Today's thoughts

Category: CREATURE FEATURES (Page 33 of 37)

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

Retirement is not without Hassles: Game Day #305

I am watching television, wishing for a Cubs rally.  I yelled out loud in the first inning and the poor dogs scattered, thinking I was “barking” at them.  Temper…temper!  Tinker already had a tough day, fighting an infection that led to another $750 vet bill.  I’m not sure she understands that I’m retired and on a fixed income.

I’m nearly finished watching five seasons of Longmire on Netflix.  I haven’t been as hooked on a TV series since Walter White and  Breaking Bad.  It was about a 50 hour commitment, but what the heck- I’m retired.  I didn’t think I would like a western, but he’s a cool sheriff, also named Walt, with a little bit of Clint Eastwood and a touch of Harrison Ford.  I’ll be anxious for Season 6 and move on to Justified, another made-for-television recommendation from a friend.

I have a paperback copy of Stephen King’s It sitting on my desk.  It’s about 2 1/2” thick with small print. For indoor reading, I’ve selected Dan Brown’ Origin on my I-pad.  Clowns, religion, and macho sheriffs make an odd combination of topics.

I just read an article that claims that I no longer need to use two spaces when typing a new sentence.  Apparently, it identifies me as an “old school author,” dating back to typewriter spacing. I will hopefully stop that habit, beginning with this sentence.

Date Nights have now shifted to Thursdays on my wife’s calendar, further confusing my ability to know what day it is. I was cooking on Thursday nights, that had recently been moved from Tuesday. This is all to accommodate my wife’s shifting Yoga classes and hair appointments. It keeps me on my toes.

What was once Date Night is Game Night tonight, and my Cubs are in a must-win situation. If they don’t, at least college basketball tips-off this weekend.  It’s also looking favorable for a New York City World Series, while I happen to be there.  Unfortunately, the odds are against the Cubs joining me. I’ve promised the dogs I’ll try not to yell again if they are eliminated tonight. Single space- get in the habit “old man.”

Retirement is not without Hassles: All I Want To Do #302

I may still be hungover from Friday night’s dinner at Ivy on the Shore here in Santa Monica.  I’m not getting any younger, so starting with Happy Hour at five with two martinis, then drinking two more at the restaurant after accepting a glass of “welcome-in” champagne, adding a couple of glasses from my wife’s bottle of wine, and capping off the evening with a generous pour of Limoncello for dessert, turned me into a  stumbling, bumbling drunk.

I woke up Saturday morning with a headache, and the Sheryl Crow hit, “All I Want to Do,” playing on my wife’s phone.  Coincidentally, it was the background music as part of a friend’s Smilebox tribute to their recently departed dog.  It was late morning, long after when “the sun comes up over Santa Monica Boulevard.”  After I finally got my nauseous self out of bed, a run on the beach was predictably painful.  As a result, I remained abstinent from alcohol until after the Cubs’ loss.  We did finish off the to-go bottle as a nightcap late last night after getting back from Dodger Stadium, but it’s been strictly diet colas  ever since.   One big negative about Marriott Hotels is that they only serve Pepsi products.

Saturday evening my wife and I were “bleacher bums,” as Yasiel Puig and the Dodgers easily outscored the Cubs.  The unexpected “all-you-can-eat” Right Field Pavilion deal took away some of the discomfort of the hard, wooden seats, but did little to settle the obnoxious fans in our section.  I’ve been making a big deal out of Birthday 66, having posed for a picture in front of the “Trail Ends Here” Route 66 sign on Santa Monica Pier. A similar picture of me was taken at Pier 66 in Seattle, peering through the symbolic numbers.  Puig’s uniform #66 took away any buzz that was left from Friday night.  He hit a double for his first RBI, and followed with a solo Home Run against the Cubs vulnerable pitching staff.  He was indeed Muscle Beach strong in leading the Dodgers to victory in Game 1!

