humor

Getting older, non-gracefully . (No pun intended)

~ Ron Walker ~ 21 Comments

This is meant as a tongue in cheek post regarding aging, of things I am noticing, and trying to laugh at. There is nothing to be done, aging is just a life process we all share. I have taught myself to fight the frustration of age, by laughing with it, or about it. No need for depression, panic, despair, always try to keep hope alive. Some of us have ailments that are serious, and there is no humor to be found in them. Maybe getting a laugh at those of us that are still stumbling (No pun intended. Well, perhaps a little.) in our effort to reconcile, that we must have stepped through a time portal. Yesterday was just here. Along with my eyesight, hearing, hair, coordination, sharp memory. Oh, and hair. Did I mention hair?

How’d I miss that! (Attention to detail)

Once was the time when I would enter a room, size up any dangers, any hazards. I still try to do that to keep the brain functioning. At home? I go on auto-pilot because it is home. I am supposed to be relaxed, and I generally am, that explains the scratches on my back, and the prompt for this post.

Reboot, my loyal feline, loves to lay on the back of the high-backed leather desk chair. She routinely falls asleep and falls off. Yes, she lands on her feet. This morning, I entered the office and “plopped” (it’s an art) down in the chair. It apparently didn’t register, as I entered the room, that she was asleep on the back of the chair. She must have awakened at that precise moment. Instead of the sudden forward movement of the chair-back just moving out from under her, sending her to the floor, she must have activated her grappling hooks to hold on. This caused her to be slung forward and catapult onto my back. Her claws worked a lot better in my skin, than they did on the leather.

They say, It’s in the eye of the beholder.

Reading glassed are my friend, too much time on the computer may have led to this condition. My vision is fine at a distance without glasses, if there is enough light. I have mild night blindness that makes it hard to drive at night if it is raining. So, if I am very tired, and the lighting is not good in a room, I may miss something small.

We have the large cockroaches that hang around on the pecan trees in the backyard. From time to time, one will scurry into the house. Michelle freaks when she spots one, then she gags when the dog runs over and consumes it, instead of just killing it. I need to work with him on that.

About a month ago, in the early morning, I came into the office (my man cave).  My faithful legion was waiting there. One Great Dane, Two German Shepard’s, all three sprawled on the floor in various comical poses. I suddenly spot the cockroach on the floor near the Dane. I’m trying not to spill the cup of coffee in my hand, usher out the dogs quickly before one of them spots it, and keep an eye on the bug. Dogs go out, bug stays put, I grab a writing tablet and proceed to smack it.

I killed the hell out of that very small piece of dog blanket. Michelle, who has the eyes of a hawk at close range, picks that moment to come check on the commotion, as the dogs exited the room, and I kill the piece of dog bed. I’m still bent over, having just delivered the final killing blow. “Miss your medicine this morning”? Then she leaves giggling.  It’s our little joke, when one of us does something weird or out of place.

Did you hear that? 

My hearing is getting weird. The last two years or so the left ear has gone about 75% deaf, also sounds like a group of Cicada bugs in the distance. I’ve noticed as I got older, the music is too loud, and everyone mumbles.

I have to marvel that I seem to have surround sound now. Certain tones come through fine on the left side. I can watch a movie, explosions or ticking clocks of certain frequency, or maybe footsteps come from the left, and the rest of the movie sound on the right. Sometimes it’s cool. I can hear some sounds on the left, that others can’t. I’ll deal with it.

Plug that leak!

I have type 2 Diabetes, I’m on an aspirin a day regimen, not sure if it’s really for my heart, or my mothers-in-law talking. Therefore, if you puncture, scrape, or otherwise break my outer epidermis, which I have noticed looks awfully thin these days, I will continue leaking the red lubrication that keeps us running smoothly. I keep Michelle busy running for band-aids, she acts like I may run out of blood at any moment. I also contribute to the increased profits of band-aid sales at the Dollar General across the street.

Short Term Memory
(I forgot…)

 

So, while we can, laugh at adversity, smile in the face of uncertainty, hold onto.. Uh, hope, or was that rope. Uh,slope? Never mind, I forgot.

Share your journey with us all. Comments welcome.

So yea, I ate the damn dog food in the fridge. No, I’m NOT feeling all that well, thank you.

~ Ron Walker ~ 25 Comments

It’s psychological I know, and really hope that’s all it will be, but I feel really queasy at this moment. I was already not feeling well, so Michelle gave me some nausea medicine. Feeling better, I started getting hungry. When I am sick, I eat, weird I know.

