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Category: Tinker (Page 5 of 15)

Our first schnauzer

Creature Features: Dog Dog to Walla Walla #952

May 25, 2019 / / 0 Comments

As we begin to pack for our Walla Walla getaway, our two schnauzers, 15-year old Tinker and 8-year old Tally, start to get anxious. We always try to pack in secrecy but they always somehow seem to know. It wasn’t until my wife got out their travel backpack that they began to settle down.  It was almost like we could hear them say, “we get to go?” It’s Dog Dog to Walla Walla, “a town so nice they had to say it twice.” Just as you need two dogs! Only poor Frankie our cat will be left behind to fend for herself for two days. She just made a very rare appearance in my office, as if she knew I was writing about her. Before we hit the road, we’ll take the pups on a “Schnauzerthon,” hoping to tire them out for the ride. Weather permitting, they will get the same special treatment for the next two days in Walla Walla.  

It’s about a four-hour drive into lower Washington state, enough time for them to settle into their beds. Tinker will be worried for the first hour, but will soon adjust once she figures out we’re not dumping her somewhere. She has never forgotten her time abandoned in the woods prior to her adoption. We speculate that her former owner drove to a wooded area and let her out. The vet that examined her at the animal shelter found acorns in her stomach and commented on how smart she was to keep her digestive system functioning. She has since suffered from separation anxiety and is always asking for food. Any change in her routine brings about suspicion. Today’s long car ride will be no exception. 

Walla-squared will fulfill one of our long discussed travel goals while living in the Northwest. Vancouver B.C. will be our next local trip over the 4th of July holiday. The dogs will then get their first international travel experience, after visiting at least 15 states. Oh Cana-dog!

 

Creature Features: ‘Roid Rage #948

May 21, 2019 / / 0 Comments

I took both of our schnauzers to Urban Fauna this morning for playtime and grooming. It gave me a chance to run some errands downtown on my way back home: new glasses, ring repair, kitty litter, and of course a Diet Coke at McDonald’s. Before I pick them later this afternoon, I’m involved in domestic duties including dinner preparations. The house is quiet without the pitter-patter of little paws, but I’m sure Frankie our cat enjoys the peace of temporarily being queen of the house. I also find it strange that no one follows me when I go to the refrigerator. 

100-year-old- plus Tinker is on a low dose of Prednisone, a steroid that helps control arthritis and allergies. It’s been quite effective in reducing her itchiness and joint pain, but makes her aggressively hungry. Her internal clock knows the feeding times and she relentlessly barks until her dish is filled. If I don’t protect our younger schnauzer  Tally’s bowl, she will eat that too. Every time throughout the day when I get up, she shadows me with hopes of any scraps. She also bullies Tally for her share and is rarely gentle with any bite she takes. It’s classic ‘Roid Rage! By the same token, Input continues to impact Output, and so “The Poopingest Pup on the Planet” continues to live up to her reputation. 

Tinker moves slowly with limited mobility, hearing, and sight. She knows the outside route we take and only on occasion strays from the sidewalk path. I do not hook her up on a leash like Tally for fear of dragging her along to keep up. She does her business and then dutifully heads home to wait for playful Tally to finish doddling. Sadly, Tally does not try to taunt her anymore, clearly respectful of her age. I often think of the years when Tinker was a puppy, chasing ducks behind our lake home. Her ears would fly in the wind as her short legs tried to keep up with her extended stomach. We believe her to be part poodle, and maybe some beagle when we rescued her from a shelter thirteen years ago. She was at least two-years old at the time and spent some time abandoned in the woods. 

The closest Tinker gets to speed anymore is when I push her in an Air Buggy carriage most weekend mornings. My wife maintains Tally on a leash while we take turns with her giving Tinker a ride. Maybe Tink gets a temporary recollection of her youth and the sensation of the wind in her whiskers as I run her through the neighborhood? We call it a “Schnauzerthon,” that allows me to record my daily running mileage and enables my wife and “her feisty puppy” to travel at a faster pace.  Tinker stands up in the buggy and barks when she needs to get out. Otherwise, she seems content driving her human propelled race car.  It’s as far away from the refrigerator that she ever cares to get, as she certainly dreams of devouring a treat to satisfy her ‘Roid Rage when we return home. Bark. Bark.Bark!

Creature Features: Good Scents and Sense #931

May 3, 2019 / / 0 Comments

This poem came about while just having some fun with words that sound alike but are spelled differently – homophones. It’s a tribute to the noses of Tinker and Tally, our two schnauzer pups. (The nose knows.)