During my 66 Birthday celebration in Seattle, I had my picture taken in front of Pier 66.  We also went to see Tom Petty, who died a month later at age 66. Today I’m flying out of Alaska gate #66, so the number continues to be a reoccurring “sign of the times.”  I should probably get my next tank of gas at Phillips 66 (See Post #234), and go to Vegas and bet on  rolling Double Sixes – Boxcars.  Maybe the Cubs can score 6 in the 6th tonight?

The bottom line of this past weekend in Santa Monica – “All I want(ed) to do is have some fun.”

My Hangover’s Hungover.

Too many drinks,
With little to eat.
This morning I’m lucky,
To stand on two feet.
.
Yesterdays breakfast,
Is on the front lawn.
I seem to ache more,
As the day goes on.
.
Hung at my hang out,
And drank until drunk.
Last night is a blur,
And I’m still in a funk.
.
My Hangover’s hungover,
Longer than should be.
I have a headache,
Of the worst degree.
.
It’s no wonder my friends,
Have left me alone.
All night paying homage,
To the porcelain throne.
.
My Hangover’s hungover,
Much longer than fair.
I’m feeling so bad,
And need nursing care.
.
What’s the recipe,
To cure this malady?
Hair of the Dog,
Is just not for me.
.
Run down and ragged,
My head could crack.
Shouldn’t have chugged,
That first six pack.
.
Plop, Plop, Fizz, Fizz,
I need a quick cure.
How much pain,
Can one man endure?

.

Wrung out, strung out,
And in no condition.
I hurt everywhere,
And have no ambition.

.

I can’t remember,
What happened last night.
My eyes just can’t take it,
Turn off that damn light.

.

I had foolish thoughts,
After drinking alot.
That’s when I ordered,
A second, last shot.

.

My hangover’s hungover,
I drank until drunk.
I must have imbibed in,
More drink than I thunk.

.

Copyright 2010 johnstonwrites.com

 

 

 

Retirement is not without Hassles: Ah-choo #255

Ah-choo…ah-choo….My wife sometimes suffers from allergies, a trait she shares with our oldest schnauzer, Tinker.  While my wife sneezes and sniffles, the dog scratches and licks her paws.  I, of course, have my share of flaws, so I try to be more than tolerant.  Last night, as I was snoring, the sneezing and itching got everyone everyone stirred up.  I ran to the bathroom for Kleenex and Vicks between an empathetic “Bless You,” and just as things were settling down, the cat decided to have a hairball.  That’s when my wife discovered a couple of other surprises that the cat had left behind, and reluctantly got up to clean up the mess.  Fortunately, I did not get tossed out of the bed like the cat, and rolled over with no trouble getting back to sleep, while she remained wide awake and alone with her thoughts.

I dreamed about a hilarious story that absolutely had to be captured in this blog first thing this morning.  However, there is no story because it was only a dream.  Instead, I have to take a blanket to the dry cleaners, unplug a toilet, remove some cobwebs, buy an SSL certificate for this site, and deal with my sleep-deprived wife.  I woke up to an e-mail cancelling the Pints to Pasta half-marathon that I was going to run next week, and an unexpected change in flight plans to Los Angeles next month.  My breakfast egg, however, was a double-yoker, so my luck was about to change.

The dogs are due for haircuts today, and I should do some house cleaning.  I think the sneezes were an indication that I’ve neglected some dusting responsibilities.  Also, all the ash and smoke in the air from the nearby forest fires, that caused the cancellation of my run, is now settling on the surfaces of our furniture.  I know our dog is allergic to grass, house flies, egg, and wheat, among other things.  I doubt that she was tested for ash, although that’s one of the areas of her body that constantly itches.   With my wife, it’s typically cheap perfume and dust particles that make her sneeze.  She’s also dealing with a pinched nerve in her back and the daily stress of work.  Did I mention that I’m retired?  She threw in a couple of sarcastic barbs about that as she trudged out the door for the office.

