Category: POEMS (Page 25 of 30)

Rhymes of all kinds

Creature Features: Cat Scratch Fever #171

July 7, 2017 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

I’ll have plenty of time for posting tomorrow, as I fly cross-country from Seattle to Tampa. I’ll lose three hours in the process. Last night was indeed outstanding – “Outstanding in the Field.” It was our fifth dining experience with the company that does group dinners in outdoor settings all over the world. The table was set this time on Netarts Bay, just west of Tillamook. The guest chef was from Ranata restaurant in Portland, and the host was the Jacobsen Salt Company. On the site of a former oyster farm, the company converts water from the bay into gourmet salts. The tour was very interesting, as part of a reception that also included appetizers and wine by the gallon. It’s a pricey event, but each year we find it well worth the money.

We went with friends who live in that area, and stopped by their house on the way there, to admire some of their improvements. Their cat was on the kitchen table, and when I reached out to play, it bit my arm, leaving a small puncture mark. I hope I don’t get, “Cat Scratch Fever,” since I couldn’t keep that song out of my mind as we enjoyed dinner. I’ll keep an eye, and some antiseptic, on it. I also felt sorry for their two huge playful dogs, who probably thought that we would bring our two dogs to romp with them. They are best of friends. Instead, they were once again stuck at home with the ornery cat. While I watched all these “lovable” creatures in one room, I could only imagine what they were thinking as we walked out the door. Also, since we had just visited the Oregon Zoo last weekend, I thought of this cute little poem that I wrote about our dogs several years ago:

Mammal Mania

They chase our cats,

Have caught a mouse.

Not much going on,

When stuck in the house.

Their first attack,

By bugs or flies.

They might admit,

Was a big surprise.

They dream to escape,

Free to see the world.

Who knows what they think?

When they lie there curled.

The world to them,

Is our backyard.

To know what’s out there,

As our faithful guard.

We go for walks,

And rides in the car.

And on occasion,

We go quite far.

Strange new sights,

Through the eyes of a dog.

Like the time they came,

Nose to nose with a frog.

Or at the lake,

A ferocious bark.

It’s only a fish,

Not a shark!

Or a close encounter,

With a big old goat.

Scary horns,

And a wooly coat.

Sometimes they’re wrong,

It’s not what they think.

They turn into chickens,

And raise a big stink.

So much commotion,

Growls and moans.

Some wild beast?

Just Traffic cones.

They try to be brave,

Put up a good front.

So little time,

So much to hunt.

These pups get excited,

At the sight of any mammal.

Especially the day,

They spotted a camel.

I haven’t seen,

Such barking activity.

As I drove by,

A Live Nativity.

Squirrels are their favorite,

A more favorable size.

They’ve never caught one,

After many futile tries.

Birds are mysterious,

As they fly away.

Why can’t we fly?

If words they could say.

Once an armadillo,

Was an attraction.

It was unimpressed,

Showed little reaction

They haven’t seen a snake,

Reptile or crocodile.

Hope that doesn’t happen,

For a long while.

And any encounter,

With a Giraffe.

Without a doubt,

Would make me laugh.

Not to mention,

An Elephant.

Can you imagine?

I certainly can’t.

Let alone,

A Dinosaur.

Extinct impossibility,

To hear that roar.

If they only knew,

What lurks outside

They rely on me,

To be their guide.

A trip to the Zoo,

Would be the best.

Lions and Tigers,

A true bark feat.

Then back home,

To dream some more.

About these strangers,

Outside the front door.

Retirement is not without Hassles: Firecracker #162

July 1, 2017 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

My wife and I enjoy seeing fireworks. The dogs, not so much! Tinker, our eldest schnauzer, has her “Thunder Shirt,” that provides some comfort around noisy storms and loud noises. Typically, we go back home, to Indiana, for the 4th of July, but we went early this year. We’re trying to make plans for here in Portland, but do not want the hassle of going downtown for the Blues Festival. We did that two years ago, for our first Fourth in Portland, as both of our employers were sponsors of the event. Since I’m now retired and my wife now works for the competition, it would not be appropriate for us to attend.

We did not see any fireworks at the ballpark last week, but between Epcot, Greek Festival, Navy Pier, Padre Island, Galveston, Paris, Conner Prairie, Rome, and Sky Concerts we’ve certainly seen our share of great firework displays. My wife teases me about my lack of hearing, whether that be physical or mental. I blame it on the rock concerts and loud fireworks that I’ve had the pleasure of watching through the years. I hope this year is no exception.

