The Passing of Time and Melancholy Moods

Can you believe it’s September already? I can’t and I’ve got two old people, atomic clocks in the house that shout the date out. The clocks don’t literally shout but the numbers on the clocks are two inches tall and black and you can’t miss them against their silvery white background. The only time I don’t love my atomic clocks is when we have to move the time back an hour in the fall. That has to be done manually where in the spring they can spring forward on their own with a little help from the timekeepers at the National Institute of Standards and Technology in Boulder, Colorado. There are some 400 places around the world that keep official standards of time for different geographical areas so don’t go thinking the USA is ‘special’ because we can synchronize time in so many wall clocks, computers, cars, phones, watches, electrical grids, GPS systems and other devices where being precise matters. Gone are the days when men would walk down to the town square each day and set their pocket watches to the town’s tower clock.

And from the who really cares department did you know that time zones were invented by the railroads? From History.com “The need for continental time zones stemmed directly from the problems of moving passengers and freight over the thousands of miles of rail line that covered North America by the 1880s. Since human beings had first begun keeping track of time, they set their clocks to the local movement of the sun. Even as late as the 1880s, most towns in the U.S. had their own local time, generally based on 'high noon,' or the time when the sun was at its highest point in the sky. As railroads began to shrink the travel time between cities from days or months to mere hours, however, these local times became a scheduling nightmare. Railroad timetables in major cities listed dozens of different arrival and departure times for the same train, each linked to a different local time zone.” Also from the who really cares department, I didn’t just learn this from a trip to Googleland. My husband had some antique railroad schedules that peaked his curiosity and he dug up the history of time zones in an age before computers were a household ‘thing.’

I was thinking about the passing of time while in the car coming back from having my hearing aid get cleaned. For the second time. Since it was new in April. This time the audiologist showed me how to clean it myself and I dutifully paid attention all the while thinking she’s full of beans, that ear wax no one can see is not the issue, and eventually the aid will need to go back to the factory. But I played the game and promised to brush the living daylights out of the little money grabbing devices morning and night and to put them in the jar of drying agent overnight. The hearing aids that these new aids replaced lived through seven years without cleaning or jars of moisture sucking beads, one even almost became chewing gum for our dog and they never once quit working in all that time. When I bemoaned this fact to the audiologist she said that people's ears change as they age. I'd been patronized.

It sure takes a lot of time to be old, doesn’t it. Besides that routine added to my daily schedule I now have acquired my first pair of compression socks and you’ll never guess what they’re for so I’ll tell you. Remember the cancerous mole I have removed on my ankle back in June? It’s still not healed up and the dermatologist ordered bamboo compression stockings to increase circulation down there. And have I mentioned that I don’t like yogurt but I’m sitting here eating some ‘Brown Cow’ stuff (that isn’t so bad) because it’s got five kinds of live, active cultures in it? Apparently you need to replace the good bacteria in you digestive system after having diarrhea several days in a row. Why, oh why, can’t I go back to being forty again! I’ve even take fifty to start over again.

On the ride home Kenny Chesney was singing Knowing You and I thought I’d start crying. I know it wasn’t a song about missing your younger self but that’s the way I internalized the words. In the intro to his video he says, “Not everything is meant to last but you don’t think about that when it’s perfect.” Yup, good-bye to my life before ointments and compression socks and popping pills at breakfast. I miss you and I’m sorry I took you for granted. ©

 “God, we were so alive
I was a kid on a carnival ride
Holdin' my breath 'til the moment
When you were gonna leave me too soon
But I'd do it all over
'Cause damn, it was good knowin' you”

 

Cool Cottages and Fancy-Ass Fashion Shows

"cottage"

Decisions! Decisions! I sat outside the senior hall trying to decide if I wanted to go back home and get my hearing aids or not. I had the time before the lecture began if I wanted to give up my prime parking space, one that allows for a quick escape after lectures are over and a 115 cars are funneling out of a single exit. Defensive parking, I call it. The senior hall is a great place to get your car dinged, bumped, backed into and scratched. While I was sitting there I had a brilliant idea. Why on earth don’t I just keep my hearing aids in the car? I never wear when I’m alone in the house and I always remember them when I’m in a parking lot waiting for an event to start or an appointment time…I’m a habitual early bird.