I’m cooking dinner tonight, so she doesn’t have to bother with that after work.  It’s a flank steak done under the broiler, with mashed potatoes and creamed corn.  She was worried about her business trip to Washington D.C. tomorrow, and how Irma will affect her flight and meeting schedules.  I’ll be home with the freshly groomed and bathed dogs.  At least, she’ll get to have dinner with her daughter.  She also expressed concern about the expected rainy weather here in Portland, and how that will interfere with our plans to entertain her visiting niece this weekend .  In between worries and concerns, she urged me to resolve any financial needs for my son and his family down in Florida.   She obviously has a lot on her mind, and had been thinking about it most of the night.

I’m obviously not faced with that level of stress any more.  I think that overall she’s happy for me to be retired, but is occasionally envious of my status.  She still enjoys her career, but not necessarily after a sleepless night of restless animals, a snoring spouse, and dust in the air.  Gesundheit!

Retirement is not without Hassles: What a relief #254

What a relief!  I’m glad that only the clean-up remains, as Irma finishes its pass through Florida.  As a father, it’s a hopeless feeling being thousands of miles away from a son threatened with losing his home or worse.  In my mind, all of Florida would be under water today, and my son would be sorting through the remnants of his home.  In reality, he’s simply facing power outages, as he removes the plywood from his windows.  When I look at a satellite view of his neighborhood on Google Earth, I don’t see any flooding.  The family is safe and they have access to plenty of food.  Florida’s Governor feels like his state received only a “glancing blow” from Irma rather than the “direct hit to the face” that he was expecting.

Most of what I worry about doesn’t happen, and most of the hassles that I imagine never materialize.  Some might say that I’m lucky. but it’s all by design.  I live my life with what I call “cautious pessimism,” worrying about everything that could go wrong, so it won’t happen.  I liken it to buying insurance so you don’t need it.  Even if a tragedy does occur, it will never be to the extent that I envisioned.  For me, it’s mental damage control.  (See Post #68)

The residents of Florida had over a week to prepare for one of nature’s biggest challenges.  It was like watching a train wreck in slow motion, as the storm cut a path across the state. Fortunately the death toll was low, as those affected  had time to evacuate and/or seek safe shelter.  My son and his family were secure at a nearby High School, as Irma passed through his neighborhood. This was not the case 16 years ago today, as terrorists attacked the World Trade Center.  Everyone was caught by total surprise, and the 2,996 deaths reflect the inability to prepare.  I’m glued to the television today, just as I was back then.   Both events took place in areas where we frequently visited.  We had stood on top of the observation deck two years before the buildings were destroyed, just as we’ve recently walked the Gulf Coast beaches of Florida.   Two entirely different situations, one generated by hatred and the other by Mother Nature, but both affected me personally.  Today I reflect on the loss of lives from 9/11, while feeling the relief of dodging a bullet from Irma.

Maybe I was rewarded by the restless nights and constant worry over Irma with a happy ending?   It was, however, not a happy ending for many property owners in Florida.  What I envisioned in my son’s neighborhood became reality in other parts of the state.  Trees are down, homes torn-apart and flooded, cars totally submerged, jobs and lives threatened, and animals in danger, as is also the case in Houston thanks to Harvey.   I sit here warm and dry in Portland, threatened only by smoke from area fires.  It doesn’t seem fair!

Today is also day number 254 of my retirement.  As was my goal, this is also Post #254, having finally achieved my plan of writing one article a day for this blog.  I got off to a very slow start in January and February, but have slowly caught-up to my one-a-day plan.  As I think back to 9/11, it was about this time in the morning that I walked into my office and saw the second plane do its damage.  I had about an hour commute to work, and heard some reports on the radio, but it wasn’t until I saw the scene on television that it really hit home.  I think we all remember where we were that day, and over the next week we were all seeking answers for what had happened.  As I watch Today’s coverage of Irma, I’m actually surprised that the damage wasn’t more.  I still wonder why some people suffer more than others when these tragedies occur?  I was prepared for the worst, and got the best.  What a relief!