Good Scents and Sense

SENSE and SCENTS,
Are homophones.
They go together,
Like dogs and bones.

To humans like us,
Things make good SENSE,
But to our furry friends,
Only smells make SCENTS.

It made good SENSE,
As one became two.
So our lonely dog,
Had something to do.

Adoption took place,
And two became one.
To share the SCENTS,
And join the fun.

Someone to sniff,
A Second tail.
Without fresh smells,
Good SCENTS go stale.

The pups next door,
Make good SCENTS.
To our dogs,
Must smell like mints.

Then one day,
The sky turned gray.
And the rain washed,
The SCENTS away.

It now made SENSE,
To Spread new SCENTS.
Lots of fragrance,
To dispense.

All dogs love odors,
And have crude taste.
No SENSE in SCENTS,
Going to Waste.

That’s why God,
Put dogs on earth,
So they could get,
Their Two SCENTS worth.

Copyright 2019 johnstonwrites.com

Author note: Just like Rights or Writes?

Retirement is not without Hassles: Feeling My Age #923

April 28, 2019 / / 0 Comments

“You’re as old as you feel” is what everyone would love to believe. However, it’s not always true. This morning I was stiff and sore after a couple of awkward falls on the ski slopes a few days ago. I suppose that just being out there at age 67 was a small sign of rekindling my youth. The fact is that my balance is beginning to suffer. Even when I run in the morning I sometimes feel like I’m staggering, as my feet want to take me in a different direction. I know that from talking with older friends that this will only get worse. There was even a brief moment as I passed underneath a basketball net where I wanted to jump and see if I could at least touch the net. Sadly, the force of gravity just seemed too much to even try.

I was pushing our hundred-year old schnauzer in a stroller while my wife walked our youngest pup on a leash. We call it our “Schnauzerthon,” where we take turns with each pup, while I try to get in my three mile run. Believe me, that 50 extra pounds of stroller and dog is a lot of extra work, especially when I’m running uphill. It’s a relief when it’s my turn to go solo or even unsuccessfully try to convince the leashed pup to keep up with my pace. I’m very fortunate to still be able to do these things at this age. In fact, the other morning I watched an age-peer struggle to get around his neighborhood on a walker. Hopefully, he was just recovering from knee or foot surgery, and it was not a permanent condition. Nonetheless, I felt guilty running by him, even despite my slow pace. I watched as he bravely persisted in completing his journey.

The reason we use the stroller is because aging Tinker can’t keep up with us any more. We let her out for the last part of our stroll and watch her slowly waddle home. At least she’s not hobbling like she was a few months ago. Despite her age, she still has no trouble with input and output. This is why we call her “The Poopingist Pup on the Planet.” When I take her outside, I rarely hook up the leash anymore, she simply does her duty and waits in the garage for sister Tally to delay the outing as long as possible. No extra steps for Tinker anymore, while Tally is not trustworthy without being secured to a leash. Before my decision to grant Tinker leash independence, I felt like I was constantly in a tug-of-war, since they both headed in different directions at different speeds. Just as the guy on the walker, it’s tough to watch Tinker grow old. She used to chase a tennis ball with vigor, but the other day she didn’t even respond when one rolled by her. As my mother used to say, “getting old ain’t for sissies.” She apparently stole that line from Bette Davis.

A few weeks ago I spent three days in an assisted living facility visiting my mother-in-law. She is nearing her 98th birthday and can’t hear, see, or walk. It’s sad to watch her waste away, along with Tinker, and not help but think that my turn is coming soon. I’m doing my best to stay young by running and skiing, but you “don’t underestimate Mother Nature! In a fight she always wins.” Mother Nature was sitting on me this morning, and wouldn’t let me out of bed. She was on my shoulders when I thought about jumping for that net, and was nestled next to Tinker in the stroller I was trying to push. She also must have tripped me on the ski slopes, with this subtle reminder: Even though it was a beautiful, “spring” day on the mountain, you’re no longer a “spring” chicken.

Retirement is not without Hassles: Dread #916

April 22, 2019 / / 0 Comments

When you do something every day, it’s more than just a habit-it’s a way of life. Running everyday is a way of life for me now, and distinguishes one day from another. On most of those days, life is routine. I get up at 6 a.m. and tend to the dogs. After push-ups, sit-ups, and stretching, they do their business before my 3.1 mile run begins. I put little thought into it and that’s what makes it tolerable. However, the routine changes when my wife’s work week comes to an end and her weekend begins.

