Today's thoughts

Category: CREATURE FEATURES (Page 29 of 37)

Lions and Tigers and Bears, Oh My! (Plus dogs and cats)

Retirement is not without Hassles: Sunday #488

I thought it was Sunday, but there isn’t even a hint of sunshine. It’s just like any other gray day to a retiree like me. I did my three mile run this morning on the treadmill while I finished up Red Alert by James Patterson and Marshall Karp. The dogs were reluctant to go outside in the rain, but their bladders prevailed. Tally ran directly across the street dodging raindrops to do her business. Tinker, on the other hand, could not find a proper place to pee, and wandered aimlessly through the wet grass for what seemed like an hour. As I sit here drinking a Diet Coke and talking to my wife, we’re thinking about another visit to Cracker Barrel for what would be my third time this week. These are the things that make me a certified “creature of habit.”

There is a certain sense of peace in being a home body, while only venturing out to familiar sites. Buffalo Wild Wings to end each week is a good example. Movie night, cooking night, and date night help distinguish the days of the week. A different movie, recipe, and restaurant are the only decisions that need to be made when you’re in the routine of being home. It’s not boring at all considering the amount of traveling that we do. Nearly one week of every month is spent away from home, a percentage that’s been even higher so far this year. Marriott Hotels are our home away from home, utilizing everything from the lower end Fairfield Inn properties to the high-end JW Marriott and their world class resort hotels. However, there’s no place like home.

Tomorrow starts my wife’s work week – another Monday. Sunday, for me, was always the transition day, preparing for the job while struggling to preserve the weekend. I was never able to look at Sunday as “Funday” because of what always loomed ahead. As a result, the weekend hours began to shrink and pass by too quickly. The week seemed to skip from Friday to Monday to the point where I felt that I was always working, Also, back in the days of mowing, trimming, edging, and raking, weekends were nothing but a labor extension of the work week. Condo life eventually put an end to those responsibilities. My wife misses her garden, while I certainly don’t miss those yard work and home maintenance days. 

We ended up going to Biscuits for breakfast, our favorite haunt prior to the recent two Cracker Barrel location openings. Regardless, a hearty breakfast at either location usually leads to a nap. The Cubs, The Masters, and I.U. baseball might allow me to plow through the afternoon. In addition, my wife wants us to watch Pitch Perfect 3. By the way, Game Night was a very entertaining movie last night. It was a Friday Night Lights reunion of coach Kyle Chandler and back-up quarterback, Jesse Plemons, one of my favorite TV series. I often had dinner with the two of them during the filming of the show while we lived in Austin. They were both very good about mixing with the crew and lowly show extras like myself.

It should be a relatively quiet week. There will be no skiing, Broadway musicals, or Leadership breakfasts. The dogs get to go to the spa and we might go to the Nike Hoop Summit on Friday night.  It’s supposed to be spring-like weather tomorrow and then return to cool temperatures. The dogs were shorted their walk/run today, and Tinker responded with a fowl case of Tinkerrhea on the kitchen floor. She is the “Poopingest Pup on the Planet,” and after last night’s storms and the need for her Thunder Shirt was unable to control her output. (See Posts #370 and #371). I somehow managed to sleep through the high winds and heavy rain, exhausted after another tough day of retirement. What day is it again? 

 

Retirement is not without Hassles: Greek to Me #477

Time is passing quickly on our Mediterranean cruise, as we’ve reached the Greek Islands of Santorini. Yesterday was disappointing with plans canceled to see Olympia, but we woke up this morning to clear skies and warmer temperatures. I only ran a mile this morning, but still managed to get in over 17,000 steps on the streets of Santorini and much of those were actual stair-steps. As we were approaching the islands at sunrise, I could see them at a distance, initially thinking it was snow on top of the soaring cliffs ahead. Instead, it was the cluster of white-washed homes against the dark, volcanic pumice rock that they are built on. Many of these homes are actual caves that we once used for storage but now serve as hotels that can charge as much as 10,000 Euros a night in the tourist-packed summer season. There are only 15,000 residents on this series of islands, but the numbers swell as the temperatures rise, playing host to 2 million visitors each year.

