Hot under the collar, and it has nothing to do with you-know-who

Today around noon, I developed a bad cough that wouldn’t go away.  I’m really not a cougher.  Around 2pm, my friend (and fomer coworker from the 90s, Susie) called to tell me she had just returned home after being in the hospital for 7 days following gall bladder surgery.

I couldn’t hide my coughing, she asked if I had a fever.  I said I’d check, and I didn’t.  I wished Susie well and decided to lay down for an hour.  Couldn’t stop coughing, darn it.

I was going to have a stuffed pita for my Early Bird dinner, but opted for a scrambled egg instead.  I began shivering very hard and checked the indoor/outdoor temperature.  It was 71F inside, and 65F outside.  Positively balmy out there.  I take my OWN temperature (above), 101.3.

I’m now aching from head to toe.  My long covid head WANTS to explode, but doesn’t understand this good old American cold or flu. 

At least, I hope that is what this is.  I do have a covid test in my cupboard, if I’m not feeling better in the morning, maybe I’ll take it.  Thanks for letting me share, I’m in misery right now sitting up to type this, so I will probably be out of commission for the time being.  Take care everyone.

If only real life were more like the movies… just venting, don’t mind me

Remember that final scene in the 1956 movie “The Bad Seed” starring this little angel, Patty McCormack?  After her mother realized her darling daughter was a pint-sized psychopath, she tried to snuff out the kid’s life and her own with a handful of sleeping pills.  But she failed, and while she languished in the hospital, little Rhoda was sent home.  And one stormy night after everyone was asleep, she put on her raincoat and snuck out of the house. 

Rhoda was headed back to the lake where she drowned her schoolmate Claude at the start of the picture.  She wanted to retrieve his penmanship medal, presumably in the shallow end of the water.

Well, you know how girls are about jewelry… just kidding!  This kid’s a Bad Seed.

Call it what you will—karma, God, Mother Nature, the 1950s Hollywood Morals Code—but a lightning bolt comes ripping down from the sky and blasts this monster to smithereens.  Good riddance!

That isn’t how things ended in the book, but in 1950s Hollywood, evil was not permitted to win in the end.  Good must prevail.

And now, in 2025… if only real life were just a movie.

In this terrifying sequel, a pathological liar convicted of 34 felonies convinces a slim majority of US voters to put him back into the White House.

Better to have a “technically white” dictator than a black woman president in charge. Didn’t the Dems know what they were dealing with?  Sadly, no.

True to form, 10 days after taking office this walking cancer rescinds the former president’s drug pricing reforms for Medicare & Medicaid patients—and insulin prices go from $6 to $80.00 again.  Wait, he’s just gettng started.

With the help of a car & rocket billionaire with delusions of infinite power, the two begin dismantling democracy as we know it.  His followers, in denial of the fact that their leader is determined to make life more difficult for them, cheer him on!

There’s one hopeful scene where the Democratic governor of Pennsylvania takes this crud administration to court for cutting off $2.1 billion dollars in Federal funding to his state, and WINS IT ALL BACK. 

(That really did happen, you know.  Just a couple days ago in my state.  Thank you Governor Shapiro.)

As this shitshow continues, the Democrats (and much of the world) watch in disbelief as a president of a war-ravaged nation is invited to the White House, only to be beaten down even further.  The glorious leader’s second-in-command even chastises the man for daring to appear before them without the appropriate attire! 

“Wait, did Musk really do that?”  No—it was Trump’s OTHER Nazi saluting evil animatron, the new Vice President.  After 6 weeks in storage, someone finally activated him. 

Well, if this were a movie, karma or God or Mother Nature or Hollywood would be stepping in about now and taking care of things.   

But it’s not, this is real life.  All I can do is feebly protest and dream about big-ass lightning bolts.      

The End

In need of a sweet treat: pineapple butter cake squares to the rescue

I went shopping yesterday, planned to buy some Archway raspberry cookies to have with my evening coffee, and plain forgot. 

Around 7pm, I’d been done with dinner a couple hours and wanted a treat.  Well, I have flour butter & sugar, and this small can of crushed pineapple…

(Every so often I buy ham salad from my local deli.  I’ll add a couple tablespoons of crushed pineapple to it, really ups it’s game.) 