While listening to the radio this morning, the morning team was talking about people like me who start their day with a run and get up early to do it. In the cold, dark, and rain, we’re somehow driven to leave our warm beds. At this point, I can’t imagine starting my day any other way. However, that doesn’t mean that I don’t frequently dread the task. I just do it! If I think about it too much, it makes it that much harder. This probably makes me a masochist, but somehow fighting through the bad makes the finish line feel that much better! I guess you might call it Grateful Dread.

There’s typically no alarm to wake up to when my wife doesn’t have to go to work. I linger in bed longer on her precious weekends, until I feel guilty about our restless schnauzer puppies with long overdue bladders. The extra hour or hour-and-a-half sleep makes me groggy, and those painful thoughts of exercise are indeed dreadful. It’s even more difficult when we’re not home, and I also have to wait for the troops to join me.

Yesterday, we were in McMinnville and I was up early, concerned about a doggy accident in our fancy anniversary suite. I was out of my comfortable homebody routine and filled with the usual dread about the inevitable run. To make matters worse, I forgot to pack my running shorts, so there was little choice but to wear jeans. I didn’t look like a runner, and therefore didn’t feel like one! My wife accompanied me as we started the “Schnauzerthon” together. For me, it’s a compromise between family time and pounding the pavement. I run with aging Tinker in the stroller, while she walks with energetic Tally on a leash. Pushing the extra 25-pounds in the Air Buggy often makes a 3.1 mile course even tougher on an old man like me. On this occasion it was through the charming neighborhoods near downtown McMinnville in blue jeans on dreadful day 3,766.

Retirement is not without Hassles: One Day At A Time #904

April 11, 2019 / / 0 Comments

I’m on another plane today after running the mile minimum necessary to extend “The Streak” due to all the packing preparations. Our destination is Chicago, so the four hour flight seems like a puddle-jump compared to our recent trip to Thailand. We’ll be gone a week, so the pups will be well cared for by Kimberley. Frankie the cat will be predictably upset so we can expect some revenge shenanigans from her when we return. She’ll probably refuse to eat and use everything but her litter box to get even. Tally will be excited to go on more walks with her energetic play pal and Tinker will think she’s starving, worried about if we’re ever coming back? Both schnauzers clearly noticed the suitcases being packed this morning and transferred to the car. We never tell them “goodbye,” that would only serve to add to their stress levels.

I felt the usual travel stress myself while driving to the airport. “Did I forget anything?” dominates my thoughts. “What could go wrong?” is explored over and over in my mind. The real purpose of this trip is to visit my wife’s 97-year old mother and give her a break from assisted living. Unfortunately, she’s living a life no one would envy. Her visit is in conjunction with my wife’s Chicago business meetings tomorrow. We’ll stick around Chicago for a ballgame and some dinners before we make the drive into Indiana. At least this time we’re not also going to Indianapolis or Elkhart for sister visits, so the driving will be much less hectic. We’ll save that for three months from now when we likely will return.

I’ve not yet committed to my 50th High School Reunion that could be part of that next visit to the Hoosier state. There’s also the 98th birthday to celebrate and my 68th. Thirty more years of living would not be my preference if I couldn’t travel, read, write, or even watch TV. My aging mother-in-law was born in the same year as my parents, who have been gone now for well over four years. She’s been mostly deaf since childhood and is gradually losing her eyesight due to kidney failure. Soon her savings will be depleted on nursing care. With this in mind, twenty more years will be more than enough for me. That’s another 7,300-plus days of daily running on top of today’s 3,756 USRSA streak. Maybe even 10,000 consecutive days is enough – that could happen when I’m only 85! I’d also like to ski when I’m 80, but 70 is first. One day at a time!

Creature Features: Doggie Depression #881

March 21, 2019 / / 0 Comments

As we gradually pack our bags for Thailand, the dogs begin to feel a sense of pending doom. They see the suitcases in the closet and know that we will be leaving them soon. Will we ever come back, they wonder? Is this the last we will see “mom” and “dad?” What did we do wrong for them to abandon us? Tinker, our oldest schnauzer, who we “rescued” from the shelter over thirteen years ago, will never forget her time alone in the woods, covered in dirt from head to toe when they brought her to the kennel. In fact, we thought we were adopting a brown rather than black dog. It made no difference, the attraction was through her eyes.