Retirement is not without Hassles: Chopped #244

It snuck up on me – or is it sneaked? – it’s my night to cook.  This is exactly what I have been writing about – how retirees lose track of the traditional days of the week.  With my working wife’s three-day weekend, I realized this morning that it was already her Tuesday and my day to be the chef.  As she went off to the office, I was starting to marinate some pork chops for dinner tonight.  The recipe is Pan Roasted Brined Pork Chop, a dish that I have already once prepared.  The bone-in chops will sit in an icy mixture of sugar, salt, garlic, peppercorns, and juniper berries for about 10 hours before I bake them in the oven.  As I was digging for the ingredients, I had a flashback to Saturday night’s Bite of Oregon fundraiser that we attended. As the Led Zeppelin cover-band Valhalla finished their set, the Chopped competition began on stage.   Coincidentally, we had just watched the television version before our drive to the Rose Garden to attend this event, so I was picturing myself and this pork shop dish under scrutiny by the judges.  “What a mess,” I’m sure they’d say, “hope it tastes better than it looks!” My wife, of course, will be the final judge, as she returns from another hard day at the office.

I signed up for the Pints to Pasta half-marathon that will take place later this month.  At a Rose Festival fundraiser last year, I bought a certificate that I thought was a Hood to Coast Relay team entry.  It was only a hundred bucks, and I remember thinking how lucky I was to get such a bargain.  That was before I actually got the certificate and realized that it was instead entry into the Hood to Coast Racing Series, five other running races around the Portland area.  Fortunately, it was the buyers remorse that I showed that night to my wife’s co-workers that planted the seed that eventually allowed me to join their Hood to Coast Relay team.  With that race now out of the way, I decided to continue challenging my body by getting some use out of that certificate. The entry fee for Pints to Pasta would have been about $70, so that narrows my loss (for a good cause).  If I’m still motivated, I can then do the “Run Like Hell” and/or “Holiday Half” at my own expense later this year.  I just felt that after the Hood to Coast Relay training miles that I put in, I would be ready for the 13.1 mile distance with a few more weeks of work.

Pints to Pasta sounds like a great motivator.  The race used to start and finish at the Old Spaghetti Factory and this year passes by Full Sail Brewing, so there will be delicious pasta and refreshing beer at the finish line.  The new start is at the Hood River County Fairgrounds with a Columbia River finish line.  My step-daughter and I tried to run this race a few years ago, but the long lines to the shuttle buses failed to get us to the starting line, and we did not get to run.  I hope the changes this year will solve those problems, as the buses will take us back to our parked cars at the start line.  This at least means I won’t miss the start again this year, but will plan to leave a little earlier just in case.

My half-marathon training did not get off to a start this morning.  With all the smoke in the air, I nearly gagged as I walked outside, and elected to get my three miles on the treadmill.  It was not the workout that I wanted, but I did get to read some of my new book, Seeing Red, while I jogged along.  News of the nearby fires,that were apparently started by errant fireworks, was more than disturbing.  According to reporters, breathing the air outside this morning was the equivalent of smoking a pack of cigarettes.  The dogs were not happy campers either, as I drug them reluctantly along to do their business.  I think that natural disasters like the forest fires here and the flooding in Houston should just get together and cancel each other out. Meanwhile, my son who lives in Florida, is concerned about Hurricane Irma, while I’m just worried about getting Chopped!

 

 

Retirement is not without Hassles: Route 66 #235

On many retirement bucket lists is a drive down Route 66, starting from Chicago to Los Angeles.  The 2,451 mile trek down the “Main Street of America” is surely every R,V. owner’s dream.  I do not own an R.V. and never will, so unless there’s a Marriott within easy access to the highway, it’s not likely that it will be on my must-do list.  I’ve seen its starting point in Chicago, Illinois near Grant Park, and its ending point in Santa Monica, California on US 101 Alt.  The original route was removed from the US Highway System in 1985, so only historic signage now marks the way.