Pineapple Buttercake Squares

• 3/4 cup flour
• 1 cup sugar
• 1/4 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 2 eggs
• small can Dole crushed pineapple with juice drained
• 2 teaspoons powdered sugar

1.  Put 1 stick softened butter, 1 cup sugar & 2 eggs in large mixing bowl.     

2.  Use a hand mixer and cream them up good.  (The Rival hand mixer my grandma gave me in 1984 died last year, this Hamilton Beach mixer is brand new with some pretty big beaters and other attachments like a whisk)

3.  Sift the flour, salt & baking soda together.  Add them to the mixing bowl and use that mixer again.

4.  Drain the juice from this small can of crushed pineapple into a glass to drink later, and plop the pineapple into your bowl. 

DON’T use the mixer; blend the pineapple into your batter with a spoon.     

5.  Preheat the oven to 350F and spread the pineapple batter into a greased square 8x8 or 9x9 pan.  (Mine is 9x9.)  Bake for 30 minutes.

6.  Nice & golden brown.  Let it cool for 10-15 minutes before cutting into nine squares. 

7.  Sprinkle powdered sugar on top.  Forget the coffee, this calls for cold milk!These are very dense & very moist; I’d recommend using a fork.  And don’t worry about them being too sweet, they’re more buttery than anything.  The powdered sugar on top made them just right.

I don’t want to be Two-Faced, but you leave me no choice

Since last Friday (Valentines Day), the left side of my face has been in rough shape.  My eye stings pretty constant, and it feels EXACTLY like I was sleeping on my right side under a 1940s sun lamp.  The one side of my face feels like it’s gotten a bad sunburn.

It’s my long-covid, doing it’s damndest to stay in the picture.  I’m not really here to talk about that though.  It just ties into what’s been on my mind this week.

I am very much struggling with things outside my little apartment.  Namely, the Trump-Musk Administration’s doings.  I hesitate joining the chorus of protests, it raises my already high blood pressure and aggravates this covid-related  inflammation.

But more than anything else, I don’t want to alienate the people I know who (for reasons beyond my understanding) are his supporters.

My younger brother.  My oldest aunt, who I love very much.  A favorite blogger.  Someone dear who comments regularly on my own blog.  My neighbor (on the floor below me) who pats my hand when she sees me.  She has the tiniest, softest hands I’ve ever seen.

One of them said to me that he and another friend (who was not a Trumper) chose to “agree to disagree”.   It certainly sounds like the mature thing to do, but I’m finding that to be a problem more & more everyday.

Yesterday I was reading the recent “Hard to take" on my blog-friend Debby’s blog, and one of her commenters wrote that she awakens every day hoping to see Trump’s obituary.  But she didn’t say it in a mean or threatening way; she sounded frightened, defeated.  Something about it just really connected with me.

I visited this commenter’s own blog—it’s a warm, honest place with fresh baked bread and hand-knitted winter caps.  But it also included a rant, and as her blog does include a share button, I think I’d just feel better if I shared that rant below.

This is from Jennifer, of The Sparrow Tree Journal

Rant

Three months ago, on Election Day, I swore I wasn't going to let the second Trump term cause me the daily anxiety and stress that the first did.

Yeah. That's not working out. At all.

I've never been so frightened in my life over politics and the direction of our country. Every day it's just more and more horror. The rule of law, precedents, norms, civilized behavior..............none of it means jack shit anymore.

I find myself resenting Trump voters even more than I used to, and that's saying a lot. I'll have zero, ZERO, sympathy when the lowlife losers and racists who voted us into this mess lose their Social Security, disability payments, workplace protections, FEMA disaster relief, Medicaid, and on and on and on. Fuck every single one of them. We tried and tried to tell people what a disaster this was going to be, and "owning the libs" meant more to them than anything good and worthwhile that America has stood for for the past 250 years. They can all go to hell and rot.

The only thing I regret is that the decent people in this country are going to suffer right along with them. Over the weekend I actually found myself googling "safest blue states for women and minorities" and making a plan for selling the house and moving before things get too bad and we're trapped here. States that border Canada are my first choice.

I can't even believe I just wrote such a thing here on the blog. Never in a million years did I think things would come to this.  I love my house, my state, my life, but I won't sit around while our version of the Taliban comes into power and live under the control of such people. We have literal (neo) NAZIS running the show. NAZIS. And a way-too-large portion of our population are ALL FOR IT. It's sickening. Scary. Almost unbearable.

