young man. A change for me, right?
While we were having coffee an age discussion began. Apparently one of the new men is at the minimum age for entry. So, he qualifies. Not good enough. He looks like he could be on the upped end of the scale. But he isn't. That seemed to be a big deal. Go figure. If you are sixteen you can drive. You may not look ready to drive, but the law says you can. The laws says he can live here. Should be the end of the discussion. It's not.
I made more errors on last months newsletter — again. In my trivia questions I had all the answers but missed one question. So shoot me. The calendar looks nice. Man is suppose to look on the outward appearance, What's this about checking for my errors. I am a very imperfect person even if I am cute. I asked my grand son one time what he really liked about himself. He said, I'm cute. How do you know that? Everyone tells me. He is cute and the girls already flock over him. He will be nine in a couple of months and basically unaware of the attention he is getting. That will change.
We have a lounge on the first floor. It has become a growing place of petty contention. One resident has considered this lounge an extension of her apartment. Unfortunately the area includes bulletin boards, sign up sheets and the mail boxes. The assumed owner has been gradually removing all decorations she does not like (basically all of them). Yesterday she removed the final two ornaments. An other person put a bottle of "Pediasure" on the table by the mail boxes. Things people want to give away are placed there for up to a week. Two others decided that since there was nothing on any of the stands or small tables that this item should be placed as an ornament. That was last night. This morning the the give-away was moved to the main building. So three residents have decided they will decorate the first floor lounge and have left for Goodwill to purchase many more items with which to decorate the lounge.
Hold on. The war is just beginning. I must get a small little camera to hide in the lounge so I can tape the conflict. It is going to be fun. Wish I could sell seats to the showdown.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
PUZZLING
It seems to have all happened at once. Puzzle problems in all the puzzle locations.
The main puzzle table is in the commons room. Everything was going well on a complicated puzzle with a perfectly white border on all sides. The rest of the puzzle (flowers in a vase on a cluttered table with a very busy drape in the background) was going slow, but going. One annoyed puzzler was sick and tired of the puzzle so tore it up and put it away to the dismay of those still working in it. I guess it never occurred to her that she could leave it alone or go to another room. No, she chose to antagonize many and cause trouble. That's Trouble with a capitol "T" and that rhymes with "me" and that... I have no idea where to go from there. I'll stop. The area conversation is very heated.
Meanwhile on the second floor of the main building they are working on a 2000 piece puzzle, but the table is too small. They have decided to split the puzzle and work on it on two tables. Since all our tables have round edges, I will be very difficult to ever put it together. Just imagine running with one piece between the tables. Confusing! But it has keep the number of workers to a minimum.
Now to our puzzle of three quilts hanging on a line in front of flowers, a cabin in the woods and snow capped mountains. A challenge but not impossible. I worked on the puzzle for about 20 minutes this morning alone. When one partner returned from the doctors she was very disappointed that I was working on one of the quilts (I like the easiest patterns first). It didn't matter to me so I broke up the quilt so she could do it. Wrong choice. She was even more angry. Women! Only God understands. It appeared to be resolved when I put it back together. I returned for about an hour late afternoon and finished the third quilt. No one had laid out the pieces so I dug around to find them and did it. When the same lady returned again she was angry that i had worked on "her section." You didn't leave a note. It wasn't set apart. How was I to know. You know I don't see very well and would want to do the quilts. (Sure I would, I can read minds). Sorry, I did not know you wanted to do that part. I was leaving the log cabin and lounge chairs for you, The color is distinctive and different from any other part of the puzzle. I hate the cabin. OK, I'll do it. No, I'll do it. Then she began work on the flowers which will be the most difficult part of the puzzle. What just happened here?
I am confused. Damned if I do, dammed if I don't. I returned to my suite, threw myself on my bed and burst into tears. Right! That will be the day a silly puzzle will cause me to respond that way. I am going to go take a college class in understanding indecisive women and the art of mind reading. I need it.
The main puzzle table is in the commons room. Everything was going well on a complicated puzzle with a perfectly white border on all sides. The rest of the puzzle (flowers in a vase on a cluttered table with a very busy drape in the background) was going slow, but going. One annoyed puzzler was sick and tired of the puzzle so tore it up and put it away to the dismay of those still working in it. I guess it never occurred to her that she could leave it alone or go to another room. No, she chose to antagonize many and cause trouble. That's Trouble with a capitol "T" and that rhymes with "me" and that... I have no idea where to go from there. I'll stop. The area conversation is very heated.
