Retirement is a new reality

So here we go folks. . . first official post of retirement life. Now understand, I think this would be much better with facial expressions and emotion but I'll do my best. It's a somewhat long one, so enjoy.

I somehow thought I'd immediately sleep in. No work, no hurry, no worries. Nope. Up by 5:30am most days, auto coffee that DD makes the night before, on by 6:00am so I pretend to sleep in. He's already been gone for about an hour in the recliner downstairs. His shoulders are so bad with arthritis from years as a motor cop, his arms and hands go numb during the night and the chair, on his back, seems to help. (This, by the way, has it's own description of life which will follow).

My feet are jacked up from broken bones, stress fractures and probably just getting old. I get out of bed (I do not Hop) and stand. Just stand. Every bone in both feet start crackling. Then stretching. Then the very unattractive waddle, until my feet understand they belong to me, to the bathroom. The bathroom that I already made a trip to in the middle of the night, didn't flush, and now am befriending again. I then make the bed and head downstairs.

I am greeted every single morning of my life with the lilting silly voice he puts on "Good morning beautiful!". I always respond with "Good morning handsome", trot over to the chair, kiss him on the mouth and head to the coffee pot. I always ask if he wants a cup and 99% of the time it's a no. But I ask, just in case, for the 1% of yes. I decorate it with a spoon of Splenda and sugar free vanilla creamer and then this is where retirement really begins.

Every single day of my life since he retired 1 1/2 years ago he is in that damn chair watching Andy Griffith, Mayberry RFD. Every Day. E V E R Y D A Y. We've been through all the seasons including when stoooopid Helen Crump (in his words a complete bitch) joined and it went to color. He is ALWAYS in his jersey underwear, a pillow under his arms and a blankie over his body as the family room is ARCTIC cold with the slider open. I have now been over dramatic with throwing the fleece lined blanket over me, sipped on hot coffee and he says (everyday) "I love the chill on my face" (his only exposed part of his body by the way). I laugh every day. I love it every day. He is a freaking clown every day.

Then starts the body functions. ( I will backtrack in a moment here) Evidently leather chairs are prime condition for the very necessary action of expelling body gas via the rear entrance to the gluteus maximus. However.... when you say Cha Cha Cha after every fart with a toe pointed, your face turned over your shoulder at me, and both arms askew, well. . . you'd be appallingly amused as well. I have seriously laughed at this fu**ing motion now for 6 years. (there was a dating honeymoon period).

Our first cruise together, he was showering and I was blow drying my hair watching the in cruise game show. The question was "what is the most disgusting thing about your spouse"? I said, that's easy. Rut Ro, it was on. He wanted to know how that was so easy. I responded with, you never say excuse me or I'm sorry for burping or farting. I have had an apology for both since then. So let's explain DD's daily constitution. It starts with his simple movement of going and sitting on the toilet, with the door open explaining that his is "sitting like a bitch". He is doing that until things change and the door closes, that means it went to stage "2". Then he flushes, opens the door, looks lovingly over his shoulder and proclaims "good bye old friend! You spent the night with me". This by the way beats his proclamations of "There's a snake in my boot!"

Now, let's get to retirement. I'm at my every single week Wednesday breakfast breakfast with my girlfriends of over 20 years and we get into body functions. We meet at Coco's in Ontario at he Ontario Mills. We sit in the same booth with the same amazing server Chiloe and we debrief. We rope in innocent bystanders. We take over the eating area. We don't care. We have things to say.

This morning was the unexpected first forage into body functions. I'm not sure how it started. I know coffee had hit bottom and I went to the bathroom and it was impressive. So I come back to the table and said something about our conversation last week about farting in public. (Referencing years ago when Judy and I were in Big Bear antiquing and she told me NOT to go over "there". I thought it was something not worth seeing, but in fact, she had farted so badly the entire room stunk) Then Carole jumps in with her exercising on a small personal trampoline. Except she farts every time she jumps. That segways into her 10 year older sister miniature golfing, bending over and farting and explaining that that's what happens when you get older. Then I go into my exe-s Grandmother just walking along farting because she heard of a man that died holding them in. Then that leads to me fessing up to my #2 has decided to run up the back of me creating skid marks. Completely embarrassing but true. Now Ellie is admitting to her husband donning the same daily uniform as DD (who by the way when I read him this so far was completely incensed that I did not call them boxer briefs) and is also watching Andy every day.