I opted not to go home because the deck crew was there finishing up and I didn’t want the dog to think he was getting an early release from his bedroom prison. He stays there all night long by choice but add a baby gate to the doorway and he gets his nose out of joint. He’s used to having the run of the house when I go away but with people working on my wrap-around deck, the dog barking to protect his domain would drive them crazy and their noise would drive him crazy. The deck, by the way, turned out great although it took them forever. Partly because people over 60 don’t work fast and partly because they only worked two to three hours at a time and I was getting truly sick of seeing them around. They not only stained the wood but also replaced the lattice work and had to dig down almost a foot through a tangle of roots to get at the bottom runner. The depth of that runner keeps small animals from burling under but it doesn’t stop them from chewing their way in and out from underneath my deck. Nearly twenty years of chewing really did an evil number on the lattice. 

The lecture was titled, “The Historic Cottages of Mackinac Island.” People outside of the Great Lakes area may not know much about Mackinac Island---a popular summertime tourist place that draws a million visitors between May and November---but those who do know, know that the word ‘cottage’ is a misnomer. These places are more like mansions that line the eight miles of bluffs overlooking the waters of Lake Huron in between lower and upper Michigan. Gables, wrap-around porches, widow’s walks, bay windows, turrets and towers. The lecturer was speaking my favorite language. The few places that are currently up for sale are listed between three and five point five million. Yes, for a place you can only use in the summers. Only one house on the whole island is occupied year-around and if that isn’t quaint enough for you there are no motorized vehicles allowed on the island. Getting around is by foot, bicycle, horseback or horse drawn vehicles but on Sundays people often take their yachts to church. Which begs the question, what happens to the horses in the winter? The internet had the answer. The majority of the 400 draft horses are taken to the Upper Peninsula by boat for the winter, a process that takes two weeks to move them all. Those left behind are used for sleigh rides for Christmas parties for those who venture over to the island across the frozen water on snowmobiles.

The lecture wasn’t the only fun thing I did this past week. I also went to an event called Sip and Shop sponsored by the CCC where I will be moving. It was a fashion show in an upscale store that was all marble, glass and chrome. I don’t know if champagne and yummy appetizers are served at all fashion shows because fashion and shopping are not my thing but I wanted to go because the other invited guests are my future neighbors, and I’m jumping into these get-to-know-each-other games full throttle. My wardrobe is so outdated it’s practically back in the last century so I decided to buy a new top to wear. I found one I liked but after getting it home I was bummed out that what I thought was a small black and white pattern was really navy blue and white. The only thing I have in my closet that is navy blue is a pair of underpants and underwear don’t have to coordinate with blouses in my world unless maybe I’m going to a doctor’s office. I looked at the calendar, breathed a sigh of relief that I could still wear white. So I paired the stupid blouse made for younger people with better eye sight with white pants and black sandals and called it good enough. 

I had a great time, laughed a lot and was the source of a lot of laughter because I couldn’t keep my sense of humor under wraps. If you care about the fashion trends coming here’s what you need to know to be in with the in crowd: Fake fur paired with tweets and animal prints are going to be everywhere. Dark floral prints are also going to be hot as well as blazers. And ankle length dresses and more fitted waist lines are coming to get us again. Someone did ask about the white-after-Labor-Day rule and, yes you can wear it. But you have to pair the white with heavier weight stuff like sweaters, scarfs or boots and put your scandals and airy fabrics away.

I really like the management team for the CCC. I'm trying my best to just be me around these people and my future neighbors, not the filtered Jean I usually show the world. So far, so good. One of the ladies from higher up in management than the two I usually deal with came over afterward and introduced herself and said, "I won't forget you." Why, you ask? Because I was in a wise-cracking mood and called out stuff like, "Now she looks like she just had sex" when they were demonstrating how a hair product "puffs up" limp hair. The model was quick-witted and replied, "You've been talking to my husband haven't you!" which had everyone laughing. Like I said I had a good time and I needed that. ©

Hearing Tests, the Senate, Doormen and a Sexy Guy – Oh, my!