Meanwhile on the second floor of the main building they are working on a 2000 piece puzzle, but the table is too small. They have decided to split the puzzle and work on it on two tables. Since all our tables have round edges, I will be very difficult to ever put it together. Just imagine running with one piece between the tables. Confusing! But it has keep the number of workers to a minimum.
Now to our puzzle of three quilts hanging on a line in front of flowers, a cabin in the woods and snow capped mountains. A challenge but not impossible. I worked on the puzzle for about 20 minutes this morning alone. When one partner returned from the doctors she was very disappointed that I was working on one of the quilts (I like the easiest patterns first). It didn't matter to me so I broke up the quilt so she could do it. Wrong choice. She was even more angry. Women! Only God understands. It appeared to be resolved when I put it back together. I returned for about an hour late afternoon and finished the third quilt. No one had laid out the pieces so I dug around to find them and did it. When the same lady returned again she was angry that i had worked on "her section." You didn't leave a note. It wasn't set apart. How was I to know. You know I don't see very well and would want to do the quilts. (Sure I would, I can read minds). Sorry, I did not know you wanted to do that part. I was leaving the log cabin and lounge chairs for you, The color is distinctive and different from any other part of the puzzle. I hate the cabin. OK, I'll do it. No, I'll do it. Then she began work on the flowers which will be the most difficult part of the puzzle. What just happened here?
I am confused. Damned if I do, dammed if I don't. I returned to my suite, threw myself on my bed and burst into tears. Right! That will be the day a silly puzzle will cause me to respond that way. I am going to go take a college class in understanding indecisive women and the art of mind reading. I need it.
JEALOUSY
It is difficult for me to believe anyone would be jealous over me, but it’s true. If I told my daughter she would just laugh. In the first few years after my wife died I felt like I needed a bodyguard to protect me. I was working in a very large church with extremely tiny foyers. It has been an add-on to at least two other construction projects. My primary task as the administrator was to build the fourth add-on, a new 1200 seat auditorium. The space was very much needed.
The church had two morning services with almost no space to mingle between services. There were four ways out of the auditorium and all were very tiny. As one came out the best bet was to move on outside. However, it appeared that I was being stalked. No matter which way I left the area, the same woman was at that door to say hi and engage me in conversation. I was very much aware of the stat that most men remarried within a year after the loss of their wife. I had already met eleven of them who all through it was wonderful. They all married widows who had been alone on the average of seven years. The grieving period had been quite different. So was the adjustment. Many of the women had been grief counselors out of necessity and most resented being called by the deceased’s name.
When I told my then twenty-one year old daughter that I was being chased, she just laughed. Who would want her dad? Inconceivable! Admittedly is did sound funny, but did didn’t take long to realize that walking and breathing is a very important piece of the “becoming a hunk” puzzle. I was doing both.
It has not changed, but I handle it much differently. My upstairs neighbor took me to dinner on Saturday night for my birthday. She may have had ulterior motives, but I don’t think so or I’m more naïve than I thought. My lesbian friend argued with my neighbor that I could not go because I had to attend my grand daughters birthday party. The fact that I had accepted the engagement didn’t seem to matter. This friend is really not interested in me other than to be included in any activity that takes me off the grounds. Tow days later she questioned my choice off the menu. I ordered chicken cordon blue. I was told emphatically that it was a fish place and I should not have ordered what I did. I didn’t tell anyone what I ate. Besides it was at a small airport dinner where I assume the main this on the menu is small airplanes. It’s nowhere near the water. I wasn’t interested even in a vintage sandwich.
Another resident questioned me about the event pumping me for knowledge about who all was going to ensure she was not being left out. If so-and-so was going she wanted to go. Yes, people are anxious to get out of here at times, but it was more. A small group of women (officially called harems) attach themselves to men who still have vehicles and walk and breathe. These men are used for transportation possession rights. All deny there is any romantic interest, but the love to be close and even hug you if they think they can get away with it.
I am proud to say that I have the largest harem. I am a hunk (I think that’s the appropriate word). When the occasional meal is served, a place is always saved for me. When I am in a commons area two to four seem to magically appear. Since I go to get bread on Wednesdays, there has been a tradition of giving money to the driver to help pay for gas. Money is rarely handed directly to me. I am approached from the side or rear and money is put in my sweatshirt pocket. They want to touch me. I am hot stuff. I can’t believe how wonderful, sexy, handsome and attractive I am. My daughter would still laugh. But us sexiest men of “The Home” have our image to keep up, you know. Now don’t deflate me!
