Thunder-snow Hibernation

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What a week it has been. Dark dreary rainy days, filled with television and wary anticipation. Finally another project is done but now comes the warning of winter weather for real.

Constant checking of the weather radar and looking out the window, I find a break and proceed my usual route with my usual black pony to the local gathering spot to forage for grubs and stuffies since the cabinets, as good as they look, are bare. A couple cans of soup, some fruit, a spot of tea, and some pre-made pizzas, along with my medicine, are loaded but the gods have decided I should feel the season a little better.

Winding back and forth on my return there are no cute joggers or couple walking their dogs or even ground crews with their backpack blowers? Only the whipping wind and cold rain soaking through my multi-layers joins me in my ride home. Avoiding the windows into the lower world, I unpack and try to sit quietly listening to the rain. The pony, dripping from the ride, is on the porch while the yard monkeys scatter with their umbrella up picking up peanuts. This will be the only treat for the day and probably my only real reason to wander out in this frightful weather.

Note to self: These dreary days make wanton consumption of bad foods, so while my sugar cravings struck, I wandered the aisles looking at packaging and mentally tasting each treat. Can I be strong? So for lunch I had an apple strudel. It could have been worst.

The fog of my senses remembered my mother’s frantic approach to wet clothing, so I went inside the big house and changed. Looking at the pile of dirty laundry on the floor I think I need order that washer/dryer soon.

Back in the new kitchen I put the fruit and soup into an empty cabinet. I’m not even sure which way the door opens so I guess I’ll get use to it after a while but it is still all-new to me now. I could go upstairs and start being down all the boxed up stuff and start loading the cabinets, but I still like the virgin feel of the kitchen and besides, I still have to mull over in my mind where I want to put everything. There is no rush and beside I need to see when the snow is going to get here.

Into the cold damp shack I turn on the only television plugged in and check the web for current reports then delight in the little grey blurs in the yard. More tales of a white change to the constant rain keeps coming like the continuing solutions to our fiscal disasters but the window tells the truth. Even the yard boss was smart enough to stay under the house on such a messy day.

I finally give up and wander back inside looking for something to catch my attention but do not find anything so surrender to the darkness listening to the thunder.

At first light, I observe the grey fingers capped with white caps but still many untouched patches. The weight of the powder bows the bamboo and pines but the sunshine soon shakes it off.

After the second sleep with those unbelievable dreams, I awake again with wonderment of how I can think of these things. I should write them down but no one would believe them.

The streets look pretty clear so without really needing to wander out, I bring out the pony and walk to the cement. Ice lines the shadows and on two wheels that can be deadly, so I avoid the shadows. Crystals rain from the branches as the eggshells under my slow turning wheels make the usual into the unusual. It is cold now. Like winter should be.

Normal is as normal does. The same faces in the same places welcome the constant parade of characters. The couple in t-shirts and shorts discussing their beer hauls or the cute blond in those fur lined boots. Winter! I do like those boots.

Following another customer in before she stops at the weekly deal insert pile, I grab a mini-cart and turn back to the entrance. I look at her face which looks familiar yet aged surrounded in straight blond hair without an expression. I had enjoyed the view walking in but don’t think it is time to compliment so I move on to the produce. Another bag of peanuts and another bag of birdseed fill the cart. Reload and pack up. All the interesting views are gone.

The yard is enjoying the long lost sunshine and everyone is out, even in the cold. The buffet is spread and all partake. Simple pleasures for a simple mind as my little friends come up to my feet and beg for another peanut.

Chased inside by the cold, I consider my next move for hibernation but the sunshine beckons and I am too weak to resist.

This probably looks like nothing to you, but….

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This is the first kitchen I’ve had in oh, say, three decades. Some say, “The kitchen is the busiest room in the house” but not in this house for many, many years.

How did this all start? Well years ago my girlfriend, I think she was at the time, had moved into my house. There were old 50’s cabinets, a small refrigerator, an old rusty washing machine and a tiny gas stove. I didn’t need much so it was adequate. There was enough room for plates and silverware and a few pots and pans and we could prepare simple meals without much bother.