Tinker suffers from separation anxiety every time we leave the house, and refuses to look us in the eye as we go off on each travel excursion. It’s clearly “Doggie Depression,” and who can blame her for any concern. She’s well taken care of when we leave, but it’s just not the same. I suppose she temporarily gets over her poutiness with every meal she has, but what if the next one doesn’t come? She’s become more impatient with age, like me, and incessantly barks to remind us of feeding time. Her reputation as “The Poopingest Pup on the Planet” is dependent on input. From her perspective, there is never enough food in her bowl and consequently she closely shadows me every time I get up, hoping that I’ll open the refrigerator and satisfy her need to eat again.

Tally, her younger schnauzer sister, only stirs if a door is opened; otherwise she stays to herself. Unlike Tinker, she is not constantly begging for morsels and sometimes requires a lot of coaxing to even eat her dinner. Her goal is simply to get outside the house and therefore carefully monitors all door activity. No walk is ever long enough for her and she fights the leash to try to lead us where she wants to go. She’ll even grab the leash and pull with her teeth as if she’s taking herself on a walk. Her “Doggie Depression” comes from not getting enough exercise, often confined to “good bed” with her head resting between her paws and a sad look on her face. She’s always excited to see the pet sitter and anticipates the potential of a long walk from a younger human. Depression solved!

Gimpy Tinker needs the stroller anymore to keep up with the pace and distance. She would probably rather stay near the refrigerator, but doesn’t want to miss out on any companionship. She tries her best to match Tally’s gait, but her fat little tummy nearly drags on the ground. She also struggles with stairs, and once her business is done is ready to head “back to the barn.” Even though both of our schnauzers are close to the same 25 pound weight, Tally’s legs are longer like a thoroughbred. She still tries to get Tinker to interact like she once did through playful lunges, but “Hundred-Five-Year-Old” Tinker is just too old for puppy gymnastics. 9-year old Tally has to often rely on passing puppies to get her playtime fix, however she often shies away from big dogs and obnoxiously barks at those her size. It’s an effort to get them stirred up, as she circles for an attack. She acts like a puppy with boundless energy, and stalls on relief functions to maximize her time outdoors.

With Tally, little input means limited output, and she’s always careful to choose a spot away from the beaten path. She does her duty while showing strong signs of modesty, while Tinker goes anywhere at anytime. She will stop in the middle of the street if nature calls, while Tally saves it for a patch of ivy or tall grass where she can partially hide. She also seems to prefer going on the side of a hill, climbing like a mountain goat. Tinker, on the other hand, does not linger, displaying an urgency to get off her aging feet and lay down near her dog bowl. If we’re not traveling her “Doggie Depression” is limited to lack of food.

Creature Features: Puperazzi #873

March 11, 2019 / / 0 Comments

My wife comes home from a tough day at the office and is playfully attacked by our two schnauzer puppies. She calls them her “Puperazzi;” comprised of Tinker and Tally, along with Frankie the cat patiently awaiting her turn in the greeting line. Tinker wants food, while Tally wants attention, acting like they’ve been totally deprived and ignored all day long. Granted, I’m no natural “pet lover,” but I’ve evolved in retirement to be their chief care giver when “Mom” is at work.

Tally will run to the door in anticipation as soon as she hears her car come up the street. Tinker, who’s hearing isn’t as sharp anymore, will start her incessant barking, and Frankie will come out of her hiding spot to see what is going on at the back door. My wife is thrilled to see them, and they’ll lead her to the refrigerator. I try to give them a few minutes to calm down before I fill their bowls, but Tinker is starving and will follow me like a shadow while I first attend to Frankie’s dinner. Age before Beauty! Tally will try to draw my wife’s attention by rolling over on her back with her raised paws in a cute pose, yearning for a “Tummy Attack.” If I even attempt to tend to her pleading eyes, Tinker gets upset and Tally seems disappointed that it’s only me doing the rubbing. I can just hear her saying, “you’ve been here all day, so if I wanted you to do this I would have performed earlier.” At the same time, Tinker is always wondering if I forgot to feed her.

