It is so funny

Then again maybe it is not. Time passes on and we adjust to the reality that we are not getting any younger, but instead are getting older. Unfortunately that means that you can’t move as fast and as flexible as you used to. Stupid, it is called old age.

Like trees in the woods that fall over saying goodbye to their stead worth friends only to turn into mulch, we must bid adieu to some and accept our time will come.

I mention this subject often because it grows closer yet it fascinates me the wonders that brief adventures provide. A simple pleasure that can bring joy and maybe a chuckle or two to this simple soul is worth describing.

The other day I was discussing retirement with a glass artist who was putting King Crimson onto my window. Both actions were deliberate and somewhat structured. After a sit in the sunshine my friend moved to family obligations and I reveled in his masterpiece. The morning sun brought even more wondrous to his artwork he had loaned me.

Sometimes we can’t appreciate what we see or do?

We had talked about clothing. We all need clothing. They arrest if we don’t wear clothing.

I found that I could get by on cotton tee shirts, sweat pants, and jeans when it gets cold. I described this to my friend in great detail of how I only buy clothing that I need.

Well to make things more interesting, I was packing my dusted off gym bag for the venture into what I should have been doing for the past years, when I started to go through drawers to find swim trunks. To my surprise or surmise I found a pile of swim trunks and exercise shorts. Holy you-you-what, where did they all come from? Some even had their purchase tags on them. Note to self: I don’t need any more shorts.

After a mild yet steady workout at the torture chamber (it is not really) I decided to try the pool. I had done all my workouts and brought my towel and water bottle from my bike that I found had algae in the bottom so what does that say about city water. Anyway, I took off all my sweat clothes and even showered down as requested. The floors are like glass even with warning signs that they are slippery wet. I cautiously stepped into the pool slipping and sliding all the way. The water was warm and there was just another swimmer so two lanes were clear.

To my surprise and yet panic, I found I had forgotten how to swim. I pushed off and started to sink. I waved my arms as if I could remember the strokes necessary to keep me afloat and in motion. For years and years it was second nature to swim. I had done this for since time began but here I was in a pool with another swimmer and I was struggling to stay afloat. I did a sloppy crawl across two laps and decided to stop embarrassing myself. Towel down for there is always tomorrow.

Today was grazing day for the zombies. I was welcomed at the door with smiling folk with Christmas garb offering treats as if Halloween was not over. The zombies had read the memo and were in full flux to wander around famously in their ventures.

Checking out, as they call it, still sweaty and wet from the workout, I avoided Dorothy Anne who I had given cash to yesterday, but lined up with a fine young fellow who processed my order with guile and friendliness.

The sunny fall air brought me home for a respite and an adventure in audio. What more can life provide?

Well it has provided me with another day and another meal and being weary enough to sleep for hours before starting over.

Until We Meet Again

Been hearing a lot about people being called home or going to live with their father. It is called death folks. It just makes everyone feel better to say they are going to see the Lord.

It is not a bad idea, this heaven thing where everything is wonderful and stress free. Sounds good to me.

But have you really thought about it? Who will you meet and what will they be like? It might not be as pleasant as you imagine.

Suppose you met your ex-wife. You know the one that really didn’t like the settlement the lawyers made. Or maybe the mother that really didn’t like you bonking her daughter will show up. You remember that boss who cut your salary so he could give a raise to the girl in the tight dress with no other talent than to entertain him? Suppose you meet him?

And what will they look like? Would you recognize your mother when she was a teenager? How about your grandfather when he was a hippie? I mean why would anyone want to look old in heaven?

To get even stranger, what if you met the person who ran over your son? What about that guy in your elementary school who bullied you? What would you do if you ran into the girl you rejected in high school only to marry your best friend?

Who do you want to hang around with in heaven? Maybe you think you ought to stick around your family and friends but what about that girl you fantasize about? Would you want to be around the familiar or some rock star? Well maybe they are in the other place.

Man, this is becoming a lot more difficult than imagined. Maybe all will be forgotten and there are doves and angles and harp music and then again maybe this is hell?

So when we say, “Until we meet again” thinking it is a sign off to another encounter may not be the best good-bye. Then again, it may be the best good-bye.

For we can’t predict the future and don’t know from second-to-second when the air will run out or the big rock will come blasting our marble or when all hope is gone. That promise that the connection between the two will not be broken or at least a wish that it won’t can be stated but not guaranteed.