One weekend I was called away to a conference and upon return all the cabinets were gone. “I didn’t like them.” She said. “Where are the cabinets?”, I asked. “I took them down and threw them into the backyard.” She responded without a second thought. I looked out into the yard and there were the cabinets in a pile of white ¼” pine.

Several variations of sinks and refrigerators and stackable washers were purchased and placed and then discarded. Cabinets on rolling casters were constantly moved back and forth to find the right position. Plumbing and electricity was installed and moved but nothing seemed to fit.

After years of purchasing makeshift appliances required for different cooking experiments I got used to using a microwave and a toaster oven became the norm.

So with all the major house repairs done, it was time to build a new kitchen. I laid out the last configuration on the computer and moved items back and forth, thinking of the adjustments to plumbing and electricity and the cost incurred.

Online I searched the cabinet styles and sizes and colors and even went into the store and talked to the sales person on cabinet cost. I wandered into a couple of custom kitchen shops and talked garnet counter tops and cost.

After a year of other projects and the usual home repairs like the living room ceiling falling in, I made the decision to move on to the kitchen.

Project.

First donating the washer and dryer to the Salvation Army and then moving all the boards and cabinets that made the makeshift kitchen, I contacted some contractors to redo the floor.

Once that was done, it was back to my favorite buddy ‘Jerry’ at Lowes. He tried to guide me over to the expensive woods and stains and carvings. I responded that they were only boxes so I just need the basics.

We agreed upon a layout and a price and all was paid for and I awaited for the installation.

Today, with all its cold rain, was the installation. The cabinets had already been delivered but today was the day that they were going to be put in place and a new kitchen built. Two strangers showed up and I left them alone with the boxes and wandered into the den.

Believe me there is only so much surfing on the web that can be done when guys are banging on the walls. Trapped inside due to the rain I listened to the pounding and the squeezing sounds of the countertop going into old plastered walls. Finally there was the sound of water.

I walked into what was an empty room to find cabinets and a working sink and a countertop that fit the design.

The “To-Do” list get another check off. Now it is back to see Jerry for a stackable washer/dryer, then a stove and refrigerator and a couple of worktables. 

So with the smell of saw dust settling in my nose, the wonder of the coughing workmen of what they may have left me and the adventure of finding out how this new storage will match whatever has been stored upstairs I will enjoy the new boxes on the wall.

Social Network Gone Awry

I found this picture somewhere, I don’t remember where, but it caught my attention. It spoke to me. It is social network gone awry.

Now I realize all people have experiences and those experiences involve other people, some you may know and some you don’t, but this photo brought it all home.

But this was unexpected.

If when the time came that you and your significant other decided to become more familiar than just smooching, a truth came across your mind while it was in the fog of passion.

So these panties were presented with pictures of those who had gone before. As guys used to notch their headboard, this would be a shatter knocker to a guy’s psyche.

We all try to avoid the previous partners but when the faces are presented, particularly if some are familiar, the heart can take a hiccup. Each face has a story. Maybe just a passing moment or too many drinks or an even stronger emotional bond, each face has a history. And that history comes before you do.

So would this be positive or negative to a relationship?

My last long relationship required not discussing previous partners. I agreed with that commitment even though for a year or two I had to comfort the tears from a prior time and a person I did not know. I accepted the limitations of history and never mentioned any or all-previous people who were close to me.

Not saying this is the best awareness to new founded partners, but it would at least give pause to a thought of what might lie ahead.

Would They Recognize Me If I Came Back Home?

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People probably don’t think about this question but I do. So many people have passed by through the years in the local places we connected. Some were very important at the time and some made life-changing affects on our adventure.

Looking back on some of the old pictures from school, I wonder who are these people and what became of them. The only relationship we had way back then were being in the same classroom. Then again they were the reference of our time together. Their families were much like mine, lived in the same neighborhood, attended the same churches and country clubs, drove the same cars, had the same televisions and enjoyed the same food.

The variations of our cultures and backgrounds made each of us an individual but the classroom brought us together. Then one-by-one we parted ways.

