I purposely passed-up a dime and a penny on this morning’s run – #4,165. In 11.4 years I’ve never missed a day. There was a time when I wouldn’t have thought twice about picking up “dirty money.” Anymore, I just leave it on the ground for someone else to spend. My wife knows I’m always looking for lost change, and so occasionally she’ll come back from her dog walks with a gift for me. The other day it was that nickel I was looking for, after running by four pennies the day before. The nickel was nearly unrecognizable, but I have it soaking in Diet Coke to remove the tarnish. It’s the same Diet Coke that probably eats away at my stomach lining every day, another of my daily habits.
The run itself was not smooth going. I even tripped at one point. My skinny legs are still wrapped in compression gear and seem unsure of themselves. There had been some improvement earlier this week, but they were stiff and sore today. I was surpassed by some young women in the park that made me look like I was standing still. I just kept plugging along, slogging as I like to call it. It felt like a really slow pace, but my finishing time was normal. Needless to say, it was not a memorable Memorial Day experience.
Now that the run is behind me, I can concentrate on writing. My book attempt is really stretching my imagination. Blogging has been challenging, with little to write about these days. We had pizza again for dinner last night, at least from a new place. Our big outings yesterday were taking our dog Tally to and from the groomer and picking-up some ice cream pints from Salt & Straw. TV night was another episode of Homecoming. The pizza pick-up was just across the street, and I responsibly disinfected the dirty money with a Clorox wipe.
Today will not be any more creative. It’s a different day with the same old snacks. Lucky Tally is feeling spry with her new haircut, while the rest of us remain shaggy. There are some signs of blue sky, as I bemoan the fact that there will be no Indy 500 to watch until maybe August. Other than today, it’s memorable to note that the only other times the race was cancelled since its inception in 1911 were during the 5 war years. It’s a different kind of war these days. The dirty money is on the Chinese.
Everyone in our household is getting a little shaggy. At least, Tally our fuzzy schnauzer gets groomed today. She’s been growing her mustache for three months now in these pandemic times. The spa that we took he to for years, Urban Fauna, has sadly closed its doors for good. We’re taking her this afternoon to Coats and Tails, just down the block. Provided they do a good job, we’ll at least have convenience on our side. Hopefully, Supercuts will reopen soon and I can get rid of my shaggy appearance.
One of our favorite neighborhood taverns is the Blue Moon. My wife is drawn by their mini-corn dogs called Scooby-Snacks. They’ve been a welcome to-go choice over the past month, after they were closed during the initial stages of the virus. I’ve written about Scooby-Doo recently (See Post #1310), but failed to mention his lazy cartoon companion, Shaggy. As described by Wikipedia, “Shaggy Rogers has a characteristic speech pattern, marked by his frequent use of the filler word “like” and, when startled, his exclamations of “Zoinks!”. His nickname derives from the shaggy style of his sandy-blond hair. He also sports a rough goatee. His signature attire consists of a green v-neck T-shirt and maroon bell-bottom pants, both of which fit loosely.”
“Both Scooby and Shaggy are readily bribed with Scooby Snacks due to their mutual large appetites, insisting that ‘being in a constant state of terror makes us constantly hungry!'” I guess they have a lot in common with our family, hoping the Blue Moon Scooby-Snacks can ease our terror of Coronavirus. Casey Kasem, of American Top 40 fame, was the original voice of Shaggy, while Don Messick was Scooby, while also voicing The Jetson’s Dog, Astro. “Ruh-Roh!”
Tally, of course, is a fan of snacks, too! She’s not particular, having enjoyed fortune cookies last night from our Chinese take-out order. They always throw in extras for her! It reminds me of one of my favorite poems that I wrote years ago and have adapted for today’s Creature Feature post:
Tally
We have a dog named Tally,
Eats everything in sight.
She wants a treat each morning,
Gets ham most every night.
.
She’s at my feet when dining,
Just waiting for her share.
I simply can’t ignore,
Her impatient stare.
.
When we take her on a walk,
Her nose is on the ground.
Searching every crack,
For a morsel to be found.
.
Ice cream is a favorite,
She licks it off the stick.
And if you want some for yourself,
You better eat it quick.
.
When we order Chinese,
Her tail begins to wag.
And she starts to whimper,
When she sees the bag.
.
She wants her Fortune cookie,
In no mood to chase her ball.