The church had two morning services with almost no space to mingle between services. There were four ways out of the auditorium and all were very tiny. As one came out the best bet was to move on outside. However, it appeared that I was being stalked. No matter which way I left the area, the same woman was at that door to say hi and engage me in conversation. I was very much aware of the stat that most men remarried within a year after the loss of their wife. I had already met eleven of them who all through it was wonderful. They all married widows who had been alone on the average of seven years. The grieving period had been quite different. So was the adjustment. Many of the women had been grief counselors out of necessity and most resented being called by the deceased’s name.
When I told my then twenty-one year old daughter that I was being chased, she just laughed. Who would want her dad? Inconceivable! Admittedly is did sound funny, but did didn’t take long to realize that walking and breathing is a very important piece of the “becoming a hunk” puzzle. I was doing both.
It has not changed, but I handle it much differently. My upstairs neighbor took me to dinner on Saturday night for my birthday. She may have had ulterior motives, but I don’t think so or I’m more naïve than I thought. My lesbian friend argued with my neighbor that I could not go because I had to attend my grand daughters birthday party. The fact that I had accepted the engagement didn’t seem to matter. This friend is really not interested in me other than to be included in any activity that takes me off the grounds. Tow days later she questioned my choice off the menu. I ordered chicken cordon blue. I was told emphatically that it was a fish place and I should not have ordered what I did. I didn’t tell anyone what I ate. Besides it was at a small airport dinner where I assume the main this on the menu is small airplanes. It’s nowhere near the water. I wasn’t interested even in a vintage sandwich.
Another resident questioned me about the event pumping me for knowledge about who all was going to ensure she was not being left out. If so-and-so was going she wanted to go. Yes, people are anxious to get out of here at times, but it was more. A small group of women (officially called harems) attach themselves to men who still have vehicles and walk and breathe. These men are used for transportation possession rights. All deny there is any romantic interest, but the love to be close and even hug you if they think they can get away with it.
I am proud to say that I have the largest harem. I am a hunk (I think that’s the appropriate word). When the occasional meal is served, a place is always saved for me. When I am in a commons area two to four seem to magically appear. Since I go to get bread on Wednesdays, there has been a tradition of giving money to the driver to help pay for gas. Money is rarely handed directly to me. I am approached from the side or rear and money is put in my sweatshirt pocket. They want to touch me. I am hot stuff. I can’t believe how wonderful, sexy, handsome and attractive I am. My daughter would still laugh. But us sexiest men of “The Home” have our image to keep up, you know. Now don’t deflate me!
Sunday, May 2, 2010
ANOTHER BIRTHDAY
I Finished a portrait I did of granddaughter #1, got it framed and headed for the birthday party in the park by the water. The way I hear it, I was the only one cold. A pile of her friends where there for the celebration and they were running around barefooted and in tank tops or t-shirts. I had on a sweatshirt and all weather coat. I wished I had my winter coat, The wind was so strong at times we were chasing paper plates, empty pop cans and napkins all across the park. I was alone on one occasion and just could not run fast enough. I found a birthday card envelop at my car when I left. I was parked a long way off.
I'm old and not nearly active enough to get warm by running around. Basically crawling around does not warm you up. My grandson wanted me to try skateboarding. Right! I am not prepared to go to the hospital with any broken bones. I did go down the kiddy slide. It was so low at ground level I could hardly stand up. OK, that's a joke. I didn't go down the slide it was too high for me, but if I had I'm sure I would have struggled to get up.
I had been trying for weeks to do a portrait of the three grand kids together, but always messed up one or more eyes or one or more of the kids. If an eye is wrong, the whole thing is wrong. I Finally gave up and did a pen and ink drawing. I usually get that better (it's easier), but I had too much ink around their eyes and they looked evil. But the colored pencil drawing is great even if I do say so myself, and I do. The eyes are right, the coloring good. Anyone who knows her would recognize it as her. A neighbor here saw the drawing right next to the photo I was using and was very impressed. I was anxious for her to see it. The invitations requested that presents not be brought. But I'm the papa. I wanted to bring a present. However, I should have taken it to her at home. What I expected would be excitement was embarrassment. Whoops. My bad (the right expression I believe)! I was thinking about me not the possible response of a first time teenager with all her friends around. You would think a former youth worker could have figured that out, but he missed it. I hope she will forgive me sometime soon. And I hope the day will come when she likes the drawing. I really is pretty good, but I said that already. Time to stop tooting my own horn. It is playing a sour note.
