A certain sense of relief came over me as I walked into my home office this afternoon.  I only had lunch with a friend and made a dry cleaning stop, but it still involved a good hour of expressway driving.  I had the top down on the convertible and the radio on, as the sun warmed my skin.  It does feel good when the sun is shining, but otherwise going outside can be taxing to a homebody like me.  I’m stuck on this “homebody” label that my wife gave me the other day (Post #165).  I don’t honestly know why I consider it to be an insult?  I do enjoy the cool air-conditioned comfort of our home, that has never changed.  I don’t like heat and humidity, although that is rarely the case in Portland, Oregon.  I also don’t like the rain, ice, or snow associated with Oregon winters.  Plus, I definitely don’t like bugs, some reptiles, and especially noisy kids in my quiet retirement years (OK – six months).  All of these negatives are outside!

It’s a jungle out there!  To prove it, my wife even took me to the Zoo.  The animals were all locked in their homes, with limited responsibilities.  Are you seeing the similarities?  My locks are self-imposed, and I clean my own cage, but I still expect to be fed.  I try not to bite the hand that feeds me, or rattle the bars.  I do have my moods, like any mammal, so I can be a lovable Panda or an Ass.  There is a wild-side to me, and tend to pace a lot.  I get along well with other animals, but often forget to share.  I’m also a fan of the Cubs and the Bears, but not so much the Lions or Tigers.  Oddly, I do not have to be chased to run.  I also don’t hunt, fish, fight, or hike, but have been known to reproduce.  Finally, I’m relatively low-maintenance, with few needs outside of air-conditioning, TV, computer, bed, and shower.  I could survive in the Zoo, but not in the Jungle.

I’ve been traveling a lot lately, including a couple of hours in the car yesterday.  We were just in Indiana for 6 days, and I’m headed to Florida for another six this weekend. We’ll drive to the Coast tomorrow for our annual, “Outstanding in the Field,” dinner, and I have a luncheon and happy hour plans on Friday.  It’s not exactly a hermit’s existence, but I do enjoy my own bed, the company of the dogs, and my daily routine that I can only get at home.  Then, talk about homebody disruption! I  will have to get up at 2:30 a.m., do a shortened version of my run, and be at the airport by 4:30 a.m. for a 6:00 a flight.  By 7 a.m., I’ll be in Seattle, and then fly cross-country to Florida.  My son will pick me up at the airport, and drive me to his home south of Sarasota.  We’ll leave first thing the next morning for Miami, stopping briefly in Bonita Springs to pick up some friends that will joining us for all the Baseball All-Star events.  I’ll live on jet fumes, fast food, ball park hot dogs, and Diet Coke.  In the process, I’ll see my grand kids, my daughter-in-law, and hopefully lots of baseball players.

Although it will be a fun excursion, I’ll be glad to get back to my wife, the comfort of our bed, and my lazy, care-free days of hanging out with the pups.  It will be more than enough to curb any travel urges until we leave for San Francisco in early August.  I think that Tinker, our arguably 90 year-old schnauzer, would like to be more of a homey  She is very sore after our many outings the past few days, while Tally, who is half her age, is always ready for more.  After six days apart, my wife will surely be ready to retract her insult.  She will miss me, as I will miss her!

“Sweet Home Chicago,” by the Blues Brothers, “Sweet Home Alabama,” by Lynyrd Skynyrd, “Home Sweet Home,” by Motley Crue, and “Home on the Range,” by John Denver are not necessarily my favorite songs, even though they should probably be personal anthems, at least according to my wife.  I have seen each of these songs performed live on numerous occasions, proving that I was never one to sit at home and listen to music on the stereo.  I have a fond memory of my son, seeing a Lynyrd Skynard cassette in my car’s glove box and pronouncing it Line-rad Skine-rad.  He’ll never live that down.  I saw Buddy Guy perform “Sweet Home Chicago,” at his blues club in Chicago, another unforgettable memory.  The Motley Crue lyrics, “I’m on the way, Home Sweet Home,” I’ll be singing in about a week on my trip back from Florida. A poet, Dr. Brewster M. Higley wrote the lyrics to “Home on the Range” in his verse titled. “My Western Home,” back in 1872.  Many “cowboys” performed the tune including Slim Whitman, Gene Autry, and Roy Rogers, but I heard the version by Henry John Deutschendorf, Jr. in Indianapolis.  He was about as far from a cowboy as you could get, but like Neil Young and even Frank Sinatra, covered that popular Western tune.  By the way, home would never have been on the range for me.  I once panicked when we looked at a property out in the country that didn’t even have sidewalks.  I’ve always preferred live shows, but have experienced some (Post #121) unpleasant moments at various concerts that would make anyone want to stay home.  Been there.  Done that.  Sweet, Home,  Sweet,  the words are interchangeable.

I can be a bit obsessive, so I apologize for my recent rants on being hassled by my wife about being a “homebody.”  Hopefully, I’m over it now, knowing that my wife will need to be kept busier on the weekends.   I’ll just become less active during the week, and try to give the dogs some rest, as well.  My wife does have Planter Fasciitis that supposedly limits her dancing and walking activities.  Otherwise, I’d probably be totally exhausted.  It’s one of the hazards of marrying a younger woman.  I pledge to rub her dogs, pet our dogs, and respect her “double-dog dare” to be less of a “homebody.”