MY ROBO VAC IS MALE

 If you have ever tried to learn a foreign language you have encountered the bizar phenomenon of objects being male or female.   WHY ?????   

When I went to high school I had to spend 2 years learning a language.  For whatever reason I decided it would be brilliant to take LATIN . . . after all it is the basis for most languages. I would learn so much that would help me with all my other subjects, especially ENGLISH which I was baffled by.  Pronouns, adjectives, semi-colons. Bah Humbug on all of it.  And so I entered my freshman year taking Latin.  It did NOT go well.  I spent 2 years sinking deeper and deeper into failure.  WHO'S BRILLIANT IDEA WAS THIS ?????? And so when I failed the Latin Regents with a 64 (65 was passing) I found myself having to make another attempt at a foreign language in order to graduate with an Academic diploma.  French was my next foray into the land of languages.  (I managed to pass that with a 72.  The God's and teachers just wanted to get rid of me so they were merciful.)

The one thing that I found with most foreign languages is that they assign a "sex" to all objects.  In French every object was either Le, male or LA, female. The door was female . . . LA porte, the refrigerator was male, making it LE.   The shoe was female LA and the hammer is male LE.  (At least that one makes sense).

WHY ?  I do not understand why objects need to have a sex.   UNTIL the other day when I sent my robo vac off and running through my home.  I have named my vacuum Schlurpy. I only turn it on when The Man is not home. Schlurpy loves to suck up The Man's oxygen tubing that is all over the house.  It also like to suck up phone charger cords and it loves to chase The Man around the house. Thus it only gets turned on when he is not home. 

I never thought of Schlurpy as having a gender.  It is just a neutral entity named Schlurpy. But now I know it's true identity   IT IS MALE for sure !!!!   This fact came to light when Schlurpy disappeared on me. As is my usual routine the moment The Man leaves the house for his pulmonary rehab sessions I put up the bar stools in the kitchen, pick up on the counter, pick up throw rugs and turn on my little helper.  I love this thing.  It runs around for over an hour and puts itself back to bed in its charger just in time for The Man to come home.  

All was well with the world, I had my Christmas music on while I was cleaning up the house and Schlurpy was doing it's thing. I can usually hear it moving around, it is not silent but it's not noisy either.  As I moved from room to room I realized I couldn't hear the vacuum running.  If it gets hung up somewhere, which it does do occasionally, it will send up a loud beeping alarm.  That way I can find it and rescue it from its dilemma. It has a tendency to get hung up on door sills and corners of rugs. but this time I heard nothing. No beeping, no alarms, NOTHING !  I turned off the music, noting. I went into each room, noting.  I checked the charging port but it wasn't there either.  What the Heck ???????  Schlurpy went missing !!!!! And so the search began. I checked under the beds, in closets, outside . . . It has been known to escape over the door step if the doors are open. It does a lovely job of vacuuming the lanai. Even the dirt.

But schlurpy was no where to be found.  I had looked in all 4 rooms and the 2 bathrooms.  No schlurpy. As I wandered through the house for the third time I realized the door on the guest bathroom was now closed.  I had quickly looked in there earlier in my search but the door was open. Sure enough, I opened the door and there was schlurpy sitting in the middle of the bathroom floor just idling waiting for me to find it.  The silly thing had gone into the bathroom, went behind the door and as it pushed itself along the door it managed to lock itself in. 

It was at that moment I KNEW . . .  Schlurpy was MALE.  

SUCH A BUSY GUY

 The Man is EXHAUSTED !!!!  He had such a busy day yesterday that he is just exhausted.  

The Man made an appointment at the VA for yesterday at 1:00.   I have asked him over and over to be sure to check the calendar before he makes any appointments.   It's not like he can't find the calendar.  It is hanging on the kitchen wall right next to the fridge.  And should he not be able to find that onE there is a large 2 year desk calendar sitting on my desk. I have learned to use all my kindergarten tricks to help The Man be sure to keep track of appointments for himself.  I write ALL appointments on both calendars. Then I highlight them with either pink for me or blue for him.  Green if it something we will do together. (There aren't many green ones!) I have done this color coded system for at least 4 years now and I think it works great.  We can be sitting at the counter in the kitchen and just look across the room to see the calendar so we can always see who is going where on the next day.  I also ask that when The Man makes an appointment he write it on the calendar. It's a loosing battle.

About a week ago I came home to find that The Man had made an appointment all by his little self. He was very proud of himself and I hated to burst his bubble by telling him I already had an appointment for that day but because it was an hour and a half earlier than his meeting he was convinced it would be fine. The appointment was with a new doctor at the VA but he had no idea what it was for. The VA had called him and it was an appointment that I really should go to with him. He kept telling me I would have PLENTY of time to go to my appointment and then come home, pick him up for his appointment.  Having been to the imaging center at the local hospital every year since I have lived here I know how much they always are running behind,  I tried to explain this to The Man but he was having none of it.   So off I went and home he sat waiting for me to return.  After sitting for 45 minutes at the hospital I texted The Man and told him he would have to go to the VA alone because I had not even gotten into the imaging room, no less have the bone scan.  Off he went alone for his 1:00 meeting and I continued to sit another 15 minutes before being seen.

Here's where it gets insane.   I got out of my appointment at 1:00.  Since I was out and about and The Man was preoccupied I decided to go to the post office and mail The Man's Christmas packages to his 4 grand daughters.  Of course there was a line.  Thirty five minutes later I left the post office and decided to visit Cousin Lu Lu who had just gotten out of the hospital on Sunday.  She was happy to see me but was disappointed that she didn't have her makeup on for my visit.  I got her powder and lipstick so she could get her "face on".  Then she needed her jewelry that had been taken off when she went into the hospital.I found her bracelet, a couple of her rings but the earrings were a challenge.  I finally found ones that she thought would look good with her cotton nightgown.  Once she was gussied up I took her picture so she could see just how "good" she looked.  Then I showed her a picture of her younger sister who just had a stroke and looks like HELL.   Lu Lu was shocked !!!  Her comment .. .  "Well, SHE was always the pretty one.  Now I am the pretty one !!"   (That's pure Lu Lu).   After we got past the makeup and jewelry I offered to pull out her Christmas decorations and decorate her room.  She loved that !! I left there at 3:15 and headed home. 

EXCEPT I needed to. pick up Christmas cards for The Mans grand daughters so I stopped at the dollar store.  Then at the gas station to fill up and because it was now going on 4:00 and I had NOTHING planned for dinner, I stopped at the grocery store and bought some salmon cakes.

I walked into my house at 4:15 feeling beat up and dragged through the mud.   As usual The Man was sitting on the couch watching TV as I came in and sat in my recliner to ask about his appointment. I put my feet up and asked him how he made out.  

He was EXHAUSTED !   He had to walk down a long corridor and back when he got to the VA. The appointment was a complete waste of time and he was EXHAUSTED.   

I commiserated with him for a few minutes before I got back up to make dinner.  

He doesn't have a clue what exhausted IS !!!!!!!!

AND HE FLEW HELICOPTERS ???????

 I don't know how many times a day I mutter the words to myself, " He flew helicopters???"   The words are usually followed by a statement such as, "But he can't figure out how to open the front door." I guess it is the "simple" things in life that stump the male mind.   

On my first visit to Alaska with The Man he took me over to the Army base in Fairbanks where he had been stationed for the final 4 years of his Army career. On the base there is a helicopter simulator where the pilots in training learn the fundamentals of flying one of these massive machines. Let me tell you that just climbing into the seat was a challenge.  Once seated there was the largest mass of screens, handles, buttons, wires, monitors, FOOT PEDALS, and heaven knows what else.  God love the young guy who was in charge of training on this complicated machine because he managed to not scream out in panic or curse at me for destroying his simulator.  It was beyond overwhelming and yet The Man flew these things for over ten years.   But he can't figure out the TV remote.

This morning he asked me how to put the batteries into the remote for our bed. That conversation started with his asking if I was having trouble with the remote on my side of the bed.  They are two different remotes and work separately for the two halves of the bed.  Why the workings of one remote would affect the other remote I have no idea. When I told him he probably needed new batteries he asked where the batteries were?  (We use a LOT of batteries in our homes so he KNOWS where the batteries are.). OK, I'll give him that question.  When I got out the batteries he asked where they went in the remote.  You know exactly where I wanted to tell him to stick the batteries but I kept it civil.  Once told where the batteries go he actually asked how to open the battery compartment !  It was about this time I started muttering, "And he flew helicopters ??????"

There are at least three times a day that I ponder this fact. Perhaps because he was 40 years younger things were simpler for his poor little brain.  The one thing that he NEVER has trouble with is finding his morning donut or his evening ice cream.  Although he does have trouble finding the spoons.  Maybe that is because I am now intentionally putting things in places other where they are normally kept.  

Sometimes my evil side just needs a little fun. 

W H Y ????????

 I am confused as to why The Man would answer a statement I made with the question "WHY ?" .  Please enlighten me with your thoughts on the following.  Really . . . email me if you can explain this to me. Mscathny@gmail.com.  

Yesterday The Man was sitting on the bed after he had come out of the shower.  He wasn't watching TV or anything.  Just sitting there catching his breath. As I walked across the room I saw some pills on my dresser that I had forgotten to take earlier in the day. I said "#@%&$#, I forgot to take my pills today!" To which The Man responded, "WHY?"  That stopped me dead in my tracks ! I turned toward him with a total look of puzzlement on my face .  I couldn't help myself, I had to respond with,    "WHY?????  Why did I FORGET to take my pills ?????  Why would you ask why I forgot?"  I mean really ???  Asking a person why they FORGOT something is like asking them why they breathe.  Forgetting something is not done by choice.  If it was I would totally forget that I should be nice to people who say stupid things. Why would you ask someone why they forgot something ??  If the tables were reversed I probably would have answered the statement, "I forgot to take my pills" with something like, "Well THAT sucks!", or, "Is it too late to take them now", or even "I do that all the time".  But I would NOT ask "WHY"   

Am I crazy to think that was about the stupidest thing to say in response to my comment about forgetting to take my pills? 