Some moved on to different schools, some had family problems that were never discussed; some had parents who found different jobs in another area. Whatever the reason, we lost track of one another.

Even those who stayed through most of the school years attended different colleges, joined the service or had find work. Some started families and some just dropped off the radar.

Now the little town stayed the same and I stayed here while the others went off to their adventures. Occasionally one comes back to town and we meet for a lunch or a drink at a local watering hole full of memories. Some I can recognize and some are total strangers.

So I wondered, who would have recognized me if I had left back to town.

If you think about all the haircuts, fashion changes, emotional ups and downs, the crisis and the joys through the evolution of years, anyone who was not sharing the experiences would know who you are?

All we can ask for are the memories, some shared likes, and hopefully an exchange of ideas that may spark a new relationship without interfering in each other’s new world.

Some say you can not go back home, but what if you never left?

Influence

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Noticed an interesting aspect of life. Someone posted their new dog on Face book and named it after a character in a book. From what I gathered from the post the book was influential in this person’s life so naming the new member of the family after the character in the book maintained the continued fascination.

Some books and movies and televisions shows and music can make an impact on our persona. Perhaps it is a time of life or the writing is so remarkable but the classics seem to stand out as the most watched and read and listened to.

If emotionally challenged, sad stuff becomes sadder and happy stuff becomes happier. Our psyche taints our consumption of words and music to rearrange them to our own liking. This is why you might not like something I like.

So as the season for awards arrives touting what is the best of the best for the hundreds of movies and books and songs that have just been an artist or writer’s dream, I think back to what has influenced me this past year.

Television? Well, as I have said, there is not much on antenna television but looking at the listings there is not much on paid-to-view services. Girls in conflict, murders investigations, outrageous gay characters and silly and offensive animation are pretty much what is offered and mostly a waste of time. Well there are sports.

Books? I haven’t seen a book I am interested in reading in a couple of years. Looking back on all the books I’ve purchased through the years, I had no problem in giving them away to those who may find a new value in them. History or fact or fiction or cooking or mystery or fantasy does not draw me in. I read the reviews and get the gist of the content but am not ready to attach myself to another volume of another author’s thoughts. I’m sure not going to buy another gadget to read “Great Expectations” on again.

Movies? Show me something that doesn’t explode and I might take a look. The trailers usually give enough of the story and the other hour of sitting in a dark room eating slimy popcorn washed down with a sugar drink shows little appeal. When the reviews say the book is better than the movie is a certain turnoff.

Music? I hear what the current tunes are on television commercials and some YouTube recommendations but where is the hook? I, like my parents, had a certain range of music that was meaningful growing up. I collected a large amount of vinyl with groups and sounds that transformed me or at least entertained my week childhood mind. Today with all the variations and availability of music, most is forgettable and hardly hummable after walking away. As long as the muzak at the store is familiar I’ll listen knowing the tune but forgetting the words.

So what does that say about outside influences? It takes a lot to gain my interest these days.

Who Knew About The Flew?

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Well it is all over the Internet and the television news. The flu season is upon us and emergency declarations are out. Hospitals are making room for those suffering while someone else is counting up the numbers of each sniffle and cough. The top stories for tonight is the epidemic and the pharmacies tout plenty of shots are still available so don’t wait.

Sounds like the old auto dealer. Come in now before it is too late or it is better than last years model.

I used to get every shot that was prescribed. The polio shot in school was like signing up for the army. Every time I would go to the doctor he would give me a shot. Don’t know if the shots helped whatever ailment I had but I always got a sore butt.

The last time I got a flu shot, I got the flu. It must have been the mid-seventies or so. I remember it because my wife (who probably brought it home from school) and I were both out of action. Taking turns in the bathroom was about all we could handle. We would have probably been goners if my mother hadn’t come by to make us chicken soup.

No matter how bad a patient one thinks they are, there is nothing more caring than mommy attention when you are feeling bad. Some one to pull the covers up and put a damp washrag on your forehead and stick a glass rod into your mouth with hopes you don’t bite it in half and drink the mercury.