So we are officially spitting laughing. Chiloe wants in on the action. We've disrupted the restaurant and Judy left early on and has no idea all this went on. Shit. Literally shit. Ok, we are crying laughing. Can't believe we've turned into "those folks" but love each other. Hug. Kiss. See you next week. Good grief.

Where has the time gone?

It's just about exactly a year since I last posted and I'm not sure why I stopped. Got busy, found some new friends, work climate exaggerating, bought a house.

I bought a great 3 bedroom house in after looking for months since the sale of my home in 2013.  DD kept asking me why I was looking and honestly, after living in a trailer, it's great living with him but nothing is mine.  There is something about knowing you have the right to buy new towels, change the feel of a room or strip the awful wallpaper that has lost it's relevance.

The bigger reason was if something ever happened to "us", I wanted to be independent and not feel like a 50+ loser without real estate to show for years of smart investing and living.  On the outside chance we would get married, the house we live in is still his, and should be, but I would feel better about claiming some square footage as my own.  I've started with the downstairs bedroom by converting it to a craft/sewing room.  I have big plans for that room.  It's going to be my hideaway and store a lot of the things stuck in storage that I can't get to.  It's pretty piece mealed together right now with odd storage containers and the likes but that will change.  I'll purge and combine and organize.

I finally decided to get rid of Linda's Honda.  It just wasn't me.  I sold it back to Carmax (what a bunch of idiots!)  They finally wrote off the over charge of interest they were trying to swindle me out of because I pressed on why they had two different payoff amounts and I saw one I wasn't supposed to charging me 90 days pmts beyond what the payoff date was.  Someone should class action sue them!  I'd been hanging onto some money with the thought I'd need it for the new house and I don't so I did something crazy.  I test drove several cars and decided to go BIG RED!  Bought a CLA 250 Mercedes which has now had the letter rearranged to say 50 CAL and is the bomb!  Classy, sharp and clean.  DD bought me the sports package, wazoo headlights and I think the sales tax.  All in for $5k.  We actually got into an argument about the whole thing.  Bottom line is he never knows what to buy me and wanted to treat me to the sensible decision I was making to not get everything I wanted but didn't need.  I now know I truly needed them.

Now I'm in the ridiculous position of owning 3 completely different cars.  The 1958 Rolls Royce Silver Cloud 1 that I bought deserves its own story, some other time.  Now a Benz and I have my total midlife crisis convertible Lady Bug VW.  That damn car has about $6k in it now for various repairs and I still let it bleed me of my hard earned money.  It took us on an 8 state, 10 day roadtrip from Highland to Mr. Rushmore then home via Yellowstone, Jackson, Salt Lake and Vegas. Amazing trip and the photos are incredible.

Well, wrapped up the sale of Linda's home, netted her kids a nice check and I got reimbursed for about 2 1/2 years of a daily reminder that she is gone and it still doesn't seem real.  I had an amazing dream about her (and I really do believe in visits from the beyond) in which she was in a cement quad for what was supposed to be our county seat courthouse.  I was there to see DD but I saw her, in a long beige cashmere coat with a belt.  She put her finger to her mouth to quiet me when I did a double take and called her name.

I went to her and asked - is it really you?  She nodded and said yes.  I asked but how, why?  She explained she wasn't supposed to but really wanted to see me and I hugged her and we both started jumping up and down, giggling, so excited.  She was much younger, thinner, smiling.  Then in a serious tone I asked her, how is it, are you really there?  She said "you can't believe it. Its amazing and I'm so happy".  We started jumping again then she explained that she might change her outward appearance and face,  Why?  I'm not supposed to be here and no one can recognize me, she then turned into a different woman and smiled at me to let me know it was still her.  Then she turned into a crazy homeless man in a sleeping bag acting all crazy.  She whispered to me, Ooooh, this is fun!.  Then quick as she appeared, she looked around and told me it was time to leave.  I told her I loved her and she grabbed my shoulders and very seriously looked me in the eyes and said "you didn't have to stay as long as you did, it would have all been ok".  I know she meant how long Maree and I were at her house, dealing with moving, storing, tossing, financials etc.  I became relieved and felt the guilt go away I'd been holding onto.  I woke up smiling.  I haven't dreamed of her since.