I stood there in the middle of the bedroom just looking at The Man trying to figure out if he really said what I thought he did or perhaps he had a stroke and was just talking nonsense.  I am still pondering this whole encounter.  

Today we started fresh to see how many ways this man can make me nuts. It didn't take long at all ! When I got up this morning he was sitting at the kitchen counter reading the paper. Because it was 9AM on a Sunday morning and the TV was not already turned on I asked The Man if he would mind if I turned on CBS Sunday Morning show.  I enjoy this program and have watched it off and on for well over a decade. It's a hit or miss thing but there is always some part of the show that I find interesting.  The Man thought this was a great idea so the 2 of us sat down to watch.  During one of the commercials there was an advertisement for the Green Bay Packers game at 1:00 this afternoon.  The Packers are The Man and his brothers favorite team so it's almost sacrilegious to miss a game.  Since football is now a BIG MONEY sport it is often difficult to find the Packer games on a staton that will broadcast in our area. The sports world wants you to spend hundreds of dollars on a special sports package for TV viewing. So when the advertisement came on our TV saying we could watch the game on Paramount + I thought we had it made.  SILLY ME !    I told The Man I thought we had a subscription to Paramount + and I would check it out before game time.

When "Sunday Morning" ended at 10:30 I went into the kitchen to get something to eat so I could take todays pills. (I couldn't "choose" to forget them again.) As I walked into the kitchen The Man said, "Are you going to see if we can get the game?" I just kept walking while explaining that I needed to eat some breakfast first so I would work on the TV AFTER I ate.  (I did mutter a few things under my breath but kept going.) By 11:30 I was ready to tackle the TV! Realizing full well this would not be easy.  And it wasn't !!!  Going around and around with passwords and subscriptions, one site after another it ended up that this particular game was NOT available in our area on any of the subscription channels that we have accounts with.  I think if we lived in a yurt in the Himalayas we would probably have been able to watch the game but living South Florida we could not.  All this searching took about and hour after which point I wanted NOTHING to do with The Man, football or the TV.    

So I decided to clean outlay pantry.  It was a lovely 2 hour project where I purged, spilled, rearranged and cursed.   Very cathartic after the last 24 hours.

THE BELT

Yesterday I was going to write about "Talking To My Shoe" because it is getting more and more frustrating trying to talk with The Man.  My friend Theresa and I decided that wives need to wear "body cams" like the police so that every conversation we have with our husbands can be recorded with sound and video. There is nothing more frustrating than having a conversation with your spouse that he does not remember twenty-seconds later.  When you try to tell them you DID discuss what ever with them they swear you never told them anything. We wives need PROOF!!!  I think this is a loosing battle because talking with The Man is like talking to my shoe.

But that was yesterdays issue.  Today is a whole other day !   A whole other frustration !

Traveling back and forth between Florida and Michigan is problematic for The Man. I understand the oxygen issues. We HAVE to carry all sorts of supplies with us.  I understand the medication issues. We both have to carry all our medications with us. What I DO NOT understand is the wardrobe issue that seems to plague The Man. It is really quite simple when you think about it.  We have "PERMANENT" housing in both places.  The Man owns the farm in Michigan.  He has lived there for the past 30 years. The house has rooms FULL of stuff, including his clothing that ranges from winter in Alaska to summer in Michigan, (which can sometimes be quite similar).  The Man has more clothes than I do and that is hard to imagine.

Early on in this mobile relationship I figured out I needed to have 2 separate wardrobes.  Clothes to leave in Michigan and clothes that stay in Florida. I have a minimal assortment of both cold and warm weather items in both locations. (I will say that my MI wardrobe is expanding each year because the weather up there is so unpredictable.)  When we travel we both wear comfy sweat pants and loose tee shirts to maximize our comfort for all the hours in the car.  When we arrive at our destinations MY "travel clothes" get put in a suitcase where they remain until we get ready to make the journey once again. I also have a "bathroom bag" that remains packed with toothpaste, tooth brush, hair brush, deodorant etc. The bathroom bag gets put into that same suitcase that contains the travel clothes.  Other than changes of underwear and socks I don't need to think about packing anything.  (But if that REALLY were the case why is the car always packed to the roof with stuff ?)

ANYWAY . . .That is how I manage MY wardrobes.  You Know Who has a whole different take on this issue.  With all the clothes that The Man has at the farm he always wears the same 5 shirts.  It is those 5 shirts that travel back and forth with us.  Same with the 2 pair of shoes, his 2 pair of slippers, one pair of jeans, one pair of shorts and one belt.  He packs up his toothbrush and tooth paste, razor and comb because Heaven forbid he would use one of the forty three thousand tooth brushes or combs that are in the cabinet at the farm.  I keep trying to tell him he could leave clothes in Florida so he wouldn't have to pack each time but that idea never takes root.  I have given up on that issue. 

With all the packing and unpacking going on in the poor mans life is it any wonder he would forget SOMETHING ?   (I WILL NOT pack for him.  NO NO NO  !!!!!).   We have been back in Florida for just over a month now so I am surprised it has taken The Man this long to realize his pants are falling down. But then, he lives in workout shorts when he is here so there is no need for a belt.  It wasn't until one of our trips to a doctor last. week that it suddenly dawned on The Man that he had no belt to hold up his pants.  Of course I was immediately notified of this crisis because I think he expected me to produce the missing belt out of thin air or possibly out of my butt.  What ever he thought it wasn't happening because the key to this issue is HIS belt, not mine, so HE has to deal with it.   (May sound cruel but I have found that the more I do the more he expects. I did learn that lesson with Husband but I apparently forgot!)

The search for the belt has been ongoing for a week now. There are only so many places the belt could be and he looked in all 3 of them at least five hundred times.  Each time there was a running narrative as to where he was looking and WHY isn't the belt there ?     Today I had enough and caved in.  I went on  Amazon and looked for mens belts.     HA.  !!!

FIRST comment from The Man was . . .   $15 for a BELT !!!!!!!!!!  Who pays $15 for a belt ????  (Apparently a lot of people because that was one of the cheapest belts on there. )  We continued to search until he found one for $9.98 !!!!  That was the one for him.  (Never mind that is probably made of recycled spinach, the price is right.)   

Now comes the fun part . . . WHAT SIZE ?    We have had the discussion of his waist size for the past couple of weeks.   Along with the belt The Man brought with him a pair of shorts that are at least three hundred years old, frayed beyond belief and rattier than a drowned rat in a mud puddle.  But these are his favorite shorts.  (He has at least 3 other pair which I have bought for him over the years. They are all the same color and style as the ratty pair but he refuses to wear them.). Last week I was going shopping so I asked him if he wanted me to buy him yet another pair of shorts and if so WHAT SIZE waist ???  He told me 32 inches.   Now The Man is not fat by any means but he also is no longer 40 years old.  We women know how things tend to sag and settle as we age. The Man has apparently not looked in a mirror in the past 40 years so he still thinks that because his weight stays the same he still has the same body.  I suggested I get out the tape measure to see exactly what IT said just to make sure before we invest ALL that money in a belt.   He was in the middle of muttering that HE KNOWS what size waist he has when his phone rang so as he stood talking I wrapped the tape measure around him and came up with 37 inches.   (Do your math . . .   5 inch difference.) 

Naturally when he got off the phone he had forgotten what we had been talking about so I handed him the tape measure and suggested HE measure his own waist.   I got push back on that idea until I told him I HAD measured his waist but I thought he should do it himself.  He asked what number I got and when I told him thirty seven inches he reacted EXACTLY how I expected.  

"NO !!!!!     IMPOSSIBLE !!!      YOU DID SOMETHING WRONG !!!!!   IT CAN'T BE !!!!!!"

The Man took the tape measure, wrapped it around his belly and said . . .   NOTHING !  . . .   HUM ??? Why ever would he not say anything ???   Being the very smart lady that I am I too said nothing.   I did say that he really didn't need an exact measure because belts were made to go between a range of inches.  As in Small might be 28-32 inches.   Medium might be 32-36 inches and so on.    

We ordered the MEDIUM . . . Sure hope it fits !

DOOR NUMBER ONE

 Every now and then I enjoy a good game show but I was never one to spend my day watching TV.  Soap operas and game shows were usually on during the day and I was always, (and still am), too busy to watch much daytime TV.  Occasionally I might catch a few minutes here and there so I know a little about the classic "Price is Right" and "Lets Make a Deal". I think it is one of those two that had the contestants choose between door number one, door number two or door number three.  That part of the show always fascinated me because life is a lot like that.  Should I go to the grocery store first, the cleaners or the gas station? (That one is a no brainer because if I don't get gas first I'm not getting to go anywhere.). I will sometimes think about my life and wonder what it would be like had I chosen a different "door" along the way. 

Enough of the mind bending thoughts . . . 

Today I thought it was time to give The Man a break and turn the tables. I am always writing about the silly and annoying things The Man does but he does not have it all that easy. Living with me is a game show the likes of none you will ever see on TV.  Some days it's a comedy, some days a tragedy but always it is a mystery.  

Each morning when The Man gets up, (almost always before me),  he gathers himself together and quietly leaves the bedroom.  As he exits out to the kitchen he very thoughtfully closes the bedroom door. I greatly appreciate this !! Whether in Michigan or in Florida this is his morning routine.  Once in the kitchen he takes his pills, does breathing treatments, (of which there are several). He will then go and get the paper from just outside the door of the lanai, make a cup of coffee and almost always sit at the kitchen counter, (or table in MI) while he reads the paper and has his coffee and donuts.  The Man will remain at this spot until I get up.

When I get up in morning I stagger around in the dark bedroom for a few minutes and then my first action of the day is to open the curtains on the windows to flood the bedroom with as much light as possible. This is The Man's first indication that the dragon is awake it it's lair.  The Man can see the light under the bedroom door so he knows to be prepared for what will emerge. 

The game is on . . .     WHAT will come forth from Door Number One ???????????????