Fireworks

I don’t hear well,
What did you say?
Sometimes I get it,
But there’s a delay.
.
Could you repeat that?
I’ve said too many times.
Like trying to communicate,
With one of those mimes.
.
Sometimes when I listen,
It just isn’t clear.
Like a firecracker exploded,
Right next to my ear.
.
Am I getting old?
Have grown inattentive?
My undivided interest,
Is the least I can give.
.
It’s not intentional,
I Love You too much.
I value your words,
And crave your touch.
.
It’s annoying to you,
And with that short fuse.
I don’t mean to set you off,
Or your patience abuse.

What did you say?
I just couldn’t hear.
There was a loud bang,
Followed by a cheer.

Please say that again,
When the ringing clears.
Here’s my new promise:
To lend you my ears.

Retirement is not without Hassles: Cookie Jar #155

June 27, 2017 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

My wife got an extra surprise for her birthday the other day when we traveled back home to visit her mother. At the age of 95, her mother continues to divest of her precious belongings, and my wife has had an eye on an antique cookie jar that helped decorate her small room in the assisted living home. It’s now wrapped in bubble pack and headed home with us, along with her mother’s birthday wishes. Many Seniors have hiding spots for their valuables, so that they aren’t coveted by others. They also may have their entire retirement savings stashed away from greedy relatives.

This particular cookie jar has been in their family for a long time. I think it looks more like an urn, since it isn’t shaped like a cartoon character or have “COOKIES” written across it’s plump stomach. Instead, it’s a cylinder of smoky glass with an etched floral design and a fancy gold lid. Regardless, it is a valuable family relic that has a story behind it.

In fact, when her mom rescued it from her Uncle Murray’s Estate Sale she did not know it was a cookie jar, but remembers someone asking if she knew where her Uncle’s cookie jar was? It wasn’t until years later when an antique dealer identified it as a cookie jar, did she finally put the pieces together, and realized that she had this coveted family treasure that was “missing” from the auction years ago. No one knows what he hid inside it?

It still looks more like a burial urn than a cookie jar to me, a decorative container to store ashes on the mantelpiece. Don’t get caught with your hand in the cookie jar, because you never know what’s inside? I wrote this humorous poem about our newest possession:

Cookie Jar

Cookie Monster.

Is my nickname.

Munching cookies,

Is my game.

What’s my favorite?

Chocolate chip.

That’s a crumb,

On my lip.

Or give me,

An Oreo.

I also enjoy,

Raw cookie dough.

The Girl Scout’s,

Rely on me.

I buy so many,

They camp for free.

I’ve got BIG cravings,

Just ask the fairy.

My Sweet Tooth.

Is legendary.

And when these teeth,

Turn into crumbs.

I’ll have nothing,

Left but gums.

Chips Ahoy,

I’ll eat a stack.

They’ll make a meal,

Or just a snack.

And someday,

When it’s my turn.

My sugary ashes

Will need an Urn.

And before the winds,

Scatter me afar.

Maybe some belong,

in the cookie jar?

Retirement is not without Hassles: White Noise #149

June 22, 2017 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

Just before I retired, as I began to count down the days, meetings and conversations about work were nothing but “White Noise.” I was painfully aware that words were being spoken with the intent to educate and motivate, but I didn’t hear them. It was like I had muted the TV or put my ear buds in to listen to something else instead. What?

My wife complains that I say that word “What?” entirely too many times. It’s a bad habit and I use it whether I don’t hear, can’t hear, or don’t understand what she is saying. It may very well be a hearing deficiency, but to a greater degree it’s an attention deficiency. I don’t mean to be rude or disrespectful of what she says, my mind just can’t pull it all in. All I get are bits and pieces of what is said, often stuck on one word that I didn’t fully understand. Or worse yet, my mind often wanders, easily distracted by people, animals, and sounds around me. My iWatch and iPhone don’t help matters, constantly alerting me to breaking news, sport scores, and e-mails.