From what I’ve read and heard the latest flu shot is 60% effective. Does that mean even with the shot there is a 40% chance of getting flu? I don’t know if those are good odds in Vegas but I only want to use medicine I know will work on me.

No one knows your body better than you do so when you feel tired, you go to sleep and when you have a headache, you take an aspirin and sit still and when you have the sniffles, you dress warmly and apply the Vicks vaporub and when something is bleeding, you put a band-aid on.

Of course there are needs for doctors. When something becomes unattached the man or woman who has spent years studying the latest techniques can hopefully reattach it. Yet the profession has turned into something more like insurance. If a physician or medical group, as they are called these days, find you have a certain ailment or diagnosed condition, they will send you junk mail offering their special services with a multitude of test and probes as long as your insurance will cover the cost.

If you don’t believe me, watch daytime television. Pills and rolling chairs and bathtubs with doors and special pillows are offered all day to those who are probably bed ridden looking for a solution to their problems that a shot did not relieve. Shoot, you can even get a travel bag and cup for free.

So what happens if I get the flu? Well, I try not to. I avoid those who are coughing or children or elderly moving slow. Even the sanitation wipes are far enough away from the carts at the store that you will have already touched the virus before the metal and plastic handle can be wiped down. I could wear a mask and rubber gloves but I’m not that paranoid.

Instead I drink more OJ and eat more fruit during this season. I drink additional water and eat my veggies. Even flushing out the body with alcohol does not make me immune to the flu.

And if I get the flu and it knocks me out? Then what?

There is no one who will come by and take care of me so I’m on my own. There is enough water available to keep me hydrated. There are a few cans of soup to keep me going if I can open the cans and heat it in my makeshift kitchen. If I can drag myself outside, there is television. If not there is a full bottle of aspirin and some cold medicine in the first aid kit. Otherwise, like a cold, I’d just wait it out.

I know the flu is worst than a common cold but what else is there to do?

If the bug gets me and I can’t fight back, so be it. Something is going to get you sooner or later.  

I’d Love To Turn You Off

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First of all, I’m not against television. I grew up with television. Television was my baby sitter and after that was the natural focus of my attention. From a small black and white to the transition to color and digital, television has been a giant influence on most of my life.

But now I feel empowered when I turn off the magic box.

There is so much of our time spent in front of this screen at first watching fuzzy images with crackling sound and being amazed at the visual radio then being engrossed in the programming. The television substituted the newspaper or a book or a game as the evening entertainment for the family until it went off the air at bedtime.

Television presented us history as a president was assassinated or a trip to the moon and entertainment for kids with clowns and cowboys and dogs and nightly dramas with live screenplays. With limited technology and huge camera the acting had to fill the void and some did. Daytime television became the homemakers haven for cooking shows and soap operas.

Once television had worked its way into many of the post war homes the addiction had begun.

Now that America, then the rest of the world is hooked, the industry blossomed into a mesmerizing hypnotic obsession. We spaced our time and our meals around different “must see” shows. The details of the previous nights viewing became the topics of the water cooler. Even parties were set up to involve friends and family in the spellbinding season ending shows.

As television took over our lives, the recliner was invented for our comfort and the remote control was invented for our ease of tuning and the microwave was invented to speed the food processing so we could prepare dinner during a commercial. Television invented the couch potato. Television invented obesity.

Today with all the options and selections television has become a part of our daily ritual. We turn on the television first thing in the morning to catch up on the news while we brew our coffee. The morning talking heads tell us what we need to know or what we want to hear before leaving for the occupation molding our minds. Those who stay at home are wrapped up in entertainment unlimited. Once the evening comes and everyone is back at home we surround the big screen cozy in to be entertained or numbed by what is presented to us.

Before we know it, an entire day has gone by and we are wiser with “Downton Abbey” or “Off Their Rockers” or “Dancing with the Stars” under our belt.

At the end of the day we have engulfed and passed through a variety of selections with flashing images of lights and loud noises

So turn it off. It is not difficult. There is a power switch on the remote. Stand up, press the button, and walk away.

There is a wealth of adventures ready to be received without the overwhelming attraction to the blue screen.

Of course there is still those other electronic communication devices to be overcome.