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 |  A Baby-Boomer STILL alive and living in senior housing...
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The random thoughts of a Baby-Boomer STILL adjusting to life in senior housing (after five years)... Almost exactly nine months after World War II ended, one historian writes, “the cry of the baby was heard across the land.” More babies were born in 1946 than ever before: 3.4 million, 20 percent more than in 1945. This was the beginning of the so-called “baby boom.” In 1947, another 3.8 million babies were born; 3.9 million were born in 1952; and more than 4 million were born every year from 1954 until 1964, when the boom finally tapered off. By then, there were 76.4 million “baby boomers” in the United States. They made up almost 40 percent of the nation’s population. - www.history.com |
| Ugh! I toyed with the idea of heading to New York City to celebrate New Year in Times Square with my sister’s family, but I decided against it in the end. I think it’s something everyone should do at least once in a lifetime. That and attend Mardi Gras in New Orleans… I’ve done both and don’t regret either one. New Year’s 1978: I visited my friend, Michael, who lived at Broadway and 116th Street on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. I was living in central Pennsylvania at the time, so I was all agog about being in New York City during the holidays – saw the “real” Santa Claus at Macy’s, marveled at the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center, saw the ice skaters, too, etc. – all on my own. But my big request was to spend New Year’s in Times Square. Michael, being a veteran of the city, didn’t think that was a good idea. Instead we headed to a party thrown by a friend of his down in Greenwich Village. I was disappointed, but went along. I remember four things from that party: 1. The food was a whole roast turkey on a platter on the coffee table in this tiny apartment of which everyone just pulled chunks of meat and ate – no other food 2. A woman on the fire escape wearing a pink tutu 3. A man dressed all in leather coming up to me, grinding out a cigarette in the palm of his hand while saying, “I like you” 4. The ride home I found Michael and PLEADED to go to Times Square. He relented and we got the subway at 14th Street and headed uptown. The train was very crowded. We got to 34th Street station, the doors opened, no one got off, MANY people crammed into the cars, the doors closed, and after a few minutes the train moved. The next stop was 42nd Street/Times Square… Michael and I were standing and holding onto the “straps” as we progressed northward. The train pulled into the station, stopped, and nothing happened. The doors didn’t open. We waited. Then people started shouting. The doors were still. The shouting increased and was joined by pounding of fists and umbrellas/canes against the windows/doors. I looked at Michael who mouthed to me, “See?” (I think that’s what he was trying to say…it’s difficult to lip-read a word like “see” – he could’ve been saying “dee” as in “delightful” but in the confusion I missed the rest: “lightful” or he could have been saying “Kee-ryst!” as in “What have you gotten me into here?”) It didn’t matter because just at that moment the doors miraculously opened and people RAN off the train onto the platform. It was mayhem. Good mayhem, mind you, but mayhem nevertheless. We pounded up the steps to street level. I vividly remember this next detail: as we approached above-ground, I heard and felt a sound like I’d never heard before. It was like a rumble and a moaning and a throb…difficult to describe, but along with hearing it, I “felt” it – it vibrated inside my gut. It was very exciting! We exited at street level. Michael looked at his watch – it was VERY close to midnight. After a few seconds, that sound I’d heard coming up from the subway intensified about one-hundredfold…it was intense, it was mind-boggling, it was unreal – except it was real. It was happening. I was in a crowd of more than a million people celebrating the passage of time. In New York City! In Times Square! On New Year’s Eve!! And then Michael pulled me back down the stairs onto the subway platform. We waited for a downtown train to return to the party (ugh!)…and we waited. And waited. The platform got more and more crowded. Eventually it filled to the brim – people were lined up on the stairs leading back up to street level. After about 10 minutes a train appeared. We squeezed onto the train and ended up back at the party in the Village. The last thing I remembered about that party: when Michael’d had enough and wanted to leave, he had found us a ride. In a car! In Manhattan on New Year’s Eve! We schlepped down the stairs from that apartment outside to a yellow convertible Bonneville – with the top down! A carload of us went uptown whooping and hollering and wishing all of the west side of Manhattan a Happy New Year. I don’t regret one minute of that night. We didn’t spend hour upon hour waiting for the ball to drop – we were efficient – get in and get out – timing is everything in life (well, at least in NYC). I was much younger then. Would I repeat it? It’s impossible to repeat something like that. The turkey is gone by now, the woman wearing the tutu is likely a hedge fund manager managing hundreds of underlings down on Wall Street, the leather-clad man could own a greeting card store, the Bonneville is probably rusting in a junkyard somewhere in New Jersey…as for Michael – I don’t know. We lost contact through the years. But, boy, what a night it was for me – a guy from Pennsylvania getting a taste of New York City in Times Square on New Year’s Eve! Happy New Year! Life is good. |
