Today's thoughts

Category: Tinker (Page 13 of 15)

Our first schnauzer

Retirement is not without Hassles: Lazy Days #348

I have an occasional “lazier than usual” day, meaning that I just can’t get going. After four days of being on the go, I simply didn’t get the week off to a productive start. It was the same pattern when I was working just prior to my retirement, as it took all day Monday to recover from the weekend. I’m definitely slowing down; even my morning runs take longer.  I want to say that there are good days and bad days even in retirement, but actually the bad days are even good. I felt a bit sluggish even taking out the trash and the skies were gray, so there wasn’t much to motivate me, but there will be better days ahead.

Today is my day to cook and I’ll soon put a chuck roast in the slow cooker to make Italian Beef sandwiches. They were always my favorite at Wrigley Field, and remind me of a baseball game in the summertime. My wife is headed to Vegas on business tomorrow, so this will keep me fed the rest of this week. I hope the rain stops and I can take the dogs to the coast for a romp on the sand while she’s away. They are now on a chicken and rice diet and will be disappointed when they get a whiff of the Italian Beef. Maybe Tally can have a bite or two when Tinker isn’t looking, just like we do with our morning eggs. Tinker is allergic to so many things, and we are constantly looking for ways to control her itching, even at the expense of her favorite foods.

I ordered Christmas gifts for my grandkids yesterday, taking advantage of Cyber Monday sale prices. Just getting some of this troublesome shopping done gets me in a better holiday mood. I’m beginning to notice some holiday lighting around the neighborhood, but was never one for outside decorating. A friend posted yesterday that “homes decorated on the outside are happier on the inside.” I think that in some cases, it’s simply an excuse to get out of the house and away from the family hassles. Also, judging from many of the displays I observe, some people should not openly show off their poor taste in decorating for everyone to see and question. It’s bad enough that they don’t keep up their lawns or trim their bushes, so darkness is often a relief. Instead, they show off their laziness by stringing lights carelessly around the front yard that looks like colorful vomit. Maybe it was the result of too much eggnog, They don’t have to look at it because they are happily inside, while the rest of us drive by wondering what they were thinking. I simply put a wreath on the front door. Bah Humbug!

I was never one for excessive decorating and once thought about installing a Lazy Susan in the corner of my living room. It would rotate into a storage room, so the Christmas Tree could disappear or reappear without ever having to take it apart. A chair, end table, and lamp would be on the opposite side of the turntable, restoring the corner to a non-holiday look for the first eleven months of the year. The day after Thanksgiving, I’d simply push a button and the Christmas Tree would rotate into position. Now that’s decking the halls! I also never understood why holiday lights were still up in March, or the height of laziness from those who never took them down. It’s like they thought no one noticed, when they “cleverly” plugged them in each year. Inflatables should also be restricted to the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, and not on someone’s front porch. More Bah Humbug!

Fortunately, experts have come to our aid. Professional decorators are available to tastefully light our homes, and save us from falling off ladders. They do the work, and we write a check if we’re lucky enough to get that year-end bonus. If not, homeowners can now buy trees with built-in lights, and shower cap like mesh to cover your bushes with lights that are equally distributed. Nowadays, homes no longer have to look like they were wired by a drunken, angry madman. I always felt that there were men who purposely did a poor decorating job just to spite their nagging wives who forced them out in the cold to put up the lights when they could have been watching football. I’m sure their Christmas wish was that they’d never have to do it again, once the neighbors filed a complaint with the Association.

As an old man, I’m also against fireworks and loud explosives in celebration of the holidays when they’re done in a neighbors back yard. Admittedly, I once thought it was cool to buy illegal firecrackers, M-80’s, smoke bombs, cracker balls, and sky rockets. We would always stop in Tennessee on our drive back from Florida each year and stock-up on gunpowder goodies that were always conveniently located next to liquor stores, gun shops, and strip clubs. I soon learned that fireworks were dangerous, annoying, and cruel to animals, veterans, and neighbors, and that there was a reason why they were outlawed in so many states. I do enjoy a good fireworks show in a controlled environment. By the way, I also don’t like honking horns and screaming children. Now, get off my yard!