We started our day on the ship’s “gangway,” thinking of pirates and walking the gangplank in shark-infested waters. Instead, it provided passage to our “tender,” a boat that delivered us safely from ship to shore. These new terms were all Greek to me. Once on land, as bus escorted us to the top via a zig-zagging, narrow road with breathtaking views of our shrinking ship in the blue waters below. We first visited the towns of Oia and Fira and learned that the iconic blue-painted domes that contrast sharply with the white houses are churches, and there are over 600 serving these communities. That’s 25 people per church provided that everyone in town attends. All of these churches and their associated religious monuments are obviously popular tourist destinations, or they could never make ends meet. There are both Orthodox and Catholic churches, basilica and Byzantine cross types. It’s all Greek to Me.

As with the other Mediterranean islands, there were lots of stray cats, some of them sunning on the white reflective roofs of the cave homes. No hot tin roofs here! There was also at least one dog who left a deposit on the main retail street. Unfortunately, I stepped in it!  The only other animals I saw were the donkeys who primarily haul construction materials and carry tourists on their backs up the step hills. Their deposits are much easier to see. Greek poop – please scoop!

We enjoyed the sweet Greek wine called Vinsanto in a local tasting room that overlooked the distant sea, had an authentic Greek buffet lunch in Pyrgo while entertained by musicians & dancers, and did some serious jewelry shopping. Opa – please pass the Windex! More Greek to me. A Tram dropped us gently down the cliffs to the port, with the other option being a donkey ride, and then it was a quick tender back to the ship. More Greek tomorrow in Athens after an Italian dinner tonight in Manfredi’s, another exclusive onboard specialty restaurant. Tomorrow will be our final stop, as I struggle with a nasty cold.

 

 

 

Retirement is not without Hassles: Travel Madness #462

Travel Madness is finally here. Our new luggage just arrived last evening, so we’ll be doing some last minute crammin’ and jammin’ this morning. We’ll probably have to pay for that third suitcase, plus a carry-on. The ten hour flight starts this afternoon, and when we touch down in Amsterdam it will be St. Patrick’s Day morning. We’ll head immediately to the Green Light District, on any other day Red, before our Anne Frank House tour. While we’re in the air, the NCAA basketball tournament will conclude its first round of action without me. With yesterday’s Leadership Meeting, I did watch some of the games, but found I have relatively little interest. In fact, there’s a sense of bitterness that my team isn’t playing again this year. It’s a good time to leave the country.

My wife had an appointment this morning and when she gets back home we’ll take the dogs on a final walk/run. As always, we’ll have a sitter staying at the house to watch them. They’re already suspicious, watching us scramble about making last minute preparations. Tinker, in particular, gives us the “hairy eyeball” of resentment. I’m glad she can’t talk (see Post #448), because her body language says enough. Tally, on the other hand, will be excited for the extra walks she’ll get from the youthful sitter.

When we get back, I’m planning another ski trip to Mt. Hood and will look forward to our 17th wedding anniversary in Santa Monica, one last stop on Route 66 this birthday year. (See Post #235). It will take a few weeks of “homebody” routine to recover from the next few weeks of Travel Madness. Tight schedules, confined quarters, heavy spending, and potential seasickness loom ahead. “There’s no place like home,” but seeing the world is a retirement requirement.

Diary of an Adoptee: Refused #459

I had good news and bad news today on the adoption front. My certified letter to Edna F. Davidson in Seymour, who I suspected to be my birth mother was refused delivery. (See Post #446). It is disappointing news, especially considering that there has been no response from my initial certified letter to her son. (See Post #393). The delivery of that letter was at least accepted and signed for by her namesake, Jerry Poole. Today’s rejection could mean one of two things: First, that she have since moved from the White Pages address listed for her; Or, that she and her son decided that it was not in their best interest to involve me in their family. They could be suspicious of a scam, she might be in poor health or have memory problems. Then again, I could be totally on the wrong track – but I doubt it. The mystery continues.