Sitting in the kitchen The Man awaits for any sign of what he is in store for.  Are there loud noises coming from beyond the door ? That is usually NOT a good sign.  The longer it takes for the door to open the more chance there is that something ugly will burst forth. Likewise, if it is fairly quiet with an occasional small rattle or bump then it is possible that the dragon is in a more subdued state.  Dead silence is the worst.  That could mean anything. 

The thing of it is, I also never know what will come out of the door. I can be in a perfectly good mood, puttering around the bedroom, pulling myself together to face the day but once I open that door anything can happen. I can take one look at The Man sitting quietly in the kitchen and who knows where my mood will take me. In a split second I can go from "Happy Days" to "The Creature from the Black Lagoon". And caught in the middle of all this sits this poor guy who had NO idea what he was in for. 

I do love a good mystery.

IT IS TOO COLD

 A quick refresher for anyone who reads my ramblings . . . I am back in South Florida after a WONDERFUL, relaxing, cool and sunny summer in Northern Michigan.  Apparently Florida had one of the hottest summers on record so I was very happy to not be there.  Michigan's summer was PERFECT on all counts.  Sunny days, (it was one of the driest summers in years), the farm always had a cool breeze off the lake so the 80 degree temperatures didn't seem all that hot.

 I KNOW the difference between hot and cold. I am also assuming The Man knows the difference between heat and frost because that is supposedly the reason he wants to be in Florida for the winter. 

When we left Michigan in early October the temperatures were still quite pleasurable. Colder nights but not yet below freezing, cool days but not quite cold enough to break out jackets or sweat shirts.  According to all my contacts in Florida the temperatures in the Sunshine State were cooling off, the humidity was dropping and the ocean breezes had returned. It was a great time to make the journey south. The 4 day trip was excellent, no problems, traffic wasn't too bad with the exception of a few areas of construction. We were fairly relaxed and not too exhausted by the time we arrived, emptied the car and settled in. (Thanks to the assistance of my daughter and 2 grand kids who would make awesome Sherpas for Kent when he leaves for Mt. Everest Base Camp next week. A whole other blog for a future date.) 

So here we are in South Florida and the weather is pretty great.  A little warm in the middle of the day but we are out on the Lanai for breakfast, reading the paper and starting our day.  By 4:00 it is beginning to cool down enough to return to the lanai to do some gardening or reading.  (I can always find something inside or out to keep me busy when we aren't running off to another doctor appointment.) Life is good and we are happy to be in Florida. (Sort of. . . again, another blog for another day.)

Back to it being too cold . . .  Most days I can predict where I will find The Man at any given moment on any given day.   He is a creature of habit and routine . . .boring!  When I get up in the morning I know exactly where he will be. I open the bedroom door and sure enough, there he is sitting at the kitchen counter (the Florida version of the Michigan kitchen table), either reading the paper or checking his email while having a cup of coffee, (only one), and a couple of donuts, (always 2).  He is never sure if or when I will burst forth from the bedroom or if I will offer to make breakfast or not.  (Hell,  I don't know if I'm cooking breakfast until the offer comes out of my mouth.)  Occasionally I might find The Man actually sitting outside on the lanai having his coffee and donuts out there.  But most days he is at the kitchen counter even though the reason we are in Florida for the winter is to be able to be OUTSIDE more !!!!!  On most early mornings the air is still damp and sometimes even steamy. As the sun comes up the air dries out so it is more comfortable to sit outside.  In the afternoon it cools off as the sun moves across the lanai so if it has been a hot day it now becomes much more comfortable to be outside. 

Unless you are The Man. . ..  Last week the heat returned along with higher humidity. It was too steamy to be outside in the morning and too hot to sit out during the day.  The Man stayed inside.   He then puts himself into the mindset that it is too hot so he won't even check outside to see if MAYBE it has cooled down.  In his mind if the sun is shining,  it is HOT.   (Just like in Michigan he assumes it is COLD if there are any clouds in the sky.  It could be 85 degrees but if it isn't sunny then it must be cold. )

One of the days last week I had to go out around noon and it was warm. The Man was inside as expected. When I returned four hours later after sitting inside visiting my cousin, (again, an other blog for another day),  the day had cooled down considerably,  the wind had really picked up and the humidity had dropped so that it was very comfortable and lovely. As I was driving home I called The Man to say I was on my way. I told him how beautiful it was outside and suggested we could have dinner on the lanai because it was so delightful outside. I figured he had not been out of the house all day so this would be the perfect time to get some fresh air.    SILLY ME.    I arrived home to find him inside sitting in front of the TV, (of course watching Fox News).  I came in and asked why he wasn't out sitting on the lanai.  I bet you know exactly what his answer was . . .    Yup . . .   he thought it was TOO COLD !!!  

I didn't even try . . .  I went in and changed my clothes, took my phone and went out onto the lanai. When I sat down I checked my weather app on my phone.  Want to guess what the temperature was ???????

                                                            EIGHTY FOUR DEGREES  !!!!!!!!!!!

Anyone else out there think 84 degrees is too cold ?

THURSDAY !!!!!! ON THURSDAY !!!!!

 @%#&%*$@?&%.  I just got off the phone with Cousin Lu.  God Bless her!  God Help ME !!!!!

The Man and I have returned to Florida and 3 days in I am already wishing it was May so I could be on my way back to Michigan. 

 It is HOT here and too humid to go outside. That will change soon and it will be feeling more like the Florida I love.  

  I have a guest bedroom filled with bags that still need to be emptied of "stuff" that I brought back down with us.  (I have no idea why I bring all this stuff.) All that crap needs to be put away.  My condo is filled with teeny tiny dead bugs and dust so all that needs to be cleaned up. I have made 3 trips to the grocery store and I am still missing a bunch of things.  (I make a list, shop from the list and when I get home I find there are ten additional things I forgot to put on the list.).  There was a lizard in my shower tonight when I opened the shower door and I have cousin Lu asking me "When are you coming to see me?" 

It is this last item that is making me crazy!

My cousin is the QUEEN of guilt. And she's not even Jewish or Irish. She tells me she loves where she is living BUT she still complains about EVERYTHING !!  She says the people aren't friendly.  I know why! All Cousin Lu talks about is herself so no one wants to listen to the same stories about how wonderful she is.  The woman has been spoiled all her life and doesn't have a clue how to get along with people. And so she drives everyone away.  Yet I keep coming back.  Go figure.

Yesterday my phone rang at 9:00 in the morning. (I have been home 3 days) All summer I have talked to Lu on the phone and every time she asked a minimum of 10 times, "Are you home yet?" And every time I answered that I would be back in time for her birthday, which is October 17.    (Her birthday is one of the few things Lu can remember because it is all about her. ). Using her birthday as a focus helped her remember when I would return to Florida.  (She can't remember how old she is but she knows she has a birthday coming.) So yesterday when she asked if I was home yet I thought she would be happy to know I was finally in Florida. Silly me !!!  No "Oh Good! How was your trip?" . . .  That would have been too much for me to expect.  Instead I got, "How long have you been home?  Why haven't you come to see me?"   I told her AGAIN I would see her for her birthday but that wasn't good enough.  She used the excuse that she had some papers that I needed to look at RIGHT AWAY !!!!  (How I could have done that from Michigan I have no idea but because I was now in Florida I HAD to come right away.  I told her I would come by "tomorrow" and we could go through everything then.  

And this is where I needed Divine Intervention to keep me from ever seeing this woman again. 

"What day is tomorrow?" says Lu.  I tell her tomorrow is Thursday.  "What day is today?' says cousin Lu.  I tell her it is Wednesday, She then asks if I am coming to see her on Wednesday?  I tell her "No, I will see you on Thursday" "Oh" says Lu, "Today is Thursday",   I tell her NO, I will come TOMORROW,  on THURSDAY!" . She says, "OH, today is Thursday?" I respond, "No, today is Wednesday, tomorrow is Thursday". Lu says, "OK, I'll see you on Wednesday"  . . . and on and on it went from there. (Reminiscent of "Who's on First" by Abbott and Costello. ) I finally told her I would see here after she had breakfast tomorrow, something she could understand. 

Today I went to visit Cousin Lu.  I opened her door and she said, "Oh my, you are finally home ! I though you weren't coming home until Wednesday."  It continued on down hill from there.  

THE TRIPLE "O" CLUB

 Over the years I have been a member of various groups and organizations. 

 As a child I became a Brownie when I was in early elementary school and worked my way up through the different levels until I graduated from high school.  As a young mom back in the 70's I rejoined the Girl Scouts as a leader which I continued to do up until about the turn of the century.  All in all I was a Girl Scout for about 28 years.  

I was never one to join high school or college organizations so I have no experience with that. 

I have been a member of about 5 different Catholic parishes. I was very involved in my parish out on Long Island while my kids were growing up. I taught religious education and worked with the food pantry and other outreach programs that our church provided. 

And last but not least I am a member of the Triple "A" automobile club.  I have been a member of that organization ever since I got my first car back in 1966. That makes me a member of The AAA for 57 years, if I did the math right.   

For a while during our pre retirement years Husband and I belonged to AARP.  I honestly don't know what purpose they served so I cancelled that membership several years ago. Yet they still haunt me with advertisements and offers. 

With the exception of AARP the groups that I have joined provided me with a sense of fulfillment and purpose that I lacked in my otherwise mundane life.  Not to say raising 3 kids was mundane but I always wanted to be validated as a contributing member of society.  Whether being a part of these various groups filled that need is still questionable.  

Now that I am a senior citizen and living out my "golden" years I find that it is this newest membership that I am having the most difficulty with. This new group is not one that I sought out.  Rather it found me and enlisted me into its ranks with astonishing speed.  The Triple "O" Club has made me a charter member and I have risen in its ranks to unprecedented levels.  

What ?  You don't know about the Triple "O" Club?  You probably are a member and don't even realize it.  If you are over the age of 70 most of us are automatically signed up.  The Triple "O"'s stand for the 3 levels of pain that out bodies endure each and every day. 