Honestly, the main reason why I don’t decorate outside is because I’m lazy. What you put up – you have to take down, so if you don’t take the first step then you don’t have to do the last. There was also that one bulb that would burn out and render the whole string worthless, not to mention having to climb into the spooky attic to retrieve the boxes of ornaments, lights, wreathes, and tangled electrical cords. The cold Midwest temperatures and early freezes also made it difficult to maneuver a ladder into position, and thoughts of Clark Griswold stapling his shirt sleeve to a second story soffit gives me the shivers. I’m also scared of heights and do not enjoy the outdoors, so I am much happier if I don’t take the trouble to decorate. I do however enjoy criticizing those who do are not so lazy when it comes to holiday decorating.

 

Creature Features: The Nose Knows #314

Whenever we pack our suitcases for a getaway, we have to be careful about upsetting the dogs.  We don’t want them to get overexcited about a potential road trip, and we especially don’t want them to worry about us leaving them behind.  Both dogs have a bit of separation anxiety, so we hide our bags in the closet, so they don’t know we’re leaving – or so we once thought.  Our one schnauzer, Tinker, who we think is part poodle, has a sixth-sense about her, and I now don’t think that we’re getting away with anything.  I wrote this poem to honor her superior intelligence, knowing that she probably relays her intuitions to our other schnauzer, her sister Tally.

The Nose Knows 2

There’s something in the air,
You can sense it all around.
Whatever it is?
It will be found.
.
A sniff here and there,
She breathes it in.
Tilts her head back,
Puts her chin in the air.
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It’s not dinner time,
Or time to go out.
But the look on her face,
Resembles a pout.
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Whatever your plan,
Tinker knows
Nothing gets by,
Tinker’s nose.
.
Is that another dog.
That smell on you?
Her radar nose,
Picked up that clue.
.
When it’s time to eat,
She always knows.
Like Pinocchio,
Her nose- it grows.
.
And when we walk,
Her nostrils flare.
So many smells,
No time to spare.
.
Resisting your tug,
This spot so sweet.
It must reminder her,
Of a special treat.

Something smells wrong,
You can see it in her eyes.
You’re leaving her behind?
She sees through any disguise.

She’s very smart,
Her nose – it knows.
Wherever you proceed,
Her hope – she Goes.

Your bags are packed,
Her nose starts to twitch.
At first you think,
Just another itch.

But her nose,
Has a brain.
Her intuition,
Senses pain.

She’s staying home,
You say good-bye.
In her eyes,
She’s asking why?
.
Her nose suspects,
Any separation.
She too deserves,
To join the vacation.

If there’s indication,
That you will stray.
Her stink detector,
Gets in the way.

Whatever thought,
Tinker knows.
Nothing gets by,
Tinker’s nose.

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Copyright 2017 johnstonwrites.com

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Creature Features: Revenge #312

Frankie is the name of our female cat that we bought together just before we got married.  She was the first pet that I ever had an investment in owning. She’s a beautiful, white-haired Burmese with bright blue eyes – hence the “Old Blue Eyes” moniker. Frankie is “Sweet Sixteen,” but has found some “Evil Ways.” Whenever we travel, we always hire someone to stay with her and the dogs, and when we return, revenge seems to be on her mind.

She’s been especially bad this past week, and we’re hoping that it’s not a kidney condition. When I got up the other morning, she promptly peed on the sheets. We then scrambled to get all the bed covers in the washer and treated the mattress. She also left a turd in my wife’s bathtub to let us know that it wasn’t just me she was after. However, the next day, she went into my office and peed on the chair. Once again, it was Spot Shot to the rescue.  I can deal with her hair-balls, and an occasional dried turd that gets matted in her hair, but revengeful urine stains are not acceptable. Bad Kitty!