| Ugh! My poor car is covered with this ashy-white film from all the salt/brine/chemicals the highway department dumps on the roads during inclement weather. We could use a good downpour to wash it all off… …or I could wash it off myself. Naaah…I haven’t washed a car in over 12 years. It’s not that I don’t like my cars – it’s more that we always get nasty weather right after I scrub the thing, so why bother? The parking lot here at The Home is right out in the open so when we get torrential rains, they do a good job of cleansing. I learned where NOT to park my car during wet weather – there’s a spot where runoff from the alley creates a little river in heavy rain – I avoid that spot if at all possible. Mother Nature has been kind the past two days in this part of Pennsylvania. Yesterday the sun came out, but there was still the occasional stiff breeze that created wind chills. However, today, the winds have subsided, the sun is brightly shining, and I’m enjoying sitting on the bench out front smoking away in just a windbreaker – down from the ski cap, scarf, down jacket, and gloves of the past few days. One would think having to get dressed up like that just to have a smoke would be a deterrent – it’s not…but it did upset me that the steady winds caused my cigarettes to burn more quickly – bummer. And it’s supposed to get warmer as the week progresses. The weather people are predicting highs in the 40s by the weekend! Yahoo! That means all our snow should be gone and our world will be dead-grass brown and salt-stained pavement once again. At least I don’t have to pay for my heat. (I have my windows open right now – it’s 36 outside, but the afternoon sun fills my abode with light and warmth.) Life is good. |
| Ugh! Bonus day yesterday! I got to spend time with my parents and my twin brother and sister and their families. We went sled riding. Not all of us…Mom and Dad stayed behind with my sister-in-law – they warmed up the hot chocolate and popped corn for our return from the cold outdoors. I added moral support from the bottom of the hill when I wasn’t shivering. My brother lives in North Carolina with his wife and son…they don’t get home here in Pennsylvania that often and I don’t get to North Carolina that often (truth: I’ve been there one time – for his wedding about 13 years ago). They flew into Newark on Christmas Day – right before the blizzard paralyzed that region. My parents live about 90 minutes from Newark airport, so they rented a car and drove to this area. My nephew, who is in SEVENTH grade (I emphasize that because I thought he told me he was in fourth grade – he’s an only child and isn’t used to speaking up: we come from a family of six kids so we know how to talk in groups!) had a blast sled riding. Now, I should mention that sled riding these days is different from when I was a kid. Way back then – yes, I sounded like an old-timer at times – we used REAL SLEDS! I like to think it was a genuine Flexible Flyer, but in reality it was probably some knock-off brand sled – nevertheless it was wooden with red-metal runners and a steering mechanism (which hardly ever worked) and there was the obligatory rope tied to the frame to lug the thing back up the hill after a tumultuous run down. Yesterday, before we even got to the hill, involved blowing up three “tubes” that would be used as sleds. They were like big inner tubes from tires, but they had a piece of material in the center. We didn’t have a bicycle pump or any other kind of pump to blow them up – we had to do it manually. I was given one. It took me an hour to inflate mine; it took my niece and nephew about 10 minutes each to blow theirs’ up. Sigh. (When I was done I rushed outdoors to replenish my lungs with fresh air.) (And to have a cigarette.) Drove to the hill (also different from my younger days – way back then we had to walk to the hill and back home again) and unloaded all the tubes from the SUV. And the snowboards. And the plastic pan-like things that pass for sleds now. There were many people on the hill, but nary a sled. I stayed at the bottom of the hill as they all scaled it. I watched and smiled as they all came down. I watched them all climb up the hill again. And I watched as they all came down again. Each time they got to the bottom of the hill, they asked me if I wanted to try it. I nay’ed them. Repeatedly. But