Category: Tally (Page 12 of 31)
Our third schnauzer
There was a dramatic change to my routine today. I got out of bed, did some stretching & push-ups, squeezed into my compression gear, and started to let the dog outside. All of this right on time, as it is every day of the week. We live in an apartment building, so I have to take our schnauzer Tally down three flights of stairs to get to the exit doors. From there, it’s a one-block sleep-walk to the park and business as usual. The only problem is that the door is not glass, so I can’t see what’s on the other side, as Tally bolts anxiously ahead every morning. She is on a leash to protect her from what was once a busy street. Lately, with everyone shuttered inside, it’s eerily quiet.
I never know what’s on the other side of that one-way locked door. There could be a homeless person sleeping just outside, but this is rarely the case since I’m not the first out that steel door every morning. There’s also an airlock between the stairway door and the exit, leaving about a six-foot long carpeted hallway. Sometimes a smoker will huddle on the cement pad in front of the covered doorway and the odor of pot or tobacco will linger. It’s also a dry spot to duck out of the rain plus a depository for cigarette butts and food wrappers. One one occasion, Tally’s doggy buddy, Falco, couldn’t wait to get out and relieved herself in that contained space. I immediately cleaned the carpeting with Spot Shot, but could smell the trapped fumes of cleaning fluid for weeks afterwards. Needless to say, there are many distracting smells that Tally looks forward to sniffing every morning.
Other neighborhood dogs lurk outside on the sidewalk if my timing is bad. The barking and growls echo throughout the hallways and disturb an otherwise quiet setting. These encounters are always eye-opening and ear shattering, especially after eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. I learned after moving in that this back-exit was the best option, after encountering other dogs in the elevators and common stairwells that lead to the lobby. The dogs in our building are predictably enthusiastic once they leave the cramped confines of their respective apartments. They’re either very glad to see each other or mad about sharing their newfound freedom. In particular, there’s a Saint Bernard upstairs, Moose, that would like to eat Tally for breakfast. Needless to say, we stay out of each other’s way whenever possible.
Moose’s owner must have been slightly off-schedule this morning, since normally they are on the other side of the park as I exit the building. They always spot each other with doggy-radar but they’re too far apart for anything but dagger-like stares. Maybe it’s a love-hate relationship? This morning as Tally wanted to go out, Moose was chompin’ to get in; they were quickly nose-to-nose and ready to tear into each other. I ended up shutting the door and changed my normal route to the park in favor of the other direction. Nothing gets the blood flowing faster than seeing the furry, giant jowls of Moose and his hungry eyes looking back at your helpless dog through the crack in the door – at least it’s steel. After narrowly avoiding confrontation, we wisely took a “Fur Detour!”
I need an injection of energy, as we face another day of sameness. Stretch. Run. Blog. Watch. Eat. Eat. Nap. Eat. Wine. Watch. Read. Bed. Repeat. In between, are a few short outings with the dog, but otherwise every action is pretty much “Groundhog Day.” A couple of short conversations with friends add some variety, but overall I’m getting a troublesome case of “Cabin Fever.” We don’t even live in a cabin!
“Cabin fever refers to the distressing claustrophobic irritability or restlessness experienced when a person, or group, is stuck at an isolated location or in confined quarters for an extended period of time. A person may be referred to as stir-crazy, derived from the use of stir to mean ‘prison’.” All this according to Wikipedia.
It seems like years since the movie theaters have been open, but a good example of “Cabin Fever” is a recent psychological horror film, The Lighthouse. “It’s the tale of two lighthouse keepers who start to lose their sanity when a storm strands them on the remote island where they are stationed.” Isolation from civilization does strange things to people. Stories like Crime and Punishment and The Shining are classic examples. They prove that you can bore yourself to death!
I am a little stir-crazy, even though I sometimes relish just being alone. Killing something or somebody has yet to come to mind of late. I used to dread going to networking events, parties, fundraisers, and conventions where there was never any privacy. Admittedly, there were times when I would have killed to just stay home. Now, it’s just my wife and I confined in an apartment with our travel dreams on hold. Our main entertainment is television and Tally, our ten-year old schnauzer. Tally leads a lazy life in “good bed,” but is always anxious for a walk. It’s these brief encounters with the outdoors that keep our family sane. Tally leads us away from the television and out of the cabin!