I took Frankie to the Vet yesterday. Hopefully, she doesn’t think that it was revenge on my part and cause for further retaliation on her part. She’s a fluffy twenty-five pounds, barely fits in her kitty carrier, and cries non-stop whenever she’s trapped in there, including some lengthy cross-country moves. Frankie has now lived in Indiana, Illinois, Texas, and Oregon, so she’s well traveled but clearly upset when she’s on the go. You would hardly know that she’s around most days, hidden comfortably under our bed, but becomes quite vocal, like clockwork, when it’s feeding time.

Our “Fat Cat” has earned the respect of our similar-sized dogs, even though Tally still tries to taunt her. Frankie has a pretty good right-cross punch, and bats our dogs away with ease. She’s very comfortable with Tinker, but initially joined our household with only one bigger dog named Belle and several other kitties that she has since outlived. Frankie no longer is part of a kitty committee, and now a solo act, but managed to tolerate two cousin kitties that stayed with us for awhile.

We’ve been racking up some Vet bills of late. Tinker alone takes two liquid doses of antibiotics, two tablets for allergies, an eye salve, and bacteria swabs daily, not to mention a monthly heartworm preventative. It’s a good thing that Tinker isn’t revengeful, especially after several weeks of trying to cram tablets down her throat that she would somehow hide and spit out later.  We eventually paid to have these pills liquefied, so they were more tolerable to ingest.  I made the mistake of trying to hide them in her food, and now she won’t eat without carefully inspecting each kibble to make sure it’s not a disguised bitter pill.  Needless to say, I’ve made too many trips to the Vets and our credit card is getting worn out.  Tally usually goes along for the ride, but so far she’s remained healthy, happy, and drug free.  Tally runs and hides when it’s time for her heartworm medication and fights to keep it out of her mouth.  As the low-cost pet, she’s now the “Good Dog.”

We have a bedtime tradition called “Ham Time,” although it’s really healthier turkey that we now feed them.  It accelerates the last outing for the dogs each night in anticipation of their special nightcap.  They do their business outside quickly and then stand by the refrigerator, waiting for their meat treat.  Frankie is also impatiently pacing as I bring the pups in from their final walk of the day, waiting for her portion of turkey goodness.  You would think it’s Thanksgiving every night at our house – if only the pills went down as easy.

Extra loads of wash, dry cleaning bills, grooming, stain remover, walks, trips to the Vets, medication, turkey slices, chews, treats, doggy bags, kitty litter, and food are the price we pay for our pets.  However, even though I complain about it, these pets are well worth it.  They are now my only co-workers, and retirement life would be lonely without them.  The get all excited when they hear my wife’s car coming up the driveway, and sit by the garage door anxiously waiting to see her.  I’m happy to see her, too, although not always as expressive as they are.

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: 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: 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!

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.

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Tinker’s her opposite,

Nearly twice her age.

We had to rescue her,

From a shelter cage.

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Tally’s a rebel,

Her eyes are like coal.

You can see right into,

Her ornery little soul.

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Tinker’s so reliable,

But a step behind.

A bundle of nerves,

She rarely unwinds,

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Tally is aggressive,

Pulling you along.

She has the Right of Way,

And you are always wrong.

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Tinker’s always smiling,

And loves the shade.

When it comes to water,

She won’t even wade.

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Tally bounds out the door,

Always ready to play.

But let her off the leash,

And she won’t stay.

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Tinker’s much smarter,

Will stick by your side.

But when she wants food,

She won’t be denied.

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Tally takes her time,

As she slowly eats.

And waits very patiently,

For any extra treats.

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Tinker’s always hungry,

And gobbles up her food.

Anything of yours is hers,

That’s her attitude!

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Tally has a tub,

Filled with stuffed toys.