When I got home the weather report talked about snow in the area. SNOW! not here? It's May. I don't live in Canada any more. There may not be snow right here, but the rains are coming back and the wind is going to pick up. Time to go to bed and cuddle up in my nice warm blanket. I have a doctors appointment tomorrow, but may sleep in. Naw! Can't do that.
I'm old and not nearly active enough to get warm by running around. Basically crawling around does not warm you up. My grandson wanted me to try skateboarding. Right! I am not prepared to go to the hospital with any broken bones. I did go down the kiddy slide. It was so low at ground level I could hardly stand up. OK, that's a joke. I didn't go down the slide it was too high for me, but if I had I'm sure I would have struggled to get up.
I had been trying for weeks to do a portrait of the three grand kids together, but always messed up one or more eyes or one or more of the kids. If an eye is wrong, the whole thing is wrong. I Finally gave up and did a pen and ink drawing. I usually get that better (it's easier), but I had too much ink around their eyes and they looked evil. But the colored pencil drawing is great even if I do say so myself, and I do. The eyes are right, the coloring good. Anyone who knows her would recognize it as her. A neighbor here saw the drawing right next to the photo I was using and was very impressed. I was anxious for her to see it. The invitations requested that presents not be brought. But I'm the papa. I wanted to bring a present. However, I should have taken it to her at home. What I expected would be excitement was embarrassment. Whoops. My bad (the right expression I believe)! I was thinking about me not the possible response of a first time teenager with all her friends around. You would think a former youth worker could have figured that out, but he missed it. I hope she will forgive me sometime soon. And I hope the day will come when she likes the drawing. I really is pretty good, but I said that already. Time to stop tooting my own horn. It is playing a sour note.
When I got home the weather report talked about snow in the area. SNOW! not here? It's May. I don't live in Canada any more. There may not be snow right here, but the rains are coming back and the wind is going to pick up. Time to go to bed and cuddle up in my nice warm blanket. I have a doctors appointment tomorrow, but may sleep in. Naw! Can't do that.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
AN EMPTY TIMES SQUARE
I had been sitting in my recliner struggling to keep my eyes open when my phone rang. I have got to change the sound. I nearly jump out of my clothes when it goes off. It is very similar to an emergency vehicle siren. I chose it. It's my fault that it scares me. I just wanted to be different (regression to teen years). Gail was on the other end. There's a bomb threat in Times Square. What? What happened? What channel?
Police evacuated New York's Times Square tonight after smoke was reported coming from a dark-colored sports utility vehicle and authorities treated it as a suspected bomb. The New York Fire Department official found it to contain explosives, gasoline, propane and burned wires. The New York Times reported that it was unclear whether a package in the vehicle was a bomb. The Times reported that a federal official said the incident was not considered a terrorist threat. The Times said the vehicle was a Nissan Pathfinder parked on 45th Street just west of Seventh Avenue. Even with these reports they are saying it is not considered a terrorist threat. They are unsure if the vehicle is rigged to be a bomb. It is all just a precaution. Now they are calling it a suspected car bomb. Don't you love how breaking news is reported.
It is. It isn't. It might be. We now have confirmed information that it is. Apparently they are still unsure. An authority reports that all the ingredients for a bomb are present. Another expert reports that those materials mixed might not even work. NYPD it moving people even further back because of the bomb. No one is sure it is a bomb. All Broadway shows in the immediate area are closed. We have the star of the Broadway hit "Bombs over Tokyo" the gloriously talented and beautiful Pygmy Postelwait to give her opinion of this crisis (yes, we need that. I'm waiting with baited breath. Her opinion is important.)
Reporters now have people who saw the car smoking. Can you tell us what you saw? Yes, I saw smoke coming from a dark Japanese sports car. So you saw a dark sports car! What color was it? Dark blue, maybe dark green, It could have been black.
So you saw a dark red sports car? We have reports that it is a sports utility vehicle. No, it's a sports car. I want to know why the reporter is asking that question. It is on the screen. Turn around and look. Duh! Filler, filler, filler. I have just turned the TV on and they have been broadcasting since at least 7:00 EST. I was just leaving for dinner with Gail at that time. They still know very little, but they are filling the time with innuendo, hints, guesses, non-experts, marginal experts, experts that really know something, but know noting about this situation. Unofficial spokes-people who will not appear on TV or are not authorized to speak continue give their opinions. No group or individual has yet been accused of doing this, but they are beating around the bush about whether our middle eastern friends may have something to do with it. Breaking news. Shirley cannot get into her Times Square hotel and they will not refund her money because the bomb scare is not their fault. Are we sure of that?