it was cold down there. My sister, after her fifth GLEEful trip down ended up at my feet laughing and out-of-breath she said, “I’m so hot,” and took off her coat and scarf and threw them to me. I wrapped her scarf up over my head babushka-like (I was so cold at that point I didn’t care what I looked like), knotted it around my neck and watched her clamber back up the hill. After an hour or so of watching my siblings/niece/nephews sliding/trying-to-slide down the ever-increasing green hill (the winds of the blizzard had blown most of the snow off the hill into the next state – New Jersey!), one of my nephews decided to try a trick with one of the tubes… When I was a kid, one of the most dazzling trips downhill was achieved by getting a running start: hold the sled to the right with both hands (or to the left if one is of the left-handed persuasion), run for several yards at the apex, thrust the sled in front, quickly follow through with the body in a downward motion, hit the ground, slam onto the sled and zoom down the hill at blazing speed. That was with a REAL sled – the wooden kind, you know, the ones with the red metal runners. My nephew attempted that with the tube-thingie. He got a good running start at the top of the hill. At just the right moment, he thrust the tube downward, followed quickly by his body. It all looked good. And then – PPFFFFLLLLTTTTT – and he skidded off the tube that was flattened. At first I thought maybe the nozzle had come undone and the air escaped. But upon closer examination (long distance for me – I saw him pick it up from my “safe” point at the bottom of the hill) he really blew it out; it had come apart at the seams. Now, he’s not a large kid by any means. I suppose it was bound to happen with the cheap construction of this modern-day “sled.” That NEVER would have happened with a REAL sled! Who ever heard of the metal runners giving out when someone landed on top of a sled while doing a daredevil run-and-slide? I can remember SPARKS flying off the runners sometimes when the snow ran out and we met macadam on the street on the hill in front of our house! NEVER total deflation… As sad as that was, we all agreed, in the end, that it was probably the tube that I inflated that was defective. We all had a good laugh. And then we returned back to the old homestead where Mom and Dad had made hot chocolate, and had popped corn for us, while some changed out of snow-wet clothing into dryer things, and others chatted. It was nice. It was funny. It was eye-opening. It was revealing. It was comforting. It was pleasant. There were tee-hees, guffaws, and one har-dee-har-har (or maybe two)… It was warm (except when I was stuck at the bottom of the hill!)… …(That last parenthetical is unfair. No one made me stand at the bottom of the hill. I chose to do that.) I found myself slipping back-and-forth between present-day and way-back-then at times. One thing I did notice: my younger siblings have acquired the trombone-style of reading… when each was given something to look at (a picture) or read, each “played the trombone” with an arm trying to get the item being looked at in focus. They’re getting to be as old as I am. Life is good. |
| Ugh! On Christmas day I visited with family and friends. At one point I noticed this woman I’d never, ever seen before schmoozing with other family members. I didn’t give it much thought until she came up behind me, threw her arms around me, and said, “And how are YOU doing? I haven’t seen you in forever!” I muttered something like “fine…doing okay…” and all the time I’m thinking “who the heck is this woman?” She tried to make chit-chat for a few minutes, but I was unwilling to chit-chat back since I had no earthly idea who she was. Eventually she tired of torturing me and walked off. A little while later she left the house and I said, “Who was that?” The answer was she used to live next door; she now lived in North Carolina and was home visiting family here in Pennsylvania. Aha! I recognized the name from 40 YEARS AGO! Sometimes I can’t remember what I had for dinner last night – how in the world was I expected to remember someone from nearly half a century ago? Yikes! Life is good. |
| Ugh! Well, the first holiday is over…Christmas Eve found me at the local farmer’s market to pick up a few items. Bad move. Got to the deli and retrieved my number from the little gizmo thingie they have to keep traffic flowing. I was number 49. Looked up at the wall and read, “Now serving 17.” Sigh. Got home and vegged for the rest of the day... Periodically I went outside for a smoke and noticed lots of my neighbors were having visitors. Carloads of people would come into the building. Someone here at The Home is going to have fun…one guy came inside for one of the shopping carts. I watched him push it to his SUV, open the back of the car and unload five (FIVE) cases of Coors Light! As tempting as it was to follow him inside, I sat quietly on the bench and finished my smoke. So far there have been no loud parties... We got our White Christmas a day late…not so bad in this part of Pennsylvania – just a few inches on the ground, but I understand south and east of here really got hammered. Thank goodness I don’t have to deal with that stuff anymore. Snow removal here at The Home is actually pretty good – they plow the parking lot then a team of guys comes along with shovels and digs out all the snow behind the cars. Now, if I could train them to clear the snow off the cars, winter wouldn’t be so bad. Off to make fruit salad, chicken something-or-other, and slice up cucumber and onion for meals this week. Life is good. |