She’s been known to eat them,
Plastic wrapper and all.
.
On the morning after,
When I went to scoop.
You’ll never guess what I found?
A fortune in her poop.
Copyright 2009 johnstonwrites.com
The original was written for Tally’s sister, Tinker, that we lost five months ago at age 15. She was “The Poopingest Pup on the Planet.” (See Post #33). Tinker, although a schnauzer, reminded me of Disney’s Shaggy Dog. Tally, on the other hand, will no longer be shaggy after this afternoon.
I got my “three cents worth” on this morning’s run #4,160. I like to call them “Angel Winks,” shiny reminders of those you’ve lost in life. (See Post #183). A few months ago I would have stopped to pick these abandoned pennies off the street, but anymore they may pose a viral health threat by even touching them. I left them lay for someone else, but thought of a cousin that recently passed away. We had a couple trees planted in her honor, and perhaps she was saying “thank you.”? The common phrase has always been, “give your two cents worth,” but anymore you have to adjust for inflation. I did stop the other day when I was walking Tally to pick one up, but it was gleaming in the afternoon sun and seemed safe. I brought it home and dropped it in my collection jar after a thorough scrubbing.
It was a good run that generated some new ideas for my novel, temporarily titled “There’s no ‘A’ in Murder,” about a college student serial killer. My wife suggested I change it to A+, to further emphasize the grade. I think she’s concerned that I’m thinking about murdering her, but the main character doesn’t murder people he loves. There have already been too many times when I’m disgusted with my imagination. In fact, I’m not sure if it’s a very healthy project? However, it’s kept me away from watching excessive T.V., although it’s still on in the background. The extra work has also kept me out of the refrigerator. Instead of just the hour spent every day writing this blog, I’ve dedicated considerably more energy to the book. Much more than three cents worth!
I’ve blended in elements of sports, music, and adoption that are clearly personal, but most of the story is pure, twisted fiction. Every writer probably puts a little bit of themselves in their work, but the concern is always that those close to you will “read” more into your artistry. As I talk to my wife about the plot, she expresses worry over my current state of mind. Maybe she looks at me like Jack Nicholson in “The Shining,” a frightening victim of cabin fever? Joe Hill or Stephen King I’m NOT, but at least he’s been happily married for almost 50 years. His wife is used to his weirdness, while mine won’t even read this blog for fear of what she might discover about me. This is why I never use her name, just as many authors use a pseudonym to protect their identity.
It’s interesting to note that Stephen King’s son uses the name Joe Hill on his books because he wanted to succeed on his own, without the benefit of his famous father’s recognition. His work is great, and I respect him for this. However, he probably took advantage of the old man’s contacts, while initially getting into the business. Maybe the publisher fought for him to use the name King? I have never sought out a publisher for any of my work – that may very well be unworthy. I do get personal enjoyment out of working on my poems and stories. As a side note, I rarely use foul language on this blog or in my everyday speech, except when watching sports. The book gives me an outlet to express juvenile humor, cuss words, and anatomy references. I heard on the radio that four-letter words starting with “f” was a common attention-getter these days on book covers. “Thank God There’s An Ocean” was my first attempt at a novel 30 years ago. Admittedly, there are common elements in this second effort. Maybe the third time will be the charm, in order to get my “three cents worth.”?
It’s always good to get my run out of the way for the day. Any more, it’s my sole daily accomplishment, now at a consecutive 4,158. There’s at least one point on the route when I don’t think I can make the 3.1 mile distance, but somehow I push through. This morning a golden retriever joined me for the home stretch, keeping proper social distance on the sidewalk, while pulling his reluctant human forward to outrace me. My dog Tally likes to dawdle. She’s more into sniffing than running. I just read an article that claims that the best exercise for your dog is using its nose. Fittingly, Tally takes her time to “decode” a number of doggie messages hidden near fire hydrants, trees, and in bushes. She’s too busy for the actual walk.
I’ve almost finished my cheap “made in China” 1000-piece jig-saw puzzle. The cardboard is so flimsy that they’re difficult to pick-up, plus they tear easily. I’m going to tear out my hair before I finish the “hot air balloons over water” scene. To add to the frustration, all the pieces are cut in the same shape, so it could actually be completed in a hodge-podge of shapes and colors that make no sense. It is so frustrating that it may be the last one I ever do.