Last night we had what was claimed to be Meat Loaf. That was the report I got, from my mother-in-law who had cooked it. It was falling apart horribly, so by the time you got enough to transfer from the oven dish, to your plate, it was not recognizable as meat loaf. It looked more like sad chili.  It looked horrible, but actually tasted great. This brings us to the crazy part of the night.

I didn’t feel all that well, and the hunger in my stomach was crying out for sustenance. There was some meatloaf left from last night. The mother-in-law had just made her a sandwich and remarked about how good it was. I rummaged through the fridge, locate a semi-clear Tupperware container that has what appears to be the mystery meatloaf/chili looking stuff we had last night. I decide to keep it simple, going with a meat loaf sandwich, easy on the meatloaf part. Dishing some out, I noted since it was cold, the crackers she must have used as filler were more visible now. I reheated the mass in the microwave, made my sandwich and sat back down on the couch to watch TV.

It was a really tasty sandwich and went well with the cold can of Diet Coke I was drinking. Two-thirds of the way through the sandwich, my attention was drawn to what felt like a chili bean I had just chewed. Also, this was some really spicy meat. It was one of those eureka moments, like when you realize in a split instant, that you just stepped in something. My pea brain was going, Chili Bean? Spicy? Chili Bean?, Spi–c….

HOLY-MOTHER-OF-GOD! (forgive me)
I just ate the old chili saved for the Dogs!!

 OVER a week ago, we had chili. Mother-in-law had a bowl, I had a bowl. Turns out a quarter way into it, my mouth was on fire. She was unable to eat her’s either. It was really some spicy chili! So Michelle suggested we scrape the two bowls together and place them in the fridge to keep fresh, give it to the dogs the next day. I’m not sure what grossed me out worse, the fact that I just consumed a sandwich made from chili she had been eating (shudder), or the fact it was nearly two weeks old. You guessed it, I had forgotten to give it to the dogs. It had languished in the fridge just waiting for me. There, sitting on the next shelf up, was the meatloaf, in a container I couldn’t see through.

So. I get to muddle through the night, hope the chili (for the dogs) wasn’t bad. One way or another, the mother-in-law manages to see me admitted to the hospital with food poisoning, about once or more, every two year period. I figure I’ll be pretty sick in the next few hours, unless I’m really lucky.

 

Comments always welcome,
PS: I still have enough for about three sandwiches, any takers?

 

It’s so hard to say goodbye. (without smiling) Toodles to the Troll.

~ Ron Walker ~ 15 Comments

There are songs about, “It’s hard to say goodbye”. I can’t say it applies to this instance. It seems the Troll, is retiring. If your not familiar with who the Troll is, just search the blog for troll. The resident manager came by yesterday with a printed page telling residents, about him retiring, that she will remain the resident manager. He won’t be taking calls anymore,  one of his sons is taking over the park.

Happy Retirement!

Here’s hoping she wasn’t thinking that I was going to be sad or anything, I was doing my best not to break out in a big grin, kind of like getting that rock out of your shoe finally. It was sweet of her to hand us a Christmas card though. Yea, I mentally checked

it for money as I opened it. After all I have put up with here, I figure maybe they owe me. I guess I was feeling a tad snide as I closed the door. I stood there thinking how strange it is, on one hand they make sure they pass out official looking letters, advising you of rules, Then they do something so stupid and out of left field, like paying one of the tenants $50 to use a shovel, and scoop off the top layer of poop from the septic tank and toss it in the bed of a pickup truck, instead of hiring an official pump truck.

Not sure if they are planning some type of retirement/going away shindig, Of course, some of them out here may throw their own party, in celebration of his leaving. I can’t close this without a few memories of the old boy

  • The day he was very rude to the mother-in-law when we first moved in.
  • The day after we moved in, and I cussed him out for being so pushy and cursing in front of Michelle and her Mom.
  • The day he had walked through the yard ahead of me, then came back to ask if my dog bites, he was asking about the ceramic dog, just under the edge of the trailer, THAT, is some bad eyesight.
  • The day he came out to clean the edge of the drive and burn the leaves, but he managed to park one tire on a burning pile of leaves. That was a loud moment.
  • The best? And funniest. The day he was actually trying to be friendly and stopped outside my fence. It turned out he was in a good mood and wanted to compliment me on how my yard looked. He asks, “Did you have your trailer painted?” I look over my shoulder at the light green algae that had started to grow all along this north side. “No, but I did pressure wash it last year.” I replied. Apparently he was trying to be nice for a change. I had been told he can’t see very well, He thanked me for being a great homeowner, fires up his mower, and with a wave he’s gone. I stood there watching him trundle down the road on the mower, his straw hat pulled down firmly on his head. I hope I’m still that mobile at 82 years old.