This is why we have Date Night, so we can get away from distractions around the house, and enjoy a fully attentive conversation. Yes, there are moments where one or the other of us pulls out our phone, or the restaurant is too loud to talk comfortably, but most of our Date Nights are a success in togetherness. Last night, it was Jack Rabbit, a new restaurant in downtown Portland. Date Night (see post #55) by definition means mid-week dining in a restaurant that we have never been to before. In retirement, it’s often times the only way that I know it’s Wednesday, and not just any other day of the week. During Date Night, my wife vents about work or family and I give her 100% of my attention, if that’s even possible. There were a few “Whats?” This particular restaurant was loud, our server a bit obnoxious, the service very slow, but the food quite good and our conversation steady.

As my wife talks about work, I find it to be personally relaxing, but I can see the stress in her eyes. It reminds me how glad I am to be retired and not having to deal with supervision, discipline, frustrating clients, and corporate nonsense. I remember when I was 5 years away from calling it quits, as she is now, and seeing that finish line so far away. It has to be difficult for her to know that I’ve already crossed it. She’s happy for me, though, because I’m truly happier. I no longer hear the “White Noise” of the work week.

Years ago, my wife and I had a dinner with another couple at their Country Club. He and I had a lot in common and were becoming fast friends. We had gotten together for the first time to introduce our wives and share some stories about their two daughters that had coincidentally attended the same college. We enjoyed many laughs that evening, but the one take-away was her teasing him about being nothing but “White Noise.” When she spoke, he would predictably zone-out, claiming to hear nothing but “White Noise.” They had been married for at least 25 years, so for them it was fair game. Personally, I wouldn’t have touched that subject with a ten foot pole, but I clearly saw the humor in it. I wrote this poem in honor of that conversation and to better clarify the meaning of “White Noise.” It has nothing to do with the relationship between my wife and I, but rather other couples I’ve watched throughout the years.

White Noise

You start talking
Your tongue on a roll.
I try to listen,
But my mind gets full.
.
Your mouth is moving,
But it’s nothing but a blur.
I’m not sure how much of this,
I can honestly endure.
.
You abruptly stop,
Ask me to repeat.
I stare back with,
A look of defeat.
.
I want to cover my ears,
As your ruby lips flap.
I once heard sweet notes,
Now out flows crap.
.
“You just don’t listen,”
I hear you say.
Then you go on…
And on all day.
.
You’re White Noise,
White Noise is all I hear.
Can’t you just whisper,
Sweet nothings in my ear.
.
Word regurgitation,
Feedback’s all I hear.
An Ear Drum explosion,
Is my greatest fear.
.
Can’t get a word in,
Can’t even talk back.
White Noise drives me crazy,
Where’s a mole to whack?

She says that I don’t hear well,
But I hear all that I want.
Her words turn into White Noise,
If I’m honest and up-front.
.
It’s not that I don’t love her,
Or she’s not important to me.
It’s just she tries to say too much,
And I’m A. D. H. D.

Retirement is not without Hassles: Freeze It #147

June 21, 2017 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

On a beautiful day like today, it would be great to be able to preserve it forever. Day after day of blue skies and sunshine. There’s also no humidity here in the Northwest because it all drains out in the form of rain during the other half of the year. Add the beautiful weather with the fact that I’m happily retired, and I could live in this moment for eternity. Let’s just freeze it!

I’m reminded of the J. Geils Band and their 1981 hit song, “Freeze-Frame.” I had a home and a lawn back in Indiana to take care of back then. I just hated to mow the lawn, but the voice of my dad was in my head, and I had to do it perfectly: cross-cut, edged, and weed-free. After I was finally done blowing away the clippings from the driveway and sidewalks, I felt a sense of pride in home-ownership, until a few days later when it needed to be mowed again. There weren’t headphones back in those days, so lawn work was a lonely, hot, boring experience until the snow finally fell. I would joke with my friends about developing a product that would preserve that “just mowed” moment. Once you were done with all that hard work and your lawn was just perfect, you would then spray it with “Freeze-Frame,” and it would look that way forever.

Walt Disney supposedly had his own version of “Freeze-Frame,” preserving his body to eventually enjoy a first-hand experience of “Tomorrow Land.” Cryonics is the science of using ultra-cold temperature to preserve human life with the intent of restoring good health when technology becomes available to do so. The Alcor Life Extension Foundation is a non-profit organization located in Scottsdale, Arizona. I assume it’s a storage facility for human “Popsicles” like Walt Disney, and I hope it works.