 The first "O" stands for the days we are at the "OOOOOOO" stage.  Just a mild reminder that we have joints and those joints are not happy.  When you stand you grunt or say, "Oooooooh" until the joints limber up.

The second "O" is for "OWWWWWW".  Those are the times when our body is not just stiff for a short while but continues to ache all the time.  No matter how you sit, stand or move you have the ache that just won't go away. You may choose to say "OUCH" when a particularly sharp reminder of your age zaps you but either way it hurts.  

The final "O" stands for "OH MY GOD" or any other version of the "Oh  @%$&*#%!@(%" that you choose to use.  This is the worst of the "O"s and it is the one that puts us down mentally and physically. It is relentless and cruel and should only be tolerated on the rarest of occasions even though most of us have to put up with it more often than we would like. 

All three of the triple "O"'s oozed into my life way too soon.  I do not like being a member of this club.  But it seems I have no say in the matter. The "O"'s make me ornery, obnoxious and obstinate. 

Because I have found it almost impossible to terminate my membership in the Triple "O" I think I will have to resort to joining yet another organization known as the Triple "D" club.   DRINK, DRUGS, DEMENTIA !!!!   Now that is a club I am ready for !

 

THE HOLE STORY

 COPD is awful !   Every day I watch this man struggle to breathe. Breathing is something you don't ever think about until you can't do it.    We get headaches so we focus on our heads and hope we don't have a brain tumor,  your heart races so we think it is about to explode. Aches and pains are warning signs for all our body parts but unless you have a persistent cough we seldom think about our lungs. 

Seven and a half years ago when I first met The Man I had no idea what COPD was.  I knew it had to do with breathing issues but beyond that I was oblivious to the complexities of this nasty disease.  On our first date we meet for lunch after which I suggested a trip to one of the local oceanside parks. The Man was not familiar with Florida, his wife had died two years earlier so an old army buddy of his invited him to spend the winter with him in Florida. We met at a dinner party hosted by mutual friends of mine and The Man's friend John. The Man was not using oxygen at that time so I didn't know he was in the early stages of COPD.  As we drove down to the ocean park The Man told me he had some breathing issues so he couldn't walk very far. No Problem!  We parked the car and took the tram along the boardwalk to the ocean where we encountered stairs.  This was my first realization that breathing isn't something that should be taken for granted.  

Over our years together I have been educated in all the finer details of this miserable disease called COPD. Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease is like an evil shadow that creeps up on you and slowly strangles you.  Asthma, Emphysema, and Chronic bronchitis are all types of COPD. Each one is destroying the lungs in different ways.  Emphysema is The Man's nemesis. It is a progressive destruction creating holes in the lungs. Not much fun !  No cure.  So you make the best of what you have and keep going. The man has mastered this approach with style and dignity. We make slight adaptations to our daily lives, no eating in restaurants because it is just too complicated to drag oxygen around, whether it is a tank that will only last 2-3 hours or a concentrator that needs to be plugged in.  Easier to just do drive through or stay home.  Can't fly because you can't bring oxygen tanks onto airplanes and there is no where to plug in a machine. The concentrators do have auxiliary batteries but they only last about 2 hours and they weigh a ton.  With all of these oxygen sources I get to be the pack horse carrying the batteries and wires in my back pack.  Let me tell you how heavy they are !

I have mentioned in past blogs how our home is booby trapped with oxygen tubing.  Like the disease the tubing has increased over the years.  The Man has gone from no oxygen supplements to carrying a small portable battery powered machine that provided a burst of oxygen as needed.  From there we went to a small electric concentrator that he could move around with him. Now we have moved up to a LARGE concentrator that sits in a room in the center of the house.  The Man is attached to these concentrators by a hose. In the beginning it was a short hose. He would just need oxygen occasionally and could leave the hose and walk around without it.  Now the hose is over 50 feet long because he wears it ALL the time.  Twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. Day and night. In the shower, sleeping, sitting . . . Not one step without it. I have learned to be VERY aware of where I am stepping.  Not only can I step on the hose and cut off his oxygen supply but the hoses are made of plastic and are not that pliable.  They get tangled and curled and caught under pieces of furniture.  I have gotten my feet tangled in them a few times but have avoided any major catastrophe.  The good thing about the tubing is I can always tell exactly where The Man is.  If the hose is going out the door I know he must be outside. It's a warped version of Hansel and Gretel.  

So now I have filled you in on the WHOLE story of the HOLES in The Man's lungs.  But it doesn't end there.   

For the past 2 weeks The Man has been struggling with his breathing.  There are many factors that can cause this. An infection in his lungs, (which is quite common), allergies, a build up of fluids in his body which put pressure on his lungs causing less room for air, or possible heart issues. ( Did I mention that difficulty in breathing causes a strain on the heart so more often than not a patient with COPD will die of heart failure?)  When The Man has a "flare up" we have to rule out all these possibilities.  With this last episode, (which The Man failed to mention to me until it got really bad), we ran down all the possibilities and came up with nothing. He had decided that maybe we would have to go to the ER and have them check him out. But being a man this was the absolute last option.   Y

esterday The Man decided to go out to ride around on his lawn mower. When he does that he has a tank of oxygen sitting in the small trailer attached to the lawn mower.  He took off the house oxygen hose, put on the tank hose and said, "What the Hell ?" He noticed that the air flow from the tank was much stronger than the air flow from the concentrator. (Both were set at 3 liters which is what he now needs to function.) We immediately went into Sherlock Holmes mode to solve the mystery.  The Man thought of everything . . . we checked the concentrator's filters . . .  check!  Checked the outlet . . .  check!  Checked the nose piece that delivers the oxygen into his nose . . .  check!  Checked the hose for kinks . . .  check !   He finally decided to call the company that supplies the concentrator to see if they had a mechanic on call since it was now 5:30 on a Friday afternoon.  The lovely young lady on the phone was so patient with The Man and his convoluted explanation of his problem,  She went through all the possible problems and The Man assured her he had checked EVERYTHING.  

 EXCEPT . . . The girl suggested there may be a hole in the 50 foot hose that was delivering the oxygen from the concentrator.  True to form The Man immediately said, "NO! That can't be!"  My brain went the other direction and I got thinking about the hose and how we brought it from Florida, after using it there for 7 months and attached it to the MI concentrator back in MAY and have not changed it EVER !  When The Man goes outside the hose gets dragged across concrete and grass, it gets pinched in doors so it takes quite a beating.  The possibility of a HOLE in the hose made complete sense to me.  The girl on the phone suggested we go inside and connect his cannula directly to the concentrator, by-passing the hose entirely.  Sure enough !!! The Man was breathing again !   The hose DID indeed have a hole in it somewhere along its 50 fool length so that the full flow of oxygen was diminished drastically.  

Now we are breathing easy and I have told you the whole HOLE story. 

THE OLD MAN

Many years ago I had a discussion with my BFF Sharon about who was worse,  little kids or old men. Being a nurse Sharon though old people were much easier to deal with than small children. Having been a kindergarten teacher I love little kids. We decided she could deal with all the old folks who came into our lives and I would handle any kids that should show up along the way.  Between us we had 6 kids so she got to deal with her 3 and my 3 on many occasions. She did GOOD !  I'm not saying she didn't finish a bottle of Jack Daniels once I picked up my kids but while she was watching everyone all was well.  

We never had many occasions to deal with old folks except for those she encountered at work. My dad was a sweet heart so Sharon loved when he was visiting.  When the older relatives of mine would visit Sharon would get an ear full once they all left.  She would calm me down and explain how I should cut the older folk some slack because, well, because they were OLD ! I didn't really buy into that but because they were relatives I often gave them a pass on their quirky behavior.

But now WE are the old people and I am feeling that my peers are getting stupider by the day and I still don't have much tolerance for them.  Especially when I am living with a classic example of OLD.

What's that ?  You want to know what a classic example of old is ?  Well here goes . . . 

1.  Twenty second phone conversations that take twenty minutes !  Do you honestly think that the person at the Post Office needs or wants to know how often you eat at Burger King?  I realize this makes no sense but when The Man gets on the phone anything is possible.  He has a great deal of difficulty staying on the topic at hand. 

2.  Do I REALLY need or want to know how often he changes his socks ? One small sentence will suffice if you care to share but that seems beyond the capabilities of The Man. Once again I get a blow by blow description of why he is changing his socks on a Tuesday, which drawer the socks are in, how he decided on which pair to choose and which foot he will start with when putting said socks on his feet. 

3.  Shower time . . . I don't want to know and I especially don't want details !!!!!

These are just a few examples of how my patience is worn thin. But worse is when I see The Man putting someone else in his sights for one of his detailed conversations.  I can just imagine the poor girl sitting at her desk in what ever office she works for. Her phone rings, (usually 3 minutes before quitting time because there is no other time schedule than his). She picks up the phone at 4:57 on a Friday afternoon only to be treated with The Man. A half hour later she is late for her dinner date and The Man is still rambling on about where he put his teeth last night.  

Little kids !!!  All the way !!  Even though old people often revert to child like behavior they are still a pain in the butt. 

PISSED AT A STICK

 The next time you are reading one of my blogs where I am ranting about something "stupid" that The Man did I want you to recall todays blog.  It will put into perspective just what The Man has to put up with living with me.  

I love living on this farm for the summer.  The opportunity to be outside most of the time without sweating or freezing is ideal for someone like me who really enjoys the out of doors. As a kid I spent as much time  as possible playing outside because I didn't want to be inside where my every move was under the scrutiny of my grand father and my mom.  First thing in the morning I left the house on my bike or roller skates or just hung around out in the yard, (all 15 square feet of it)  My parents loved the out of doors so we often found ourselves taking day trips to the country. Being outside was fun !  My favorite parts of being a Girl Scout for all those years were camping, hiking and anything else out side.  As a parent we took our kids camping every summer and when we weren't camping we were at the beach in the summer or outside in the yard no matter what the season.  And so you can understand why I enjoy Michigan so very much.

