Saturday, March 10, 2012

Ugly Women and Pit Bulls...

03/10/2012

Don’t pay a lot of attention to the title, it really has nothing to do with what this piece is about, and at this point neither do I.  So, from this point on, this will be a study in stupid BS.

The title: The other day I was driving from Beautiful Downtown Berkeley Springs, West Virginia, population 711 to Hershey, Pennsylvania, the chocolate capital of the universe, to work an educators’ conference for my former company as a “consultant,” which is how we old-timers describe being paid for doing some part-time work.  Along the way I made a brief stop in Chambersburg, PA to visit a home-brewing supply store that I found out about on the internet.  The shop would not to be opening until 11:30am and it was just 11when I got there, so lunch seemed like a plausible means to kill the thirty minutes, and there just so happened to be a Brother’s Pizza (as in hand-tossed by scruffy-looking guy of Italian descent – though he may have been Hispanic for all I know) just across the street from the brew shop.  I dropped in and ordered one.

Pizza consumed, brewing shop visited, I continued my journey, just to make a long story endless, I headed back toward the interstate through Chambersburg and was stopped at a traffic light awaiting it to change; a lady crossed the street being led by an ugly dog, a very ugly dog.  Did you ever hear that at some point dog owners begin to assume an appearance much like their pets?  Bingo!  Both she and her dog were howlers and thus the source of this title.  This part of the post is over, ‘nough said and the end of this inane explanation.

The conference: I haven’t always enjoyed attending conferences where I had to stand in a booth for hours on end.  These things can be more than boring, and very quickly reach that point.  Time passes very, very slowly as you stand there pretending to be visible to an unseeing public.  The longer the conference the slower time passes, sort of like time-lapse photography, especially if the people passing by view you as invisible, and they do.  Fortunately, as a retired person working PT, I have nothing to lose by ignoring them back.

This time I didn’t get to ignore anyone.  The people came.  They still did not stop, but at least they saw me.  I was eye candy for the masses, and I had fun.  I must have had fun.  I weighed in this morning at home, as The Nancy and I do every Friday, and the scale shouted back letting me know I was 2.8 pounds heavier since my last confession just seven days ago. 

I should have known my waistline expansion was forthcoming as I consumed my entire mass in beer, loaded nachos saturated with a ton cheesy goodness and other junk, and several truckloads of French fries, all in a 48-hour period, and I enjoyed every morsel and drop and topped them all off with some of Milton Hershey’s finest. 

I have suddenly developed a sweet tooth.  Well, not really suddenly.  It has always been there, but prior to retirement I had a modicum of control over it.  Now, not so much, I have succumbed to weakness of the palate. 

I suppose the suddenly part is merely because I don’t care as much these days. At 68 I have no one to impress with my collection of abs (I only have one), my biceps have atrophied – one doesn’t need them for 12-ounce glasses of brewed delights – and jalapenos don’t stink up your breath like garlic.

The moral of this part of the story is simply this; I should have stuck to ugly women and dogs.

And that I all I have to say about that…

Saturday, March 03, 2012

"The Social Animal"...

03/03/2012

I am presently totally involved in “The Social Animal” by David Brooks, another must read.  It is the story of “how success happens… told through the lives of one composite American couple.” As I read about the adolescence of Harold, I could not help but take a short nostalgia ride back to my own junior high schools days.  Growing up for me was an easy ride but there were some bumps along the way, nothing horrible, just bumps.

Growing up was not tough for me.  I had loving, though not demonstrative, parents and a good, happy home life.  My parents and four siblings made up what I believe is the typical American family, and we all grew up to be healthy and happy in our own way.

Harold and I are similar in many ways, and while reading about his growth in his formative years, I got to thinking about my own.  It is kind of funny to me how the mind works.  I was doing my daily routine on the treadmill and got totally lost in thoughts about my year in the ninth grade (1958).  Now that was a year I would redo in a heartbeat.  Loved it…well, I love it now, it was totally embarrassing then.

I can only refer to it as the year of the boner, as in erection; I was 15, and apparently going through more than normal hormonal changes that left me unable to control the rise and fall of genitalia, as if we guys ever have control of it.  These erections occurred many times every day that year, mostly at inopportune times, and mostly right before the bell rang ending a class.  These unwanted, untimely products of male adolescence nearly drove me insane.  These inconvenient moments actually forced me to purchase the largest binder I could find that year to use as a shield to disguise the malformation below my beltline as I made my way through the hallways of Hamilton Junior High School to the next class.  Awkward, you bet, but these moments of involuntary stimulation allowed me to hone my skill of blending in a crowd getting as close the middle of a group as I could manage.