How are you coping? Do you think I'm crazy? Alarmist? If not, are you making plans? I'm afraid this is all going to get much, much worse before it gets better. If you have any words of comfort that might make me think otherwise or feel better, please share them.

And thanks for letting me get this off my chest. As you can probably tell, it's been a bad day.

Thank you Jennifer.  I very much appreciate your honesty.

 

Hello! Some shameless product placement on my blog & a thank you, that’s all :-)

I recently discovered this product on Amazon and couldn’t be more pleased.  It’s HELLO oral rinse (or as us old-timers like to call it, mouthwash), an all-natural, alcohol free concoction of aloe vera & coconut oil that is very soothing on inflamed gums and oral tissue like my own.  It’s around $5 a bottle.

For years I used a similar product, “The Natural Dentist” a couple times daily.  I lost over half my upper teeth 30 years ago, and now my uppers are actually 3 “partial U” bridges. A lot of food gets trapped up there that brushing & flossing can’t reach, and a long time ago my dentist recommended Natural Dentist because it was so slippery. 

It really did work wonders.

Then around 3-4 months ago, I noticed it was becoming harder to find.  (If you see it out there, priced $7-8.00, don’t think—buy it.)  I learned the company has recently gone out of business, and the vultures on Ebay were selling it.  FOR $45-75.00 A BOTTLE.

I just hope HELLO Mouth Rinse doesn’t go down the same drain anytime soon.   

Speaking of good finds, do you remember last month when I lamented paying $5.99 for a medium-sized bag of Ruffles Potato Chips?  Bobi (a regular reader of my blog) commented that I should look for Utz Potato Chips if they’re available in my area, they’re just as tasty and cheaper.

I DID JUST THAT AND COULDN’T BE HAPPIER.  This Family-sized bag of Utz “Ripples” is marked $4.79 but a sign above the Utz Chips in my store says $1.99 EVERYDAY. 

Not only are the Utz tastier, these “ripples” are much, much crisper (and don’t hurt my gums like the thicker-cut Ruffles).  I am now an Utz-Man for life.  Thank you Bobi!Here’s another real bargain—I was on Amazon a couple nights ago and it said “Add 0.81 to your cart to qualify for FREE shipping.”  (I am not an Amazon Prime member.)

So I did a quick lookaround for something for a dollar, and came across this V05 Extra Volume Shampoo, priced at $1.01.  Not only did I get my free shipping, this dollar item showed up in TWO days.  I’m still waiting for the rest of my order. 

A buck for this bonus-size bottle of shampoo!  And yes I have used it, and I love it.

I was formerly a Suave man, now I am a V05 man for life.  Well, Utz man first, V05 man second.Finally, as long as I’m here I thought I’d show you what I’ve got hidden away under my bathroom sink; my last bottle of Natural Dentist.  I’d love to crack that seal, but I might be better off selling it on Ebay with the other shysters.

Good food, good people… but not feeling too Rico Suave at Rico’s Restaurant

Yesterday, I went with friends from the Senior Center to Rico’s Restaurant on Babcock Boulevard north of the city; it took so many twists & turns to get there, it amazes me they manage to stay in business.  

I’m very glad we went for lunch and not dinner—I was a little embarrassed how I dressed.  I should’ve worn real pants and a tucked in shirt, you’ll see what I mean in a minute.

The lunch menu was very limited, which I didn’t mind but was surprised it contained no sandwiches or pasta dishes.  (All it showed was pork chops & seafood.)  But the food was piping hot and delicious, and the wait-staff were excellent.  There were 16 of us, and they made each of us feel like VIPs.