I’ve already written about how Route 66 got its name (Post #220).  Also, in yesterday’s paragraphs of pontification,  I offered a little poem as a tribute to the adoption of the song as my official retirement theme this year, having reached the golden age of 66 (Post #234).  Although I will probably never make the complete start-to-finish drive, I have been exposed to several sections of Route 66 including the Illinois cities of Chicago, Bloomington, Normal, Lincoln, Springfield, and Edwardsville, linking Lake Michigan with the Mississippi River in East St. Louis.  In 2006, I had some birthday frozen custard at Ted Drewes in St. Louis, one of many classic drive-in restaurants along the “Mother Route.”  Yes, I also got my “licks” on Route 66.

Memories of Abraham Lincoln occupy several notable sites along the original Illinois route of Route 66.  We spent some time in Oklahoma City, another major city along the “Will Rogers Highway,” when my wife’s daughter moved there in 2006 to work for Dell.  We also accidentally went to Tulsa, after a flight cancellation on our way into St. Louis.  We spent a short night without luggage in May of 2013, and identified Route 66 historic signage on our way to and from the airport.  We did eventually make it into St. Louis, drove to Decatur to finally close on a property that we owned there, traveled into Indiana to visit family, and tried to catch a game at Busch Stadium on the way back.  Unfortunately, tornadoes  cancelled that Cards vs. Giants game, so we returned to our home in Austin, Texas. Even though we lived in Texas for five years, we never crossed Route 66 until my wife was transferred to Portland.  On the three-day drive north we passed through Amarillo and made the Texas Panhandle connection to Route 66.  My last sighting of a Route 66 historic sign was in Los Angeles a few months ago along Sunset Boulevard.

77 Sunset Strip and Route 66 were two of my favorite black-and-white television shows.  77 Sunset Strip was on ABC from 1958 to 1964, starring Efrem Zimbalist, Jr. as private eye Stu Bailey.  The name of the show came from his office address on Sunset Strip.  Ed Byrnes was the popular hair-combing character, “Kookie.”  The unforgettable opening included two finger snaps after each actor was introduced, as part of the catchy theme song.  It’s network rival, Route 66, aired on CBS from 1960-1964, starring Martin Milner as Tod Stiles.  Nelson Riddle composed the instrumental theme song that was used to avoid paying royalties for Bobby Troup’s 1946 hit song,  Got my Kicks on Route 66, that was originally recorded by Nat King Cole. Other versions have been released by  Chuck Berry, John Mayer, and even The Rolling Stones.

 

If you ever plan to motor West,

Travel my way, take the highway that’s best

Get your kicks on Route sixty-six

.

It winds from Chicago to LA,

More than two thousand miles all the way.

Get your kicks on Route sixty-six.

.

Now you go through Saint Louis,

Joplin, Missouri,

and Oklahoma City is mighty pretty.

You’ll see Amarillo,

Gallup, New Mexico

Flagstaff, Arizona.

Don’ to forget Winona,

Kingsman, Barstow, San Bernandino.

.

Won’t you get hip to this timely tip:

When you make that California trip,

Get your kicks on Route sixty-six.

.

Won’t you get hip to this timely tip:

When you make that California trip,

Get your kicks on Route sixty-six.

Get your kicks on Route sixty-six

Get your kicks on Route sixty-six

 

Retirement is not without Hassles: Peanut Butter #219

Whether you are retired or not, routine is important.  I’ve had a fairly normal week so far, even though we’re headed to Seattle tomorrow.  Last week it was San Francisco, so my daily routine has been anything but!  I’m not complaining, I enjoy the travel, but it’s nice to just sit and write without interruption.  The dogs are happy to have me home, and I’m glad to not be spending money at a blistering pace.   Several packages have landed on the front porch, however, reminding me that you don’t have to be away from home to spend money.  It looks like my wife has been busy.

