Saturday, October 30, 2021

Cousin It (Addams Family) well, no

This may make someone mad.  Okay, Fine.  I'm 80; I can have my own opinions.  They can't fire me.  I suppose they could take me to Washington and make me testify before a Congressional Committee.  

I could care less if you are a guy who thinks he is a gal - or a gal who thinks she is a guy.  It's your life.  Ruin it if you want.  All this mixed  up sexist stuff, may mess up lots of people over time.  I figure that I won't solve this situation.  

With that over announcement over, there was an article in the Temple Daily Telegram from a few days back titled:

"United States issues its 1st passport with 'X' gender marker."

This person in Colorado, a State almost as freaky as San Francisco and Oregon, wanted a passport.  However, this person doesn't IDENTIFY as male or female and wants an "X" placed in that area on the passport.  Of course, our liberal freaks obliged.  Now I am quoting from the paper.

"The department did not identify the passport recipient, but Dana Zzyym of Fort Collins, Colo., told the Associated Press in a telephone interview it was its passport.  Zzyym, who prefers a gender-neutral pronoun, has been in a legal battle......"    Zzyym is pronounded  Zimm.  I don't know if that is a long I or a short I.  Does it really matter?

So now we know.  Cousin It on the Addams Family is gender neutral.   And, we must - that is MUST - call Dana "It."  If we refuse to use "It" then we could be called out for hate speech.  I'm betting that before long they (excuse me) the its of the world will use a good ole English word as a pronoun.  They will incorporate a word, as they did with "Gay" and the "Rainbow," making the word unusable by the common market.  

Now, I ask.  Am I the only person (a  "He") who finds this pure nonsense.  Here we are catering to someone with either a mental problem  (hate speech again) or someone starving for attention.  I could prolong this conversation but I choose to move on.  

The world is full of morons.   I use to tell my students: "Don't do stupid things."  I am still waiting for someone to apply for a marriage license to marry a sheep.  Maybe they already have and I missed it.

Gaggingly yours,


I Ear You

 Just in case you have not read this blog from the first entry years back  (AND WHY  NOT?)  a couple of explanations.

First of all, I will be 81 in about a week.   My wife is 6 weeks older than I.  When you get to this age, people start watching you more closely.  A year ago in the great freeze, the defrost had started.  I felt like most of the ice was gone.  The ice was not easy to see - it wasn't.    As I was inspecting the driveway (slopes quite a bit), before I could think or respond, I was down on the ground by the car.  I landed hard on my left elbow pinned under my side.   

If you have never had a fall, they happen fast.  One moment you are up; the next moment you are down.  Gravity is in command.

At the moment of the fall / slip, I thought I was fine.   The pain grew.  It was obvious that I had a problem.  The next day, I went to the emergency room - of course it was a weekend.  The emergency people put in my record that I was prone to falling.  It was a broken rib - they had a fancy, different word for it - not cracked - one of my previous entries below will give the correct term.  Broken ribs are not to be sneezed at (so to speak).

I could not lay down in a bed and get back up - with or without help - too much pain - helpless in Bed they say.   Hmmmmm.  After several days of sleeping in my big chair at night under a blanket of blue, I finally healed enough to be human.  Never had I broken anything in my entire lifetime - and it hit during my 80th year.  Growing old is not easy- as they say.


Jump ahead to last night.  I don't suppose this has happened since my earliest, early years.    I cannot remember ever frankly.  This is somewhat embarrassing, so roll with me here.

We have a sleep number bed - air it up to your preference and snore away.  Ours is about 25 plus years old and has been losing air.   I have learned to pump it up to a 60.  In about 36 hours it leaks down to a 45.  At 45, the edge of the bed is pretty sloped...not firm.

There I was asleep.  Dreaming.  It seems that the dream had me in Colorado (why?) and there was a boiled egg rolling across the floor which I reached for.  Never caught the egg.  The next thing I knew, I was on the floor in a pile.  It took me a second or two to realize what was happening.   My wife asked if I was okay.  I told her to give me a moment.

I felt moisture on my arm.  It really took a moment to orientate myself, up versus down - left versus right - north versus south.  As fast as I could find the floor with my feet, I told my wife that I thought I was bleeding.  I moved as quickly as I could to the bathroom.   Yes, I was bleeding.  My right ear hurt. By the time my wife followed me to the sink, blood was running down the side of my face off my chin.  We grabbed Kleenex and began to blot.  It didn't take too long. I don't think I lost over 20 gallons of blood.  Not sure of course.

We have this small spray container band-aid thingy which I bought a couple years back: a spray band-aid.  Sure came in handy.  We sprayed the ear liberally - it was cold and shocking to the ear.  The blood clotted.  