When I heard Colleen was going, I asked if she’d take a picture with me; she’s one of the ladies who manage the center, and I love her.  She just returned from a ski trip in Montana, and next month is going to Italy!You didn’t think I’d post a lunch outing without a photo of Evvie, did you?  Here she is, looking cute as a button.  She is quite literally a ray of sunshine in my life.I didn’t get a pic of my boy Dennis (the one who drinks & chain smokes) but here’s Deb showing interest in Dennis’ explanation of a deconstructed Bloody Mary. “Do you really get all those vegetables in one glass, Dennis?  Great!”Remember Pearl?  This was our first lunch together in well over a year.  (I got long covid in 2024, she got shingles.)  I’ve only seen her once in 14 months, and we even live in the same apt building—on the same floor.Here’s Deb’s entree, a salmon dish with sauce, capers & shrimp, and broccoli on the side.And here was my entree—broiled scrod with buttered crumbs, garlic & lemon, with a creamy dill sauce and fried potatoes.  It was cooked to perfection.I’d like to say this: don’t rely on Yelp reviews to decide where you want to go.  The night before our outing, I read several that talked about how expensive it was to eat at Rico’s. Maybe they were referring to dinner, but my meal included a salad, basket of rolls, two beverages & entree and it only came to $22.63.

In fact, every ticket at our table was less than $23.00 each.  I think people are paying close to that for McDonald’s!

Some sad sleuthing of a blogger friend

There’s no delicate way to put this, but I believe Arkansas Patti of The New Sixty is no longer with us.

I’m sure many of her followers have suspected this for awhile now, but I’ve never been 100% certain.  However, I’ve been doing some sleuthing on the internet and found some sad truths.

For followers of her blog, her last post was Jan 17, 2023 where she was undergoing testing for chronic myeloid leukemia and was informed it was quite treatable.

She told us she wouldn’t be blogging for awhile, but would keep up with her blog-friends as best she can.

She didn’t post again, or leave feedback on others blogs (which I enjoyed reading greatly) but she did continue to publish the comments people wrote on her final post.

These were the final two comments she published, from myself and Kay of Musings.

I did attempt to leave one more comment a couple months into 2024, but it never made it to Patti’s blog.

Arkansas Patti shared a lot, but was pretty private about her personal identity.  We exchanged emails a few times, and her email address said PattiKelly, so I decided to look for recent obituaries for Patricia Kelly in Arkansas, aged 80+ and after January 10, 2024.

I found this.  Patricia Kelly, died January 31, 2024.

I’m not familiar with Timbo, AR--but according to Google Maps, it’s in the north central area of the state where Patti said she resided.  Also, the Roller-Crouch Funeral Home is located in Mountain View, AR.

Every time Patti visited my blog, I’d get a ping on my visitor’s map from Mountain View, AR. 

The last visit to my blog from Mountain View AR was on January 16, 2024.  That was a couple weeks before the death of Patricia Kelly above.  I’m guessing they are one and the same.

So if anyone knows more than me, could you let us know?  I considered Patti a real friend, as I’m sure many of you did as well.  She would sometimes ask me if I was still using Windows 7 (yes) and did I plan to upgrade soon (no) because she wasn’t either.  I can’t remember how I found her blog, or if she found mine first, but I enjoyed her wise commentary so much on mine and others blogs, I followed her around the blogverse like a puppy.  

She was truly the definition of kindness, and I still visit her blog every so often, just in case.  Thanks for letting me share and rest in peace Arkansas Patti.

UPDATE:  Bobi, thank you for confirming her birthdate as well.

Red-faced, and not in a good way. Is it ever in a good way?

Last night I was watching an old episode of Scrubs on Peacock, and having a good laugh (I loved that show back in the day) but I couldn’t stop yawning.  It was only a little after 8pm, what’s going on?

That’s always the first sign, but I never seem to remember that.

I finally gave in, and around 9pm I took my BP (blood pressure) pill and got ready for bed.  As I’m laying there reading, my nostrils suddenly filled with the distinct smell of burnt hair and medicine.

Now I know what’s coming.  It will be here between 4-5am.

I jump out of bed, grab my water bottle from the fridge, place it on the floor beside my bed.  In the early morning hours, I’m going to awaken with a lot of head inflammation and a bone-dry mouth.

As I sit here typing this at 7:31 in the morning, my temples ache and my face burns like a bad sunburn, as does the top of my hands and back of my neck.  The irony is, I had a Facetime appointment with my neurologist’s office yesterday, and told them I usually have mini “long covid relapses” almost daily, but every so often I get hit with one overnight that lasts a week or more.

Dr. Yeeuogi said “Your blood contains spike proteins.  We see these spikes in patients with cancer or with chronic, long-term inflammation.  We know yours is the result of long covid, and this can persist for years.”  