You follow her eyes as she closes the door. Is it ‘until we meet again’ or just ‘goodbye’?

Zombies At Kroger

I don’t know if anyone else notices but there are zombies at the grocery store. They only come out on Tuesday. That is old folks discount day.

I know it is for I also get a discount on Tuesday. On Tuesday the store offers five percent off all purchases except for drugs or beer to anyone 55 or older. Tuesday is my day for picking up the majority of groceries and household necessary’s so I can rake in the savings.

I normally get a little cart and buzz from place-to-place knowing what I want and where it is located. I do this everyday, but on Tuesday the store is filled with zombies.

They are not the blood-splattered kind you see on television or in the movies. These zombies are fairly neatly dressed and sometime accompanied by a younger family member or a nurse. Many of them have blue hair, strange paintings on their faces and smell as if they had taken a bath in the perfume fountain. Zombies they are nonetheless with slow stiff movements, low groans and they are messing with my brain.

These zombies have walkers.  Some zombies have these little motorized bumper cars. The zombies push their carts oh so slowly. These zombies have to stop every so often and talk to other zombies. Sometimes a gaggle of zombies will gather blocking all lanes of transportation and revised escape routes have to be used.

A zombie’s job is to slowly move down the food corridors seemingly amazed by the variety of choices. Maybe amazed isn’t the word. Overwhelmed would be better. A zombie must stop and stare at a shelf of beans for hours on end. Some zombies pick up the cans with multiple pairs of glasses. Some zombies move off and then come back as if the decision was too difficult to make the first time.

Zombies also like to ask questions of the store’s personnel. A zombie’s most frequent question is about the location of a certain product. Upon directions, a zombie must then tell the employee in the blue shirt about its medical history. Zombies’ love to stop the store manager referring to prices, manufacture label variations, or even how to make a certain dish. The store manager is pleasant enough to these zombies but is a busy guy so he focuses their attention to one of the grazing areas.

Zombies are grazers. They stop are various stations placed through the store to sample cheeses and meats and whatever else is open and available. This may be the meal for the day. And zombies don’t mind going back for seconds.

You can zombies coming for miles. The zombies come in a steady stream from the apartment building next-door or dumped off at the door by a parade of vehicles. Shoot they even bus them in from far away places.

The next day many of the zombies are gone, but some are still there. Zombies who can’t get it together to make the Tuesday pilgrimage arrive the next day. The react the same but there are fewer of them so it is easier to navigate around them.

Every hour there is a change in staff and a different flow of customers. The noon crowd picks up lunch and then there is a lull. The after work crowd tries to find a quick way to make dinner. The weekend crowd is more interested in adult beverages and junk food. The late night crowd is drowsy and looking for relief and the morning crowd is too eager. Among the usual family folk is a sprinkling of the local gym participants who are all smelly and soaked in sweat.

Does this sound like the crowd to wander through when trying to decide what dead animal or plant to buy to sustain life? It is best not to think about it or you will lose your appetite.

Next Tuesday they will be back and I will be mingling amongst them, trying to pick a can of beans or a container of fruit or a frozen pizza for football day, but I know what will be happening.

Help me! I may not be hungry due to the fact that I am becoming a zombie too.

Going To The Club

No, it is not that kind of private club. I’ve been a member of those clubs and they are too stuffy for me. This is the type of club full of hot sweaty women and men. Humm? It does sound like that “other” club.

I probably should say, “I went to the gym.” Though it is just a big warehouse full of torture devices, everyone there is looking for one thing – better health.

This is not the first time I went to the gym. I joined one with a family plan some years ago after my wife had a heart attack. After she went through her rehab training, we got on the “let’s keep healthy” path. For her it was a shopping paradise of new clothes, shoes, yoga mats, videotapes, weights, and even machines for home use. We got our schedule and started to attend a regular basis. Thirty minutes on this machine, over to that machine and then that machine. Mop the brow with the towel supplied and drink some water and move on. End on a cycle spin and shower. It wasn’t a bad routine but it was a short routine.

A few years ago a new gym moved into what used to be a department store in my neighborhood. I thought about joining, but had too many other important projects. I did stop by one day and ask if they had a pool but they did not which was the same as the old gym. So after giving all the videotapes, weights, and machines the only exercise I received was the daily riding to the store to purchase beer. And it showed.