It was just like going outside on the first day of spring, when the birds make their way into the skies. There was activity across the street as the Starbuck’s opened its doors and signs of normalcy crept back into our lives. Mornings had been so quiet, but maybe that was about to change? Yes, people were still wearing masks and keeping their distance, but there was a sense of hope. Even the Stock Market could feel it, showing positive gains to start the week. Optimism was in the air, even though the sun wasn’t shining. Well, it’s Portland, after all!
I’m going to do some genealogy work today. To be more specific, Legg work! I got in touch with a former co-worker after discovering a DNA connection with a potential family member of his. It’s always more interesting when I’m actually communicating with someone rather than reading another obituary. I was born a Ban(n)ister, with one or two n’s, depending on the document. The Legg and Banister families have crossed paths many times, both with strong Hoosier roots, particularly central Indiana. When we worked together, neither of us was really aware of my connection to the Banister family. I was using the name that was adopted along with me – Johnston.
My office at work happened to look-out over the former site of the adoption home, where I spent the first couple weeks of my life. There was a 35-year, 300-mile journey in-between. (See Post #104). As part of my search for answers, I took on both of my identities and established a Facebook site for each. In fact, I confused my co-worker/friend the other day by accidentally contacting him through Jerry Bannister. He has always known me as Mike Johnston, so I have to give him credit for figuring it out. Just for fun, I will occasionally communicate with myself to see if any of my friends-in-common are paying attention. For example, I wish myself a happy birthday every year, since we happen to share that date.
There are over 800 Legg’s on my Ancestry.com “Jerry Banister Family tree.” (See Post #635). The odds favor a connection somewhere, but so far I haven’t been able to pin-point it. I have DNA matches with a Lor-Anna Legg and a Phillip Legg. Also, Mickie Sue Legg married a Banister. These are a couple of the hints that I’ve been pursuing, as my friend continues to follow-up with details on his branch of the family. It would be fun to determine that we are kin, another brewing “coincidence” in the story of my search. I used to go to the gym and in lifting weights certain workouts were designated as “Leg Days.” Well, today is a Legg Day for me!
The radio show, “Sunday Morning Brunch” aired on the right day and the sun was shining. These were two clear signs that today was off to a much better start than yesterday. However, I once again felt like I was running uphill, against the wind, with a piano on my back. I’m going to need to seek some chiropractor aid to get rid of these concrete shoes. I squeezed my legs into some thigh compression sleeves and support socks to hold everything together, but still limped awkwardly to the finish line. Day #4137 is at least in the books.
It might be too nice outside to stay indoors all day. Tally will be anxious for a good walk, and I need to keep my legs moving so they don’t totally harden like cement. It should be in the mid-sixties, enough to think about a drive out to wine country. We have a couple of Wine Club shipments to pick-up but have to arrange for an appointment. It’s not like the good old days when you could just stop by for a tasting. You now have to think before you can drink! The virus continues to win!
I did win my battle with Medicare, and will be paying less than half of what they originally planned to collect monthly, based on past IRS filings. This is a big relief since both my wife and I are now retired, with health insurance taking a big chunk of our present budget. She still has to pay on a venomous COBRA plan for two more years until she’s Medicare eligible. I just received correspondence that they will be reducing my payout to be more in line with our reduced annual household income. It did, however, require several letters, phone calls, and visits to eventually get it done. At this stage of life, reward often comes from saving money rather than making more!
I continue to save money on staying home, but this is a good/bad scenario. We were originally scheduled to be gone about 17 days in April and May. This translates into about $17,000, when you take into account airfare, hotels, tours, dog sitting, rental cars, dining, and souvenirs. (See Post #320). The bad news is that even when we’re at this stage of not going anywhere, we’re still paying out about $80/day in timeshare expenses. Unfortunately, it’s use it or lose it…and we’re NOT! We’re also missing out on the very thing that we saved to do – see the world.
The only way to include travel in my writing these days is to mention where we might have been. We could have been with my wife’s daughter and husband in San Francisco. Then, it would have been off to Bali, a Broadway inspired dream of hers, with tropical breezes and lazy beaches. Instead, we’re stuck at home, watching TV shows like The Kominsky Method, Killing Eve, Ozark, and Paranoid. There’s no pool-side service, ocean view, or even a Golden Gate Bridge. We do have lots of take-out options and a dog to keep us entertained. Right now, we have to make the best of it. After all, there is “No Place But Home.”