One heavy package that arrived this morning contained a case of peanut butter.  My wife is brand-picky, and prefers Peter Pan that has not been available on the local shelves.  It looks like I’m the one eating it all.  In fact, there’s currently an open jar on the book shelves next to an sleeve of Ritz Crackers – because everything is better if it “sits on a Ritz.”  I do share it with Tinker and Tally, our schnauzers.  Tally especially likes to play with the empty jars, trying her best to stretch her tongue to reach the bottom. Apparently, there have been a lot of empty jars of late for her to enjoy.

My wife had another package that included three bottles of Wishbone Western Salad Dressing, another item that is not available in area stores.  It also wasn’t available in Austin, even though they use longhorns as part of the design logo.  You would think that Western dressing would be popular in the West, but it’s apparently not true.  I don’t eat Western Dressing, so that’s why she only got three bottles instead of a case.  I’m a Blue Cheese kinda guy.  She used to buy it when we traveled back to the Midwest and bring it back in our luggage.  Fortunately, with Amazon Prime, we can just have it shipped to our doorstep. Someone needs to tell Wishbone that they need to re-brand their product as Midwestern Dressing!

Peanut Butter has grown into a significant part of my daily retirement routine.  Fortunately, the open jar is the reduced fat option, and the crackers are low fat.   By the way, Tinker just crawled up on the chair to get closer to the goods.   It’s best that I’m at my desk and not within reach.  I honestly didn’t realize that I was going through that much peanut butter until this case arrived today.  A single jar of Peter Pan Creamy Reduced Fat spread has 2600 calories and 169 grams of fat.  It does, however, have no cholesterol, and it’s 30% less fat than their regular brand.   A case still totals 31,200 calories.  I wonder how long it takes me to go through a case?  The expiration date is a year from now, so that means at least a jar a month.

I guess with Peter Pan, I won’t grow up!  I will, however, grow sideways.  It’s a lazy man’s lunch, prepared on white bread with grape jelly, bananas,  lettuce & mayonnaise, pickle, or honey, depending on what’s available.  The lettuce keeps it from sticking to the roof of your mouth.  One of my favorite book characters, Kinsey Millhone, is partial to peanut butter and pickles.  She’ll be eating one of her last sandwiches when Y is for Yesterday from author, Sue Grafton, is released next week.  Only Z will be left in her alphabet series, and Kinsey will have no peanut butter future.  Elvis died from peanut butter, banana, honey, and bacon sandwiches.  Former President Bill Clinton and Madonna are members of the Skippy “Adult Peanut Butter Lovers’ Fan Club,” along with Julia Child, Larry King, Jack Nicholson, Tom Selleck, Kim Basinger, Barbara Walters, Olympian Bonnie Blair. Barbara Bush, Dan Rather, Cher, William F. Buckley, Billy Joel, Julia Roberts, Bill Cosby, and Michael J. Fox.   I’m not like my wife, so Skippy brand would work just as well.  Crunchy or Creamy doesn’t matter either.  I do feel like I’m in good company with all these famous people, but I doubt they buy their peanut butter by the case.

Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups are a whole separate topic.  I’ve tried my best to cut back on chocolate, but I must be substituting large quantities of peanut butter for these other cravings for sweets.  I’d like to nominate George Washington Carver as the father of peanut butter, since his efforts to promote alternative planting led to more peanut growing.  Currently, more than half of the American peanut crop is used to make peanut butter, and I’m eating most of it.  I’d also like to credit John Harvey Kellogg for earning the first American patent in 1895, and send out a reminder that November is National Peanut Butter Lover’s Month.  Looks like I’m ready!

