A few days ago, I was feeling sorry for myself. I kept making typing errors because my hands were shaking of tremors. My bladder hadn’t slept well, so I got up one too many times. Bills were piling up and all I had to look forward to were co-pays for rehab, chiropractors, and cardiologists, who passed off my concerns to neurologists, urologists, and physical therapists. I think you get the “gist!” I had cramps in my leg, didn’t feel well, the room would spin, and the two dogs needed to go out again. I felt inactive, overweight, tired, and depressed. Even TV series, movies, and books were unappealing and too much effort. However, don’t worry, my wife talked me down from the ledge.
While I was in this funk, I came up with new labels for the days of the week that often all felt like “blah!” We already had “Salad Sundays,” Meatless Monday,” “Hump Day,” “Fry Day,” and “Trash Day,” to help keep track of slippery time as it all to quickly passes in retirement. It’s been seven years since I’ve worked and all of my bosses and most of my close co-workers are retired or dead. Running every day is no longer part of my life. I would like to find something constructive to do with my time, but I’m still not sure what that would be, given my lack of references, limited transportation, and current health issues. Extensive travel has helped keep my mind occupied, but we’re running out of places to go. Plus, every time we end up at a fancy resort, it’s really not that much different than being at home, surrounded by the same amenities.
I’m fortunate to have a loving family, great friends, cute pets, and warm-hearted neighbors. We have a beautiful home in a beach community, and only one car to worry about these days. Most of our driving is by golf cart. The yard work and landscaping are taken care of by the HOA, but I still have to change a light bulb on occasion. All I have to do is pay the bills, hoping that our Social Security checks and pension payments arrive on time.
Unlike the other men in our neighborhood, I’m not handy and don’t even wash my own car. They seem content with making home improvements, changing the oil, rotating the tires, and helping others do the same. They golf, play pickle ball, tennis, or bridge, while I don’t even enjoy watching. Sadly, my wife is convinced that I do such a poor job when it comes to housework, so I’m not asked to do it! The problem is that I have no active hobbies other than writing. Baseball card and coin collecting has become unrewarding and often too expensive on a fixed income. I seem to be more into getting rid of stuff than accumulating more, wishing my wife felt the same.
I’m content but bored, trying to work my body back to normal, and restricted from most of the activities that I don’t do anyways. Monitoring my blood pressure is about as fun as it gets. As a result, I’ve come up with “Meaningless Mondays,” “Trite Tuesdays,” “Worthless Wednesday,” “Trivial Thursdays,” “Fruitless Fridays,” “Slothful Saturdays,” and “Sedate Sundays,” all making for another “Blah!” week. By the way, I’m only half-kidding so please don’t call 9-1-1.
In the lazy world of retirement, this is the start of a “busy” week. I picked up my son and his wife from their Virginia weeding trip at the airport late on Sunday night, following an afternoon performance by a Venice Symphony trio, and had a nice visit with my sister yesterday. Hopefully, she’ll become a new reader of this blog, primarily interested in my Storyworth category of posts. She drove down from Leesburg Florida, her winter home, and my son treated us for lunch at Chili’s. We exchanged some family heirlooms, our grandfather’s photography photo for my grandmother’s painting of circus clown, Emmett Kelly. (See Post #2438) and (Post #1778). Emmett and his character “Weary Willie” have come home, at least on canvas, to Sarasota/Venice, FL where he performed.
Our new puppy, Fosse, seemed happy to meet her while my wife was substitute teaching. We all then got together in late afternoon for some additional conversation, promising to visit each other next year. I try to check-in on her every Monday, like a good brother, but she made the more personal effort this time.
Today I have active cardio rehab for the first time, outside of the initial paperwork sessions. I’ll come home for lunch and then head to the cardiologist. We hope to get to the bottom of what is causing Charlie Horses in my thigh, blood pressure swings, dizziness, and loss of balance. My GP has already ruled out the inner ear through an MRI, so I’m expecting an Ultrasound examination and a review of my medications. It’s all critical follow-up from open heart surgery sixteen weeks ago.