I also made some good progress on my murder novel, but I may have psychological problems like the main character by the time it finally gets done. It’s so creepy that I would never attach my real name to the book. Perhaps this is a sign of being stuck at home too long with little or nothing to do? I hate to keep mentioning that we would still be in Bali today if it weren’t for all the virus-related cancellations that keep us safely home. At least, it’s been raining there, with a high of 87 and a low of 76. It’s supposed to be their dry season. We would have arrived to enjoy a full week of sunshine, but the 7-day forecast now calls for rain and overcast skies, similar to Portland. We did save a lot of money by staying home, but they were dollars I would have gladly spent.
Retirement should be filled with travel, seeing all those places that you’ve daydreamed about while trying to work. Stay-at-home restrictions were the last thing I ever expected. Even this is much preferred over being stuck in a hospital bed on a ventilator or worse. I’m grateful for our health, but feel as if we’re all in a rut. As others have joked about on Facebook in reference to the movie Back To The Future, , “whatever you do, Marty, don’t take us to the year 2020.” I would love to see a movie anywhere but in my living room right now. Unfortunately, the Future is Now!
It was a McMeal of Scooby Snacks, Sliders, and Tater Tots last night while we watched the final episode of “The Handsmaid’s Tale.” In Oregon we have both McDonald’s and McMenamins to satisfy our McCravings. However, salt and caramel ice cream is what we were really after, but Salt & Straw can’t keep it in stock, so we didn’t get dessert. “To-Go” is the main incentive to get us out of the apartment these days. “To-Stay” means little to do but watch TV, play video games, read, write, nap, or assemble a puzzle. We ended the lazy night with the first episode of “Little Fires Everywhere.”
It’s another rainy Portland day, so Tally the schnauzer will join us on a “Nothing-Doing” Saturday. She hates getting wet, so her much anticipated walks will be disappointingly short, leaving us all more time to do nothing. There was a time when a down-day like this would have been more than welcome, but instead it’s become dreadfully routine. We could have been doing nothing in the Bali sunshine right now, if circumstances hadn’t changed. At the very least, I should be grateful that we’re healthy, along with 99% of people we know. There is that very small percentage of distance acquaintances that have contracted COVID-19, but fortunately none have been fatal cases or even close to home.
As we walked to pick up our food last night, my wife did an informal survey of those wearing masks on the street. Ours just arrived in the mail, so I was sporting mine for the first time, while she elected to enjoy the fresh air. Of about 75 people we passed, only about 20 had their nose and mouth covered. I found mine to be uncomfortable because my glasses were steaming up. I’ll have to dig in my ski equipment to find some anti-fog. Speaking of snow, the local ski areas just re-opened today. It’s about an hour drive if I were ambitious. It serves as a reminder that there are things to do if I make the effort. However, I haven’t skied in over a year, even when life was normal and never as late as mid-May. Before we exit Oregon for a Florida home, I’ll need to hit the slopes one last time while I’m still in my sixties. It’s a long way from Tampa to snow for a Septuagenarian, another name for a dinosaur. I guess I better think twice about “Doing Nothing” when a few more years might mean “Nothing Doing!”
I only watched about 3-hours of TV yesterday, as opposed to the normal 8. Most of my time was spent pondering the second jig-saw puzzle of what is now 57 days. Unlike most everyone else, I cheated those first few days by traveling, otherwise the total would have already exceeded sixty. According to a radio report, it will be at least two to three more weeks before the state of Oregon fully reopens. This should happen just in time to sneak-off to Florida and do some home shopping. Florida has been open for business for several weeks now.
My youngest grandchild celebrated her 2nd birthday yesterday. We should be settled in Florida to be there for her 3rd. It’s probably good to stay away for the terrible-twos. Her sister turns eleven in two weeks. My grandson is already a teenager, so I’ve never been much a part of their lives. Most importantly, there should be more sunshine than living in rainy Portland. My skin is turning ghost-like in isolation, while my hair is out of control, probably accounting for some of the weight gain. I’ll be unrecognizable to the kids by the time we get down there.