When I first retired three years ago, I began to make fun of not knowing what day of the week it was? After all, there was no Monday wake-up call anymore and the next vacation day was already here. Weekends were like any other day and just didn’t feel special any more. I had to learn to embrace enjoying the moment rather than anxiously anticipating Friday at Five. As I turned on the radio this morning, I was totally confused. “What is today but yesterday’s tomorrow?”
I guess it’s an indication of the current state of the media business. Layoffs, furloughs, and work-at-home restrictions are taking their toll. As I set-off on my run, they were airing Sunday morning’s program on Saturday. I had to double-check my calendar to make sure that I hadn’t somehow missed a day. To make matters worse, the voice track didn’t match the songs introduced by the host. Since I’m a regular listener, it was actually a “Sunday Brunch” show that ran two weeks ago, and makes me curious about what they’ll run tomorrow when it actually is Sunday? Isn’t it?
People have gotten creative and have come up with hashtags denoting “#Sunday Funday,” “#Messy Monday,” “#Tipsy Tuesday,” “#Wasted Wednesday,” etc. As I eventually settled into a retirement routine, my days became known as: “Matinee Monday,” “Cooking Night,” “Date Night,” “Errand Thursday,” “Leadership Friday,” “Dog Stroller Saturday,” and “Trash Day.” Anymore, with the movie theaters temporary closed, restaurants limited to take-out, and friendly gatherings banned, the days sadly run together. It tends to be the-same-old-same-old every day. This leads to all the confusion on what day it actually is? When the local radio station doesn’t know what day it is either, maybe it’s April Fool’s Day? Or it could simply be “#What Day?”
I did feel like an “Old Sport” in my running “Shorts” this morning, dragging a sore left leg and extra weight on top of my concrete-like feet. It was slow going on Day #4129 of “The Streak,” thinking of how much longer I’ll be able to maintain this daily routine. I think this viral threat has aged me both physically and mentally. It’s hard to get going every day in a fight against an enemy we can’t see coming. Some of my favorite past-times have been taken away in the process, including basketball and baseball just for starters. As I mourn the lack of sports in my life, I at least wanted to write about it today!
To think I was on my way to Spring Training and in anticipation of March Madness when this whole pandemic started. The hotel where we were staying would soon empty and the restaurants began to slowly shut-down. We got on a plane to fly back, leary of what was to come in the way of self-quarantine, social distancing, and protective gear. My reality was the fact that all sports stopped when at first play was restricted to just fans. At least, we’d be able to watch on TV, but instead we’re stuck on re-play. Out of habit, I continue to check the ESPN app, but unfortunately there’s little to report.
I did run across Tim Kurkjian’s article about baseball uniform numbers and the greatest players in history to wear each one. It struck me because as a kid I was drawn to #10 when it came time to pick a uniform. It was because of my catching hero Sherm Lollar of the Chicago White Sox. I have his 1955 uniform in my collection, along with lots of cards, pictures, and stories about his career. I would imagine that many other kids made similar decisions in Little League based on their favorites.
#10 in the article was assigned to Chipper Jones of the Atlanta Braves, a top-four Hall of Fame third baseman. He was born as I turned twenty-one. Sherm sadly died five years later. I’m sure there are those that adopted #10 based on Chipper’s popularity. Sherm, I’m sure was far down the list of those wearing the number, since he will probably never inducted into the Cooperstown Club. Chipper’s #10 was ceremoniously retired by the Braves, while infielder Yoan Moncada currently wears it for the White Sox. Sparky Anderson, Dick Howser, Phil Rizzuto, Ron Santo, Tony LaRussa, Tom Kelly, and Michael Young all wore #10 and were honored by their respective teams by not allowing others to ever wear it again. Howser, Kelly, and Young have yet to be inducted nationally.
Kurkjiun reported that the Yankees were the first to put numbers on the back on their jerseys starting in 1929. “The numbers often corresponded to where the player hit the batting order, which is how Babe Ruth ended up with No. 3 and Lou Gehrig No. 4.” Other Yankees secured their place in numbers history with Derek Jeter #2, Joe DiMaggio #5, Mickey Mantle #7, Sherm’s rival Yogi Berra #8, Alex Rodriguez #13, Whitey Ford #16, and Roy Campanella #39. Many of my childhood baseball peers fought over Mickey and Yogi’s numbers, while #10 was usually always available.