Retirement is not without Hassles: New Shoes #218

A lucky phrase when rolling the dice is “come on, daddy needs a new pair of shoes!” I looked it up, wondering its origin.  It turns out to be African-American craps lingo from the First World War derived from “Baby needs shoes.”  It was apparently first recorded in the book, From Baseball to Boches (1918), written by Harry Witwer, who was a well-know magazine humorist in his day.  Boches are German soldiers and gambling was a popular past time for young soldiers between battles.  The phrase came to mind as I was buying shoes yesterday – not for baby – for me.

Every year around my birthday I buy a new pair of running shoes.  I’m not much of a shopper so my tendency is to quickly buy and get out.  For the first time in my life, I took my time yesterday and did some comparison shopping.  My original intent was to simply buy another pair of what I was already wearing, but I realized that in retirement I really wasn’t in that big of rush.  It brought to mind an old acquaintance named David who owned a shoe store and was an advertising client of mine nearly 40 years ago.  I was training for a marathon and bought all my running shoes from him.  Quite frequently, when I would stop by, he would give me a new pair of shoes to try.  They were samples from the manufacturers that he apparently didn’t want himself. Over the years of working with David, I must have tried dozens of different brands that he gave me.   I didn’t want to just take, so when I did buy it was usually Brooks or Saucony.  I liked Brooks because of the heavy heel cushioning and Saucony because they were lightweight.  

For some reason once I stopped working with David, I moved on to some of the other popular brands that he had supplied me, including New Balance and Nike.  The Nike brand is typically too narrow, but living in Portland made me reconsider.  We have the Nike outlet; I wore a Nike Fuel-Band;  I read the book, Shoe Dog, and in the process of becoming quite the loyalist, even applied for the Nike testing program, hoping to find a new David.   For some reason, I was initially accepted and then got a rejection notice.  Over the past two years, I’ve gotten an I-Watch instead of the Fuel-Band, shopped at the Columbia outlet for clothing, and stopped going into the Nike store, since I was never impressed with the service.  I found a locally-owned running store called Roadrunner – Beep Beep!  I was drawn to the name because of the cartoon character, and the fact that I was once part of the Southwestern Michigan Roadrunner Track Club, another connection to my friend David.  Did I mention that his last name was Shoemaker – how appropriate!

So the Shoemaker’s friend needed some new shoes, and interestingly enough I went back to Saucony.  The Roadrunner staff spent some time evaluating my stride via a treadmill test, and it was their first recommendation.  I liked the shoe so much that my intention was to just get a second pair yesterday, so I would have a back-up shoe for the Hood to Coast relay that I’m involved with next week.  This time they gave me four different choices based on my impact tests  – Saucony, Adidas, Brooks, and Nike.  Both Nike and Adidas have built headquarters here in Portland, so I wanted to give them every consideration.  To give her some credibility, the woman I worked with had completed sixteen Hood to Coast races – going on seventeen, and was wearing Brooks.  She said her boyfriend and teammate swore by the Saucony Triumph brand that I was wearing.  Just like the old days, I liked the heel cushioning of the new Brooks G15, and felt that I could rotate the two shoe brands comfortably in my three Hood to Coast legs.  I felt a connection to David Shoemaker – where ever he is now?

Coincidentally, just this morning I received a note from a friend.  She was talking to me over the weekend about a shoe brand I should consider, but couldn’t remember the name.  Her e-mail this morning had a link to Altra Zero Drop running shoes.  I’ll give them some consideration the next time “Daddy needs a new pair of shoes” – since I have plenty of time now in retirement.

Creature Features: T-N-T #211

Two dogs – so different – not only in age but in personality.  They are often the focus of my day in retirement.  If I want to have a water-cooler conversation, they are my only choice during traditional working hours.  They bring me frustration and joy, as they are always full of surprises.  They are both schnauzers, and both were adopted with distinct separation issues.   Tinker is from the Decatur, Illinois Animal Shelter, and we think she is 15, while Tally is from Austin, Texas and 5 years younger.  I had started a poem about them earlier in the day, but it wasn’t until I come home later that I had the punch line:

 

T-N-T

 

She’s Tally the Terrible,

Furry and Black.