We have photographs to preserve our memories, recordings to preserve our music, and freezers to preserve our food. My mother was the master of frozen food and a pioneer in microwave cooking. Her freezer should have won a “Frozen” award for organization, with stacks of frozen meats, soups, pies, and vegetables. It was a model of efficiency. She would actually freeze soup in the shape of the bowl, neatly wrapped and labeled in Saran Wrap. It was microwave ready, once it was unwrapped and placed in the matching bowl. I’m surprised I don’t have some form of radiation poisoning from all the microwave food I was subjected to eating. If it wasn’t in Saran Wrap, it was stored in Tupperware, both brands that simply made things last longer.

I remember a humid, Midwest Labor Day. We were out on Lake Decatur in a boat trying to stay cool, in anticipation of the annual band concert. We had several friends who played instruments, so we were there to support them and enjoy the music, while sipping on a Fresca. Dozens of other boats were anchored around us, and people gathered along the shoreline in lawn chairs or on picnic blankets. We were laughing about how all the food was packed in small, water-tight containers that we jokingly called, “Rubberwear,” to keep it dry and fresh. It occurred to me that all of us should be sealed in some kind of preservative, to keep us young and vibrant:

Rubberwear

At an outdoor concert,

Enjoying music while afloat.

Tried to share our brownies,

With friends on another boat.

Didn’t want to start the engine,

Interrupt the show.

“You’ll never get it there,”

“They’re out of range,” you know.

Someone soon suggested,

Throw it if you dare.

I told them not to worry,

They’re packed in Rubberware.

The brownies shifted inside,

And fell a little short.

But someone made a diving catch,

I’m happy to report.

There was a giant splash,

An arm soon stretched out.

“I think he saved them,”

Came an anxious shout.

The concert stopped abruptly,

Everyone turned to stare.

The brownies all stayed dry,

Safely sealed in Rubberwear.

Applause broke out around us,

The band began to play.

A picnic saved by Rubberwear,

One sunny Labor Day.

Rubberwear got published,

An Urban Dictionary word.

The famous brands got jealous,

That’s the story that I heard.

Rubberwear is now a must,

In containers big and small.

It preserves the contents,

Helps the aging process stall.

It gave me a great idea,

Something profound to share.

Perhaps you’d like to join me,

And be sealed in Rubberwear.

Whether it’s “Freeze-Frame,” Cryonics, Saran Wrap, Tupperware, or simply Rubberwear, there are times in our lives that we want to preserve forever. We don’t want the everyday hassles of life, but rather blue skies and sunshine. I’m enjoying my retirement and being able to share some of my favorite memories through the stories and poems that I write. Freeze It!

Retirement is not without Hassles: Collecting #146

June 20, 2017 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

I’m a collector of things, an element of my personality that I will continue to expand upon in retirement. It’s a good thing that collectors, like myself, don’t live forever, otherwise there would be no room left to store our possessions. It will also be difficult for our children to decide what to do with the collections we leave behind. Will they continue to build on what we started? Or will they simply box it all up and drop it off at Goodwill?

Businesses like E-Bay have enabled us to buy, sell, and trade items in our collections. It can also show us value in what we own, maybe even justifying our compulsive natures. There is, however, still a fine line between hoarding and collecting that makes me think about just how much we want to add to what we already have. My wife has made sure that all the items in our collections are displayed in a orderly and presentable manner. We have built custom shelves and bookcases to incorporate them into the décor of our home.

My mother collected thimbles and stamps, while my wife’s mother collected antique crystal. We’ve since caught the same bug! I collect baseball cards, coins, stamps, sports memorabilia, cuff-links, and books. I’ve also made some scrapbooks of photos and mementos from my childhood and career. She collects cookbooks, shoes, recipes, and Limoges boxes… and a few dogs and cats.

What’s a Limoges box? It’s a type of small, hinged porcelain trinket box produced by Limoges factories near the city of Limoges, France. They were first created in the mid-1700’s, and were long narrow containers that stored expensive needles. They eventually evolved into snuff-boxes, powder boxes, and pillboxes. Under Louis XIV they were used to hold a lock of a lady’s hair or a small poem. I personally accept the responsibility for my wife’s interest in Limoges boxes, since I presented her with her first just after we first met. Following are some excerpts from a contest submission that I once wrote about our obsession:

“Limoges boxes are the perfect gift. Although I’ve never personally received one, I’ve certainly given many throughout the years. We’re now surrounded by many pieces, most of which I’ve gifted to my wife. We are Limogesoholics! I can’t satisfy my need to gift them and she, in turn, is hooked on adding to the priceless collection. Identifying a favorite is like ranking your children.”