Chewing off their limbs,

Is one of her joys.

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Tinker likes to chase,

A squeaky tennis ball.

When she brings it back,

Toss it down the hall.

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Tally gets bored,

Sleeps on our sheets.

Growls at the cat,

Loves anyone she meets.

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Tinker’s always worrying,

And barks all the time.

Sometimes you wish.

She was a quiet mime.

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Tally’s like a mountain goat,

Looking down on all of us.

She’ll paw you as if saying,

“I could use more fuss!”

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They’re T-N-T together,

Oh, the grins they’ve amassed.

An explosive combination,

That make our lives a blast.

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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?

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Copyright 2017 johnstonwrites.com

Retirement is not without Hassles: Unfavorable Things #205

Today is “Lunch” day, more commonly known to the working public as Friday.  Either way, it’s a good day – and another hot one. Fortunately, tomorrow we’re on an airplane headed to the cool breezes off San Francisco Bay.  The only real unpleasantry is struggling to pack a suitcase and watching Tinker, our eldest dog, start to fret, knowing that we’re probably going to leave her behind.  For some reason, I just don’t like to pack, and in retirement I’ve been doing a lot of it.  I will try to decide what to take, procrastinate, and then just throw a bunch of things in the suitcase at the last minute.

I thought of some other “unfavorable” things that have happened over the past couple of weeks, and it reminded me of a poem I wrote a few years ago.  Fortunately, they’ve all been silly little inconveniences like getting a pitcher of warm beer at a bar, sticky ice cream dripping down my arm, computer problems, or a credit card that won’t work.  These are things worthy of laughter, but then again there are moments of fear and loss that are also part of life’s ups and downs.  On the favorable side, there has been no rain in my life over the past sixty days, a rare occurrence here in the Northwest.  Only blue skies and sunshine for this retiree!

 

Unfavorable Things

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Unpleasant times,

Unfavorable things.

Distasteful moments,

That life sometimes brings.

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Bitters and bummers,

Tricks not treats.

Humps and have-nots.

Sour not sweet.

.

Like riding a motorcycle,

And swallowing a bug.

Or sipping a cold beer,

In a warm mug.

.

Stuck on a blind date.

With someone you hate.

Or a glass of curdled milk.

Past the expiration date.

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When a high becomes a low,

That glow starts to fade.

Disappointment quick to show,

Like a broken promise made.

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Lemons not lemonade,

A fly in the flour.

Or awaiting the results,

When each minute’s an hour.

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Turbulent times,

Troubling things.

Distasteful downers,

That life sometimes brings.

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Bitters and bummers,

Tricks not treats.

Humps and have-nots.

Sour not sweet.

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Hoping for the best,

Then a smile becomes a frown.

Or that sinking feeling,

As you go from up to down.

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Ice cream melting down your arm,

On a hot summer day.

Or wishing for a sunny sky,

And getting rain and gray.

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Instead of a raise,

A pink slip from the boss.

On the verge of winning,

Then a last second loss.

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Stuck in an elevator,

Dealing with Bad Breath.

Losing a good friend,

Or being scared to death.

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Anticipating success,

But a handshake, not kiss.

Looking on target,

Instead a near miss.

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Saying the wrong thing,

A cold shoulder at night.

No hand to hold,

On a white knuckler flight.

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Expecting the job,

But not getting the call.

Not wearing any shoes,

When you find a hair ball.

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No space on your armrest,

Sitting next to a jerk.

Getting a bargain,

But your credit card won’t work.

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Slipping in poop,

Or getting a rash.

Mechanical failure.

Or a hard-drive crash.

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Unpleasant times,

Unfavorable things.

Distasteful moments,

That life sometimes brings.