I suddenly felt like I did the night Trump won the election, utterly defeated.  At the same time, it’s not as bad as it was this time a year ago.  Last February I was at the senior center, only a few people had shown up for lunch because of a big cold snap, and I was enjoying a second serving of stuffed chicken breast & orzo.  Still, I told the ladies who work there, something was really wrong with me and I wouldn’t be back for awhile.

Things have improved a lot since then, but they could also be so much better.

I’m not sharing this relapse looking for attention or sympathy, I’ve had enough of both.  I’m only sharing because if I don’t, people I know asssume I’ve made a full recovery and are confused why I’m not jumping back into things. 

When I get good days, I get out there.  When I have bad days, I get depressed, fed up.  It used to help me to talk about it, it doesn’t anymore.  Now I just want to sit here and bake and wait for it to be over again.  

The ER doctor at Mercy Hospital told me last March that long covid is a series of relapses and can last a couple of years.  At that time, I was only in my third month.  Now it’s month #14, but I’m more confident this will end.  Thanks for listening, looks like I’m done!

 

He doesn’t look crazy or like a mean old man—not yet, anyway

October 31 1971; my 10th birthday

Yesterday afternoon around 3pm, I thought I’d lay down for a quick 20 minute power nap.  No sooner had I fallen asleep, my tablet made a unique bing-bong-bing sound.  That meant someone had dropped off a package for me downstairs. 

I wonder if it’s my new salt and pepper shakers from Amazon?  That’s about as much excitement as I wanted on this cold, foggy, rainy Friday.

I jumped off my bed, debated changing my pants (I was wearing baggy pajama bottoms) for something more civilized, decided to skip it.  I stuck my feet in my flip-flops and on my way out the door, grabbed and put on my winter coat in case the driver left my parcel outside.

I took the back stairwell that goes down to the package room off the lobby, picked up my box from Amazon, walked through the lobby to the elevator and hit the up button.  (You cannot walk up 5 flights of metal steps in flip-flops, believe me I’ve tried.)  After a couple minutes, the elevator doors open and 2 boys are in there.

I don’t know their names, but recognize both.  The first is black, 10 years old.  The second is Hispanic, 9 years old.  They live with Janice in the big apartment down the hall from me.  She’s a foster mom to them and a 3 year old girl.

I said “Are you getting off?” and they just stood there looking at me.  I shrugged my shoulders and stepped in, and as the doors closed I groaned.  Every button on the elevator panel was lit.  I guess these characters had nothing better to do and were on a little joy ride.

We stopped on each floor and when we finally got to ours, the doors opened and I said go ahead, and they just stood there.  I said “The elevator isn’t a toy, boys” and stepped out.  As the doors closed behind me, the younger one said “That man looked crazy!” and the older one said “He’s mad cause he’s old.”

That honest-to-God surprised me.  Were they talking about me?  I came into my apartment and looked at myself in the mirror.  The pajama bottoms and winter coat weren’t a great ensemble, and my hair sticking up on the back of my head from laying down didn’t help, but mad?  Crazy??  Okay, maybe a little. 

I was also surprised how much that younger boy looked like me in that photo at the top, haircut included.  I wanted to find him and show him this picture and say “This is me from 1971.  You’re probably going to look just like I do now someday, and that’s if you’re lucky.  And I’m not crazy!”   But doing that wouldn’t help my case any, I’m sure. 

Anyway… aren’t these salt and pepper shakers nice?  They were $9.99 (for the brushed steel, they cost more for enamel finishes) and came in a very nice box with foam inserts if you’re looking for an inexpensive gift.  Here’s the link.  Oh and I like how they have ridged glass bottoms.  Can I get any more boring?  Thanks for reading.

And now for something different: here’s the UK in black & white face

The United States & United Kingdom have always had a sort of “best mates” thing, don’t you think?  We love the Beatles, the Royal Family, British telly (especially that British Bake Off) and of course those English accents. 

The UK loves our big-budget Hollywood movies, our early rock n’ roll, and Bridget Jones had a thing for Frasier.  Anyway, we sort of keep tabs on one another, know what the other is up to.  At least, I always thought so.

So imagine my surprise the other night when I was on Youtube and came across this.  “It’s the Black & White Minstrel Show!”  The what?

A very popular program (aka programme) that aired on the BBC from 1957-1978, it featured music, dancing, very attractive women, and lots of men in blackface.