| Ugh! There is a small patch of grass outside the main door of The Home where residents walk their dogs and let them do their business. Most people are kind and pick up after their pets relieve themselves. However, some do not. It’s just plain rude to not clean up after your loved ones. It’s not fun to have to watch every step if one wants to walk outdoors. So yesterday, we all received a notice on our apartment doors about this situation. The message was strongly worded and suggested that if we spot someone breaking the lease rules (about cleaning up after pets), we should try to get a picture of them offending the wordage. I think that’s a bit weird, but that’s the way it is. When I’m outside smoking or walking to/from my car, I don’t really pay attention to what pet is doing what…I certainly wouldn’t take a photo – that seems a bit Gestapo-ish in my mind. So we’ll see what happens moving forward. Watched a silly little movie yesterday: “Diary of a Wimpy Kid” – it had a funny line spoken by Fregley, “Hey, guys! Wanna see my secret freckle? It’s got a hair in it!” I guess you have to see the movie to appreciate it. Anyway, it’s now one of my favorite quotes. Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night. Life is good. |
| Ugh! Cleaning done…that might be it for the year. I’ll try not to mess things up before the New Year. Made a Jewish apple cake this morning. It’s Mom’s recipe and it looked easy, but the batter was extremely thick and difficult to work with. However, it smells great and looks nice. I got another early Christmas present… I was poking around TV and found re-runs of “Mr. Ed” – yahoo!! I have my TiVo set to record the show every morning at 6:30. The premise of that show is so ridiculous it’s funny. Pure, clean harmless fun…we could use a little more of that type of stuff nowadays. Life is good. |
| Ugh! Just finished doing my least favorite chore: laundry. I like to get it out of the way early in the morning, so I made it to the laundry room at 5:20 a.m. I thought I’d be alone, but I wasn’t. There was a lady there who I’ve seen now and then, but don’t know her name. When I see her, it’s usually as she’s walking to her car in the parking lot. She’s always dressed very nicely in a dress or pantsuit, so I was a little surprised to see her in a wife-beater and sweats this morning, and tattoos on her arms! I didn’t get close enough to read any of them – they were mostly blue with a smidgen of red here and there – but they looked fairly old, like she’s had them for quite a while. We didn’t talk other than to acknowledge each other’s presence. I always find it awkward to chat in the laundry while folding underwear or dish towels. Well, not the towels so much, but definitely the underwear thing is not cool. Call me old-fashioned, but I come from the school where we shouldn’t air our dirty laundry. Yes, I know, it’s clean after washing, but still…I don’t want to share my briefs and I certainly don’t want to see your foundations. Now that that’s out of the way, I’m planning on cleaning my apartment tomorrow morning; last week I got it all finished by 4:45 a.m. That freed up my day. Not sure what it freed me up to do – I don’t do anything. This will be my Christmas cleaning on the off-chance Santa decides to stop by. I want the place to smell Pine-Sol fresh. Life is good. |
| Ugh! Got outside to observe the total eclipse of the moon this morning…it was kind of boring. Not sure what I was expecting, but there was the moon in the sky – orange-ish and just setting there. Maybe if the whole event had gone faster, it would have held my interest longer. As it was, I stayed out for the length of one cigarette and then came inside to start my day. Today is my brother’s and sister’s birthdays (twins). Those poor guys got a raw deal being born so close to Christmas. Parents always made sure there were two birthday cakes and gifts especially for their birthdays, but I can’t help wondering if they’ve felt gypped through the years. My birthday is in July so there’s no conflict at all. Still frigid here in PA but no measurable snow as of yet – and that’s fine by me. There is talk of the possibility of a white Christmas; I won’t hold my breath. The only time I really worry about accumulating snow is when the weather people predict “…a chance of flurries;” that’s when it piles up. Got my Christmas present in the mail the other day. I bought myself a cashmere scarf. My old woolen scarf was attacked by moths; when I pulled it out of my closet a few weeks back, there was a big hole in it. Sigh. So much for the mothballs I had in the closet… I hesitated using them because the smell reminded me of my grandmother; her fur coat always smelled like camphor, but since I had some woolen items I thought it’d be wise to invest in the stuff. They didn’t work. Perhaps moths are now immune to mothballs? Anyway, time to go back outdoors and check on the ecliptical progress… Life is good. |