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Copyright 2009 Johnstonwrites.com

Retirement is not without Hassles: Speedy #201

Yesterday’s post #200 was another milestone for this blog.  I pledged from the start to post at least one article a day about my transition into retirement.  Some of those posts have drifted off into sports and pets, but each tries to capture the experience of keeping busy and relevant without holding down a job.  I got off to a slow start, achieving the 100 milestone (See Post #100) on May 31st, while only averaging about 20 a month since my December 31 retirement date..  I then went to the other extreme, averaging 50 articles over the last two months.  I enjoy writing, but I also don’t want to burn myself out, so I hope to catch up to and maintain that One-A-Day pace.

I can’t mention “One-A-Day,” without thinking about my dad.  He worked for Miles Laboratories, makers of One-A-Day multiple vitamins, Chocks, Bactine and Alka-Seltzer, to name a few of their most popular brands.  “Plop, plop, fizz, fizz, oh what a relief it is!”  The world headquarters, at the time, was located in my hometown of Elkhart, Indiana.  One of the job perks was the company store, where employees could stock up on these and other items.  Every once in a while, he’d bring home some test products.  One of those was a headache remedy called Focus that was very effective, but never launched nationally, due to the high cost of market entry.  Ironically, the company was eventually bought by A.G. Bayer Corporation, and perhaps the Focus formula was incorporated into Bayer Aspirin, the market leader at the time.  Alka-Seltzer was heavily marketed, with the animated character, Speedy.  A badly faded Speedy Alka-Seltzer piggy-bank sits on my office shelves next to some of my dad’s service pins of 15, 20, 25, and 30 years.  There was a later television campaign, “No matter what shape your stomach is in,” and featured a jingle done by a band called The Meatballs.  I wish I still had the vinyl album that he brought home for me, featuring that catchy tune.  Because of the merger with A.G, Bayer, my dad was able to take early retirement at age 57.  He struggled in retirement, always looking for something to keep him busy, so this became a big concern to me as I approached leaving the job market.  He had no hobbies other than reading and doing crossword puzzles.  I, at least, have my writing to keep me entertained.

I think that it was these Miles products that peaked my interest in advertising.  One of my dad’s best friends was the marketing liaison between the company and its advertising agencies. The very first of these agencies was Wade Advertising in nearby Chicago.  The brand was launched with a print campaign in 1917, inviting people to get a free sample at their local drugstore.  This eventually led to radio in 1932 on WLS (World’s Largest Store) and a sponsorship of “Saturday Night Barn Dance.”   The tagline, “For prompt, pleasant relief” was used to establish the Alka-Seltzer brand.  Miles was the sixteenth rated national radio sponsor by 1939, with catchy slogans like “Be wise – Alkalize with Alka-Seltzer!”  Radio also helped establish the unique sound of the effervescent tablets – “Listen to it fizz!”  By the mid-1950s, the agency had creatively evolved “Action in a Glass!” into the more memorable, “Relief is just a swallow away!”  Red-headed, Speedy Alka-Seltzer was born the same year I was, 1951, and was a key in becoming the top commercial of the that decade.

The 47-year relationship with Wade Advertising ended in 1964,  in favor of Madison Avenue based Jack Tinker and Partners.  Wade quickly went out of business.  Tinker developed the iconic “Stomachs Montage,” campaign, and sales purportedly increased 64% compared to the previous year.  “Alka-Seltzer on the rocks” soon followed, and after a  migration of creative talent,  the account soon shifted to Doyle Dane Bernbach in 1969.  The new Alka-Seltzer Plus was then launched as competition in the antacid category increased.  Award-winning, humorous TV campaigns like “Groom’s First Meal” and “Mama Mia,” plus the “spicy-meatball” catch-phrase, became popular but apparently did not drive sales, so Wells, Rich, Greene became the agency of record. Partner Mary Wells was formerly with Tinker, and influenced the need to change the creative approach.  “Personalities,” “Try it, you’ll like it” and “I can’t believe I ate the whole thing!” became pop culture favorites through her direction.