Thursday I was off to the hearing center for my annual appointment with the audiologist. It’s been five years since my last, full audio test in the sound proof room and she wanted to do another. Okay, fine by me. My hearing hadn’t gone down a lot in that time which was good news so she cleaned out my aids, put new and bigger tips on the tubes so they’ll quit popping out when I turn my head a certain way and she programmed them up a notch. She also sold me a year’s worth of batteries for twenty bucks---roughly twenty-five cents each. (How can they do that?) Once in a while she’ll send me to another room so the doctor can clean the wax out of my ears, but that didn’t happen Thursday. But I do wish I could have taken the dog with me and have his ears cleaned. Levi’s ears have been bothering him and the eucalyptus based product I bought at the pet store leaves him smelling like a vaporizer is running around in the room. It works, though. A couple of treatments and the wax build-up was gone and now I have an eight ounce, eight dollar bottle to use up before it expires on Election Day, 2020. Should I try it on myself?

Speaking of elections, be forewarned this paragraph will be a political rant so skip it if you only want fluffy reading. Okay, here I go: This past year Trump with Mitch McConnell’s help in the Senate gave millionaires and billionaires massive tax breaks which has driven the deficit up 18%, setting new records. It’s projected with our 2019 budget we’ll be spending $4,407 trillion and only taking in $3,422. So what did Mitch have to say about that this morning? He says it’s time to make cuts in Medicare, Social Security and Medicaid. There is something grossly obscene about a senator worth 22.5 million dollars voting himself a giant tax cut then wanting to balance the federal budget on the backs of elderly women who have to go to food banks to make ends, the mentally ill who live on the streets and all of us slightly better off retirees who worry about our money lasting until we die. What Mitch fails to acknowledge is that Social Security is basically self-funded and the growing costs in Medicare and Medicaid is mostly due to the Baby Boomers coming into the programs. The sheer number of Boomers has always driven the marketplace. If the Senate doesn’t turn blue, and Mitch remains in control, he’s declared the changes he'll be pushing through. Believe him! The primaries are coming. VOTE!

Resuming my milk toast post: After leaving the building where the audiologist is located I got to wondering once again why they have a doorman for a building with only twelve office suites in the whole place. In my entire life it’s the only building in town I’ve ever been to with a doorman. The building is in an upscale neighborhood with no foot traffic, no panhandlers to wander in…maybe a little wildlife would if they had motion sensing doors, but the only automated part requires a person to push a button if you’re using a wheelchair and the doorman is off peeing in the bushes or what else a doorman would be doing if not on duty. 

Back to my end of town I had to go to Pac Mail to buy a box for an awkward thing I want to sell on e-Bay and when I got to the door I saw a 40-ish woman about twenty-five feet away carrying a large box to ship. So I waited for her and held the door open. She thanked me and walked right up the counter to be first in line. If the tables were reversed I would have told the person who held the door for me to go ahead. If not for me playing doorman for her I would have been to the counter and told the clerk what I wanted while she was still struggling to get into the place. It irritated me that I got irritated on a beautiful, sunny day over a breach of what I consider to be proper etiquette. I should have body-slammed her out of the way and said, "Age before beauty."

Next on my list of stops was lunch at the Guy Land Cafeteria with some people watching for dessert and I hit the jackpot. I got to listen to a young, sexy guy with a Sam Elliot voice banner with a Jennifer Lopez look alike sitting in another booth. Before he was done he learned where she worked---she had two jobs---and what shifts she worked, the neighborhood she lived in, that she and her last boyfriend parted on friendly terms. One question and answer after another. When he got up to leave he walked over to the girl, grabbed her hand and shook it. What kind of guy does that? A guy who then says, “I’ll be seeing you again.” That low, sexy voice would have left me in a puddle panting. She seemed to vaccinated again its power but she didn’t act like he was saying that in a stalker kind of way either. Still, I couldn’t help wondering if she realized how much personal information she’d just given to a total stranger. I’ve gotta quit watching You, the psychological thriller series on Lifetime. He could have been Joe stalking Beck. So I memorized their faces just in case her “Missing!” posters start popping up on power line poles... ©