“Each piece is a time capsule of precious memories from our relationship. My personal touch is to add an excerpt from a poem I have written and sometimes an added surprise. I have always been fascinated with miniatures and secret compartments, so I was naturally attracted to Limoges boxes. I like to think of myself as a romantic by nature, so they allow me an outlet to express some creativity by selecting the appropriate box for each occasion and writing a befitting rhyme. I was lucky to find someone who appreciates the mystique and craftsmanship in each carefully selected box.”

“March 28th is our Limoges Anniversary, celebrating the very first gift. On that date we were enjoying a picnic lunch in a hilly, wooded area by a waterfall in when I gave it to her. It was a beach chair with reading glasses on the seat and included a stanza from my poem about travel to an exotic island:

Picture an ideal beach somewhere.

A place to relax without a care.

Where ever you go-I’ll be there,

It starts with just this simple chair.

And start it did! The beginning of our relationship was also the start of a giving tradition. One year for this anniversary we traveled to Limoges, France, stayed in a nearby Bed and Breakfast, toured several of the porcelain manufacturers, and purchased many unique pieces.”

“My favorite Limoges box is a watering can with a bunny looking out over the top and carrots painted around the outside. Of course, there were karats on the inside, as it held the engagement ring and a silly poetic proposal of marriage:

Some Bunny loves you,

I think you know who.

By tending our love garden-it grew,

Into this dream come true.

Will you marry me?

It was a special moment, and that Limoges box will always be a constant reminder of our love for each other. I also surprised her on our wedding day with a bride and groom Limoges that topped our cake.”

“It will be difficult to ever outdo the joy associated with both of these boxes. It won’t, however, deter me from trying. She treasures each and every box, reorganizing them about our home with each holiday or special occasion. They are our entertainment showpiece, a great conversation starter as we recount the when, where, and why associated with each piece. True, the giving is a bit of an obsession, but she also is constantly making suggestions on my next purchase. I always get a big smile as an added bonus with each gift that she receives.”

I just added Moulin Rouge and The Louvre to her collection after once again visiting France. They’re displayed on the travel shelf. The Disney character boxes continue to be some of her favorites, and tend to be the most valuable in any collection.

Merci.

Retirement is not without Hassles: Gift Advice #145

June 20, 2017 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

You would think that by the time you retire, you would know the intricacies of gift-giving. In making a day special, you always have to be on your toes. I made some mistakes yesterday, but could have saved the day if I had only added some fresh flowers. I didn’t catch the hints, and went out on a creative gangplank, only to be fed to the sharks. My wife has given me a lot of advice on gifts through the years, so I thought I should write myself a reminder for next year:

Gift Advice

Are you in need of,
Gift giving advice?
It’s about quality,
Not just price.

Men, if you care,
For any woman.
It’s not a good gift,
If it plugs in.

If this woman,
Is a keeper.
Don’t ever gift her,
A vacuum sweeper.

There are five categories,
From which to choose.
With any of these gifts,
You just can’t lose.

Perfume, lingerie,
Jewels or fur.
Or add to her collection,
And your gift will endure.

You can’t miss with jewelry,
If you want to make her day.
And if you know her intimately,
Give her silky lingerie.

Don’t let your present,
Be a future nightmare.
As she opens it with,
A disapproving glare.

It might be more for you,
If it starts with a key.
And if you’re not sure,
Go with quantity.

If she’s an activist,
Don’t get fur or leather.
Also, not so practical,
In hot and sticky weather.

Flowers are a given,
Perfume of her brand.
You can give her music,
Or put her toes in sand.

Manis and Pedis,
Or a spa day is nice.
Any kind of pampering,
With champagne on ice.

Keep track of special days,
So you don’t get reprimanded.
And when it’s time to celebrate,
Don’t show up empty-handed.

Write her a poem,
And if that’s too hard.
Tell her that you love her,
Or at least get a card.

Take her out to dinner?
Or treat her to a show?
Ask her what she wants?
And then you’ll really know.