I cannot imagine I was alone in this predicament (no pun intended).  Others had to share this bodily awakening as I did.  I wonder if those of the female persuasion had any kind of similar sexual awakening.  If they did, they never let on to it or exhibited it.

Now I don’t want to convey the idea this condition was perpetual.  It was not, though at the time it sure seemed to be.  I made it through the year nearly unscathed and a tad more mature, at least physiologically.  I moved on to high school the next year and the problem was abated, but then it was an all-male high school.  I still had a lot of growing up to do and I am not so sure I ever did.  Now that I am an official senior citizen and getting ever closer to the big 70, and recognizing changes in my bodily behavior patterns, desires and functions, I miss the crap out of the good old days.

I sincerely hope I have not offended anyone with this post.  If you are a guy you probably understand, if a female, oops, now you know.

And that is all I have to say about that…

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Scary Moments...

02/28/2012

Last Friday I was in Dallas, Texas at the airport waiting to board an American Airlines flight.  At the very same moment my very sick wife was sitting at War Memorial Hospital here in Berkeley Springs awaiting the results of a C-Scan that would determine whether or not she might have to undergo surgery for a colon issue.  Both of us were pretty nervous.

I think the nothing brings out how much you truly love someone more than when that someone is hurting.  Here I was in Texas with the love of my life 1500 miles away and I couldn’t do anything to support her.  I knew I had but minutes before I was to get on the plane and take my seat.  In the meantime The Nancy was pacing at the hospital wishing the doctor would give her a report on the test she had just finished.  Nothing was working in our favor.  The minutes quickly evaporated.  The call to board the plane came and then the instructions to turn off all electronic devices.

It was painful to shut down my phone when the announcement was made to do so.  The flight time from Dallas to Baltimore was to be just under three hours.  Three hours of not knowing what the heck was happening to my best friend.  I immersed myself in the book I was reading, though my mind drifted to The Nancy more times than I could count.  Fortunately, surgery was not imminent, but she was admitted and spent three nights there.

She is home now; the diverticulitis is better but still present, as is her abdominal pain.  The Nancy was on a clear liquid diet while in the hospital and has graduated to just liquids – lots of cream-styled soups.  This may require a change in lifestyle for her and for me, but it is a small price to pay to have her feel better.  She is on the mend and that is all that matters.

Last night we both slept better, in fact, she slept so good she is still enjoying it.  It is after nine and she has not stirred, and I am not going to wake her.  I think she needs this.

This is The Best Day Ever, my Nancy is here.

And that is all I have to say about that…

Thursday, February 23, 2012

The Last Hoorah!...

02/23/2012

I am currently sitting at the Baltimore-Washington International Airport awaiting to board American’s flight 1003 to Dallas.  The maybe The Best Day Ever, but it is offering some challenges.

I am on my way to my former company’s annual company meeting (formerly called a “sales meeting”).  My former boss has invited me so the company can give me a formal send-off even though I officially retired in November of 2011, or as a friend of mine termed his, “a go away party.”

The Nancy and I were slated to go to this together, but unfortunately she took ill yesterday and has had to bail on me.  I want to go, if for nothing else than to see all my friends for a final goodbye.  These people are my other family.  But I do wish Nancy could be here, I like to show her off.

I was to fly out of Dulles International on another American flight.  It was canceled, and I am very frnkly not surprised.  When I checked in on-line yesterday I noticed there were a very large number of seats to choose from.  This should have immediately brought up a red flag.  The reason for the cancellation was not explained and would not have had I asked, but inasmuch as there is no weather issues in either Dallas or the Washington, DC areas, I have to conjecture the cancelled flight was due to American Airlines not wishing to make an unprofitable flight.  I am due to attend a dinner at 6pm, and American thought it would be fine with me if I missed it so they could make money by putting me on a plane with more people filling their skimpy seats.

All is well, though, I can resume The Best Day Ever; I got a very nice lady within AA’s customer service department who got me on a flight out of BWI with just a minor inconvenience of having added forty miles to my drive (both ways).  So I am off to see Dallas and lots of old friends.  Life is good, though I have to wonder if I should be making this trip given the obstacles.

Aside from the inconvenience I know I will be able to settle down and enjoy my trip, especially after a few beers with my buds.

And that is all I have to say about that…