Afterwards, I may treat myself at the baseball card shop. I have some new Shohei Ohtani baseball cards to add to a collection of over 200 that they are selling for me. Plus, I want to check on the value of some Connor Bedard, Chicago Blackhawk, hockey cards that I would like to trade-in. I’ve promised myself to sell more than buy this year, but I still enjoy opening a fresh pack in treasure-hunt fashion.
I’ve stayed true to my daily swimming pool workout since walking has become a painful chore. It entails about forty-five minutes of jogging in place, stretching, marching, and step-ups. It’s the best I can do to burn off some calories, since the water resistance seems to put less pressure on my sore thigh. Visits to the chiropractor are part of my schedule this week, along with “Date Night,” a Mazda Miata rally, Bank of America appointment, and an evening with the band Dukes of Brinkley.
Would you still remember me?
For I must be traveling on now
‘Cause there’s too many places I’ve got to see
But, if I stay here with you, girl
Things just couldn’t be the same
‘Cause, I’m as free as a bird now
And this bird you cannot change, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh
And the bird you cannot change
And this bird you cannot change
Lord knows I can’t change
Bye-bye, baby, it’s been a sweet love, yeah, yeah
Though this feeling I can’t change
But, please, don’t take it so badly
‘Cause Lord knows I’m to blame
But, if I stay here with you, girl
Things just couldn’t be the same
‘Cause, I’m as free as a bird now
And this bird you’ll never change, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh
And the bird you cannot change
And this bird you cannot change
Lord knows I can’t change
Lord, help me, I can’t cha-a-a-ange
Lord, I can’t change
Won’t you fly h-i-i-igh, free bird, yeah
It’s now been fifteen full weeks since I left the operating table. I’m not recovering as fast as expected, mainly because I’m having trouble walking. I was supposed to start cardio rehab a week ago but had some flu symptoms while my left leg continues to have cramps and painful Charlie Horses. I did manage to get in 48.9 miles of walking in April but in the last half of the month, I could barely make a half-mile without going gimpy. The only exercise I’ve been able to manage are some quick dog outings, and about 40 minutes in the pool each day doing some high stepping, stair climbing, stretching, walking, and peddling. I can feel the resistance from the water and get tired, but it’s hardly the running that I’m used to doing every day.
Weight control has become an issue, with too many sweets and not enough calories burned. It all started on the cruise with overeating and excessive drinking, but at least I was able to wander the hallways and decks for a couple miles each day. I haven’t been able to lose the weight I’ve gained. This week I did do the preliminary paperwork and assessment for rehab, starting officially next week with two-a-week workouts.
I’m sitting in my office while writing this, monitoring the Pacers vs. Bucks playoff game. There are several of my Indy friends in attendance. It’s fun to watch the new Pacers, without much success since the Reggie Miller years. It’s also great to follow former Portland Trailblazer, Damian Lillard, even though he’s now the opposition. He’s injured and missed a couple of games recently, but always a threat. I hope this game doesn’t come down to “Dame Time,” because I’ll have mixed feelings, having lived in both Indy and more recently Portland. I’m not much of an Orlando Magic fan, although now a full-time Florida resident. I’ve always been taught to follow and support the home team!
I’ve had a busy social week, much to the chagrin of my wife. Apparently, I’m not spending enough time with her or helping enough around the house. We were together for a full month on the cruise and Spain extension, but rarely alone. The new puppy has added additional responsibilities for both of us, and she is working as a substitute teacher. I agree that I have been negligent but needed to catch up with the boys this week. She feels left out after a dinner and two lunches with two close male neighbors this week. I also disrupted her plans for next Saturday, with a Miata run to Ft. Wayne that she claims I never told her about. She reemphasized that “weekends are for us not your boyfriends.”
It makes me seem a bit “gay,” but I do love her, and no man has ever turned my head. I just needed a few beers and some male companionship. It will likely be months before I go out again, since most of them leave for the summer. The one neighbor (frat brother) that I had dinner with last Saturday at Salty Dog, ended up in the hospital the next day and had his appendix removed. He’s now reluctant to have more beers with me! At our age, you can’t always plan ahead.