The “Puperazzi” are really the “Schnauzerazzi,” a group of devoted pets without cameras. I wish it could be said that “I am nothing but chopped liver.” If that were the case, I too would be lovingly devoured. My wife doesn’t even need to wear “meat perfume,” to get covered in affectionate kisses and slathered with wet tongues. I can’t even get close to the action. Even Frankie begins to “Meow” after a day of quietly lounging on our bed. Once everyone is fed, it is then my thankless job to take them outside, where they just can’t wait to get back to her side by the couch. Tally wants to be petted, while Tinker is restless for a piece of whatever we’re eating. Tally also likes to warm herself by the fire, hoping for more admiration of her supreme cuteness. She is truly a pet that needs to be endlessly pampered – but only by the right person – guess who?

Tinker likes to go to sleep with us on the bed, but needs to be lifted anymore. By morning, she’s on the floor carefully positioned so I will trip over her in the dark. Tally will not get in our bed without a lot of coaxing and only rarely when I’m under the covers. This is another tribute to her master, but she prefers to sleep by herself on her couch surrounded by pillows. She growls if Tinker or Frankie gets anywhere close to her overnight domain. Actually, it’s a couch that we once tried to donate to the Salvation Army, but it was worn beyond their standards. Tally made it hers when she chewed the corners of the cushions back when she was a teething pup that we called “The Tally Monster,” or sometimes “The Tallygator.” (See Post and Poem #77). We’ve hauled it from Illinois to Texas to Oregon for her exclusive use these past nine years. Tinker, on the other hand, will not sleep in any of her beds and sometimes prefers the cooler wooden floors. The entire “Puperazzi” fan club does not typically stir all night until my wife’s alarm goes off for the second time. They are good sleepers, resting up for that big surge of activity when she finally gets home from work.

Creature Features: Cutie Care #861

March 4, 2019 / / 0 Comments

“Cutie Care” does not just apply to manicures and pedicures, it is all about the feeding and nurturing of our precious pets. My wife is much better at this than I am, and it’s why they crave her attention. I can be here all day long with them without as much as a stir, except when it’s time to go outside or I approach the refrigerator. However, when my wife comes home for work, they practically mob her at the door. She gets what she claims to be “ear kisses and nose bops,” while I wait patiently for my turn.

Without giving her too much credit in the “cutie care” department, she does get home at feeding time, so some of their excitement is about food. However, our youngest schnauzer Tally will roll over on her back and expose her belly for a “Tummy Attack.” She rarely does this for me. She also typically greets my wife at the door with a stuffed toy. Tally has gotten in trouble for being too aggressive with her nose bops, so the toy helps cushion her enthusiasm when jumping-up for a lick to the face as you bend-down to pet her. She also seems to need my wife’s approval before she eats, and responds to “Yummy Tummy.” It’s all silly baby-talk to me.

Our hundred year old schnauzer Tinker never needs encouragement to eat. This is why she’s known as “The Poopingest Pup on the Planet.” She’ll finish the food in her bowl, slowly sneak towards Tally’s dish, and would steal it all if we didn’t supervise. Tinker is usually finished eating before we finally coax Tally to eat the first bite. We’ll bang on the side of her bowl and tell her how good it is, keeping one eye on Tinker’s movements. Not surprisingly, every time we go to the Vet, Tinker always weighs a little more. With every year older she also somehow gets hungrier, and gobbles down every bite like it’s her last meal. Don’t get your fingers in the way! Tally, on the other hand, likes to savor her food, and this can be costly around greedy Tinker.

As soon as it gets to be 5 o’clock, Tinker’s built-in clock tells her that “mom” will be home soon and dinner will then be served. It’s this association that causes her to bark relentlessly in anticipation of arrival. All our pets can hear my wife’s sports car come up the street and the garage door open; it’s their cue to line-up at the back door and wait for “Cutie Care.” After the ceremonies, Tinker then rushes to the kitchen and waits, keeping one eye on her bowl and the other on the refrigerator. She’s also my wife’s sous-chef, always at her side in the kitchen, hoping to taste anything she’s preparing. Tally remains unimpressed with food and stays in the background until she’s called. She’s usually on our bed or in “good bed” patiently waiting to eat, while her older sister simply can’t get enough.

Tally relishes “Cutie Care” and plays the role perfectly, putting her best “cute” forward. Tinker would rather just eat but knows that acting “cute” will earn her more dining rewards. Frankie our cat begins to prowl just before her scheduled feeding times. As the “Senior Cutie” at 18 years old, she knows the routine and rarely ventures out of our bedroom, unless there’s a feeding frenzy in the kitchen. She does not like to be left out and let’s us know with a mournful “meow.” She does not give me any credit for cleaning her litter box every day. Lately, she’s also been avoiding me because of the medication I have to force down her throat.