It’s good to anticipate a little travel, especially considering that I’d be bronze in the Bali sun by now. It hardly seems fair that I’ve now got the time and resources to see the world but another obstacle suddenly jumps in the way. One of the memories of our trip to Venice was a drink at Harry’s Bar, a Hemmingway hang-out on the water. It’s another casualty of COVID-19, closing for good after 90-years in business. The Pro’s Table in Indianapolis, owned by friends, is also a recent victim, though not as historically famous. In my hometown of Elkhart, Indiana, popular Lucchese will shutter after 38-years of serving Italian food. The virus is taking its toll on beloved dining all over the world.
Tally will get a much needed visit with Falco today to burn off some energy. My wife will take her over to her daughter’s house this afternoon. In addition to the puzzle, I’ll probably try to add a few more pages to my murder novel, a long-overdue project that I finally started out of boredom. I guess there’s a few pluses in having too much time on your over-washed hands. Our masks arrived yesterday in the mail, after a too-long delay. I’ll give it a try tonight for Chinese to-go from the neighboring restaurant. It’s hardly as eventful as the distant memory of Friday “Leadership Meetings” at Buffalo Wild Wings during the Good Old Days.
“I wish somebody would have told me babe
Some day, these will be the good old days
All the love you won’t forget
And all these reckless nights you won’t regret
Someday soon, your whole life’s gonna change
You’ll miss the magic of these good old days”
Macklemore lyrics
Disney World will apparently be opening soon with patrons required to wear a mask. Will Mickey be wearing one? Regardless, it will hard to see the smiles as the characters do their magic. I haven’t gotten into the habit of wearing one yet, but it will soon be ordered. Some would claim that I’m being disrespectful, but I do at least go out of the way to keep distance. I’m also not outside the apartment that much with the exception of my morning run. Regardless, I need all the oxygen I can get when pounding the pavement.
We live in crazy times, fighting an invisible health threat with useless weapons. With little to do but watch TV, read, and do puzzles, all of us are getting antsy. I successfully fulfilled my weekly cooking responsibility last night and will be rewarded with to-go food tonight. We’re watching A Handmaid’s Tale and Billions to pass the time. I continue to chip away at my murder novel while reading Clive Cussler’s The NUMA Files that includes some Egyptian history. We’re still hopeful we can get there as planned in October.
The economy continues to struggle, as I am trying to write just a couple of paragraphs. It’s increasingly tough to come up with topics when there’s little to do. The big activity for today may be a drive to the vet office to pick-up some medication for Tally. Once again, it’s a rainy day in Portland and even the dog is restless. She’ll enjoy a short ride in the car, anything for variety. Her fur continues to grow without the availability of grooming services. The characteristic schnauzer mustache now appropriately covers her mouth like Mickey’s mask.
If life was normal, we would have been on a series of planes to Bali this morning. I probably would have also shortened my daily run to a mile to make the early flight. It’s now been two months since I’ve taken a running “break,” meaning less than 3.1 miles. My body seems to have weathered a two-week slump where a break would have probably been in order, but I persisted. The last three days have been relatively easy, as my pace has improved to under 12:30:00, though nothing to brag about. Actually, the average for someone my age is 13:52:00, which is what I was approaching during the slump. In the process, I made several adjustments in support, shoes, surfaces, and style. Compression gear, asphalt, a knee brace, more stretching, and arm motion have all placed a role in the improvement.
Instead of the balmy breezes of Bali, we’ll be stuck in the drizzle of Portland. Unfortunately, rain is back in the forecast after a week of 80-degree warmth. I’m sure this was also a factor in my running attitude after shedding the windbreaker for the first time in six months. Lighter and faster has made for a better experience of late, as day #4152 is now behind me. I’ll have to use my imagination when it comes to tropical sunsets, sandy beaches, and fine dining.
We hosted a Mother’s Day brunch yesterday for my wife’s daughter and her husband. Tally and Falco, got to romp in the nearby dog park. For a few brief hours, life was back to normal. We then tried to bring my car back to life, but the battery refused to cooperate. I’ll call AAA this morning, even though we don’t really need both cars these days. Then, as I sat down to print some tax forms, the printer ran out of ink, so I had to place an order. The cable signal was also starting to break-up. All was so very right for those few brief hours, but suddenly the everyday hassles were back! A Bali break will have to wait.