The initial documents on my birth mother came via a connection that I made through the website 23andme (Post #410). I had provided a DNA sample, hoping to discover elements of my genetic background. The results provided a link with a potential third cousin who believed he was related to my “second family.” Today, at the same time I received this rejection notification, he discovered a genetic link to the Bannister family. This came about as a result of an additional DNA test that he sent to another company. I did a similar thing several weeks ago, submitting a sample to ancestry.com. I did this second test after discovering that a nephew of my birth mother was maintaining the Banister (or Bannister) family tree through this well respected genealogical web service. I believe that he was indirectly suggesting that I provide genetic proof of alignment with his family. Hopefully, our DNA will line up, and he will help introduce me to his aunt and my birth mother. It will be another few weeks before I can hopefully establish this important bridge of credibility. In the meantime, I will be out of the country and focused on travel rather than adoption. 

Retirement is not without Hassles: Straws #458

It was a gorgeous day of skiing. Obviously, several people took the day off to enjoy the rare sunshine at this time of year, but we still essentially had the slopes to ourselves. In comparison, Steamboat last month was cold and crowded, while the runs were sometimes too long for my aging legs. After all, I’m apparently only 9 years away from skiing free, and was able to get an all day Senior pass for $59, half the price of Colorado. The two-mile length of our run down the mountain today was enough to create a pleasant burn in my quads, not the unbearable, tired feeling of the longer, steeper, higher-altitude courses at Steamboat. It made me want to go back for more, as we made advance plans for next month.

This week’s Leadership Meeting will take place a day earlier and will involve the biggest day of college basketball all year long. Unfortunately, I really don’t have a horse in this year’s race, so it’s more sadness than Madness, for me. It’s appropriate that we’ll be out of the country, and so this will not be the focus of March. We’ll be crusin’ and boozin’ and my team won’t be losin’! Instead, my Indiana Hoosiers will be preparing for next year. Hopefully, Purdue, Butler, or even Notre Dame will represent my home state’s legendary reputation for basketball.

I’m learning to play “Stand By Me” on the ukulele, thanks to the help of a friend. My fingers get sore making the chord transitions, so it will take some practice time to build-up some calluses. The burn marks on my hands from cooking dinner last week have evolved into ugly, red scabs. My poor, multi-fingered appendages have taken a lot of abuse in retirement, so far. They were once rough & tough from shovel labor, shaking hands, and softball. Similarly, my poor feet are sore and my toe nails black from skiing, consequently I will need some luxury cruise pampering.

Our seventeen year-old cat, Frankie, has a urinary infection, so I will be back at the vet tomorrow. Pet.Vet. Debt. (See Post #351). Even our perfectly health schnauzer pup, Tally, needed eye drops for an infection last week. Pet expenses continue to mount, including the $1000 that we’ll need to pay a house/pet sitter while we’re away from home next week. We’ve begun to call Tally by the nickname, “Egbert,” since she loves to have a bite of our morning egg breakfast. Tinker, her older sister, is allergic to egg, so we have to be deceptive in the delivery. Tinker knows! Both dogs go to the groomer tomorrow to “get the stink off.” They accompanied us to wine country yesterday, glad to spend the day out of the house.

With all these pet duties tomorrow, I will have little time for writing. I need to start packing for our 15-day trip, and want to read The Diary of a Young Girl before our visit to the Anne Frank house in Amsterdam. My wife had nightmares from reading it, so it’s been tough for her to digest. I’m bored with my current book, All-American Murder, by James Patterson. It’s not one of his better works, but non-fiction rather than his imaginative specialty. I was also disappointed with the movie, Wrinkle in Time, from a childhood book that was my wife’s favorite. It was really not about time travel as I originally posted. (See #455). It had too much of Oprah’s ego invested, however some movie-goers actually clapped.

I’ve been really good about limiting my use of straws. My friend has a blog, www.offthecoast.net. He is certified as a Master Recycler, and involved with organizations like www.portland.surfrider.org. I now always carry with me in my car a zip-lock bag so I can reuse the straw I get at regular McDonald’s visits for a Diet Coke. It’s a small gesture on my part to support his efforts to protect our environment and reinforce an anti-straw campaign by my former employer KINK Radio.  I have become sooooooo… Portland!