GOD, Country, Self

I am incredibly patriotic.  I cannot, and I mean CANNOT sing the National Anthem without crying.  Not tears, full on crying.

I don't know what makes someone decide to serve our country.  Patriotism, a future free education, an escape, the need for discipline, a stop gap or lack of no direction and a paid future.

Did you know you might actually serve, be deployed, fire your gun and die?  I have seen every movie (except Deer Hunter and Full Metal Jacket) and it is all the same at the end.  A mission, something challenging the mission and then the end.  

When I was married to Roc, we went to see Schindler's List.  He was generally skeptical, critical and "here we go again" type observer.  So when the movie got to the part of the red coat in the pile of an all black and white film, and he understood who had died, he walked out.  I thought he'd gone to the bathroom, but no, he was sitting in the car crying and contemplating.  I had no idea, but yet, I could't get it out of my mind.

Let's talk about  "Saving Private Ryan".  My father in real life, was Tom Hanks, right down to the job description.  Crazy.  I believe, every single high school student should be required to watch both of those movies.  

We are in the most desirable country in the world.  Yes we make mistakes.  Yes we are over priced and have and elevated opinion of our products.  We are free.  California is crazier than New York.  Idaho is amazing.  Mt. Rushmore with the flag lowering ceremony every night is a must.  Tears again, patriotism again.  National anthem, fuget about it.

Why are people so angry with our government?  Why do they say voting doesn't count?  Why do the "Mexican's" escape to our country to try and make it "look" like where they just escaped from?  Stop it.  Be proud.  Serve.  Take pride.  Appreciate what freedom has to offer and realize who made it happen.

African Americans, I'm truly sorry what our idiot forefathers did to you.  It's done, over and everyone and his brother has apologized for it.  We are in the now.  The 200 years in the future. I've seen the TV specials.  I've heard the speeches and I truly believe Martin Luther King Jr. was a modern saint.  Embrace it.  Quit reminding us.  Move on.

Back to the military.  You defend enemies abroad and in our own country.  You are judged, called names and expected to die.  I don't know what is deep within you.  Love of country, or no one would notice and care if you die.  I care.  I don't know you personally and it doesn't matter.  What I know is that I'm here, voting, wearing ridiculous clothing, paying taxes, saying what I wish without prosecution and making my own money because of you.  Thank you Abraham Lincoln for the first and most important battle. Thank you Franklin D. Roosevelt.  Thank you Ronald Reagan, thank you to all those represented in the Tomb of the Unknown soldier.

Quit blaming those before you. Accept the present.  Be accountable to the future.  Respect those that fight and defend.  Praise God.  Be respectful. Live.

A general thank you so some of my special peeps

Not like I need to say it, but in life - and who knows what that is all about anyway and why we are here? - we make a lot of choices. In the end, all hoping these decisions make us and/or someone else happy. I've lost a child, lost a marriage, made crazy financial decisions, been the oldest sister, a mom, aunt, friend and co-worker. I bought a classic car, bought and sold a house on my own, never graduated college, tried stand-up comedy, sewed my kids clothes, painted portraits, survived horrible health issues and at the end of it all, not a single family member, friend or loved one doubted or deserted me. I will continue to be the same to each of you, that you have been to me. I wish each and every one of you the ability to see the bigger picture and that's it's ok to draw a line in the dirt. Don't lower your standards or expectations. Alexis Carter, Maree Mitchell, Judy Threadgill-Jones, Gina Caldarone Arcaro, Jetta Wessel - to the grave with some of these things which all get grander with a glass of wine, more years in between and the hope that the generations that follow us will think we are grand. Talk loud, dance big, travel far, love, laugh and eat good food. By GOD, we've earned it.