Life on this farm is a far cry from my childhood in NYC, my years of raising a family out on Long Island or even retirement in Florida.  Here in Michigan we have wide open spaces and no neighbors right on top of us.  The property stretches in all directions without seeing another house. The fields are bordered by woods on three sides so the animal like has plenty of area to roam.  We have trash pickup twice a month so when we have lots of burnable trash we burn it ! Leftover foods are brought out back to the field where it can naturally compost or get eaten by the local wildlife.  (Did I tell you the other day we saw a black bear walking across the field in back of the pond?).  This is country living at its finest.  

Because we burn a lot of our trash we have a fire pit between the house and the garage.  I think The Man built it when he moved here so it is well constructed and very safe.   I LOVE to burn stuff !!!  Perhaps I was a pyromaniac in a past life or maybe I'm preparing myself for an eternity in Hell.  What ever the reason I am always ready to volunteer to go outside and start a fire in the fire pit.  

I have all the proper equipment required for this task. I bring the hose around from the back of the house "Just in case". . . garden gloves are a must so as to not get splinters from any wood that might get added to the fire and most importantly of all I have my favorite "Fire Poker Stick". (Everyone needs something to poke at the fire in order to keep it burning properly.)  I found my fire poking stick last year as I walked up the driveway one afternoon.  It had broken off a tree during the night and it was PERFECT !!   The stick was completely smooth of branches and leaves.  It was about 5 feet long and just thick enough around to fit nicely into the palm of my hand. (If I was a hiker it would have been the perfect walking stick.). But best of all the wood was still green enough that it would not burn when I used it to poke things around in the fire.  It was a wonderful stick that lasted me all summer last year and most of the summer this year.

UNTIL . . .  House guests arrived !  I knew these 2 adults and 2 young boys were coming and I knew I should "hid" my perfect fire stick.  But life got in the way and I forgot.  Our company was here a whole week of which the first 3 days were very windy so there was no bonfire to toast marshmallows. On the forth day I left The Man here with his guests so I could fly down to visit my son and wife in Atlanta.  I came home 4 days later, the guests left and life slowly returned to "normal".  

(While our guests were here two large branches broke off one of the apple trees out in the yard.  Dwayne's son cut up the large, apple laden branches and piled it all up on the grass next to the fire pit. The wood was very green so we had to wait to burn it. I guess one of the nights the winds were calm and the guests had a bonfire with some of the dry wood from the woods around the house. I heard they did get to roast some marshmallows.)

Today I went out to burn a ton of paper that we have accumulated over the past week. (Amazing how much news paper and tissues can accumulate in a weeks time.). It has been very windy here all week so when I got up today and saw how calm and still the morning was I  headed out side with 3 bags of paper.  I lit the bags, piled on some dry wood and went to get my "fire poking stick" that I keep leaning up against the big Maple tree. 

IT WAS GONE !!!!!!!!!!!!!!  

The horror !!! My stick was GONE !!!!!  OMG !!!!!  

I can not tell you how upset I was over this tragedy.  I swear to you I was ready to smash something. I was PISSED !!!

Now . . .   the fact that I am surrounded by woods on three sides of the property and can go get fifty two thousand "fire sticks" in about three seconds does not factor into the equation.  I was pissed at myself for not putting the stupid stick "away". ( It is only a STICK for heaven sake!)  I was pissed that anyone DARE to burn MY stick. ( Like anyone would know that a branch leaning against a tree trunk was MY stick ).   I was pissed at The Man for having house guests. ( How dare he invite people into HIS home !)

Yes, basically I am crazy !!!  It took me about 15 minutes to come to the realization that I was totally out of my mind to be upset about a stick but I also realized I had to write about it.  

Aren't you glad I am just a little bit nuts ???

I'M BACK IN THE FLANNEL AGAIN

 Do we have any Gene Autry fans out there ?  Remember his song, " I'm Back in the Saddle Again" ?  It went like this . . . " I'm back in the saddle again,      Out where a friend is a friend,  Where the long horn cattle feed on the lowly jimsonweed,  I'm back in the saddle again "     A catchy little tune that has stuck in my head for the last 75 years.  (My dad was a fan of anything Western.  Louis L'amour was his favorite author and Western movies were his choice of TV viewing.) I grew up with the radio always being on so I have a lot of old music rolling around in my otherwise empty brain.

Today I am writing my very own version of Gene Autrys hit song, titled . . .  "I'm Back In The Flannel Again".      It goes something like this . . .

"I'm back in the flannel again,    Here in the frosty UP,     Where the leaves are turning red and the garden is quite dead,  I'm back in the flannel again !"

Yes folks . . . summer is gone and winter is knocking on the door.  There is no Autumn up here in the UP or if there is an Autumn it lasts for about 2 weeks in late August or early September.  Last week at this time it was 86 degrees and today it is 47.  Where else can you have a 40 degree change in temperature in the span of 6 days ???   Last week at this time I was sitting out in the shade under my big Maple tree because it was too hot to sit in the sun,  This week I am sitting on my bed with the heat on in the house.  

The Man's body is totally in shock!  One day he is roasting and the next he is freezing. His doesn't know what the hell is going on. The poor guy has no energy because his body is too busy switching from AC to Heat mode trying to stay comfortable.  Forget trying to keep the house temperature comfortable for him. It's an old house so it is not that well insulated.  No problem in the summer, just open the windows and let the breeze from the lake cool us down but staying warm is a whole other problem. As a result we play games with the thermostat.  In the morning when The Man gets up the house is cool because I can not sleep when it is hot.  I will go into Ninja mode at night after The Man goes to bed.  Sneaking out to turn the thermostat down to anything below 92 degrees where he has had it set for the day. (I exaggerate just a little.) If I get really desperate at night I can open the window over the head of the bed so I can get some cool air blowing down on me while I sleep. But come morning Mr. Man gets up and heads for the kitchen IN HIS UNDERWEAR where he sits freezing . . . so he turns up the heat to about 85 because he is cold.  He also "kindly" shuts the bedroom door so as to not disturb me.  That's very nice except that I am now left sleeping in a closed room where the heat is coming up. After about a half hour I find myself trying to sleep in a sweat box. 

But all that is old news . . .

The weather has officially changed into "Autumn/Winter" season or as we refer to it . . .  Flannel Season.   I am not quite ready for it yet. Today I will spend the afternoon cleaning out my clothes closet and dresser. Switching the shorts for the sweats and the tank tops for flannel.  The good thing about this is that I don't have to put away my summer duds.  They just get packed in a suitcase and put in the back of the car ready for the trip South in 3 weeks.  

No need for flannel or Gene Autry in Florida . . . In a couple of weeks it's all about Jimmy Buffett and bathing suits !!!

RESET . . . RECHARGE . . . RELAX !!!!

 I left the UP for a couple of days last week.  It was WONDERFUL !   Don't get me wrong, I LOVE being in Michigan for the summers and I LOVE my life up here but every so often I need a little change of pace. I am a restless person. I like having "adventures" but I also crave having time to myself. Wherever I am I like to have projects to focus on to keep me busy. I enjoy cleaning out a closet or dresser.  I enjoy rearranging kitchen cabinets and I actually enjoy cleaning out the car.  But along with all that I LOVE sitting under a shady tree reading a book.  Especially if it is one written by Stephen King. 

Last week The Man's son flew down to Michigan from his home in Alaska. He arrived with his girlfriend and her 2 boys ages 8 & 10. They flew in on Saturday afternoon after traveling almost 24 hours. Flights from Fairbanks to Seattle to Minneapolis to Escanaba.  That's a LONG trip . . . and I appreciate that they do this once a year to come see The Man but it also means 4 extra people in this tiny house with only ONE bathroom and a septic tank. (No civilized sewers for this part of the world. The week before they arrived the toilet was backing up so we had to have the septic tank pumped out. Better before the guests came than while they were here.)  The group arrived in a whirl wind and settled in for the week.  I remembered from last years visit just how chaotic the week would be so I made arrangements to escape to Atlanta, GA to visit my oldest child who will be turning 50 on Sunday. (How I can possibly have a 50 year old child is beyond me since I am only 35.)   I used Kyle's birthday as my "excuse" to leave town but all I truly wanted was to NOT be here in Michigan with a house full of people.  The Man and I are about 3 weeks away from returning to Florida so we have lots going on. Last minute doctor appointments, the oil burner man coming to service the heating system before we leave it for the winter, garden furniture to put away, things to winterize and close up. It's a busy time for us.  Our Alaska guests are a help with some of it but they also create more work at a time when we are trying to wrap things up. Extra laundry, extra food and a lot of extra beer being drunk. I picked up our house guests at the airport on Saturday and then I left town 4 days later. 

Do I feel the least bit guilty about leaving The Man ?  NO NO NO and NO !!!!!!!   I look at this visit as an opportunity for someone else to keep an eye on The Man while I reset, recharge and RELAX !!! And that is exactly what I did !!!  Kyle and his wife, Bridget bought me a round trip ticket to come to Atlanta.  They put up with me for 4 days and nights, cooked wonderful, HEALTHY and delicious meals. They left me alone to sleep late in my "private suite" and to sit in the sun room or out on the deck to read all day. My only job was to talk to Nora the cat when she came near me for some tickles.  (I'm not sure Nora knows what to make of me. She comes over, sniffs my hand and then gives me a look that says, "Who the heck are you and what are you doing in my house?" She tolerates my existence in her space but I am sure she is glad to get her people back for herself when I leave.) I enjoyed an amazing few days of doing absolutely NOTHING !   I watched movies that I wanted to see. Not a single one included murder, mayhem or mystery.  No blood and guts, no cowboys, cops or crime. Just happy and funny.  It was wonderful !!!

In case you think I was totally "off the grid" I must mention that I had a nightly 45 minute phone call from The Man telling me about his day.  I got blow by blow accounts of who did what, what he had to eat for the day, what the house guests did for the day, (most of which he did not approve of because they did things differently than he does so therefore they were "wrong") and what he was going to do the next day. 