Next week is filled with rehabilitation. Monday, I go to the chiropractor, as he continues to work with my leg and spine issues. Tuesday, I’m with the cardiologist, trying to get to the bottom of my dizziness, balance, and medication concerns and later in cardio rehab. Thursday is more rehab, and hopefully additional time in the pool. My wife has tap and aqua-fit, as well as some teaching days, throughout the week. We hope to get together as a couple for upcoming Wellen Park and Cool Today Park events, as I attempt to heal her disappointment with me. May the Fourth be with you, Cinco de Maya, and Easter keep you active and engaged. I’m just hoping to get out of the Dog House. Pacers win!
Fosse is starting to socialize with other dogs at our neighborhood park. She is a born and bred schnauzer who has not been around other breeds. Some may teasingly call her a “racist,” as she reacts very violently to non-schnauzers and dogs of a different color, with barking and even a high-pitched scream like she’s being attacked. She has yet to be spayed or had rabies shots, so we’re a little premature in taking her to the dog park. However, we know most of the other people that go there, and my wife watches her like a hawk.
Little Fosse was exhausted after her visit yesterday and slept a little later this morning. Too often, she gets overly excited when we rescue her from the cage and can’t make it outside. Carrying her seems to be the solution, but Tally, her fourteen-year-old sister, also needs to go first thing in the morning. It can be quite a challenge getting the two of them on the same page. Fosse also is aggressive with her food and attacks the bowl, sending kibbles flying in every direction. We now delay her breakfast until after she goes to the dog park and begins to settle down. We also separate them when it’s time to eat.
We just borrowed a portable, soft, cage that will be less confining than the metal one she’s been stuck in all night. The top zips open to make it more like a playpen. Slowly but surely, we’ll get Fosse accustomed to sleeping in it and comfortably confined with her toys while we’re gone for a few hours. She’s teething and this can prove to be destructive, having already chewed on the woodwork.
Fosse likes to join me poolside and enjoys laying in the sun. Unlike Tally who spends a few minutes out in the lanai before retreating to my chair in the air conditioning, she’s content to lay on the warm pavers, occasionally moving to the shaded throw rugs. She’ll stay outside for hours if we let her, and sometimes one or the other gets trapped outdoors when we close the sliders.
My wife is more patient with the pair than I am. She takes each to the dog park separately, while I’m home at the desk. Fosse is also getting to ride on the golf cart with her special harness. Tally has been doing this for over a year, but they’ve yet to share the front seat. Once Fosse has been to the vet, we’ll try them at the same time. Fosse’s cousin Sophie is also often at the park, both came from litters sired by the same father at what we fondly call, “Schnauzerville.” We have taken Tally there for years to be groomed and boarded. This is where my wife first met Fosse, just after birth. She has a tiny patch of white on her all-black body. Tally has always loved puppies, so hopefully they will continue to get along in the same household, and Fosse will provide the much-needed spark of life in her older daily companion.
I started my Sunday with a restless puppy and a couple of simple outdoor tasks. My leg was still bothering me, taking all the attention away from the balance and dizziness issues. I sat down most of last night’s neighborhood party. Everyone was concerned about how I felt, and I wish there was better news to share with them. I feel like a Negative Nelly with my complaints. The girls sang karaoke and the guys talked about plumbing issues, ailments, and cars. I’m not handy like most of them, so I try to act interested.
I have two lunches next week, which isn’t good, since I seem to be gaining about a half-pound of weight a day. Exercise has been limited by my leg, and I continue to consume cruise-like calories. Too much alcohol and sweets! I need to put lock on the refrigerators and stay home. Instead, we’re out all the time, gathering invitations for lunches, parties, dinners, and shows.
