Travel, Old Guys and Bling Boots

This was a busy week in the world of old people fun and games. On Wednesday I went to a Red Hat Society tea where we packed sixty bags of Halloween candy for our adopted nursing home residents. And once that was done they started planning a trip to Chicago for a weekend of Christmas shopping. They’re driving to Michigan City, Indiana, then taking a train into the city. I say “they” because I’m not interested in going. 1) Driving to and being in Chicago in the winter sounds more like punishment than pleasure---especially considering all the gutsy, no-fear drivers are older than I am; 2) I’m not a shopper, not to mention I have no one to buy a present for except the dog and he gets to pick out his own gift at the pet store where he also gets his picture taken with Santa. Don’t judge me. It’s a fund-raising tradition for the Humane Society; and 3) Levi the Mighty Schnauzer would have to spend four nights in a kennel and that would be costly on top of the other expenses. If I need any more excuses for not going to Chicago it’s the fact that I’d probably buy something I don’t need at a time when ‘downsizing’ is my current mantra for living a goal driven life. 

The next day I went to a travelogue about Italy, the ancestral home of my dad’s family. The travel escort company that sponsors these travelogues has grown quite a bit since last year when I started going to them and I understand why. They put together interesting programs. The speaker was a guy who had worked as a singer on a cruise ship for four years, traveling all over the world. What a great job for a single person. He worked nights and had his days free. In ports, he could take any of the side trips offered to the cruise ship passengers and if he wanted, he could earn extra money on the shore tours just by holding up a paddle that identified their group. He’d been to Italy four times and had some interesting experiences to share. “Where ever you go in the world,” he advised, “walk a few blocks away from ‘tourist row’ to explore and eat. You’ll get a whole different experience.” As I sat enjoying the slide show presentation I decided I will probably never go abroad but I sure love learning about foreign places and travel venues.

Friday I had an appointment at the hearing center for a yearly checkup. They usually just replace the tubes but this time they sent my aids back to the factory to check for battery drain. Too often I’ll put a new battery in and within five minutes it will be as dead as the bird the dog hauled into the house yesterday. I’ve gone through so many batteries, they gave me a box of forty for free and a battery tester. How cool is that! In the future I can play audiologist with my tester and determine if I got a bad batch of batteries or the aids need to go back to the factory. I have a full schedule of places to go next week while the aids are gone so I expect to spend a lot of time miss-hearing similar words. “You’re going to buy a beach tie?” “No, I’m going to buy a peach pie.”

Coming home from the hearing center, I stopped for lunch at the Guy-Land Cafeteria. The place never fails to entertain me and this stop was no different. I watched an elderly guy shuffle in, speaking to everyone he passed. When he got to me he said, “How are you today?” “Fine,” I replied, “and you?” “I’ll be a lot better when I get rid of this damn catheter.” Thankfully I didn’t have a mouth full of coffee because I would have sprayed it across the table. Too much information, guy! With his comment his shuffle---that I originally thought was due to arthritis---took on a whole new visual and try as I might I couldn't get it out of my head. This is the kind of place where you go through a line to order your food, get your beverages and pay. When your food is ready they call out a number. For some odd reason on this day instead of going up to the counter to pick up their food when numbers were called, some people in the place were yelling out, “Bingo.” Apparently, if you have a catheter, walker or vintage AARP card you can get food delivered to your table. But I was confused there for a while, thinking I’d wandered into a nursing home by mistake.

To round out my week of old people fun and games I had an appointment at the shoe store. It’s a specialty store for people with foot issues which I’ve had all my life. I needed a pair of snow boots. My old ones are close to a decade old. Naturally, the most expensive pair of boots in the place felt the best and are the ones I ordered. $240! Makes me wish I’d kept one of Don’s handguns to protect myself from boot robbers this coming winter. I did compromise and order black instead of my first choice of purple. I loved those purple boots and if I win the lotto I’m going back after them. The salesman called them ‘bling’ boots. Oh, yes, I would sell my soul for bling boots if I thought I could wear them out before I die. Big sigh here. When you can only afford one pair of boots, you need a neutral color. At least, I do. If I wore purple boots to a funeral or likewise solemn occasion I’d hear my dead husband’s voice inside my head and Don would not be happy. ©