Yes it is interesting, yes it is captivating, yes inquiring minds want to know. However, we have now heard 5-6 hours of speculation about very little. I admire the news people in their ability to say nothing for hours on end. They should go into politics. Wait! Hold the presses. They just reported that it might be the vehicle of a hot dog vendor. Pull back the bomb robots. Let the tourists back in the square. Get Dick Clark. Cue up the ball.
OK, that was a guess. Back to the the real lack of knowledge. They are assembling the dozens of camera footage from the area to see what they can find. Quick, get Penelope Garcia from Criminal Minds. She is a whizz at getting into this kind of footage and having an answer within minutes. The crew from 24 aren't bad either, but they are a team. Penelope does this by herself sitting in front of a hundred screens or so. She's amazing. Get her now!
Times Square looks strangely eerie nearly empty. I have been there, but mostly seen it on New Years Eve when pavement was never visible. It is suppose to be filled with people. This may or may not be serious. This may or may not be a bomb threat. This may or may not last all night. This may or may not keep me up. NOT! I hope it is not serious, but I am going to bed. I live in the west. We are more likely to be bombed by Korea. Can't do anything about that. China can solve all these problems when they foreclose on our country and take over.
Police evacuated New York's Times Square tonight after smoke was reported coming from a dark-colored sports utility vehicle and authorities treated it as a suspected bomb. The New York Fire Department official found it to contain explosives, gasoline, propane and burned wires. The New York Times reported that it was unclear whether a package in the vehicle was a bomb. The Times reported that a federal official said the incident was not considered a terrorist threat. The Times said the vehicle was a Nissan Pathfinder parked on 45th Street just west of Seventh Avenue. Even with these reports they are saying it is not considered a terrorist threat. They are unsure if the vehicle is rigged to be a bomb. It is all just a precaution. Now they are calling it a suspected car bomb. Don't you love how breaking news is reported.
It is. It isn't. It might be. We now have confirmed information that it is. Apparently they are still unsure. An authority reports that all the ingredients for a bomb are present. Another expert reports that those materials mixed might not even work. NYPD it moving people even further back because of the bomb. No one is sure it is a bomb. All Broadway shows in the immediate area are closed. We have the star of the Broadway hit "Bombs over Tokyo" the gloriously talented and beautiful Pygmy Postelwait to give her opinion of this crisis (yes, we need that. I'm waiting with baited breath. Her opinion is important.)
Reporters now have people who saw the car smoking. Can you tell us what you saw? Yes, I saw smoke coming from a dark Japanese sports car. So you saw a dark sports car! What color was it? Dark blue, maybe dark green, It could have been black.
So you saw a dark red sports car? We have reports that it is a sports utility vehicle. No, it's a sports car. I want to know why the reporter is asking that question. It is on the screen. Turn around and look. Duh! Filler, filler, filler. I have just turned the TV on and they have been broadcasting since at least 7:00 EST. I was just leaving for dinner with Gail at that time. They still know very little, but they are filling the time with innuendo, hints, guesses, non-experts, marginal experts, experts that really know something, but know noting about this situation. Unofficial spokes-people who will not appear on TV or are not authorized to speak continue give their opinions. No group or individual has yet been accused of doing this, but they are beating around the bush about whether our middle eastern friends may have something to do with it. Breaking news. Shirley cannot get into her Times Square hotel and they will not refund her money because the bomb scare is not their fault. Are we sure of that?
Yes it is interesting, yes it is captivating, yes inquiring minds want to know. However, we have now heard 5-6 hours of speculation about very little. I admire the news people in their ability to say nothing for hours on end. They should go into politics. Wait! Hold the presses. They just reported that it might be the vehicle of a hot dog vendor. Pull back the bomb robots. Let the tourists back in the square. Get Dick Clark. Cue up the ball.
OK, that was a guess. Back to the the real lack of knowledge. They are assembling the dozens of camera footage from the area to see what they can find. Quick, get Penelope Garcia from Criminal Minds. She is a whizz at getting into this kind of footage and having an answer within minutes. The crew from 24 aren't bad either, but they are a team. Penelope does this by herself sitting in front of a hundred screens or so. She's amazing. Get her now!
Times Square looks strangely eerie nearly empty. I have been there, but mostly seen it on New Years Eve when pavement was never visible. It is suppose to be filled with people. This may or may not be serious. This may or may not be a bomb threat. This may or may not last all night. This may or may not keep me up. NOT! I hope it is not serious, but I am going to bed. I live in the west. We are more likely to be bombed by Korea. Can't do anything about that. China can solve all these problems when they foreclose on our country and take over.
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