In order to remain competitive, Alka-Seltzer Plus eventually extended  into Alka-Seltzer Plus Cold Medication, and “Plop, Plop, Fizz, Fizz” could relieve both headaches and stuffiness due to colds.  By this time, 1978, the German-based A.G. Bayer Corporation had taken control of the company, and my dad and his marketing buddy, among many others,  were shown the door with full benefits.  He was able to live comfortably for another 36 years, thanks to his association with Miles Laboratories,  His career took him all over the world, and gave me every educational opportunity to achieve my own success.  Selling creative ideas through advertising was a key part of this success.  I’m glad that I met Speedy and had an inside track to some of the greatest adverting campaigns of all time.

Retirement is not without Hassles: Another Day in a Routine Life #179

I’ve settled back into my routine the last couple of days, as have the dogs.  Tinker was napping on the rug in the warm sunlight off the back deck, while Tally was asleep on the couch, content in the cool shade.  They are resting up from a busy day at the dog spa, sporting their stylish haircuts.  Tally played hard with the other dogs, while Tinker showed little interest in interaction.  Two very different dogs that are now my 8 to 5 co-workers, along with Frankie the cat that prefers the darkness of the bedroom.   I wonder if they know that it’s “Date Night” day.

While the dogs were getting groomed, my wife had some serious dental work yesterday, so we will dine-in tonight.  It will make the pups happy to have our company on a night that we’re typically out on the town.  I prepared a corn and tomato salsa to be served over a grilled flank steak.  I also joined my wife for a light lunch today at the Cornell Cafe Oaks located near her office.  I broke the news to her that we would be baby-sitting my grand kids our first night in San Francisco in a couple of weeks.  She was expecting something more romantic, but we settled on a Mary Poppins sing-along to keep her and them entertained.  I’m just glad to have some one-on-one time with them next month.  My son tends to be a bit possessive of his kids, but he’s also a good father.

I’ve been slowly increasing my mileage and speed in anticipation of the Hood to Coast relay.  I’m a potential last minute substitute on a team of 12 that will race 199 miles from Timberline Lodge on Mount Hood to the Seaside, Oregon beach.  Each team member will run about 17 miles over the course of two days.  Since it ends the day before my 66th birthday, I will most likely get to run a portion of the relay, as several of the regulars are nursing injuries.  It will be something to cross off my bucket list. Today was my 3,125th consecutive day (8.556 years) of running at least one mile a day.  I’ve easily averaged 2.5 miles a day over this time frame, with my current daily mileage exceeding 3.25.  In total, I’ve “easily” run over 7,800 miles since I started my present streak, more than enough to get to New York City and back.  As part of preparation for this relay, I’ve concentrated on steeper inclines the past few weeks, as the Hood to Coast route will be extremely hilly.

There was an abundance of good sports on TV this morning.  The Cubs won their 6th straight, a first for this season, and the first time since 1935 that the team has won six consecutive games following the All Star break.  The 1935 team fell short, losing to the Detroit Tigers in the World Series, but managed to win a hundred games, a Cubs feat that wasn’t accomplished again until last year – 81 years later.  They also achieved a 21-game winning streak late in the 1935 season to clinch the pennant, tying the franchise record set in 1880 when they were the Chicago White Stockings.  This year’s team will need a similar run to return to the World Series.   Later in the day, I also watched the debut of Chicago White Sox prospect, Yoan Moncada.  (Post #157).  I participated in a charity drawing in a recent visit to Guaranteed Rate Stadium in Chicago, formerly Comiskey Park, and received an autographed baseball from this Cuban phenom.  I’ve been following his progress in the Minor Leagues, anxious for him to get the promotion that happened yesterday.   He wears #10 – the same number as my White Sox childhood hero, Sherm Lollar.  It seemed almost prophetic that I randomly selected his baseball from a “mystery” stack of current and prospective players.