(Do you remember how detailed The Man can get?  I will tell you that the description of how the guests took out the garbage took him ten minutes to share.  It would have sufficed to say, "They took our the garbage" if I even needed to be aware of that.  Not exactly a momentous occasion in my life.) 

Then there was the panicked phone call regarding the washing machine.  I am in Georgia . . . The Man is in upper Michigan.  He is in a house with two adults who I am pretty sure have used a washing machine at some point in their lives. Mid afternoon one of the days my phone rings.  It is The Man in a total complete panic . . .   "There is something wrong with the washing machine!!!!"  "Listen to it!!!" and he holds out the phone.  I have NO idea what the hell he is talking about.  I do not know what I am listening for. I couldn't hear anything.   Apparently they were running a wash and The Man decided that our guests did something wrong and "broke" the machine.  They tried to tell him it was just doing what it was supposed to do but The Man was convinced they did something wrong.  So I got a phone call !  I calmed him down,  told him it sounded fine to me and all was well with the world.  

I need another vacation !!!  And I have only been back 24 hours. 

ANOTHER "EPIPHANY"

 As I have mentioned before, my brain never stops.  Even when I am asleep I have crazy and entertaining dreams.  When I am awake I am always thinking about what to do next or where I should be. At least I don't hear voices . . .  yet!

This morning The Man woke me from a sound sleep to tell me I had to get up in TWO hours.  Thank you Mr. Man!!!!   It is Saturday, I do not need to be anywhere or do anything until 3:00 but my "little helper" thought he was doing a good thing.  OK, I'll give him a pass on that one. 

(I am doing a bible study on Genisis 1-8.  Very interesting study with a LOT of information that I never realized was there.  SIN is the big topic this week and I am feeling guilty of a lot of that.  As a result I am     REALLY trying to control my impulses to murder The Man.  So far it is not working well.)

As I made my morning trek through the kitchen on my way to the bathroom The Man was in his usual spot at the kitchen table.  I said good morning, (I wanted to ask why the hell he woke me when he did but I realized that was a lesson in futility.). He muttered something that I took to mean, "good morning" and then said no more.  So I continued to walk to the bathroom. As I was closing the door behind me I heard him say something.  (I have previously written about this most annoying habit of his to speak to me as I walk away.).    Now it is at this point that I have 2 options . . .   ONE,  stop,  turn around, retrace my steps and ask him "WHAT? . . .  OR . . .  TWO,  just keep going because I know it is nothing important.  Because I was pissed at being woken up I chose option #2.      It was then that my epiphany struck. 

Men's brains work much slower than women brains.  It takes more time for a thought to travel from the brain of a man to his mouth.  Once he thinks of something in his brain the response time to any action takes a LONG time.  

Women's brains work much faster.  We are already in motion before our brain fully considers the situation.   We are thinking as we are acting.  Or in my case, my mouth is already speaking before I fully consider what I am saying.  And THAT can get you into trouble.  

I often think about "panic" situations.  A man will have to THINK about what is happening and what his response should be.  A woman will spring into action thinking as she goes.  

I'm not saying one is better than the other . . . but holy crap . . .  stop talking after I have left the room !!!!!!

ASSUREDLY SO

 So tell me,  how many of you out there have someone in your family who KNOWS EVERYTHING ?  Don't lie, you know you do and you know who they are and you also know how it drives you crazy. They are the person who will answer everyones questions immediately even though they do NOT know the right answer.  They give you an answer with such authority that you think, "OK, I guess they're right."

NOT !!!!!!!  They just like to think they know it all.  They also think they are being helpful in giving you an answer even though it may or may not be the correct answer. 

Today's instance . . .  I am going out to the pharmacy to pick up prescriptions because I am feeling like CRAP.  As I walk out the door The Man says, with upmost authority, "Would you stop and pick up some pasties, (pronounced Pass tee),  from Saint Anthony Church." (A pasty is a bland mix of potatoes and puree of beef, possibly with other veggies added in and then baked in a wonderful pastry shell. They have NO seasoning of any kind and are dry as a bone but the folks of the UP LOVE them.  I love the pastry shell but the contents are like eating styrofoam.  Blaugh !  There is a church in Escanaba that does pastie fund raisers 3 times a year. The Man raves about these pasties and can't wait till the sales.  A couple of weeks ago we saw there was a sale coming up so The Man had me place an order for a DOZEN of these nasty things to be picked up on FRIDAY.  "We can freeze them" says The Man.  Oh Joy !  Lucky lucky me!  But he loves them, I tolerate them and I just keep my mouth shut and go along with it. 

Back to today . . .  Today is NOT Friday!  Today is THURSDAY.  The pastie sale begins today and continues tomorrow.  I know our order is for tomorrow and The Man knows our order is for tomorrow but because he knows everything this is what happened. 

The Man's grand daughter is leaving tomorrow and she too loves pasties.  I bought some at the grocery store this morning because the girl wanted to have pasties for dinner tonight.  (We have not sat down to dinner with her all week. She has been out.  She will not be home for dinner tonight but The Man wants her to have the pasties available so she can eat them when ever she is here.  OK, this morning I drive to the grocery store in Manistique while The Man is in rehab and I buy pasties for dinner.  We bring them home at 12:30 and grand daughter and her younger sister are both here. Little sister agrees with me that Pasties are nasty.  Big sister has her pastie for lunch and then she and little sister are heading into town to go to the fair.  Little sister will presumably be dropped at home before big sister returns here some time during the early hours of the morning. And this is where Mr. Knows it all comes in.  

As the girls are leaving The Man says to grand daughter #1, "Would you like some pasties to take back to Detroit with you?"  (A lovely thought but I know what's coming). Naturally, like any young person she says "SURE!"  (Hell, grandpa is buying, she isn't stupid)  The Man then turns to me and says, "On your way home from the pharmacy would you mind stopping by at St. Anthony's and picking up a half dozen pasties?  And while you are there get them to give you our order so we don't have to go tomorrow."          

#1.  Did I mention I feel like crap ?  I just want to get my meds, come home and lie down.   

# 2.  I don't think you can just stop in and buy pasties.  I think you have to order them. BUT, when I ask this question I am told in no uncertain terms, "Of course you can buy them!!!!!"  OK, what do I know. but in my heart I DO know that he is probably just saying this with nothing to back it up. I also know that they will not have our order ready for today because it is NOT FRIDAY !!!!!  I say NOTHING!

#3.  I don't know where the church is.  So I ask.  I am told that St. Anthonys is on such and such a street. "Very Easy to find !"   Meanwhile I seem to remember the text that was sent to me about picking up my order. They made a point of saying pick-up would be at St. Thomas church.  I check my message and sure enough, St. Thomas, NOT St. Anthony.  I get a poo poo from the Man like I am correcting him just to annoy him.  Meanwhile St. Anthony church is all the way on the other side of town and THAT is where he was sending me.  (Did I mention I am feeling like crap?)

Off I go into town, (20 minutes away), get my meds and take one right then and there in the car.  Then I punch St. THOMAS church into my phone and I'm on my way.  Knowing in my heart I will NOT be picking up pasties. Sure enough, I get to the church, walk in and the lady at the table asks if I have put in an order.  I tell her I have an order in for pick up tomorrow, can I get them today?  (Feeling like a total idiot. I hate being that person who thinks "rules" don't apply to them.)  Do you care to guess what the very nice lady told me ?????  "Come back tomorrow" Can I buy 4 pasties today?   "NOPE".  All pasties are preordered.     

As I get back into the car I am already composing this blog in my head.  This is only one of hundreds of examples of The Man KNOWING FOR SURE that something he says is ABSOLUTELY AND POSITIVELY  and MOST ASSUREDLY TRUE. 

To which I say, BULL POOPIES !!!!!

"GRANDPA . . . THE CAR JUST STOPPED"

 God help me but our younger generation is just plain BRAIN DEAD !!!!  Or am I forgetting what it was like to be 21 ?   I don't think so.  I do think that our young people do not have one ounce of common sense. They depend on their phone for EVERYTHING !!!   What's todays weather?  What should I wear? What will I eat for dinner?  Where should I drive?  If Google isn't giving them the answer their five thousand Facebook/twitter/instagram friends will give them the answer.  NO ONE seems to be able to THINK !!!!! FOR THEM SELVES !!!!!!

We are Doomed !!!

The prompt for this blog was a phone call The Man received from his 21 year old grand daughter who is driving up from lower MI to visit for the week.  Her truck, (that her grandfather gave her 3 years ago), is not worthy of the 300 mile trip. Soooooo, she is using her boyfriends car. Did she think to check the gas gauge before she left Detroit ?  Apparently not because 3 hours ago we got a phone call that she is stuck on the side of the road about 70 miles away from here because her "car just stopped".  When questioned about what happened she said, "I was just driving along talking to my friends (on the phone) when the car started to sputter and then stop".  She was out of gas. . .  And she is pissed at the boyfriend because he didn't fill the tank last night.  

Now I'm thinking back to when I was young and stupid.  (OH YES !  I was STUPID with a capital "S") but in all my adventures I never once ran out of gas.  And if I had I would not have called my parents, or in this case, grandparent.  First of all we knew that if we ran out of gas we were going to have to WALK! There was no Triple A to come fill the tank or jump the battery.  If we had car trouble you just started walking.   Granted I lived in NYC so I probably didn't have to walk far to get to a phone and when I did I called a friend who could come pick me up.  My dad was at work, my mother didn't drive, we didn't have a second car even if she did.  

But it was also a different world.  A 21 year old girl really didn't have to worry about perverts and psychos like we do today but we also knew how to handle ourselves.  

I must say I am VERY proud and surprised with The Man's response to the grand daughter.  He did NOT immediately say he would get in his car and come get her.  I DO think she was expecting that reaction and I admit I thought that is exactly what he would do also.  Maybe because I was sitting across the table when the phone call came in and he had it on speaker he knew I would tell him he was NUTS. For what ever reason he did not go there.  He DID flounder around trying to think of what to do so I got on my phone to see if there was any roadside assistance near by.  (Just about 3 days ago I suggested to The Man that he get his grand daughter a membership to AAA. That way she would be assured of help should she get stuck some where. He ignored me.). I tried to contact my AAA membership to see if they would assist her even though we are not related but I couldn't get through to a real person.  