| Ugh! My bladder is getting smaller by the day. In my younger days, I could drink quarts of liquids and sleep through the night. Nowadays, if I have something to drink after noon, I’m up four or five times during the night to relieve myself. It’s maddening… Those Depends are looking more and more enticing as I cruise through the grocery store aisles. Life is good. |
| Ugh! Woke up at 2 a.m. again…this is now my third week of waking up so early. I’m stuck in this nasty pattern of falling asleep early and waking up early. I’ve tried staying awake late at night, but invariably find myself drifting off. I’ve tried drinking coffee mid-day, but that doesn’t work. I’ve tried taking a nap, but when I feel myself nodding off, I think, “Don’t fall asleep now. You won’t sleep tonight.” So I’m at a loss. Actually I kind of like being awake at this hour. When I go outside for a smoke, I’m not bothered by anyone. It’s just me, the stars, the moon, and the occasional cop car stopping in at the police station across the way. Yesterday I ambled through the hallways on my way for a smoke and saw that more and more neighbors are decorating their apartment doors. I especially enjoyed the way the person in 312 decorated: he/she bought two boxes of mini-lights and duct-taped them to the wall – still in the boxes! The cords run from the boxes underneath the door and they light up at night. Not sure of the meaning behind that, but it is novel. My door is plain, just the way I like it. Life is good. |
| Ugh! Yesterday I stood outside during one of the many snow squalls that blew through and chatted with Billie who refused to walk Harley in the snow, even though Harley really had to go to the bathroom. Angie came outside walking Complaining Connie’s Rascal because CC didn’t want to be in the snow. It’s not even officially winter yet and these people are up in arms about the weather. Sheez. Anyway, while chatting, Angie mentioned she wishes she had not retired. “It’s so boring here. There’s nothing to do.” Billie added, “It’d be nice if there was some activity to get everyone involved.” Angie looked at me and smiled. “He tried that a while back and it didn’t work.” What he (me) tried was to arrange for “Friday Night at the Movies” and “Wednesday Matinee” in our community room on the second floor of The Home. I went onto craigslist and asked for donations of a television, DVD player, and audio/visual cart with electric capabilities. Within a week we had all three items. So I made up a poster advertising the first Friday night where we would watch “The Sound of Music.” I also had a sign-up sheet for those interested in attending. Four people signed up. Complaining Connie complained, “I can’t sit for that long.” (She’s in a wheelchair. I don’t get it.) She didn’t sign up and said she wouldn’t until I showed a movie of shorter length. Friday night came. I moved the equipment from the storage room to the community room, queued up the movie and waited for the four guests to arrive. Angie showed up right on time. We waited 15 minutes longer. No one else came. So the two of us watched Julie Andrews and cast… It was disappointing. The following week I made up a poster for “The Music Man” and no one signed up to see it. I gave up. Maybe I should have tried more but I was frustrated. The equipment is still in the storage room. If someone else wants to take charge, they’re more than welcome to it. As for me, I’m content to watch movies in the confines of my two rooms here… Life is good. |
| Ugh! Whatever happened to standing ovations? I always thought a standing ovation was an honor bestowed on someone for a feat or a long record. Nowadays it seems anyone and everybody receives one when they walk onto a talk show. The worst offenders of this lapse of respect are the audience members of The Ellen Degeneres Show; no matter whom the guest is, they jump to their feet, shout, and applaud – be it Barbra Streisand or some five-year-old kid who does a silly dance. This behavior leaves no delineation between greatness and mundaneness. Why provide chairs/seats for the audience members? They’re standing half the time anyway! Next is Oprah audience members; they’re just as bad, with the added attraction of a lot of her audience cries along with the standing, shouting, clapping… There should be a certain protocol in place for this honor, umm, say you earn a standing ovation after 25 years of doing something in a stellar fashion. Or you earn a standing ovation after doing something heroic like crash landing a plane and saving all the passengers’ lives in the process. Certainly not for blowing up a balloon using one nostril. And not for singing an off-key version of any Lady GaGa song. Although if Lady GaGa is still around 25 years from now and still singing and performing, then she will deserve a standing ovation when she is introduced as a guest on a talk show. If talk shows are still around 25 years from now… Life is good. |