Retirement is not without Hassles: Time #135

June 12, 2017 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

“Time is on my side, yes it is.” I would interpret this to mean that patience is the key to getting what you want. If you wait long enough, then maybe your dreams will come true. Well, I’ve never been patient. I don’t like to wait and I certainly want to know, right now, what happens next? Will life have a happy ending? Will there even be a tomorrow? These are questions that no one knows the answer, and what makes life so mysterious.

It’s scary when you think about how much life can change in a split-second of time. There’s no going back, only a path forward. I could almost see myself a few steps ahead as I ran this morning, wondering how life would be different when I finally caught up? It’s not something I often think about, or is comforting to me in any manner. Is time really on my side? I suppose time can make things better or worse, depending on your mind-set. I would like to see it frozen.

I’m as happy as I’ve ever been in life. I’ve got everything I want and time to enjoy it. At this point, I don’t want my life to change, knowing that there could be a rough road ahead. Time is not always kind to the body and mind. I feel the aches and pains of age, have lost some of my ability to hear, and am concerned that my hands are a bit shaky. I’m prepared for what comes next, but would prefer to never see it come.

I don’t look at my watch as much as I used to, nor do I count the days of the week anymore. I try to live in the moment now, rather than planning for the future, like I have for most of my life. I spend rather than save now, and I’m more selfish about my time, as it passes quickly. I also no longer feel the stress of career advancement, or of raising a family. I’ve been there and done that, so now, in a moment of complete satisfaction, I simply seek a means to harness time.

As I sit here in my office, time gone by surrounds me. Momentos of my life are on the walls, on the shelves, and organized in notebooks. I don’t know what other items will eventually join this collection, but these are all memories that I can share with others. I feel like I’ve accomplished something when I sit in this room. There are books that I’ve read, souvenirs from world travel, tickets from events, artwork, awards that I’ve earned, and pictures of my sport heroes. A globe sits in the corner to remind me of where I’m going next, if I don’t run out of time.

I remember the days when I had limited time to travel. Now, it’s simply a matter of money. I can go anywhere, as long as care arrangements are made for the dogs, or if we take them with us. I’ve shared my bucket list (post #95: Buckets and Goals). Retirement travel is the final frontier, a celebration of life as you parade around the world. It also reminds you that there are schedules to keep, alarm clocks to set, and plans to make. After all, you only have so much time to spend in each of these destination cities.

Sixty-five years have passed in a blink of an old wrinkled eye. Two-thirds of my life is behind me, but potentially another third lies ahead. There is often a fine line between being alive and living. Right now, I have both of these going for me. I’m living the retirement dream, and feel very much alive. However, I’ve also seen what time can do to separate being alive and the joy of living. I’ve lived a privileged life, and I can only hope that my good fortune will continue with exceptional health. I also feel great empathy for those that are alive but have lost some or all of their memories and mobility. I’d like to think that time will continue to be good to me, but “you can’t always get what you want.”

Time

The older we get,
The faster time goes by.
We can’t slow things down,
No matter how we try.
.
The clock keeps on ticking,
You can’t make it stop.
The countdown of life,
Continues to drop.
.
We can spring forward,
Or even fall back.
Leap an extra day,
And be on a fast track.
.
Time can fly by,
Or wait seemingly forever.
So until it’s over,
Never say never.
.
You can have no time,
Or plenty it seems.
But whatever you do,
Make time for dreams.
.
We can take our time,
Even have it “on our side.”
Avoid running out of it,
Or those dreams have died.
.
You can start a timer,
Manage a time table.
But it can’t be bottled,
With a time sensitive label.
.
You can believe in Time Travel,
Or the way-back machine.
You just can’t go back,
To being a teen.
.
You can’t buy it, steal it,
Or save it for later.
For extra time together,
No gift is greater.
.
We can waste time,
Even try to kill it.
And watch it pass by,
But – still – it will never sit.
.
You can carry a time piece,
Glance at your wrist.
But any time wasted,
Is also time missed.
.
Copyright 2010 johnstonwrites.com

Retirement is not without Hassles: Worn and Torn #130

June 9, 2017 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

I had some hassles with Google this morning that prevented me from adding any content. I’ve since switched over to a different provider to allow me access to my site. In the meantime, I spent some time this afternoon at the Vet with our dog Tinker. She has a couple of lumps that seem to be interfering with her motion and comfort levels. A couple hundred dollars later, we’re resting comfortably at home. Pet. Vet. Debt. (see post #67: Schnauzer on Steroids).