I rented a car yesterday for our August trip to Maine in two months. In six weeks, we go to Portland for a visit. I’ll start going to the gym next week, after my cardio rehab consultation, make a couple more trips to the chiropractor, see a neurologist, and continue to walk in the pool. I also need to drain my water heater and do some touch-up painting, to earn my keep at home. Hopefully, I can start to burn some calories, make these home improvements, relieve the pain in my leg, strengthen my muscles, and get back on the right diet track. My granddaughter grabbed on to the flab hanging from my bicep last week, another innocent reminder that my body is turning to mush. I’m uncomfortable in my own skin.
Tally is at the dog park, while I keep an eye on Fosse. I did very little yesterday but watch the NFL draft, Pacer’s highlights, The Sopranos, and did some limited writing. I want to get back to working on “Hungry in Hungary,” but my neighbor who’s the subject has been out of town. It’s the purpose of one of next week’s lunches. I will try my best to put Negative Nelly back in the box and make next week more productive.
A very interesting off-season for IU Basketball has led the Hoosiers to a top-20 pre-season ranking. Fans who called for the firing of Coach Mike Woodson, now have to admit the magic he’s performed in transforming a team of sure doom to one that is formidable. The final straws were the decision not to play in the NIT and the loss of the only standing recruit, five-star Liam McNally. It would have been interesting to have played Indiana State in the tourney, and to have been able to build on an incoming Hoosier star. Instead of bemoaning, “Woody” went hunting.
I admittedly wrote that it was all falling apart. There were no incoming Freshmen, a center that was certainly headed to the NBA, and two or three top players bound for the portal. However, instead of Reneau and Mgbako, who both surprisingly decided to stay, it was Gunn, Sparks, and Bates who bailed. Galloway, Leal, and Cupps renewed their commitments, soon followed by the two big men. Rice, Tucker, and Newton were the next three to commit to the stripes for ’24-’25, while the #1 man in the portal, 7-foot Oumar Ballo transferred from Arizona and Kanaan Carlyle from Stanford to solidify the starting five. Then the Hoosiers began looking for a beyond-the-arc-smith, and landed Illini sharpshooter, Luke Goode, with two more scholarships left to fill, but little playing time yet to offer.
Goode is a Ft. Wayne Homestead graduate and a basketball student of former IU star, Matt Roth. The last grad transfer to IU was Miller Kopp from Northwestern, who seemingly lost his shooting eye after donning the cream and crimson colors. Let’s hope to hear, “the three-point shot from Goode is Good!” Elsewhere during the off-season, Liam McNeeley chose Dan Hurley and UConn, Derik Queen will go to Maryland, and Boogie Fland has decided against Kentucky after the Coach Calipari move to rival Arkansas.
It’s been 7 years and 7 months since I started writing this blog, over 2765 days. I’ve fallen well behind my original pledge of a story a day, but I only have so many tales to tell. Plus, I haven’t contributed to this Creature Features category in well over a year. At this point, a couple of postings a week seems to be a reasonable goal. We have a new puppy to write about, Fosse. She is sitting in a dangerous spot right now, Tally’s chair – once mine. When possessive Tally comes back from the dog park, Fosse better retreat quickly or risk another mean growl and nip to the butt. It’s the same rude treatment that I get when I sit in my own chair.
Fosse is named after choreographer, Bob Fosse, of Broadway hits like Chicago, Cabaret, and All That Jazz, some of my wife’s favorites. One of his trademark moves is “Jazz Hands,” that my granddaughter recently demonstrated during a performance of “Bye, bye, Blackbird,” at the high school Spring dance recital. All the performers were dressed in black with white gloves, to emphasize the hands. My granddaughter somehow forgot to put hers on in the rush to get on stage – at least I could tell who she was under the top hats they were all wearing! Fosse himself apparently didn’t like his hands, so he always covered them, but ironically the white gloves made them stand out in signature fashion. Fosse the dog’s tiny ears, like all schnauzers, tend to flop like Bob’s distinct jazz hands – hence the puppy’s name.