Well, as the story goes, last year the gym refurbished and put in a pool. I had no more excuses, so I went in and got the tour and saw that it was most comfortable with lots of machinery and big screen TVs and Wi-Fi and power drinks and they made me a deal, but I still didn’t join. Why not? I have no idea.

The logical mind knows that for good health one must eat right and exercise, but I didn’t. So when the time comes heaven and earth will move me.

Well the time has come. It was time to shake it up and get out of the old routine and into a new routine. So I went into the gym and said, “Sign me up!” I got the tour from the very pretty and trim weightlifting coach and she had a spiel going. It was a good pitch but I had heard it before. I had been mailed this offers of $10 a month but her deal was the usual plan. It gave you access to all the stuff and classes and just because I came in today I could receive $10 off the regular plan and sign up fee for only $1 and oh I forgot all the rest. It was like buying a car you get tired of the banter. Sign here and sign there and here is your free t-shirt.

I felt confident I had enough t-shirts and shorts and socks…. But there were these old shoes I’ve been wearing for a year and a half, so it meant a trip to the clothing store or at least the only place for miles to buy shoes. They didn’t have what I was looking for, even though they have them online, but I bought a couple of pair and was ready for a trip to the gym.

Jessie, the trainer, called me and we scheduled a time when he was going to start me up. I arrived and waited and waited (not a good sign) but a young trim guy showed up and had me fill out another form while he finished some other stuff (again not a good sign). Who is your doctor? Who do we call in case of an emergency? What is your BMI?

“Jessie”, I say, “the reason I’m here is to get flexible, stronger and lose weight.” He instructs about special training and professional consulting and I say, “Jessie, just show me the machines.”

I know what this steel and belts and buttons do, but I need a refresher course. As in my introductory tour, I am taken to a distant room with a line of machines. Each has a number and there is some sort of lighting system going on but I don’t get it. We walk through each machine and I try them out. They seem familiar and then he runs out of time as his electronics starts going off. That is fine because that is all I wanted for today. I leave having not broken a sweat but am more comfortable in the environment.

The night’s sleep was better so the idea might be working. Today, knowing it was raining in the morning and raining in the evening I found a spot in between to get in a ride and ‘go to the gym’.

The night before I had decided to use my old plan to start with the treadmill, does the line of machines, ride on a bike and maybe take a dip in the pool. It would be a big venture for a guy who hasn’t been working out for years. Of course I didn’t do that.

I did wake up early and refreshed, found a spot between the clouds and rode over to the gym. I did try out the treadmill and did do all my machines and will see how that feels tomorrow. I did make a list of what I had done that day as a starting point. The best part is I did break a sweat.

After I nice ride home in the sunshine on maybe the last warm day before the snow, I unloaded the groceries of good veggie eats and found my old gym bag. It had been sitting up on a shelf and was covered with dust and spider webs just like the rest of the house. The problem was it had some weight to it. What the heck was in there? This was the same bag I used to strap to the bike to take my clothes downtown to work.

A quick wipe up and a tempted opening I discovered more bags. It seems I was storing bags inside of bags. If anyone needs a gym bag or a loose flexible carry-on let me know for they will probably go to trash.

So now I’m set. I know the machines. I know a good routine. I’ve got the new shoes. I’ve got the towels and bag. I’ve got the time.

And time will tell what will happen next. Stay tuned.

Don’t forget to Vote

Voting is a method for a group such as a meeting or an electorate to make a decision or express an opinion—often following discussions, debates, or election campaigns. Democracies elect holders of high office by voting.

With the recent activities in the nations’ capitol, one wonders what will happen during the next voting process? Will these men and women who have void to uphold the constitution while obliging the wants of their voters prepare enough messages to be reelected?

Will the person who has signed up to represent you and me, be persuasive enough to organizations with gather enough money to buy the hearts and minds of the voters?  Are they really our representatives?

Like any business, you are hired for a job and given certain responsibilities and expectations of the organization. Yet, this organization, known as our government, seems to have some very special requirements. And it has some very unusual liabilities, for whatever is decided by this organization affects all of us. Our taxes, laws, even our wars are created and bestowed on the population by these elected officials.