| Ugh! Winter is back! Howling winds, bone-chilling cold, but no snow, so that’s good news… I start each morning by working my brain: I check the headlines at New York Times, CNN, MSNBC, Reuters; then go to the local paper. After catching up on the latest news, I do my daily puzzles. First I tackle the Los Angeles Times crossword puzzle, which my local paper carries, then it’s off to complete the New York Times crossword puzzle, which I subscribe to. They’re similar in structure; i.e., as the week progresses, the puzzles become increasingly more difficult. Mondays I can usually complete in 5-7 minutes, but some Saturday puzzles take me 45-60 minutes to finish – even though the puzzles are the same size. The big Sunday puzzles are hit-and-miss – some are fairly easy and some are tough. The Sunday puzzles usually have a theme; once the theme is figured out, it’s clear sailing. I find the New York Times themes to be more challenging. I’ve always been an avid reader. I suppose enjoying crossword puzzles goes along with that love. My father’s parents both did crossword puzzles; he continued that trait and passed it along to me. I’m the only one of six children that does them. I can recall being sick in bed as a child and Dad going to the drugstore for medicine and a magazine for me to read; I always asked for a crossword puzzle mag…and he delivered. It’s important at my advanced age to keep my mind active, that’s why I read, write and challenge myself with the daily puzzles. Learning new words is helpful in all aspects of life. My favorite book throughout the years has been my trusty worn copy of “The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language” by Houghton, Mifflin Company. Its bright red binding is prominent on my desk. Even though there are myriad online dictionaries, I still at times remove that big red book and leaf through its thin pages to find out the meaning of a word. My Kindle has a built-in dictionary, so that’s a nice convenience when I’m reading in bed. It’s funny how sometimes a crossword puzzle answer that I’ve discovered will arise very soon afterwards in my daily life. I mentioned last week my visit to an ethnic Christmas tree display at a local hotel. Each tree had a placard detailing a bit of history from the country/region it represented. There on the placard for the tree from Slovenia was its capital: Ljubljana. That was 1-across in a New York Times crossword puzzle the week previous. I hadn’t known it; I filled it in by working the down clues. I doubt I’ll ever use Ljubljana in a sentence; I don’t even know how to pronounce it, but if I’m ever on Jeopardy and the answer is “This capital of Slovenia is famous for its Butchers Bridge” I’ll be able to buzz in and say, “What is L-J-U-B-L-J-A-N-A, Alex?” Life is good. |
| Ugh! Hurricane-ish is what the weather was yesterday here – windy, buckets of rain, and balmy temps. At least it wasn’t snow, so that was good news. Cold is making its way back though over the next few days. Oh, well, it is December – this should be expected. One thing I do when I’m bored is “cruise” the Internet. I don’t mean just going from Web site to Web site; I go specifically to expedia.com and “shop” for a trip somewhere. Sometimes it’s a cruise to the Caribbean or a ski holiday to the Rockies; my favorite is a grand tour of Europe like the gentry did years ago. I choose my flight(s), hotel(s), car(s), local attractions, and go through the entire process until I get to the page that says “Book it” and then I close the browser… It’s my little way of living beyond my means – even if it’s only for an hour or so. Some days the process leads me to investigate the places I plan to “visit” by going to Web sites and learning history and customs. I shared this experience with a cousin a few months ago; she confessed to me that every night before she goes to bed, she “shops” for houses by attending online open houses and house tours. She lives in an apartment, like me, and does it to kill time and to keep her dreams alive. One day I’ll go to expedia.com and complete the process. Of course that means updating my passport, which leads to having a picture taken that never turns out correctly (my last passport photo could have been used to identify me had the plane crashed into the ocean and my body was recovered three weeks later from the briny waters– that’s what I look like in my passport). And it would mean pulling out my luggage, getting rid of the dust balls on it, packing clothing, unpacking clothing at my destination, repacking to come home, getting home and unpacking, stowing the luggage again…ugh. It’s not worth it. For now, I’m satisfied with my fantasy travel. It’s safer and cheaper… Aloha! Life is good. |