This variety show seemed to celebrate early American music.  But didn’t minstrel shows pretty much end in America after the Civil War?  Didn’t anyone tell England?

The Black & White Minstrel Show received a lot of criticism for it’s racial stereotyping, but did so well in the ratings the BBC told their naysayers to sod off (aka get lost) and kept it on the air.  For 21 years!

Youtube comments to these Minstrel show videos are polarizing—older Brits praise the shows for their quality and entertainment, younger Brits slam them.  I’ve watched a couple and while I admire the pretty legs and choreography, the blackfaces are really, REALLY out there.

You don’t have to watch the entire video below, just take a gander at the opening act.  Two minutes should do.  It sort of reminds me of The Lawrence Welk Show, that aired here in America at the same time for the same number of years. 

The only blackface on Lawrence Welk was Arthur Duncan, but his was real of course.  I hope my friends across the pond don’t mind me sharing :-)

 

Our third week in, and I’ve already broken two—no, three resolutions

I got up this morning, looked at the temperature on my phone (-12 in Pittsburgh, for you celsius people that’s minus 24.4) then started my coffee and dug out my weight scales from behind my bathroom vanity.

Okay, it says –8 but I swear this morning it was –12!

My weight is 235.0 – that’s an 8 pound gain since the last time I got on my scales back on Nov 20.  Doggone it.  This is what happens when you stop checking your weight every day.  It’s not as bad as it was one year ago when I weighed 272, but I made a resolution to continue downward in 2025 and have gotten off track.  

Man, the thought of gaining all that weight back terrifies me.

Speaking of terrified, after I put my scales away and got a cup of coffee, I decided to break another resolution and turn on the news; I honestly just wanted to hear how people were dealing locally with these subzero temps.  Instead I got a big earful of national news.

The first thing Trump did after moving back into the White House was go after the Affordable Care Act, stripping away the recent additions made by Biden while in office.  Well, that’s no surprise.  Trump then went after the Federal agencies promoting racial & sexual equality in the government workplace, mustn’t have that.  And now 22 states are threatening lawsuits as Trump tries to dismantle the 14th amendment in the Constitution, granting citizenship to anyone born on American soil. 

Yes, yes I know what he’s doing there but at the same time, this would have pretty far reaching implications.  Oh and then they showed Elon Musk giving Trump a Nazi salute.  That’s no surprise either.

Now I’m breaking a third resolution by getting on my blog and writing about him, I promised myself I wouldn’t spend a single day of the next 4 years putting my despair on display, blogging about this monster.  And yet, here I am.  Wishing very much I was somewhere else.  Like Finland.

Yes, yes I know—no one’s stopping me, there’s the door.

I just wanted to say I’m probably going to continue posting upbeat, dorky things on here because like it or not, it’s who I am.  Also, I want to focus my energies on a happier existence while I can.  Y’know, I spent the last YEAR in pain and isolation fighting this long covid and while I’m not fully out of the woods yet, I’m seeing better days. 

But I also want it known that deep down I hope & wait for Trump to drop over; as for the people who support the man, we’ll never see eye to eye and hopefully never come face to face. 

Oh and thanks for the calendar, Congressman Deluzio.  Boy have you got an uphill battle.

When it’s 5-10 below zero in Pittsburgh, you go (fried) fishing with friends

When I awoke Wednesday morning, I looked out my bedroom window and saw a snow-squall.  I turned on the local news and heard “The snow will continue off & on until noon, but it’s only 8 degrees out there—with the wind chill it feels more like 5 to 10 below zero.  All city schools are on a 2 hour delay.”

Oh no… I was scheduled to go on my first senior outing since last May, to the North Park Lounge in McCandless Township.  That is, if I could make the 3/4 mile walk to the Lutheran Senior Center first.

So I bundled up good and headed out, with a couple shop-stops along the way to warm my face and defrost my glasses. 

I was almost sorry I made the trip when I was told 23 people were scheduled to go, and all but 10 cancelled. 

Fortunately, the ones who DID make it were some of my favorite people at the center.  As for the Lounge, we never saw the place—it was so busy we were herded into their enclosed patio.  Here’s some pics of my friends and our good eats.