Some kids wanted to be #1 like Ozzie Smith or #6 Stan Musial, particularly if they were Cardinals’ fans. #17 Dizzy Dean and the Gaslight Gang was slightly before my time. If you were a Reds’ fan, Barry Larkin #11 or controversial Pete Rose #14 were probably your top uniform choices. Ted Williams wore #9 while Red Sox traitor to the Yankees Johnny Damon #18, Tony Gwynn claims #20, Roberto Clemente #21,Clayton Kershaw #22, “Say Hey” Willie Mays #24, Barry Bonds #25, Wade Boggs #26, and Mike Trout #27. They are each Hall-of-Famers on Kurkjian’s list. With the current trends in free-agency, it’s more challenging for a player to retain the same number throughout their career, particularly if it’s retired by the team they join. Big bucks have also been rumored to change hands during team transitions since the number is part of a player’s brand.
In the higher ranges of uniform numbers, everyone wears No. 42 on Jackie Robinson Day. Hank Aaron wore #44 on his back, Nolan Ryan #30, Greg Maddux #31, and Sandy Kolfax #32. If you were into base-running speed you might crave the number 35 of Ricky Henderson fame. Orel Hershiser owns #55, the highest number on this particular list. Other pitchers like Goose Gossage chose #54, Don Drysdale #53, CC Sabathia #52, Randy Johnson #51, J.R. Richard #50, Hoyt Wilhelm #49, Tom Glavine #47, Lee Smith #46, Bob Gibson #45, Dennis Eckersley #43, Bartolo Colon #40, Curt Schilling #38, spit-baller Gaylord Perry #36, and Tom Seaver #41.
I’ve been skipping around quite a bit on the ESPN list with preference given to some of my more familiar favorites. For the record, these are all great players, with just a few yet to gain Hall-of-Fame status. The best defensive second-baseman in his opinion was #12 Roberto Alomar, Carlos Beltran tops those wearing #15, followed by #20 Mike Schmidt, #23 Ryne Sandberg of the Cubs, Bert Blyleven #28, Rod Carew #29, Eddie Murray #33, Big Papi, David Ortiz #34, Keith Hernandez #37, and last but not least Torii Hunter #48. At this stage, too many uniform numbers have already been claimed forever, so modern day players will have to start at #56 to make a lasting numerical impression. Who will be the first to wear #100 or #1000? Manny Ramiriez and Aaron Judge have already claimed #99, while Yasiel Puig wears #66. It’s a number game – what’s lucky for you?
Let’s get right into the meat of things this morning. I think I finally got my Medicare Part B payments in line with current income, as opposed to tax records years ago when my wife and I were both drawing a paycheck. It was a major hassle involving multiple visits to the local office, letters, forms, and phone conversations or too much wasted time on hold. At least, now I will be paying an affordable monthly health insurance premium, rather than what my wife is currently being charged for her COBRA. Cobras bite! Until she finally gets to the Medicare age, it will be a poisonous expense. Mine will thankfully turn out to be about a third of that! If I had not fought it, I would have been struck month after month by the government’s venomous healthcare fangs for the next two years until my tax forms began to accurately reflect our retirement income.
I’m also dealing with the hassle of getting loan pre-approval for our move to Florida next year. We would like to start building this summer, and realistically got the hard part out of the way by selling our home five months ago. In the meantime, we’ve been in an apartment, hoping that travel restrictions will alleviate in the next month or so, allowing us to go to the Tampa area and get started. We have an excellent credit rating, but I admittedly have one blemish on my history over 68 years, and that was a short-sale on a property in lllinois six years ago. The nightmare was having to sell a home that sat on the market for six years and ultimately getting less that half of what we paid for it plus improvements. It’s come up as an issue on the last two condo purchases we’ve made and could continue to haunt me. It will probably not be a factor, but just having to regurgitate the ugly details in the interest of honesty is embarrassing. It also feels good to get this off my chest and “bear my soul.”
We’ve had exceptionally good luck on the last two property investments we’ve made. The aforementioned “Bad Deal” was the culmination of a streak of misfortune that included owning multiple homes that wouldn’t sell for one reason or another. For a long time, I thought we were cursed, trying to move with the media circus that took us from one market to another. Thank goodness we’re now retired and more importantly not stuck with any home ownership issues. Our apartment lease ends next year and could end sooner provided we’re willing to pay a penalty. It’s a relief to have no pressure with respect to selling and for once not being trapped by market condition complications. Getting pre-approval on a loan, should also eliminate any last-minute financing drama.