What amazes me is from all the population with great minds and hearts, these few are the ones who will step forward and take on the responsibly of governing the rest of us. A handful from every community will stand up to the desperate toil of balancing an outlandish budget, discuss and negotiate to find solutions to immense problems, all the while being bombarded by special interest groups and powerful financial brokers who can make or break a legislator’s career. Then the elected official gets to return home to the constituents who are promised whatever they request.

So it will be time to vote again. Will we forget the last few years of mayhem and reelect those who have avoided responsibility or cast them out?

It is not only your right, it is your privilege to vote for some person who you wish to represent your opinion and not be persuaded to outside pressures.  Good luck with that.

Nomads

Discussing with a friend about moving and traveling I thought about the term ‘nomad’.

A nomad is a member of a community of people who move from one place to another, either with their livestock or subsisting on hunting and gathering. Nomadism is a lifestyle adapted by people living in infertile regions where mobility is the most efficient strategy for exploiting scarce resources.

Itinerant populations known as “peripatetic nomads” move about in densely populated areas living not on natural resources but by offering crafts or trade to the resident population.

I’m not going to get into the whole immigration issue at this point. I do understand from wherever we started to walk on land that the grass was always greener on the other side. As our species grew we started wandering looking for better grub and nicer hotels.

We adapted this constant wanderlust to travel by land, sea and air to the far reaches of our planet. Then we colonized and settled in. Our little communities grew into cities and then states and then countries. Our nomad behavior still caused us to cross borders and get into wars.

Today we have our own little cottages with food and medical and employment and entertainment within our reach. Sometimes our employment location changes and we become nomads to a different region. Sometimes we meet people we wish to spend more time with and our nomad behavior kicks in.

Even when we are comfy cozy with all the amenities, we are stricken the need to explore. Of course there is a huge industry to provoke our nomad spirit and send us to places we had only seen in Travelogues or on post cards. We pack up some of our stuff and lock up the rest of our stuff then wait for hours to be instructed to go here and go there before boarding some sort of transportation device. The fun doesn’t end there. Then there are the cramped accommodations. And without a guided tour and a translator you are lost in a different culture and perhaps a different time.

Even calling these times ‘vacations’, we can only stay for a brief time before reversing the process to return home. Once rested from our adventure we can share pictures and reminisce the experiences of eating differently prepared meals, viewing historical sites up close and being exposed to another variation of our species. A map can be pinned with locations passed through and the wealth of knowledge gained expounded to impress others. Souvenirs can be purchased to show our cultural awareness. Musical, literary and even religious beliefs can shape our personality from the experience.

Without the desire or need to travel further than your daily needs, the nomad spirit can fade. When there is no necessity to go someplace else, the nomad spirit can fade. The travel shows can bring all the sites and sounds of foreign places without leaving your easy chair. The cuisine from distant lands can be created in your own kitchen.

Poppycock some will say due to I does not have a motor vehicle to transport me to distant lands. I have been to distant lands and am happy to just be at home. If I really wanted to pack up and travel, I could.

Sports

Today is Sunday. To me that is “sports” day. Well, football day at least. From noon until midnight there is a game on almost every station. So why do I watch sports?

I don’t know how or when it started but television was always a big part of my distractive life, so I think when football started playing every Sunday, I was watching it. At least it was on.

There is nothing better to do when you are multi-tasking, like drawing or playing the guitar or listening to music through headphones while drinking beer, than to watch large guys out on a big green field running into each other. It seems senseless but there is a strategy behind the bedlam.

Unlike a “sport” like tennis or golf that only has one player, football has a bunch of these burley bums bumping into each other. While soccer is fast and constantly moving, American football is a series of sprints. Each team has a flashy uniform and networks and media moguls have declared some players, as heroes while others will go nameless. There is a lot of talk and replays in slow motion and a camera for every angle. The game is fairly simple with throwing and running and kicking and if you missed something, there will be recaps at every commercial break, and there are lots of them.

I don’t follow any teams so when I express I’m watching football and someone ask, “Who is playing?” I always respond “The Blue team against the Red team.” It is easier to switch back and forth between games when the outcome doesn’t matter.

I do watch the Super Bowl and the World Series and the finals at Wimbledon, but do not watch basketball at all and never watch any “sports” that involve animals. I don’t bet on sports or join fantasy leagues. It just isn’t that important to me.

I think it is time to put on the headphones as the neighbors break out the leaf blowers. There will be another game after this one and another after that. Sports are like that.