After 50 days of being home-bound, we ventured out on our longest journey since mid-March. It was just shy of a month ago that we did a shorter get-away out to the closed Vista House. State Parks like this were just re-opened to the public this past week. Our dog, Tally, likes to ride in the car and often perches herself like a surfer on the armrest between the two front seats of my wife’s convertible. In mine, she has an elevated dog bed in the back seat that allows her to see outside. I probably would have driven, because there is more space for everyone, but my battery was dead from little to no use.
Our goal was to pick-up a case of wine and enjoy a beautiful, sunny day. I was appeased with a quick stop at McDonald’s for a Diet Coke, a rare fountain treat these viral days. We also got a tankful of gas for the first time in recent memory. Premium was only $2.55/gallon, a bargain for Oregon, while the rest of the country often boasts of half that price. We were soon experiencing the refreshing openness of the countryside after the suffocation of isolation.
I was a “Five-Peak” day, as the mountains loomed in the distance. There is little more thrilling to my wife than a clear day in Oregon and views of Hood, St. Helens, Rainier, Jefferson, and Adams. Tally sat unimpressed until we stopped at the side of the road by a Llama farm. I’m not sure if she’s ever has been as close to something so tall. I could almost reach out and touch it, while she was hesitant to even move. They stared at each other for a minute before she started to bark..but it was more of a cautious woof. My wife wanted to take a picture of Tally and the Llama. “Tally Llama,” she quipped. It was a memorable moment of laughter.
Llamas have been in the news lately. According to Belgium scientists, “A female llama called Winter has been injected with a protein present on the surface of the novel coronavirus, first detected in China last year, and has reacted by developing antibodies. These in turn appear capable of playing a role in shielding the carrier and neutralizing the threat of the virus.” It seemed appropriate that we were face-to-face with what could be a hero in freeing us from isolation and the threat of respiratory disease.
We’re all familiar with the Dalai Lama, “spiritual leader of Tibetan Buddhism, and in the tradition of Bodhisattva. He has spent his life committed to benefiting humanity. In 1989, the Dalai Lama was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for his nonviolent efforts for the liberation of Tibet and his concern for global environmental problems.” Maybe next year’s prize could be awarded to Winter the Llama?
In the business world, there are those that have obviously capitalized with variations on the Dalai Lama name. For example, The Dolly Llama “specializes in unique, hand crafted dessert waffles paired with artisan ice cream and personalized toppings.” Now, there’s the Tally Llama, the product of my wife’s vivid imagination. It’s a schnauzer with black fur and a long neck that likes ice cream.
It’s like someone hit the pause button on life. Freeze-It! Every morning I run by the restaurants and shops that have yet to open. There’s no sign of life…no pulse. Every chair is in the same place it was seven weeks ago. Window manikins wear the same outfit. Parked cars haven’t moved in months. The homeless have found new doorways to sleep in, knowing that customers won’t soon cross the threshold. It truly is a ghost town.
I was struck by the new Rolling Stones single, “Ghosts in a Ghost Town.” It came on the radio – at least, something new. Apparently, it was written months ago, but the words were changed before release, capitalizing on the current state of our dying cities. Yes, a few places have re-opened in the neighborhood, mostly coffee shops and bakeries. Maybe all this caffeine will pump some life into us?
It’s disturbing how sedate my life has gotten. I haven’t driven my car in weeks, concerned that it may not start when I need it. I didn’t even feel like walking down the street for take-out last night. My wife is frustrated because she needed some variety. We did get a visit from her daughter and her husband last night. They picked up their dog, Falco, after a few nights in our care. As new homeowners, they are taking advantage of “shelter in place” to work on their roof, gutters, and yard. All the noise is disturbing to puppy ears, plus Falco can romp with our schnauzer Tally. Today, both dogs are depressed without companionship.
Double-dog duty is more challenging, but a pleasant disruption from our boring routine of late. I’d blame it on retirement, but most people are now living at a slow pace. They’re either working from home our out-of-work, stuck in front of the TV like most retirees. Under normal circumstances, we would be packing for Bali. Are better times on the horizon? Some states are opening for what I think is risky business. This virus is tricky and I’m worried that it could once again take control, setting us back from recovery. Maybe they need to hit the “pause button?”
Oregon seems to be content waiting another few weeks to see what happens elsewhere. Everyone is certainly hungry for the streets to return to normal and our economy suffers more with every day of missed work. It would be nice to push “play” and get on with our lives, but too many want “fast forward.” I just don’t want to have to “rewind” only to start this whole thing over again.