In addition to a lumpy dog bed beside the bed  (a nice cushion as discovered), I have a small bedside table-cabinet like thingy beside the bed.  It holds phones and chargers and flashlights and whatever.   It sets about 6 to 8 inches from the bed.   As I see it now, I rolled over, and my head started down between the bed and the table.  The corner of the table ripped the inside of my ear. 

Have I mentioned that I was blessed with quality ears - prolly a dab larger than most folks.   My pictures as a child show that I might have been able to flap and fly.   Never tried.

So there is this inch long cut on my ear.   It didn't go all the way through -or  tear anything.   Just a cut one inch long - tender - easily reopened if hit.  This happened about 5:45 a.m.  My daughter was up eating breakfast and taking dogs out - So, with her help, clean up was attempted.  

I retired to my big chair (see rib injury above) and slept hard for the next 3 hours.   A Kleenex was stuffed carelessly down my ear canal in case the cut reopened.  I didn't want my ear drum to drown.  Think how hard that would be to clean out.

The drama is not over.  I chose to visit no doctor.  The gash looks terrible to me.  It will heal, or it will become infected followed by an ear transplant.  My wife says it doesn't  look so bad and nobody will notice.  She Lies.   If I added an eye patch and a parrot, a pirate I could become.  

Because of my hearing aids and my hearing loss, I wear headsets at night watching TV.  My family hears so much better than I.  But now, with the ear gash - headsets can be uncomfy.  My drama never ends.  I did have one dog that volunteered to clean my ear for me.  They are so helpful in times of need.  NO!  Quit licking me!

I have a photo of the ear.  You may say "Thank You" for not posting.  I am so considerate.


Thursday, October 28, 2021

My wife has been shot (well....)

 No violence here.

I'm talking Moderna Covid vaccination.  What did you think? I mean - c'mon -

The wife and I had two shots last Feb / March in Corsicana.  It was an interesting experience which the Navarro County health dept. had set up with the lacal fire departments and other medical-type folks.  I believe they should get 5 stars for this effort.  Navarro County did a good job; no, they did a fantastic job.

Six to eight months later, we begin hearing that we need a 3rd booster.  

After a great deal of fretting - we can fret with the best of them - taking the initiative last week, I stopped at a Walmart Pharmacy in Temple.   We waited in line for 15 minutes.  I asked the lady quite politely about the Moderna shot for old people.  It was like I was trying to get away with something illegal.  Her look would have melted glass.

She handed me a printed paper and explained that I had to have one of these conditions to qualify for the 3rd shot.   I felt ushered off / or out of the line.   The list surely didn't include old people or even  diabetic folks.  We left and visited another section of the store wagging our printed paper behind us.

Now, only a week later.  Things changed.  That very day of our Walmart trip, the government changed the rules.  I felt so used.

-------   jump ahead   --------

Today, my daughter Christine took the wife to town to get a haircut.  I luckily was able to stay home and do nothing.  Well, I read the paper, did a Suduko, and talked to the dogs.  The dogs need a talking to.

My family dropped by the Walmart in Belton = I suppose you could say "Lo and Behold" the rules have changed.  Both of them received their 3rd shot -  the spouse because of age (we're not really old, we're just drawn that way) and the dot because she is a health care worker.  

How Nice.  How Very Nice.  Tomorrow, maybe, I can drive into town all alone and get mine without their moral support.  What if I cry when I see the needle?   What if I faint?   Nobody there to caress my soul.   Can I handle it?

(Truth in advertising statement:  because my wife may read this blog entry I need to clarify.  When I go to town, my wife will travel with me.  I will not have to go alone.  I think it is because she likes to see me in pain - sorta revenge thing.)

Goodnight all,  Keep those needles sharp.


Monday, October 25, 2021

I watched a movie

 Last night - when else

I watched a movie that I had recorded.

DirecTV had boogered up my bill while back - and to make me happy (I didn't even notice their error - not even to this day have I figured out what they did wrong) to make me happy they gave me 2 free months of Showtime.

Years back, we gave up the premium channels because we didn't like the content.  Most of them are "R" rated or worse.  Even the PG13 have words and actions that bore us - we could care less if some guy knows the alphabetical order of all profanity words and is able to recite same - in order - while screaming at some other poor sap in fresh produce aisle of a corner grocery store.  Haven't seen that show?  Just you wait.  It's coming.

For 2 months I scoured Showtime for something to watch.  I picked up one or two.  If they were not "R," they were baby "G" movies that only a 5 year old would understand.   I recorded a movie called:


I picked it because it said something about opera singers.  Yes, it still had the obligatory 2 words in order to get a PG-13 rating.  The story was slow.  It took a long time to hit the climax.  The wait was worth it, because throughout the entire movie - there was music - good music - sung and performed by real musicians.  You didn't have the Hollywood actor pretending to play a clarinet.  The guy actually played the clarinet.  And, he knew what he was doing.  Excellent music.  Some fun scenes.  