Sammy the Great

This morning started like any other. DD making and bringing me coffee in bed and feeding the dogs. Sammy, my dog and Alexis Carter and Devin Caldarone's dog since Devin was in 2nd grade, he's 26 now, was her usual 18 year old self. We make her steamed white rice and ALPO everyday because it hurts to eat. She sphinxes in front of the kids doors protecting them even though she's deaf. The stories about this great family dog!!! When I lived at Red Hill next to the country club - she'd run thru the golf course stealing breakfast burritos off the carts of golfers. She'd swim in the pool while old men played chess. She was a helper to the guy that hosed off the carts and would keep him company. She fought off a pack of coyotes and protected our cat Dexter, who was her best friend. We tried to breed her (1/2 lab & 1/2 sharpei) for years. Then when she is 7 and I'd just bought the Red Hill house, that tramp went and got pregnant. To top it off, the first puppy of 6 was in trouble causing an emergency C-section and me ordering everything else removed. She had 5 living pups, Zeus who still lives with Roc. Tricks, trips, memories and love. Everyone who met her had their faith in owning an animal restored to "I want one just like her".

She let out a painful moan this morning after eating. Laid down on her bed and passed away. I was there, she wasn't alone and DD came right back to help me. Sad yes. She was loved, had the life of a Goddess and for pete's sake was about 126 years old in our time!!! Sammy - go find Dexter and a pool to swim in. I won't own another dog, you were it!

Mundane and rote - just a quick thought

So I'm sitting here at work, filling in for the receptionist who's on vacation.  I don't have my computer but rather hers so I don't have access to all my programs which is probably a good thing.  It keeps me focused on the mundane task at hand which is to manually input the first and last name, email address and phone number for everyone that filled out this entry form at our information booth during the race.  It seems a pretty archaic way to do things.  They all fill it out in hope of winning whatever it is we are offering and if they only knew their handwriting is so important.

They can't all be doctors right?  Goodness gracious - what happened to beautiful penmanship?  It's awful. So that aside, there are hundreds and hundreds of them and my eyes are blurry and some of the email addresses are just plain ridiculous.  I get it, but why do so many guys end the main name with "69".  *sigh*

My mind keeps wandering to my upcoming doctor visit on Wednesday and then what I'm guessing ultimately will be the angiogram with possible coiling of the aneurysm.  I just keep wondering, if I don't wake up and the worst happens, should I do something now to make sure everyone knows how I feel about them.

It sounds awful and somewhat martyrish to think they'd even want to read something from me.  Like some grand gesture.  I know everyone that is important knows exactly how I feel for them.  Maybe just a sample of my handwriting so I don't vanish.  I think of Linda who went in, 3 days later intubated to die 2 weeks later and never know I was there.  Never talk to me or me to her other than subconsciously.

I told DD that if things go south, he's under no obligation to handle things or if disabled in some manner, feed me oatmeal and hover or feel obligated to visit.  Alexis knows what to do and everyone else needs to butt out.  I will not be less than what I am now.  He of course said he could not possibly find another red head like me, he just got me and I better stick around.  It literally sickens me to think of how DD would feel if all my things went away.  How empty the house would look and feel.  My numerous projects in the works. They all get done and the space replaced with another fabulous idea.

I'm for the very first time in all the surgeries I've had, I am very, very, very scared.  I want to wake up and be with DD forever.  I want to go to sleep and wake up next to him every day.  I want to see my son get married, become a successful actor.  I want to see grandchildren.  I want I want I want.   I tease my co-workers all the time and for years now, I can't die yet, they haven't carved the marble statue of me out front.  Who would repair the ripped and torn flags that fly out front?  They'd miss my radio playing country music all day. Many of them are scared too.  Somehow cancer seems operable where a brain aneurysm diagnosis seems a bit more daunting and less favorable.

I will need to be convinced that this is the way to go.  I get that if I don't it could bust and then all bets are off and usually results in 80% death rate.  The other 20% are usually disabled.  Wonderful.  I need to relax, retire and be done with stress.  I need to keep my blood pressure under control so this damn aneurysm doesn't grow or come back in a different spot.  I'm overwhelmed and a bit tired of trying to be cavalier.  Crying won't solve anything and either will worrying.  But, if I get knocked out and it all goes bad, I never got my heroic goodbye words or kiss.  I just want to be really old and die in my sleep.