On the “Cutie Rating Scale,” I rank a distant last in our family. I also usually do the dirty work, putting my wife on an even higher scale of adoration. I take our pets to the vet, accompany them on walks, clean up after them, and do most of the yelling. This leaves the “Cutie Care” primarily in my wife’s capable hands. It makes her feel welcome as she comes in the door from a hard day’s work, and gives me something constructive to do in retirement. It’s just too bad I don’t qualify for “Cutie Care.”

Retirement is not without Hassles: American Pie #860

March 3, 2019 / / 0 Comments

The sun is shining for the second straight day, but there’s a cold wind blowing against the atypical backdrop of bright blue skies at this time of year. March is up to its usual indecisive ways, wavering between Winter and Spring. Today, we head to the Portland Antique and Collectibles Show to find treasures that somehow became other people’s junk, but first a little exercise with the dogs. Will it be the day I find that long-lost-item I simply can’t live without? What kind of dent will this purchase put in the retirement budget, or will I escape without any damage?

I told you these “Schnauzerthons” were challenging! My wife twisted her ankle and limped most of the way along the trail this morning. I did a lot of stopping and starting, trying to get my 5k run on the books for the day. We’ll see how the ankle injury affects our plans to go to the antique show, but I have a feeling that her strong will to shop will persevere. There is an antique jewelry dealer’s booth in particular that she wants to explore with hopes of helping her youngest daughter find a wedding ring. It is the same place where I ended up buying my wife’s Christmas present after she spotted it at last year’s show. As you can see, it turned out to be an expensive visit last year, so you can imagine my concerns about going back.

A gown purchase for one daughter last night and ring shopping for the other today has my wife excited about both upcoming weddings. I can tell she wants to be as involved as possible, but doesn’t want to meddle. Both girls also seem to be competing for her attention. She walks that fine line of maternal instinct that sometimes leads to argument. I’m certainly pleased for both girls, but as their stepfather I will stay out of the lime-light and focus on the Coors Light. The vows for the oldest will be here in Portland, while the youngest will tie the knot in the Bay area. It will definitely be an eventful year.

Predictably, it was another costly visit to the Portland Expo Center. We had free tickets, but some Fiesta Ware and an antique opal broach caught her eye. I elected to wait until we get back from Thailand later this month to invest in her June birthday, so she bought them for herself. I was satisfied with a corn dog and some soft ice cream. On a separate note while she was negotiating with jewelers, I registered myself on the Heritage Auction website in anticipation of perhaps buying some sports memorabilia. I didn’t see anything that struck me at this year’s version Antique and Collectibles show. It was a little smaller turnout on the part of displaying exhibitors due to rainy California weather that prevented travel into Oregon, so we we were able to get down all the aisles quicker.

The rest of my wife’s Sunday will be spent in the living room. We’re finished with the six-season Netflix series, The Americans, and will move on tonight to the Eugene Levy comedy, Schitt’s Creek. As a side note, I once spotted Eugene on the Oceanside trail behind our Wailea, Hawaii hotel. Also, one woman at work felt that we looked alike – maybe the kinky hair and glasses – so we now have a couple of common bonds. He of course does not know that I exist so I’m the only one aware of these ties. I did enjoy his acting role as Noah Levenstein, Jim’s dad, in the first four American Pie films, and transformed into smaller roles for the final four installments. He eventually finds happiness with “Stifler’s Mom.” I’ll look for him again when we return to Maui in two months, after Thailand, Seattle, and Chicago. Maybe we’ll also run into “Mom” aka Janine, Jennifer Coolidge?

When I think of the build-up to these upcoming weddings, I can’t help but remember American Wedding, Eugene Levy’s third appearance in the classic “Pie” series. The engagement is a near disaster, Stifler’s attempt to organize a bachelor party goes awkwardly awry, and then he inadvertently kills the flowers the night before the big event. It’s some welcome comedic relief for what we hope will be nowhere near as chaotic in the planning of these two family weddings later this year.

In the meantime, my wife I will continue enjoy the quiet time associated with movies and TV series. They at least keep us in the same room, holding hands, and give us something besides work to talk about. She’ll elevate her swollen ankle and comfort our oldest schnauzer Tinker who is also nursing a gimpy leg. For dinner, we’ll enjoy some hot soup with maybe some “Pie” for dessert.

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