For the first time in over a month, we did a short road trip yesterday afternoon – the next best thing to travel. I felt a little guilty not staying home as instructed, but not getting out of the car put others in little danger. Our schnauzer Tally got a bite of something stinky on her morning walk, and was not a pleasant travel companion. She loves to ride in the car, but needs to understand social distancing, especially with bad breath. We would have been in San Francisco this weekend, celebrating our 19th wedding anniversary. Instead, like everyone else, we’re limited on places to go. The area around the Vista House, with scenic views over the Columbia River, was fenced-off, but the drive on a sunny day was still worth it. I also got to stop at McDonald’s for a fountain Diet Coke, one of my favorite travel treats. Perhaps, in a few weeks some of the area parks will reopen and we can take another drive. In the meantime, it’s back to the homebody grind.
We would have been on the boat to Alcatraz this morning, if circumstances were different. Instead, we’re once again locked in our apartment with too many chocolate treats. Tally gives us a reasonable excuse to go outside and briefly watch the mask parade, as she does her business. I, of course, did my 3.1 mile run this morning, thinking about the application process on my loan and the related letter I needed to write. Loan applications get very personal as you try to explain the circumstances of your private finances. Between that and the Social Security office, I’ve really had to bear my soul this week. Growl!
It looks like a good day to go for a drive. The sun is shining and gas prices are cheap. It’s at least a safe way to get out of the house and a change of pace. The last time I was in my car was over two weeks ago for a brief shopping excursion. My wife has driven hers once a week, primarily to take our dog, Tally, to visit her daughter’s dog, Falco. They don’t have to practice social distancing, and we keep apologizing to others that they just don’t understand, as they try to get too close. Our handshake & hug world has gone to the dogs.
I did complete the 1,000-piece jig-saw puzzle my wife bought, my biggest accomplishment yet this month. I’m a little heavier and my hair a bit longer, but otherwise I’m doing fine as a pudgy, unkempt homebody. Funny, I always thought that was un-kept – see, I’m even still learning new tricks, despite being an old dog. I thoughtfully hear from my son and some friends on occasion, but still missing travel, dining out, and “Leadership Meetings.” We’re saving lots of pennies while losing big dollars in the Stock Market (down again this morning). I’m glad that we’re both retired and healthy during these “Dog Days” of isolation.
HGTV is on in the background, as my wife continues to plan and dream of our Florida forever home. A TV is always on in this apartment, our primary source of entertainment these days. She uses the tub just behind my writing desk every morning with the television volume jacked-up while I try to concentrate. When we were living in our house six months ago, this was not an issue. It’s been an adjustment for both of us, between her retirement and the smaller space we now share. Once she’s done getting ready, I can change the channel while she retreats to the living room to watch Billions. I was disappointed that there wasn’t a new episode of Curse of Oak Island this week and Skinwalker Ranch and Below Deck were both pretty weak in maintaining my undivided attention. After dinner, we’re now watching Killing Eve together. She has trouble sleeping without the bedroom TV on, but at some point in the middle of the night, the timer shuts-off programming for a couple of quiet hours. All-in-all, we’re talking only 5 hours a day without at least one set blaring. Sadly, we’re TV junkies, a habit that began because of our careers in the business.
There’s not much in the way of light-hearted events to write about during these dark days. I try to divide my posts into categories but there’s been little activity in reporting on sports or travel. Since the passing of Tinker, “the Poopingest Pup on the Planet,” Tally continues to mourn the loss of her older sister. She does like my cooking, especially last night’s pork chops, but Tinker’s appetite was legendary. Input equaled output. Tally’s life is relatively uneventful, and she has a tendency to avoid coming into my office. She’s clearly my wife’s fur baby that relishes their daily walks and “ham time.” I get the less-desirable early and late shifts when it comes to her outings. Furthermore, she is reluctantly forced to sleep next to me every night on “good bed,” precariously situated on the floor where I step-in and out of bed on far too many bladder emergencies.
Without travel and grooming, we’ll save well over a thousand dollars these next few months in pet-sitting and spa-care expenses. Although she’s a bit shaggy, Tally has had my wife’s full attention, without the sad glares we get when packing bags. Like most dogs, she’s excited to have her humans stuck at home every day. She’ll also enjoy today’s “ride in the car.” In fact, it will be a nice change of pace for all of us, the closest thing to travel that we’ll experience for some time to come.