By now The Man has been on the phone with grand daughter for a good 5 minutes and no one has decided on an action.  I told her to Google "roadside assistance" on her phone and see what comes up.  Then the "discussion" between her and grandpa began on who to call and will they help and where do you think they are . . .  OMG.  JUST FREAKING CALL SOMEONE !!!!!!  Grand pa is 85 miles way and he isn't coming so DO SOMETHING !!!   Since my first suggestion didn't go anywhere I then told The Man to call the local police station and tell them what was going on.  That took grand pa and grand daughter 10 minutes to do but FINALLY one of them made the call.  

This is NOT ROCKET SCIENCE !!!!!!

Of course the cops were great even though grand daughter was all pissy with having to wait 20 minutes.  

She is on the road again.  Grand pa told her to stop and FILL the tank because the cops probably just put in enough gas to get her to a gas station.  We shall see. 

I DON'T WANT TO BE IN CHARGE ANY MORE

All my life I have been "in charge".  Maybe that comes from being an only child and not having anyone else to take charge of things or I was just born with the type "A" personality where I have to be "The Boss" of everyone and everything.  (Basically that translates to being a pain in the ass to everyone around me.). 

As a kid I had to fend for myself if I wanted something.  Mom was busy with grandpas and dad was working. I entertained myself and bossed around most of the neighborhood kids.  It came natural to me to be the one gathering my friends to play stickball or to go roller skating. I organized the play for the day all summer long and none of us were ever bored. I like to think I wasn't pushy or bossy but who knows. At school it was a totally different story. There I was a mouse trying to remain invisible. I got real good at that. But when I was with friends I was comfortable taking charge when no one else wanted the job.

During my marriage Husband always told me I was a "Control Freak".  He didn't want to write the checks, balance the check book, organize the cross country vacations or deal with the daily responsibilities of running a household of 5 people. But he did not like me "taking over" and reminded me of it often. My justification was, "If I don't do it no one will".  And that sort of thinking is how I ended up teaching religious education for our parish, being class mother for all my kids in most of their elementary classes, becoming a Girl Scout leader and taking care of pretty much everything at home. 

STUPID STUPID ME !

Now here I am 78 years old and I am STILL in charge of the lives of several people. How in Heaven's name did that happen ???   How did I end up as the key person dealing with my 93 year old cousin's life? How did I end up living with The Man and monitoring his health? 

I keep telling myself that I am doing God's work.  The Lord has a plan and He has put me here to help these people. God wants Cousin Lucille and The Man to remain on this earth for some reason so He has put me in their lives to keep them alive and functioning. 

FUNNY JOKE GOD !!!!!!

This morning I have spent the last 3 hours dealing with the finances of my cousin. Talking with her financial guy making sure she is financially sound to continue living where she is so she can enjoy her life. In between phone calls there The Man has me helping him work through computer sites and phone calls with doctors and the VA trying to make sure he is getting the medical attention that he needs. Most of this he can handle but he likes to have me right there as he tries to navigate through the computer and phone "Just in Case". . 

As I sit waiting and watching The Man I can't help but wonder how the hell I ended up here and when is it my turn?  When do I get to be taken care of ?  When do I get to shut down my brain and just sit back to let someone take care of me? 

 I get the pity party playing through my brain until I realize I DON'T WANT TO BE TAKEN CARE OF !!  I would probably loose my mind if I had nothing to think about and no one to take care of.  I would be bored out of my mind.  The thought of having to be at the mercy of someone else making decisions and controlling my life would be my worst nightmare.  

Because after all, I AM a control freak and need to be in charge !!!

SIMPLY NOT SIMPLE

 Have you ever had to call "Tech Support" for anything ?  TV, Cell Phone, Computer . . . Or maybe you are trying to put together a piece of furniture,  or setting up a new fridge, washer or dryer.   The directions are just impossible to understand so you give in and call "Tech Support".  Once you have stated your problem the voice on the other end of the phone reassures you this is not a problem. They then follow that reassurance with the words, "You SIMPLY have to  . . ."  And this is where I loose it. I am still back at  trying to plug the machine in or just opening the package and they are twenty steps ahead of me. 

I remember way back when we got our first computer.  Our children and grand children will never appreciate what we had to go through to use a computer.  Plug in the screen, plug in the modem, put in a code for the screen, put in a code for the modem. And I am not talking about a simple 4 digit code. NO, those computers required entering a seven hundred and thirty five numbers, upper case letters, lower case letters and if you didn't get it exactly right you had to start all over again.  Then you had to wait about six hours for it all to process through before the computer actually turned on.  There was no Tech Support back in those days so you had to read the manual if you had one or call your best friend and hope they knew what to do.  I remember trying to get Husband to use the computer and he would get crazy when I was showing him something.  I would say, "It's simple! You just do . . . " and he would get upset and frustrated because I was going too fast.  Now I understand !!  

Now a days we just open the lap top and BAM !  ready to go.  Until you get to the web site you're looking for and can't get it figured out. (See my previous blog). When you finally get frustrated enough to call for help they always start with . . .  "Oh, it's simple!"   And how about those times when us dinosaurs are trying to do something new on our cell phones.  Who do you go to?  Your grand kids of course.  They know EVERYTHING about our modern technology.  You ask them how to do something and they say, "OH, it's simple!"  

With all this "It's simple" stuff going around I want to know why The Man can not do anything the easy or simple way.  EVERYTHING is a production.  To be honest I don't think I have ever met a man who sees the direct line from A to B.  They always have to immediately go to Red Alert to do anything.  Case in point . . . The Man has a lawn mower that is probably 20 years old.  I think it has NEVER had a new battery because EVERY day when The Man goes out to ride his mower he has to charge the battery to get it started. Sometimes it will hold the charge for a day but if it is let sitting for more then 36 hours it needs charging.  Today I asked The Man why he doesn't just get a new battery. He looked at me as if I had lost my mind. His answer was, "Why would I get a new battery? This one works fine." I know I should have just shut up right then, why I even spoke in the first place I don't know, but I kept going.  I mentioned that he has to keep charging this battery every time he wants to use the mower, wouldn't it be easier to just get a new battery and then it would start right up so he can get going without waiting 3 hours for the old battery to charge. His response, "NO, All "I" have to do is hook it up to the charger".   

Let me stop here and give you the step by step process . . . I have to go down stairs, get the charger, (because he can't reach the basement on his oxygen hose), bring it out side, find the extension cord from where ever he has left it, plug that in inside the house and run the wire out to his mower where he is sitting waiting.  He then has the difficult task of connecting the power cord to the charger and the charger to the mower.  Now he has to wait at least 2 hours for the mower to charge.  So he goes in to take a nap after that exhausting work.  I ask you . . .  wouldn't it be simpler to buy a new freaking battery ????  Or maybe I am missing something here. . .   could he possibly be using this as a ploy to take a nap ??

My favorite story of men not being able to see the simple solution was the time my uncle and father were trying to figure out how to hang a large mirror for Husband and I. I have told this story before but it is such a perfect example.  My dad and uncle had out paper and pencils, drawing sketches of where to add the extra beams to support this mirror. I called a handy man and he put 2 hooks into the wall beams, lifted the mirror and with in minutes the job was done.  I guess that is why some people become handy men while others remain "thinkers".  

A side note to all this is about our new cars.  I LOVE my new car.  Love the keyless entry.  Just push a button and off I go.  EXCEPT . . .  there are so many other features that I have yet to figure out.  The manual for my car is as thick as Websters Dictionary, (a reference that I am sure no one under the age of 60 will understand.). I have yet to sit down to read the darn thing so I have no idea what this car can do. 

What ever it is I am sure "It's Simple"

BETTER THAN A BALL OF STRING

 This is not a post about toys for your pet kitten. It is a story about entertaining your man.

When I was a little kid my mom used to give me a mess of tangled string and ask me to un knot it. I've talked about this before. It was a very creative way of keeping me busy while she was attending to my 2 elderly grandfathers.  I LOVED it !  I could sit for hours working on those knots. 

Now that I find myself living with The Man who has absolutely NO interests outside of hunting and fishing, which he can no longer do, I am at a loss to find ways to keep him preoccupied so I can have some space.  His TV watching is limited to Fox News, the Weather Channel and hunting and fishing shows. He is a clone of my husband with the exception of the hunting and fishing. There is the occasional foray into the show "Cops", (just like husband) but TV is pretty much all the excitement there is in his pitiful life. In the evenings there is the local news and Wheel of Fortune but other than that his life is really quite dull. And when a man's life is dull you know his focus is going to be on the woman in his life. Lucky us !! There are days when I feel like the amoeba on a slide being studied under a microscope.  The Man sits at the kitchen table and watches EVERY MOVE I MAKE .  I have suggested that he participate in the cooking process but he usually declines. It is apparently a lot more fun to just sit and watch and critique. Lucky ME !!!   

Each evening I walk out to the mailbox which is pitifully empty on most days with the exception of our daily newspaper. The Excanaba Press keeps The Mans attention for all of 3 minutes and then he is back to watching me and the TV.  I have several different places to escape to but I feel bad for the poor guy just sitting at that kitchen table day in and day out.

UNTIL . . .  In stepped the U.S. Government !!  Halleluia and Hip Hip Hooray !!  Leave it to the good old U s of A to provide me with hours and hours of freedom.  Now for those of you who think our government is just wonderful and doing a great job let me tell you about their latest brain child for the veterans. 

The Man is a vet.  Served in Viet Nam while in the Marines and then joined the Army 2 years after his discharge from the Marines so that he could fly helicopters for 17 years while serving in Germany and all over the US.  He has put his time in and is now able to "reap" the benefits.  Sadly the Veterans Administration is one of the least efficient branches of our government.  It periodically undergoes "major" changes which usually result in it working even worse than it was. But The Man takes full advantage of their medical and dental programs.  Dental works great because the have a dentist in both the West Palm and Iron Mountain VA hospitals.  It's when we get into the pulmonary and cardiology departments that we have nothing but trouble. There is so much red tape and lack of organization that we have been forced to go into the private sector to get decent medical treatment. But that is all water under the bridge. 