Retirement is not without Hassles: By The Numbers #457

I just got done posting both my longest and shortest blog posts these past few days. Over the next few weeks, with our travel schedule, it will be tough to keep up the daily pace. After doing this for a year, I’m due for another blog-cation. The last one I took was while I was running the Hood to Coast relay (Post #230) and was stuck in a van for a few days. In this occasion, I’ll be on a Mediterranean cruise ship, with unlimited access to alcohol. I’ll see the sites of Amsterdam, Venus, Croatia, and Greece along the way, and try to take the time to report on my journey. We were in wine country today, enjoying the sunshine, and I’ll be back on the ski slopes tomorrow, as my wife anticipates her first two-week vacation from work ever.

As I continue to reflect on my past, I thought it might be interesting to look at my life from a numbers standpoint:

0. Number of calories in a Diet Coke.

1.  loving wife of 17 years; sister; junior high attended; 43 year-old son; 97 year-old mother-in-law.

2. grade schools attended; marriages; high school buildings attended; step-daughters; houses lived-in as a child

3. college campuses enrolled; grand kids; cats lived with.

4. World Series attended (Cubs win!); strings on a ukulele.

5. I.U. NCAA basketball championships

6. pet dogs loved;

7.  homes owned.

8. days until our Mediterranean cruise; Tally and Maddie’s current age. 

9. ladies dancing (Limoges 12 days of Christmas collection); current Trail Blazer’s win streak.

10. Sherm Lollar’s uniform number (my lucky number) 

11. cities lived-in. Gavyn’s age. 

12. day of the current month. 

13. cars owned.

14. apartments rented; Tinker’s current age.

16. dollars currently in my wallet.

17, days until baseball opening day; Frankie’s current age.

18. Payton Manning’s uniform number with the Colts. 

20. employers who hired me; days left this month.

23. hours in a day (with time change).

24. each of our pup’s weight on the vet’s scale.

26. different jobs worked.

26.2. miles in the 1979 Detroit Marathon completed.

31. Reggie Miller’s uniform number with the Pacers. 

32. games won in 1976 I.U. undefeated season (32-0).

34. Walter Payton’s uniform number with the Bears.

61. My younger wife’s current age. 

66. years lived.

68. teams in this year’s NCAA basketball tournament.

72. My height in inches before Senior shrinkage. 

88. sit-ups and push-ups done each day.

93. Age that both my parent’s lived. 

100. days until my wife’s birthday.

146. Broadway shows attended with my wife (Post #454).

197. my weight today.

229. months together with my wife.

287. shopping days until Christmas.

294. days left this year.

436. days retired.

1273. different restaurants dined with my wife (date nights).

3361. consecutive days of running.

7,022. Days together with my wife.

 

 

 

 

 

2.

 

 

 

Retirement is not without Hassles: Wrinkle in Time #455

Whenever I go to an antique or baseball card show, it’s like a step back in time. It’s remarkable how some of these items have survived all these years, in spite of mothers like mine who threw away millions of dollars worth of “junk.” Some would argue that they only reason that these items have grown so much in value is because of such purging. Closets were cleared, attics emptied, and crawl spaces cleansed. Damage, rust, and breakage led to further extinction of our precious artifacts. As they say, one man’s junk is another man’s treasure, and once-considered throwaways are now keepers. 

A friend and I were talking about baseball cards this morning. When we were boys, it was somehow “cool” to clothespin these cards to the spokes of a bicycle wheel. In motion, it would clatter like a motor, giving us a sensation of speed. It was a childish, silly idea, but everyone did it. Thousands of Mickey Mantle cards were chewed up in this process, each with a current day value of at least $500, along with likenesses of Hank Aaron, Willie Mays, and Ted Williams. The surviving cards are now protected by plastic sheets and air-tight cases, preserving their now-rare status. Oh, to be able to go back in time.