Her unique name is often a conversation starter with passer byes in our neighborhood. Fosse has only been around schnauzers, so from her perspective other dogs naturally deserve to be barked at if they intrude. This bark often sounds like a high-pitched scream or squeal if she feels threatened, which is too often the case with bigger dogs. It’s an annoying habit that needs to be controlled, otherwise she’s remarkedly well behaved and even potty-trained. However, like most puppies, she needs to go out frequently. My wife and I now stagger our social schedules to accommodate for this. Last night, I went out for happy hour and came home early, while she went to an outdoor concert a few hours later. It gave me a chance to watch the end of the thrilling Pacers overtime victory over the favored Bucks.
Fosse does sleep through the night in her cage, but can stir a bit early, if she hears my wife get up. Fortunately, she does not respond to my all too frequent trips to the john. I, of course, was not in favor of two dogs, but it will be good for Tally, who is much more active now protecting her property, stealing food, and feeling jealous from time to time. Fosse has already earned her spot as a welcome member of my family and the newest subject of this blog.
I never had much of a memory for movies, TV shows, and books. I watch or read but don’t retain. This is why I record them in my daily diary and on this blog, so I can check back to see when and where I last watched. Years ago, I had a thing about watching or reading the same author or director’s work twice. As has become painfully clear these past few years, I usually don’t remember a thing about what I’ve watched or read in the past. Bottom line – it makes no difference if I’ve read or seen it – it’s all new to me.
Unlike others that can repeat the lines from memory and can recall what actor or actress played each role, I often can’t remember even the plot, let alone the cast. A good example is the series, The Sopranos, that I’m watching for at least the third time. I saw a friend’s post on Facebook that prompted me to turn it on, thinking it had been decades since I watched. It turns out it’s only been five years, with references in this blog and in my diary. Sure enough, it’s like viewing a new release, although a few bits and pieces strike a chord.
I’ve always loved envisioning myself as a Gangsta’. Maybe I was in a past life, but like everything else, I can’t remember. Indeed, my life is like a movie, with only bits and pieces recalled. This is likely why I’m so diligent about writing things down, wishing I had started sooner than twenty-five years ago when I began my daily diary entries. I can easily search back over time, now knowing that I last watched the Sopranos with my wife in our downtown Portland apartment back in the Fall of 2019. Next, we started the “Goliath’ series, went to a matinee of “Lighthouse,” and spent a quiet Halloween without any trick-or-treaters. Both of my wife’s daughters got married and soon Covid kept us isolated from everyone. Thanks, Dear Diary, for the memories!
I need to do some walking since it’s really the only exercise I can do, but I continue to struggle with a Charley horse in my upper left thigh. When it strikes, I have to drag my leg like “The Gimp.” It’s quite painful and frustrating, as I continue to recover from open heart surgery. My chiropractor worked on me twice this week, but it has yet to heal, and the cause is only speculation since I have done nothing to injure it. Also, the results came back negative on my MRI, so I’ve yet to find a solution for my balance and lightheadedness issues. It seems to be one thing after another on the road to recovery. One solution has been to walk in the shallow end of the pool where I can steady myself on the edge. However, it’s not burning the calories necessary to lose some of this cruise weight.
I’m in the doghouse, after agreeing to a beer with a neighbor and trying to move our Friday “Date Night.” Just when I thought there was a solution the night before, my granddaughter announced that she had forgotten to tell us about her Spring Dance Recital at the high school. Where I thought I was picking up my youngest granddaughter at the bus stop, those plans have suddenly changed, as well. We never seem to be in the know until the last minute, and my wife is a planner. There always seems to be something that screws up her plans like me and my family. She and Tally are at the Dog Park this morning, while one of us will need to stay home to watch the dogs during tonight’s recital. It’s complicated, as most family matters are!
The Gimp’s in the doghouse, and the dogs rule the hen house! In the meantime, I’m limping down the yellow brick road as the Cowardly Lion, with no one to pin a medal on me. The Wizard of Oz has already proven that I have a heart (though just repaired) and a brain that after recent tests seems to be functioning properly. Just give me the courage to face another day without running or even walking to keep me sane.