There were a lot of scenes where someone stood and looked into the distance with the prevailing light beating down in a complimentary sort of way.  Pensive - that is a good word.  Thinking about the past or the future.

To reduce the plot to a simpleton movie - like in the old Andy Rooney movies, they were putting on a show to save their Musician Retirement Home.  Plus the story line revolved around a retired opera soprano who was reuniting with her ex-husband.  These were all retired, really old people with all the retired, really old people problems.  Some made me a bit uneasy.  But, what a GOLDEN cast.   I loved the players.  And what a show they produced at the end.

The ending was predictable and excellent - the music was great.  Since I have to wear earphones when I watch TV with my family (I am going deaf gradually ya know), I heard every note and nuance.   It was marvelous.

But, the part that got to me was at the very very very end.  Not the acting or the singing or the instrumental playing - no, it was the credits at the end.  

You remember the Band of Brothers series.  At the end of each episode, they showed the actor and, then, a photo of the warrior he was playing including a very short bio of the actual soldier.

This movie did similar.  The difference was that each actor was playing himself.  They showed the character and a photo of them when young and at least one of their accomplishments.   The clarinet player use to be the Principal clarinet with the London Symphony.  There was an accomplished symphonic conductor - and a lady who was the practice piano player for many productions - and the trumpet player use to play in Frank Sinatra's band - and the lady who played Yum-Yum in the London theater production.

The Credits were the quite emotional for me.   Old people, really old people, still creating music as if they loved it.  As they recited more than once:  getting old is not easy.

Luv ya,


Friday, October 22, 2021

Butter Me Palms

 Here it is Oct. 22nd.  Last post was in June?  Me thinks I am irregular.  But on with the show.

Today I made butter.  Real butter.

Background:  Last spring, we made a trip to Ruidoso.  That is such a nice place.  In one of the many tourist trap stores downtown, I saw these little butter churns  Cute.  I want one.  Ruidoso was selling them for near 3 million dollars.  I figured i could find them online cheaper.  And, I did.  Nut not yet.

A few months later, we move into this new house (new to us).  I still have the fever for a butter churn.  I looked on Amazon, selected the one that looked the best, put it in my cart, and did nothing.   One day I bit the bullet and placed the order.  One week passed and my butter churn arrived.  That is when I found out my daughter had gotten me one for my up-coming birthday.  Sigh.

Yesterday, same daughter bought a quart of whipping cream.  She had previously acquired some cheese cloth from Walmart.  We were ready.  I dug out the butter churn and reread the instructions.  Oops forgot.

They say to set the cream out for at least 2 hours in order to get to room temp.  I was ready to churcn - Couldn't.    Cream was poured into the churn to wait.   Meanwhile, Christine was here and leaving at         4 pm.  .I wanted her to share.  We waited.  She knitted.  I fretted about.

25 min before she was to leave, I started to churn.  The instructions say to turn for 10 to 15 minutes.  I had faith. It was blind faith.  Make that blind.   Instructions were called up on the phone.  

15 minutes of churning produced cream - the same cream I started with.   Perhaps the cream had not warmed up enough?   On the shelf. it went.   An hour passed - I did another 20 minutes   Churn Churn Churn Turn Turn Turn.  Nothing.   Had a thought.  Poured out half of the cream into a large bowl.  More Churn Churn Churn Turn Turn Turn.   Nothing.  I noticed the churn liquid was thicker than the bowl of liquid.  I must be making progress.


Paused.  Dug in the kitchen for a hand held mixer.   Dumped the churn into another bowl and started the mixer.  Less than 5 minutes and I was getting a thick substance.  It must be butter.

In one person's instructions, you put the butter into a piece of cheese cloth.   Extra liquid is poured off into a glass (this liquid is buttermilk - really) .leaving the butter behind.  Good theory.   They said to squeeze all liquid from the cheesecloth.  Really.  In the video, it worked.  In my practice, the butter squeezed right through the cheese cloth all over my hands.  I now have buttered palms, so to speak. 

Another video - put water in the butter bowl - mix the butter with your hands to get all of the buttermilk out of the butter.  Water in - squeeze butter - pour off water - repeat.   I must be doing something wrong. After much squeezing and butter up to my elbows - I gave up.  With much effort, all available extra liquid was poured off.   Remaining butter plopped into a container.  Extra butter between my fingers is scraped into the containers.

Anyone tells you this is a breeze to do - they lie.  Butter is in refrig waiting for tomorrow morning's toast.  We wait.


and yes, I will try it again.  The hand held mixer worked the best.  But I will try the butter churn again.  The mixer will stay in reserve.  I think I will wait until my grandgirls come  to visit.  Watching them with butter up to their elbows - that could be fun.