I also watched the Tour de France this morning, reminding me of my high school and college days on a bicycle.  My friends and I would do 50 and 100 mile rides on our non-geared bicycles, navigating a very flat Indiana terrain.  It was Stage 17 of the Tour today, and the route was through the scenic Alps.  It was mesmerizing to watch them cruise at 60 miles an hour along narrow, winding mountain roads.  I held my breath in anticipation of a life-threatening accident over the steep drop.  We didn’t have those bicycling concerns back in Indiana.  The truly painful part was watching them ascend to the peak, knowing the muscle strain and conditioning necessary to get there.

After these summer bike marathons, thee next stage of my bicycling career came entirely by accident.    Before the movie Breaking Away, the Little 500 at Indiana University got limited attention.  I had never heard of the event when I transferred to Indiana in 1971.  It was my only connection with the fraternity, since I had pledged at another college, and saw this as an opportunity to make some new friendships.  A two-week trip to Florida to train sealed the deal, but I had no idea what I was getting into.  It’s now the largest collegiate intramural sporting event, and part of the “World’s Greatest College Weekend.”  It’s been going on for 66 years, with the women’s race celebrating 29 years.  The event started the year I was born, and was founded by the son of an Indianapolis 500 winner, hence many of the similarities, including 33 four-person teams and 500 laps.  The race was originally run on a cinder track, and I have the scars to prove it.  The fact that there were no gears to shift made it a grueling experience that led to embarrassing hemorrhoids instead of the winner’s circle.

I’m no longer an athlete and don’t even own a bicycle.  I’m just a retired guy who has faint aspirations of running another marathon, contributing to the Hood to Coast relay team, hitting a home run, and maybe even winning a bicycle race.  I now live vicariously through the accomplishments of others in the sporting world, imagining that I was better at sports than I actually was.  As they say, “the older you get – the better you were.”   Sherm Lollar #10 will forever be my baseball hero and Lance Armstrong once dominated my cycling dreams, but turned out to be a grave disappointment.   I was reminded of this poem, although it’s a repeat from Post #120.   Even though tomorrow’s another day of my routine life, I don’t want to relive any portion of it.  I’m truly satisfied with what I’ve accomplished and content in simply watching the Super Hero of tomorrow take shape.  Right…Yoan Moncada?

Super Hero

.

The older you get,

The faster time goes.

Anyone who’s been there,

And done that…knows.

.

Many a decision,

Is made on the spot.

You just have to know,

When to take your shot.

.

Don’t hesitate,

Bask in the sun.

Take it in now,

Have some fun.

.

From the moment you’re born,

Until your last day.

Don’t let “I can’t,”

Get in your way.

.

Time will fly by,

Middle age will pass.

Make some memories,

Get off your ass.

.

Cause when you get older,

You’ll start to reminisce.

And you’ll be sorry,

For chances you miss.

.

Just go out and do it,

Grab the brass ring.

Then you’ll never regret,

Having missed a thing.

.

Sometimes success,

But often you’ll fail.

And you’ll try to recall,

Every detail.

.

But if you miss out,

It won’t really matter.

Your memory fades,

As you grow fatter.

.

The older you get,

The better you were.

Your flaws from the past,

Become a big blur.

.

You were faster,

Sexier and stronger.

So Much Braver,

And lasted longer.

.

A Bronze God

Our Super Hero.

When you really,

Were a big ZERO.

.

So you stretch the truth,

Exaggerate a bit.

When you struck out,

It’s now a hit.

.

The older you get,

The better you were.

You were the best,

You remember for sure.

.

You made more money,

Drove fancier cars.

Where there was darkness,

You now see stars.

.

You’ve seen the sights,

Even if not.

You don’t know it all,

But you know a lot.

.

The older you get,

The better you were.

Did it happen like that?

You’re really not sure.

.

And that’s the beauty,

Of growing old.

No one can counter,

White lies that you’ve told.

,

Copyright May 2015 johnstonwrites.com

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