All that bouncing around while I go back to inputting the damn entry blanks.  Where's awesome water when you need it.

Running Children and generally bad manners

I do not know what has happened to polite society and the issue of children run amuck.  It seems everywhere we go, children are running.  From table to table in a public restaurant, in the mall, thru the airport, around cars. . . you get the point.

This takes me back probably a good 20 years or so as Maree and I were in Puente Hills Mall, City of Industry, CA - at Carl's Jr.  Just some stupid quick meal, however, we were looking for dinner.  Not Romper Room.  The booth 2 away had two moms it it seemed as if 20 children but there were only two of them.  Around 4 and 6 years old.  My kids were 7 and 4 so I had a pretty good comparison to their behavior.

These kids were jumping from booth to booth, running amongst the chairs and standing/jumping in their seats.  I was becoming more and more agitated and Maree could see it in my face.  She is starting to look at me with that "please don't" look when I lost it.

Excuse me (to the obvious mother) . . . are those your kids?  Now mind you, I have a huge smile on my face and look genuinely as if they are God's gift to humanity.  Yes, they are - with an equally huge smile of pride on her face.  So, I let go.  "Well (not sure what I called her so I'll make it up) Ms. Mom out of Control. . . not sure whether you know this or not but your children are an embarrassment and it's all because of you. Seriously, this is a public restaurant whether or not the implied "fast food" prefaces the name.  This is not your garage or backyard.  For some of us, it's actually a night out. How about some control and little consideration that we are NOT enjoying your hooligan children wreaking havoc on our seats, feet and atmosphere!"  Maree struggled between shock and respect.  I frankly didn't give a shit.  My kids would never be allowed to behave in such a manner.  Society has gone done hill from there.

So DD and I do on the rare occasion hold society in judgement. Me more than him.  He'll make VERY loud side comments where the folks will hear.  I'm a little more direct.  Either way, we are those folks holding you and your offspring accountable.

I had pulled into Ontario Mills parking lot - Ontario, California, on my lunch hour and was talking to my son on the cell phone while parked.  Out of the corner of my eye, I see out my window, the car next to me roll down the passenger window and toss a fast food bag out the window and onto the parking lot.  Are you kidding me?  Without thinking I tell Devin to hold on, open my door and yell at the man - Hey, pick up your trash!  This is why we pay more and have crappy parking lots.  Walk the 15 fee and find a trash can!

He looked shocked,  Opened the door, picked up the bag and apologized.  He then walked the bag over to a trash can.  I nodded and got back in the car.  Only then did I tell Devin what I'd done as he has heard it all via a far away cell phone still active.  The man was a young African American man.  Gang style clothing (pants below his rear, chains, tattoos, doo-rag hat and an attitude) and it never occurred to me to be afraid.  Indignation had taken control.  I was holding someone accountable for society.

Another time in Ontario Mills, the kids were VERY young, my ex and I were shopping with the kids.  Some mom in the middle of everything, took off her husbands belt, and starting literally beating her 3 or 4 year old kid in the middle of the mall.  What could he have possibly done to deserve that?  I turned on my heel and yelled - "That is why the circle of abuse will continue!!  Stop it.  What in the hell do you think you are doing???  He's so young!!!"  At that point my ex was hustling off my children and was VERy angry with me later.  I didn't care.  Why are we not stopping the bad we see?

There has been a resurgence of social heroism since 9/11.  Certainly not on the same level as child rearing but draw the line where you wish.  Not everything is acceptable.  There are good manners, bad manners, socially acceptable behavior and things that appall us.  Stand up and don't let what your good parents taught you about what is acceptable.  Please.

As for the children that terrorized our visit to Moran, WY and thought that running to the buffet for 5-6 cookies, and jumping that damn step between floors was necessary - I'll blame it on your British upbringing. You had better calm your children down NOW.  You seriously are not doing them any favors by letting them "be kids".  They are poor mannered and need to be reigned in.  Whew - I'm exhausted after that one!