Before the days of Tupperware containers, basement floods did the worst kind of damage. You could still see a wrinkled, washed-out, stained version of your documents, photos, or other valuables, but they might as well have destroyed beyond recognition by fire. Also, items that that were stored were often forgotten and their values lost to rodents, birds, humidity, heat, freezing temperatures, theft, and obsolescence. After all these years, we see a shiny version of what we once had at an antique show, and wish that we had taken better care. They bring back misplaced memories of yesteryear.

My wife’s favorite book growing up was A Wrinkle in Time. A first edition copy is now worth as much as $2,800. With the release of the movie this week, the value will only go up. I love books and movies about time travel, so I’m sure I’ll be intrigued with this movie adaptation, although I’ve never read Madeline L’Engle’s novel. The Time Machine, The Time Traveler’s Wife, 11.22.63, Outlander, Time and Again, A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court, Slaughterhouse Five, Timeline, Passenger, Back to the Future, If I Never Get Back, and Midnight in Paris are some of my “time sensitive” recommendations.

You don’t have to buy a book or movie ticket to time travel. Just go to a garage sale. Many of the items will literally take you back in time. If you want to spend some admission money, visit an antique show, museum, or historical exhibit. You don’t have to worry about accidentally changing the future, and there’s no jet lag when you travel this way.

I feel “time sensitive” today, especially considering that many of us will lose an hour tonight as we “spring forward.” When you think about it, it’s not really lost time, but rather a shorter day. Also, we’ll be on the receiving end later this year when we “fall back,” and that day expands to 25 hours. I will probably not miss this hour until my wife gets up for her Monday workday, as I’ll have to run in the dark. Later next week, I will then temporarily lose another 8 hours traveling east. This is all related to travel time not time travel, but nonetheless it’s still a wrinkle. 

 

 

 

Creature Features: Talking dogs #448

There are times when you wish your pets could talk and tell you exactly what they need. How were we to know that she was about to have another bad case of Tinkerreah? Tinker, after all, is the “Poopingest Pup on the Planet,” so a little more information than pacing back and forth might have been helpful. This was the case the other night. It was three in the morning and Tinker was restless. As I got up to use the bathroom for the umpteenth time that night, she was right on my heels. She’s typically pretty vocal and barks like a maniac when she needs something important. This was important, and she regrettably didn’t do as good of a job as Lassie, the lovable collie, in reporting that “Timmy was in the well.” Well, as it turns out, Timmy was never stuck in a well in any of the episodes, but the point was that the dog could communicate, even if it couldn’t talk. 

I’m retired now, so I’m with our three pets all day long. They are quiet most of the day, except for when my wife comes home from work in the evening. “Don’t you ever pay any attention to them?” she will ask me, as they each vie for her attention. “It’s you that they want. They’re bored with me,” I will remind her. They can hear her car pull into the neighborhood, and anxiously make their way to the door to greet her with barking and jumping. It’s a grand reception that every pet owner craves, and she gets one each and every night, while I’m stuck with bladder-relief responsibilities. When she wants to relax on the couch, Tinker barks incessantly, wanting to play ball with her – not me. Tally wants to be on her lap, and Frankie the cat comes out of the dark bedroom for the first time each day. 

Tinker barks at me when she’s hungry, and she’s hungry all the time, stalking me every time I pass near the kitchen. I can’t open anything without getting “the look,” that angelic face of starvation. Lately, practically every snack I give her comes back to haunt us in the form of Tinkerreah. She just turned fourteen and her once cast-iron digestive system is showing its age. I feel sorry for her because her appetite is still like a puppy. Snoopy, Charlie Brown’s pet beagle,  at least expressed himself through balloons. I wish a balloon had popped up over Tinker’s head saying, “I have to poop, dad!” Before babies can talk, they at least wear a diaper.

There were other famous dogs that could communicate better than even Lassie, like Scooby-Doo, the Great Dane who spoke in broken English but usually put an “R” in front of his words and noises like “Ruh-Roh.” Tinker had that “ruh-roh” moment just before she let loose on our kitchen floor. I tried to get her safely outside, but it was too late! I need a better warning system.