| Ugh! Still cold, but at least the wind stopped blowing. Just came in from outdoors; the thermometer reads 18F, but it actually feels pretty warm compared to the past five days when the winds howled... Talked a bit yesterday to new neighbor, Billie; she’s actually quite nice – we had a fun conversation. It was a joy to talk to someone who didn’t complain. Of course, she’s new and I’m fairly new here, so maybe the negativity disease hasn’t gotten to us as of yet. Her dog’s name is Harley – not Darly, like I thought she said last week; she’s 17 years old, blind in one eye and can only look at the ground so she doesn’t see anything until it’s right in front of her – Harley, that is; not Billie. Billie can see just fine. Finished “The Scarlet Letter” by Hawthorne; I skipped the first part of the book where he talks about something that I was clueless about…I read online that a lot of people had trouble with that. At Thanksgiving, I mentioned it to my niece – she told me to just skip it and get to the story, so that’s what I did. According to my Kindle, that was 20% of the book! Yikes. I started “Winds of War” by Herman Wouk. I read it about 30 years ago and am enjoying it again. He is one of my favorite authors. My apartment smells like curry – I made curry coconut chicken yesterday. The first step of the recipe calls for cooking the curry in olive oil over medium-high heat for five minutes. I did and it started to smoke; I turned on the exhaust fan to get rid of the smoke, but it lingers in the air in here. It’s still better than the cigarette smell, though. Served it with jasmine rice and Brussels sprouts. Yummy… Life is good. |
| Ugh! I have nothing to report today from The Home. It's been pretty quiet of late; I guess the cold, windy weather has kept most people indoors. I know it's affected my smoking – for the past three days, I've cut back to only eight cigarettes a day; that's down from 40, so that's a good thing. I did run into Complaining Connie the other day on one of my trips outside. She was all bundled up, along with Rascal – they both looked like Eskimos. In an attempt to avoid her, I pretended I forgot something in my apartment, but she yelled to me before I could get back inside. Not wanting to be rude, I acknowledged her; she wheeled over to me and told me she couldn't stand the cold weather and if it wasn't for Rascal, she wouldn't have gotten out of bed...it was the usual for her. It's so tiring to chat with her. If she was a little brighter in her conversations it wouldn't be so bad, but her negativity isn't fun. It'd be nice if one day she would say something like, "Isn't it a glorious day?" but I fear that day will never arrive. I sincerely hope I never get like that. Sad... Oh, well, I'm off to the farmers' market and the grocery store later this morning. On the way, I'm stopping off to view a Christmas tree display at a local hotel. The historical society sponsors the show each year; they exhibit 19 trees of different ethnicities – I last saw it about 12 years ago, so I'm anxious to see if anything new has been added. This community is diverse; it's rife with churches of various denominations – it seems each neighborhood built their own houses of worship long ago. Some of the buildings are defunct now or converted into other uses, but the skyline remains littered with steeples of assorted shapes and sizes. That's it from The Home on this day. Life is good. |
| Ugh! Got notification from the cable company yesterday that rates are going up in January. Boo...it doesn't seem fair, but I suppose they have to make money, too. Over the next few days, I'll have to figure out if I want to keep my current plan with them. Right now I'm paying $49.36/month for service; beginning January 1, that goes to $57.36/month. Do I really need 300+ channels? Even with all those choices, I still watch the same shows over and over on the same few channels. My problem is that one of my shows is on a channel that's only available with a particular level of service. It'd be nice if we could pick the channels we want and pay only for them, wouldn't it? I get three PBS stations: one local, one from Philadelphia, and one from New York City; nine times out of ten, they're all showing the same program at the same time. Ditto with ABC, NBC, CBS, and FOX – same shows, same times, different channels. It makes little sense to me. I don't watch any kids' programming, yet I get like 12 channels of that stuff. I rarely watch sports on TV – I get 15 choices in that area, some of which broadcast previously aired games; I don't get that – who wants to watch a baseball game that was played six years ago? Sometimes I long for the old days when we got just three channels: ABC, NBC, CBS. Life was simpler then – fewer choices = fewer headaches. Of course, back then if one didn't like Westerns or medical shows, one was pretty much out of luck. I miss variety shows like Ed Sullivan, Jackie Gleason, Carol Burnett, Dean Martin – there's nothing like those shows on TV nowadays. The closest we