I also had lunch with a friend. bought some office supplies, and tried to get some business cards ordered. It’s only early June and I’ve already overspent my monthly retirement budget. I’ll have to find some ways to conserve. Our pets are expensive to keep healthy, but well worth the investment. They are my steady companions at home, and I sometimes measure my own mortality based on the state of their health.

My wife had several cats and a dog, named Belle, when we first got together. They would all keep a close eye on me during the courtship process. Belle would have been 25 years old this year, and Macy the cat, who also eventually approved of me, would have turned 23. They’re chewing on the Pearly Gates now, watching the progress of our new pet family consisting of Frankie 16, Tinker 12, and Tally 7. Frankie was our first joint investment just before we got married. Tinker was adopted as Belle’s companion, and Tally was adopted after we lost Roxie in an accident. I’ve watched them all grow older with time passing quickly.

All of us feel a little worn and torn. Tinker has especially been going through a rough time with allergies, ear infections, rashes, back problems, and lumps. It’s a good thing I’m retired and have all this extra time to spend with the Vet. Tally always enjoys tagging along to support her ailing sister. Simple dog math puts Tinker in her 80’s, but “old age ain’t no place for sissies” as my mother used to say, quoting Bette Davis. It’s hard to watch Tinker grow old, knowing that I’m growing old myself, and that someday I might need the help of a doctor. I doubt that I will seek the help of a veterinarian, unless my ears start to itch.

Worn and Torn

I’m worn and torn,
From wear and tear.
I’ve lived too long,
It now seems unfair.

In-shape and fit,
Started out as a hunk.
Now my spirit is dead,
And my muscles all shrunk.

For too many years,
I just didn’t care.
After just a few steps,
Now, I’m sucking air.

Drinkin’ and Smokin’
More than I should.
Tastin’ and Eatin’
All that I could.

All those temptations,
I should have fought.
This Hangover has hung over,
Longer than I thought.

I’d sit on my ass,
Smokin’ a doob.
Watching others exercise,
On the boob tube.

I’ve been hard on myself,
And that’s made me soft.
At overindulgence,
I often scoffed.

Can’t give blood,
Cause I’m on medication.
I’ve set the standards,
Of our overweight nation.

I have a warm heart,
And a few good parts,
But my cholesterol,
Is off the charts.

Mark Antony’s quote,
“Lend me your ear.”
What’s that you say?
I can’t hear.

My smile is crooked,
And a few teeth missing.
And these wrinkled lips,
No longer worth kissing.

Do the eyes have it?
Not any more.
And who’d want a nose?
That does nothing but snore.

My voice is no louder,
Than most mimes.
And I’ve bitten my tongue,
Too many times.

When I die,
I want to share.
I’d donate my organs,
But who would care?

Retirement is not without Hassles: The Bug #129

June 8, 2017 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

The “witch hunt” dominates the television networks while I write this morning. I did get up and ask myself if I honestly wanted to be at work, and I continue to not miss anything about it. I think that’s a healthy sign that retirement was the right choice. For dinner tonight, I prepared a brisket in “Liquid Smoke,” barbecue sauce, and a dry rub to slowly cook for 8 hours, while James Comey continues to try to cook Donald Trump. One thing you’ll never get in this blog are political opinions, you’ll find those on Facebook. I hope the brisket turns out as tender as last week’s Osso Buco. The crock pot takes some of the stress out of cooking for me. I like the fact that I can get the preparation done early in the day, so I’m not thinking about having to do it later. I’m not comfortable in the kitchen yet, but this dish was probably a bit too easy. I’ll step out of the box again for the next recipe.

With my wife’s business travel, I get a break from the kitchen next week. The more I cook; the more appreciative I am for what she is able to do in the kitchen, in addition to her full-time position . I’m looking forward to the Django Festival All-stars in concert that I will see with a friend, and a preview party for the Mecum Automobile Auction. My wife also reminded me of upcoming performances by Bruno Mars and Ed Sheeran. We’ll be headed back to Indiana for a week at the end of this month, and then I plan to go to the MLB All-Star game in Miami. In the meantime, I’m perfectly content with just being at home.