The "Ball of String" that the VA has thrown to the man comes in the form of a computer program. Now if you know a man over the age of 75 you will understand when I say the computer is akin to . . . well, it's about as complicated to The Man as a ball of string full of knots would be. I guarantee you if I gave The Man a ball of string full of knots and asked him to untangle it he would hand it right back or throw it out. Patience is NOT part of this mans nature, (although he does put up with me) And so when the VA told The Man they would no longer accept his travel vouchers on paper but that he now needed to put ALL his information into the computer and send it to them on line I thought The Man was going to explode.  This issue was the cause of 2 weeks worth of huffing and puffing and complaining. He made several phone calls to different departments, we visited the "Travel" office in the VA at lest 4 times and still the answer was the same, "Put it in the computer!"  (Remember the definition of insanity . . . Doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome . . . ? ). It was down right embarrassing going into that travel office with The Man. .He would be asking the exact same questions that he asked 2 days ago and the poor kid who worked there gave the same answers that he gave 2 days ago. The kid kept looking at me like, "Lady . . . what is wrong with this guy?" and I kept avoiding eye contact with either of them. 

So now The Man has had to suck it up and use the computer.  BUT . . .  does The Man own a computer? NO !!!!  Of course not.  He has a tablet !!  Not an iPad, an At&T Tablet. This stupid thing is a pain in the arse as far as I am concerned but then I am used to my computer.  The first time we decided to use the VA website I called it up on my computer.  WE finally figured it out, (I furred it out!  The Man hung hovered all the while making STUPID suggestions.)  Once I got the hang of it things went smoothly. EXCEPT . . .  This is the US Government we are dealing with so it takes about 15 minutes EVERY time you log in just to get to your account.  You have to go through step after step to make sure it is really you who wants to access this information. Why anyone would ever want to know how many times The Man went to have his teeth cleaned is beyond me but we MUST be secure !!!  Once you get to your page or Dashboard as the VA likes to call it,  you enter the information but there was no immediate satisfaction. "Under Manual Survey" was the message that appeared EVERY ten minutes that The Man had me checking it. Finally he got so frustrated we had to return to the VA travel office to see the young man AGAIN !!  Only to be told that they are very very backlogged so we needed to be patient.  HA HA HA !!!!  (I did not laugh out loud)

Upon returning home, one hour drive later, The Man asked me to go onto the website and check again.  And this is where I realized I HAD A BALL OF STRING!  I suggested that The Man call up this website on HIS tablet so he could check it when ever he needed, (wanted), to see what was going on.  I got him started and I walked away. 

That was 2 weeks ago.  Now ever time I am feeling claustrophobic I say, "Hey D, Have you checked your travel claims recently?"  And BINGO !!  I'v got at least 2 hours to myself !!  

A FINE LINE

There is a fine line between love and hate. A fine line between "funny" and mean.(Cousin Lu is good at this one. She will say something perfectly awful to me and then say, "I'm just kidding".  Like that helps.) There is a fine line between genius and insane.(I think I'm better at the insane side of that line than the genius) There is a fine line between passing and failing which I really was familiar with in high school! There is also a fine line on my forehead that is getting bigger by the day.. That fine line is morphing into the Grand Canyon with many tributaries cracking open around my eyes and mouth. I do not like those fine lines and I really do wish they would stop appearing. 

Back to the original fine lines that I started to write about.  When I go to my doctor and she has me step on the scale I see the God Awful number that she writes down and think, "Good God! I'm getting fat!". My doctor does not consider me fat.  She says I am obese !!  It's a fine line between the two.  Weight isn't really a good example of fine lines because the stupid charts are compiled by a bunch of skinny little twits sitting at desks in some office. They do not realize what an ugly word obese is.  I think of obese as being a person over 300 pounds.  I am no where near that number so lets find another word please !

The fine line between love and hate is a great example. It is possible to one day wake up and think, "Wow, this man is really special. I love him." and then twenty minutes later after he does any number of really stupid things I am thinking all I want to do is beat him to death with the crock pot.  That is definitely a fine line between things.  

What got me thinking along the "fine line" line was my aching back. If I sit too long my back hurts but if I stand too long my legs hurt. If I read too long my head hurts but if I watch TV too long my eyes hurt. It seems that I have arrived at "THAT AGE" where I must find the fine line between my actions so that I can remain pain free and happy. Not an easy task.  I often reflect on my dad who lived until the ripe old age of 97. I remember him being active up until well into his 90's. He would get up early early in the morning and drive down to the harbor where he would climb onto his small boat and putter around fixing things until it was time for breakfast.  He would then come home, fix himself a healthy meal, putter around the house for a while until lunch time after which he would take a nap. After nap time he would sit at his desk and write his book about his life.  He was always busy and he lived a good long life because of that. 

I am trying to be like my dad but I am having a great deal of trouble finding that fine line between "resting" and sleeping 24 hours a day.  I have not found the fine line between doing a little gardening and digging up trees. I think I am an all or nothing gal. I am needing to fix that !

Yesterday The Man and I were sitting for hours.  Part of the time in the car, part of the time in a doctors office. It totaled up to 6 hours of sitting and I paid for it last night.  My back was aching and my innards were not functioning thanks to all the time spent not moving.  To remedy this situation I went outside and walked out to the mailbox, came around to the back of the house to feed the deer, got a few gallons of water to sprinkle on my plants and then decided I was going to die!  My arms, legs and back were screaming for me to stop.  Soooooo I went inside, showered and laid down on the bed to watch TV. (We have 2 TV's. One in the kitchen which requires me to sit on the hard red Naugahyde chairs, which my aching back would not like, OR go into the bedroom and climb up onto the bed to watch the TV in there. You KNOW which Tv I choose every time.) 

BUT now we have to cross another fine line.  If I climb onto the bed too early in the evening my back will start aching and then I have trouble falling asleep when it is time to turn off the TV. It's like playing Russian roulette with my body.  If I miss the fine line between moving and not moving I will end up in pain for hours to follow. Of course there is always Advil, Tylenol or Bayer Back and Body.  All of these are my very best friends. I try not to play favorites so I will switch from one to another when I am really uncomfortable.  

But again, there is that fine line between becoming a drug addict and just keeping the aches and pains at bay. Good thing I don't have any heavy duty drugs because you see how poorly I am managing my fine lines .

HAPPY 4th OF JULY !!

 I am sitting here in my Happy Place enjoying a most wonderful day.  No big celebrations here, no fireworks, no parades, no barbecue with lots of people.  Just a comfortable lawn chair under the big maple tree in the yard, a cool breeze and lots of sunshine and peace and quiet.  It's the perfect day !

Growing up in NYC we always celebrated the forth of July at home. Our small house was on a tiny piece of property, probably no more than a 50x50 parcel of land on a street filled with other small houses.  We had a couple of pear trees, some grape vines on the one side of the house and current bushes on the other side. Sometimes my Aunt Mary and Uncle George would bring cousins Ann and Raymond over fromWhitestone, Queens and we would have a picnic in the yard, sitting at the old, wooden picnic table that my parents had bought years ago on a trip to Maine. (They would tell the story of bringing the table back with them tied to the roof of the car.  Can you imagine driving today from Maine to NY with a large, heavy picnic table tied to the roof of your car ?  That just would't happen.)

I loved the forth of July !  For weeks before all the neighborhood kids and I would be saving up our allowances in order to go to the candy store to buy caps.  If you are my age you know what caps are. They came in a roll about a half inch wide. The red paper had small dots of gunpowder all along the strip of paper and when you smacked the dots with a rock or hammer they exploded with a "POP". I can still smell the gunpowder when it exploded. I think the smell was better than the actual sound they made. 

 Can you imagine selling gunpowder to kids in this day and age!  The HORROR !!!!  But every kid I knew had caps and none of us ever were burned by them.  They were pretty harmless in spite of the sound of it.  If you were lucky enough to own a cap gun then you had caps year round.  Most of us had cap guns that we played cowboy and Indians with.  The gun opened up so that you could put the roll of caps on a small peg. Then you closed up the gun, threaded the caps out under the hammer so that they shot when you pulled the trigger.  Once again . . .  The HORROR !!!  As far as I know none of us kids ever grew up to be murders. We were kids acting out our fantasies.  (Maybe our kids now a days need to be outside running around more and learning how to play !!)  If you were "shot" during a game you usually spent the next ten minutes arguing with your friends as to whether or not your were "dead". No one ever went home mad. You just came back to life and continued the game.  

At my house I never had "fireworks".  I don't even know if there were fireworks any where to be seen.  It was all about sparklers if you were lucky enough to have them.  When we first moved to Queens Village my dad was working for the Long Island Rail Road in Jamaica, Queens..  He worked in the rail yard fixing the radio and speaker systems in the railroad cars.  Working in a rail yard had it's perks in that every year he brought home A flare, (just one), to light in the driveway when it got dark.  He would spend all day making a holder for the flare so that it would be safe. I remember sitting on our front stoop with my mother and grand father watching my dad set up the flare in the driveway. I knew I had to stay far away from the fire because it was "dangerous".  To a little kid this was very exciting !!! The neighborhood kids would all come and stand outside our fence to watch the "lighting of the flare" !  It was big time excitement for us city kids. 

I think my first fireworks show was in Augusta, Maine when I was a kid.  My dad had taken me to Maine  to visit his friends Forrest and Ann and they took us to the state capital building for the 4th of July celebration.  I remember how loud and bright the fireworks were and I remember I did not like them one bit !!  So much for that big excitement. I have come to appreciate fireworks but only from a distance. I still don't like the noise!

But today there is no loud noise.  Only the sound of the wind blowing through the trees and the squawking of the crows. No sounds of traffic or people. It is a wonderful place to be to appreciate this amazing country we are blessed to live in.