A bundle of energy,

The Leader of the Pack.

.

Tinker’s her opposite,

Nearly twice her age.

We had to rescue her,

From a shelter cage.

.

Tally’s a rebel,

Her eyes are like coal.

You can see right into,

Her ornery little soul.

.

Tinker’s so reliable,

But a step behind.

A bundle of nerves,

She rarely unwinds,

.

Tally is aggressive,

Pulling you along.

She has the Right of Way,

And you are always wrong.

.

Tinker’s always smiling,

And loves the shade.

When it comes to water,

She won’t even wade.

.

Tally bounds out the door,

Always ready to play.

But let her off the leash,

And she won’t stay.

.

Tinker’s much smarter,

Will stick by your side.

But when she wants food,

She won’t be denied.

.

Tally takes her time,

As she slowly eats.

And waits very patiently,

For any extra treats.

.

Tinker’s always hungry,

And gobbles up her food.

Anything of yours is hers,

That’s her attitude!

.

Tally has a tub,

Filled with stuffed toys.

Chewing off their limbs,

Is one of her joys.

.

Tinker likes to chase,

A squeaky tennis ball.

When she brings it back,

Toss it down the hall.

.

Tally gets bored,

Sleeps on our sheets.

Growls at the cat,

Loves anyone she meets.

.

Tinker’s always worrying,

And barks all the time.

Sometimes you wish.

She was a quiet mime.

.

Tally’s like a mountain goat,

Looking down on all of us.

She’ll paw you as if saying,

“I could use more fuss!”

.

They’re T-N-T together,

Oh, the grins they’ve amassed.

An explosive combination,

That make our lives a blast.

.

I got a surprise this evening,

As I walked in the door.

I want to know which one of you,

Pooped on our kitchen floor?

.

Copyright 2017 johnstonwrites.com

Retirement is not without Hassles: Martinis #208

It’s the last day of being Grandpa J., as all of us leave San Francisco and return to normal lives.  I will miss the kids and even some of their whining.  When I get back to Portland, I’ll be totally on my own – a life of retirement, Uncrustables, and seclusion.  My wife left for business meetings in Chicago this morning, as well.  I’ll have two days to do laundry, clean the house, and resume my dog duties.  It should be cooler than the 100 degree temperatures that I left behind last week, but hopefully warmer than it’s been in the City by the Bay.

The city was crowded this morning, as the workforce returned to their offices here in the Financial District.  I felt fortunate to be beyond those 8 to 5 responsibilities, and instead enjoyed another day to fill of my own choosing.  My flight isn’t until 5, and the rental car will finally be moved from its $62/day parking spot.  Our plans got twisted a bit yesterday, and we ended up at the Children’s Creativity Museum, making an animated film with clay-molded characters.  In fact, I still have clay under my fingernails this morning.  I think we were all a bit burnt-out from the hectic nature of vacation travel, and the fog made the Golden Gate Bridge and any plans to photograph it disappear.  My son and his family have been here four days longer, and got got use of the rental car to visit Yosemite Park, but beyond that it has just sat waiting for a clear day to drive over the bridge and into Sausalito.  We’ll try again today!

Yesterday’s dining was limited to first names – Carl’s, Jr. and Roy’s.  That’s about as wide of gastronomical spectrum as you can get – not-so-fast-food to fine dining.  We never did get a table at French Laundry, a restaurant goal that still eludes us.  I would never have taken the grand kids along, anyway!  Roy’s has always been a favorite of mine, and it was just too close to pass up.  Misoyaki butterfish, their delicious chocolate souffle, and a couple of martinis hit the spot.  The kids were remarkably well-behaved, but in the background, the Cubs were a disappointment.  I’m glad we picked the night before to go to the game, when they won.

It’s time to check-out, pay that $250 fee for rental car storage (what a waste!), and cram-in another day of sight-seeing.  Hopefully, the fog will lift, or is that just the after effects of the martinis?

 

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