I would love the opportunity to run the Hood To Coast event in August, but I’m going to have to pick up the fitness pace a bit – catch the bug! It’s on my bucket list, but the teams I’ve been on the last few years have fallen apart. I’m hoping to be a last-minute injury replacement, but need to be ready should that chance come along. I just go through the motions on my daily run and my times continue to get worse, so I need to find that competitive edge:

The Bug

You might say,
I’m gonna do it.
Lose some weight,
Run faster, get fit.
.
Muster motivation,
Grasp at a goal.
Strive for stimulation,
Search your soul.
.
Might write it down,
Make a resolution.
Go through the motions,
Look for the solution.
.
You try to improve,
But the urge isn’t there.
It’s somewhere inside you,
You wonder where?
.
Then it hits you,
Like a drug.
Out of nowhere,
You’ve caught The Bug.
.
You get excited,
Start to care.
It’s a feeling,
You want to share.
.
Then grows stronger,
Momentum flows.
Fills you up,
From head to toes.
.
Yes, there’s a fever,
And chills sometimes.
Pulse quickens,
Temperature climbs.

Appetite surges,
Things taste better.
You’re in the lead,
The pace setter.

It’s contagious,
An adrenaline shot.
People around you,
Want what you’ve got.

So they hang around,
Hoping they’ll catch it.
But it’s inside each of us,
We just have to find it.

Catch The Bug,
It’s in your heart.
Find what you love,
It’s time to start.

Category: POEMS (Page 25 of 30)

Creature Features: Cat Scratch Fever #171

Mammal Mania

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Fireworks

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Cookie Jar

Retirement is not without Hassles: White Noise #149

White Noise

Retirement is not without Hassles: Freeze It #147

Rubberwear

Retirement is not without Hassles: Collecting #146

Picture an ideal beach somewhere.

A place to relax without a care.

Where ever you go-I’ll be there,

It starts with just this simple chair.

And start it did! The beginning of our relationship was also the start of a giving tradition. One year for this anniversary we traveled to Limoges, France, stayed in a nearby Bed and Breakfast, toured several of the porcelain manufacturers, and purchased many unique pieces.”

“My favorite Limoges box is a watering can with a bunny looking out over the top and carrots painted around the outside. Of course, there were karats on the inside, as it held the engagement ring and a silly poetic proposal of marriage:

Some Bunny loves you,

I think you know who.

By tending our love garden-it grew,

Into this dream come true.

Will you marry me?

It was a special moment, and that Limoges box will always be a constant reminder of our love for each other. I also surprised her on our wedding day with a bride and groom Limoges that topped our cake.”

I just added Moulin Rouge and The Louvre to her collection after once again visiting France. They’re displayed on the travel shelf. The Disney character boxes continue to be some of her favorites, and tend to be the most valuable in any collection.

Merci.

Retirement is not without Hassles: Gift Advice #145

Gift Advice

Retirement is not without Hassles: Time #135

Time

Retirement is not without Hassles: Worn and Torn #130

Worn and Torn

Retirement is not without Hassles: The Bug #129

The Bug

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Mammal Mania

Fireworks

Cookie Jar

White Noise

Rubberwear

Picture an ideal beach somewhere.

A place to relax without a care.

Where ever you go-I’ll be there,

It starts with just this simple chair.

And start it did! The beginning of our relationship was also the start of a giving tradition. One year for this anniversary we traveled to Limoges, France, stayed in a nearby Bed and Breakfast, toured several of the porcelain manufacturers, and purchased many unique pieces.”

“My favorite Limoges box is a watering can with a bunny looking out over the top and carrots painted around the outside. Of course, there were karats on the inside, as it held the engagement ring and a silly poetic proposal of marriage:

Some Bunny loves you,

I think you know who.

By tending our love garden-it grew,

Into this dream come true.

Will you marry me?

It was a special moment, and that Limoges box will always be a constant reminder of our love for each other. I also surprised her on our wedding day with a bride and groom Limoges that topped our cake.”

I just added Moulin Rouge and The Louvre to her collection after once again visiting France. They’re displayed on the travel shelf. The Disney character boxes continue to be some of her favorites, and tend to be the most valuable in any collection.

Merci.

Gift Advice

Time

Worn and Torn

The Bug

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