You can never tell, the next person may be worse than him, and we find ourselves wishing he was still around. Now I will have to retire my Troll picture I use in posts sometimes.

Comments welcome, have you ever been glad to see someone go?

You never know what will work, even unintentionally.

~ Ron Walker ~ 19 Comments

Is this a real Witch?

As they say in the South “Who’da Thunk it!”

We moved in 2 years ago, naturally we were greeted, and constantly invited to churches in the area. We politely declined. I was a little worried about the neighborhood, after my good neighbor told me, that maybe I shouldn’t park Michelle’s Harley on the side of the trailer. He said it would be no surprise if 3 people drove up late, loaded it on a trailer and took off. I told him I’d hate that, but it was fully insured. No ones touched it so far. Thinking back on it, the past year has been really quiet.

It wasn’t until about 2 weeks ago, while talking to the owner that used to live in our trailer,  I learned we are “Devil Worshipers” according to what he has heard,  That explains the quiet, the cessation of people knocking on the door late, wanting change, or use the phone. As they say in the South “Who’da Thunk it!” After I stopped laughing to the point of almost passing out, I asked him where did that come from. He related he didn’t know the origin, only that the man down the street that is always in the church, “Had heard some things”. The word is to steer clear of us, we probably do satanic stuff. They know I’m an ex-cop, someone else’s rumor, has bestowed on me the rank of high priest. Just don’t bother “them”. Be nice, and polite, they can cause bad things, best to just leave them alone. That’s the gist of it.

Apparently..

October 2016 (last year) was our first Halloween, so we set up for the grand-kids, or any trick-or-treaters in the area. Michelle likes to decorate all out when she can. We always invited the kids friends over for a bonfire when we lived on our own land. So, to be in the spirit (no pun intended), we had 3 foot Frankenstein and Dracula, plastic illuminated figures in the yard near the porch. There were spiderwebs on the porch, a large motorized Gargoyle, motion activated, that talked and moved his wings. A couple skulls with blinking eyes, Candles, Silver Goblets, a large sword, with the table set up like a palm reader. We thought it festive and cute, everyone else thought we were for real apparently. Maybe Michelle dressed as a Witch (which she pulls off really well) didn’t help…  In hindsight, had I talked her mother into dressing up as a witch and sitting on the porch, maybe we would be the only ones here in the park now.

Lawn chairs, and hot-dogs on sticks

Now in the country, in the South, in a trailer park, that can be good, or bad. On one hand, these people are highly superstitious, and fearful of the unknown. Since we have not been burned to the ground, or seen evidence of protesters in the road out front carrying signs, inviting us to burn in Hell, they still speak to us and wave, I guess we are safe. That’s good. On the other hand, if the place catches fire, we can look for people showing up with lawn chairs, and hot-dogs on sticks. Not good. Michelle has been wanting a pygmy goat, I guess now would be a weird time to have one as a pet, wandering the yard. Think of the rumors!

No Kool-Aid for me thanks, I’m driving.

This area, in and around the park for miles, seems to be afflicted with crazy people. I’m sorry, that is an old, outdated term, and I mean no slander against someone suffering mentally or emotionally. I spent 8 years working around people with mental health problems, I know the sadness it causes. Anyway, there are numerous calls in a 2-mile radius of us regarding suicide attempts, emotionally disturbed, or overdose.  Maybe a study on the water is in order. One small church down the road, apparently has a Jim Jones/Guyana wannabe. He is strongly suggesting, that his congregation consider signing over ownership, of their properties to the church. Excuse me for being normal, but I think I’ve seen this movie, and it didn’t end well.

To sum my life up for the last year, I live in a trailer park, I’ve had a massive heart attack, I’m married to a Witch, I’ve been socially promoted to some type of high priest, and both of us are Satan worshipers. It’s probably a good idea that we were busy this year, and missed doing anything for Halloween.  Should I walk around the park from time to time swinging some type of incense burner and mumbling to myself? Nah.

Comments always welcome,