The most vocal dog, in my opinion, is Brian Griffin from Family Guy. He can tell you if he has to poop, or at least Seth MacFarlane can.  This is known as being anthromorphic, like Mr. Ed, who was a horse, of course. Mr. Ed could just poop in his stall, so he didn’t need to use his voice for this purpose. Astro, the Great Dane on The Jetson’s, also had a speech impediment like Scooby-Doo, but could definitely let you know when he had to “roh.” Goofy could talk but Pluto couldn’t because Disney unfairly distinguished between animated characters, making Goofy human-like and Pluto just a pet. The dirty word “Poop” was never used by either of these All-American characters, put Pluto thought about it. The only other talking dog that I can think of was the Taco Bell chihauhau, who only spoke Spanish. “Mierda.”

Tinker, “The Poopingest Pup on the Planet,” is not quite as famous as Benji, The Shaggy Dog, Martin Crane’s Eddie, Old Yeller, Beethoven, Rin-Tin-Tin, Full House’s Comet, The Little Rascal’s Petey, Otis, Toto, Hooch, Cujo, or Marley. Maybe, someday, she will be, as stories of Tinkerreah become legendary. In the meantime, only I give a “poop” that she be able to give me a stronger signal when she needs to go outside.

Creature Features: Priceless Pup #440

 

Another trip and payment to the vet today inspired this poem:

Priceless Pup 

The dog we own,
Didn’t cost a cent.
You wonder years later,
Where the money went?

Sitters and daycare,
Shots and grooming.
Collars and toys,
Halloween costuming.

Meds and beds,
Treats and eats.
Tags and bags,
Meet and Greets.

With every trip,
To see the Vet.
I tend to break,
Out in a sweat.

Leashes and exams,
Pills for ills
Samples to test,
More clinic bills.

Fancy biscuits.
Bags of crunchies.
Chews and kibbles,
Gourmet munchies.

Special diet needs?
Clippings and cleanings.
Surgery expenses?
X-Rays and screenings

Vet.Pet.Debt.
Spend and Repeat.
I should have just,
Gotten a parakeet.

Add it all up,
It must be a million.
Spent on a dog,
Now worth a zillion.

Copyright 2018 johnstonwrites.com

Creature Features: Deck Check #439

I should not have given Tinker, our oldest schnauzer, those tortilla chips yesterday. I took her out early this morning and saw no indication of a problem. She and younger sister Tally were enjoying the 3″ of snow that fell last night. Tinker does not like grass, most likely because of her allergies, so the blanket of snow provided a protective shield for her sensitive paws. Tally was busy digging in the snow and running circles around her, while she was trying to do her business.

An hour after Tinker was back inside our house, she began to bug my wife, fidgeting, shivering, and pacing down the hall. With the cold temperatures outside, my wife put on her Thunder Shirt that tightly hugs her body and provides comfort. We typically put this on in thunderstorms that were frequent when we lived in Austin, Texas, but rarely happen in Portland. As my wife opened the shutters on the sliding doors to the back deck, Tinker immediately went to look out the glass, so she opened the door and let her out. It was another bad case of “Tinkerrhea” (See Posts #370 and #371). My wife was not aware that I fed her chips yesterday, so she was disappointed in my actions, but relieved that it wasn’t something else. I went out later to clean up the mess and thought of this silly poem in honor of the occasion:

 

Deck Check

Before you step,
You need to check.
In venturing out,
On our back deck.

There’s no fenced yard,
Where we live.
So when pups gotta go,
Something has to give.

When weather’s bad,
Or emergency calls.
And dogs starts pacing,
Around our halls.

The only solution,
To get outside.
The sliding door,
Gets opened wide.

There’s no grass,
Just planks of wood.
But in a pinch,
It works real good.

There’s potted plants,
A table and chairs.
One way in or out,
No exit stairs.

A massive grill,
That smells of meat.
So sniffing that,
Is quite a treat.

So open up,
It’s time to go.
Bombs away,
Look out below.

Between the cracks,
A target looms.
With some help,
Let’s hope it blooms.

So watch out,
When you come over.
Dodge the spots,
Left from rover.

Before you step,
You need to check.
In venturing out,
On our poop deck.

Copyright 2018 johnstonwrites.com

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