have are late-night or daytime talk shows, but those can be tedious to watch on a daily basis. Live TV is something I rarely watch; I use my TiVo for about 99% of my TV time. I have my remote set to advance in 30-second intervals so when I'm watching a playback, I can fast forward through commercials or boring parts of shows in just a few clicks. I even know how many clicks to use based on the show; for instance, Jay Leno has four minutes of commercials between segments (eight clicks) and Ellen Degeneres has three minutes (six clicks). If I do watch live TV, it's a chore to have to sit through the seemingly interminable commercials. It's not like I have something else to do, it's just annoying. I used to enjoy watching programming on PBS because of no commercials, but now it seems they have a fund-raiser something like every six weeks and each fund-raiser lasts about four weeks, so that's a task to watch anymore. Even some DVDs come with built-in "commercials" at the beginning – it used to be one could hit the main menu button to skip over that stuff, but now studios have not allowed that, so viewers must suffer through 6 – 10 movie previews from the studio before getting to the main feature! Boo... Oh, well, at least we do have more choices these days. I wonder if it's worth it, though... Life is good. |
| Ugh! I should be more mindful of what's in my kitchen cabinets and freezer... A few weeks ago, I was working on a recipe that called for cranberry sauce, so I put it on my shopping list, went to the store, bought all my groceries, came home and realized I forgot to purchase the one thing I went to the store for – cranberry sauce. Sigh. I looked through my cabinets, hoping I might have a can of the stuff in there somewhere, and waaaay in the back, I found a can of Ocean Spray Whole Cranberry Sauce. The blue-colored label looked a little washed out, so I checked the expiration date. Yikes. It read JUL97. That's more than 13 years ago! I was going to chance using it – after all it was sealed, had never been opened, no dents or dings in the can, etc., but in the end decided against that. Back to the store... Then this past weekend, I had to make room for leftover lasagna I made last week. I packaged it all up in single-serving portions, wrapped them, and when I went to store them in the freezer, there was no room. I took everything out of the freezer, put it on the countertop and started putting stuff back in – in a nice orderly manner. I found two boxes of egg rolls in there! That was a bonus find for me... I should be more attentive to things like that in my life. But I'm not. I like to think I'm pretty organized; I usually know where everything is – it may take me a few minutes to find something, but if I think it's there, it almost always is. What burns me is that I get forgetful lately. Like I forgot the egg rolls were in my freezer. I must have bought them who-knows-how-long-ago – they were probably on sale – and they just got lost along the way. Even with a grocery list, I forget something when I go grocery shopping. I've taken to using Post-Its in my everyday life. When I think of something, I jot it down, then at some point in the day, I gather all the little yellow slips and organize my thoughts...I enter things on my calendar or I start a new grocery list or I try to write something based on something I'd scribbled down at some point in my day. It's embarrassing, but at times I can't decipher what I've written down, and for the life of me, I can't recall what "W Pot" means (I know "Br Spr" means Brussels sprouts), then an hour or two later it hits me: White Potatoes. I'd be lost without my Post-It's, though... Life is good. |
| Ugh! Opera anyone? Anyone? In an attempt to broaden my horizons, I bought a Blu-Ray copy of “La Traviata” to add to my DVD collection. I’m an opera virgin, so this was eye-opening and ear-pleasing. I enjoyed the orchestra, singing, acting, stage sets (it was filmed at Teatro alla Scala in Milan), and overall production. But I didn’t understand one thing! There were no subtitles available on the DVD. How dumb, huh? I think it was sung in Italian, but I could be wrong about that – maybe it was Spanish or French or German, who knows? I thought I might be able to “pick up” the story line by watching the facial expressions and action onstage – nada. So, after the second act, I took a break and Googled “La Traviata” and learned the story – that made the third act make a little more sense. SPOILER ALERT!!! (Violetta dies in the final scene, but I thought she had died earlier, duh!) Not sure if this old dog can learn new tricks after that foray into high culture. Maybe I’ll stick to fare like “The Sound of Music” or “Oklahoma” – at least I can understand the words in those pieces. Well, it used up some idle time so… Life is good. |
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no pun intended!
or just need to keep the old frame greased and moving more. Otherwise, the rust sets in and gravity is like a magnet on the iron joints constantly pulling down.