Mary needs a couple minutes to look at the menu.. Mary you look lovely today and I am really digging those glasses!Is this picture perfect or what?  They don’t come any better than Evvie and I dearly love her.

Dennis is looking a little out of sorts, waiting for his first double shot Bloody Mary.  He didn’t blink an eye when I asked him for an invite to his apartment above the bakery, he just said of course and rattled off his phone number.  He owns a lot of police memorabilia, and has lived at the same address for 40 years!“Debbie, thanks for saving me a seat at the cool kids table.  Can I share your photo on my blog?  I want to show you to my online friends.  Thanks Deb!”Rose is 92 years old and God bless her, going strong as ever.  Here she is with her customary draft of beer, filled with ice.  That’s her year-round lunch drink.Mary’s food arrived first, a mushroom & swiss burger.  Those hand-cut fries were sizzling hot and seasoned perfectly.And finally…  a one pound fried fish sandwich with fries & coleslaw.  (I requested those onions.)  These come in two sizes, Large & G-I-A-N-T.  I ordered the giant to take half home for dinner, as did Deb & Dennis.  It was excellent. 

We all laughed and carried on (Mary was cracking me up good, demanding to know why Evvie gets all the attention) and I was doing pretty well aside from a little tumble I took on the Access shuttle on the trip home.  (A dizzy spell from I-don’t-know-where.)

But I’m very glad I got to go, I missed everybody—and as cold as it was, the very next day we got a real blizzard!

I wasn’t looking for anything, but wasn’t expecting this either, if that even makes any sense :-)

What is this?  Three conversations that went in directions I didn’t expect, which gives me something to blog about I suppose.  Of course I’m shaking my head in disbelief at the fires in California and Frump’s latest shenanigans, but meanwhile, here at least, life goes on.

A couple weeks ago I was talking to my sister, and remarked as soon as I had this long covid under control (still having relapses) I needed to go to the dentist—specifically, a dental surgeon and get molar implants.  

I am missing all my molars in my lower left quadrant—the last one (a stump) broke off and my dentist said could not be built up or support a partial denture.  I was told a dental implant bridge will cost $15,000 and that is not including the bone graft surgery I’ll require beforehand.

My sister said “Well, my coworker needs $50,000 worth of dental work.”  Did that make mine not as bad compared to his?  I guess so, but I’m still anxious and afraid to get this started.  I wrestle with TMJ a lot, and people have shared some scary stories about their implants on Reddit.

Last week I got a letter from Steiner Realty (my landlord).  They were apologetic, said the cost of everything is out of control and they hope I remain a tenant--but effective April 1, my rent will be $880.00 per month.  That’s a $40.00 increase.

I’m used to my rent going up $20.00 a month every year, but this is double that!

When I told my friend Diana, she said “That’s nothing.  My son and his wife pay twice that for their place!”  She’s right, twice mine is a lot!  But they live in beautiful Salt Lake City Utah and have jobs and I don’t.  My rent is still high where I live and I worry this $40 increase will be the new norm come next year.

This past Friday I went to the store for some milk & eggs, saw they had Spicy Pineapple Ham on special—that is good stuff.  I could just picture it on some King’s Hawaiian rolls.  After I got both and was checking out, it occurred to me some Ruffles Cheddar & Sour Cream potato chips would go perfectly with these spicy ham sliders.  I don’t know why I even thought of chips, it’s probably been 2 years since I last bought a bag. 

I asked the cashier if I could run back and get some, she said sure.  I run over, grab a bag, Carol rings them up—$5.99.  What!  It’s not even a big bag, and they cost $5.99?  Did I just crawl out from under some rock?

Before we moved to the farmhouse in 1970 and still lived in town, my mom often sent me up the street to Howard’s Market for items like milk, lunchmeat, cigarettes. 

If we were having a cookout, Mom would tell me to grab a bag of DiMarco Potato Chips, produced in nearby Uniontown Pa. 

They were 49 cents for a large bag. Yes yes I know—that was over 50 years ago but still.

Back in the present, I said to Carol—“When did potato chips become a luxury item?  $5.99 for a bag of chips, how can people afford to eat these?”   

Carol said “Consider yourself lucky you’re not buying cigarettes.  Mine cost $13 for one pack.”

I said “Yes that’s awful, but you don’t NEED to smoke.  I DO need to eat, there’s a difference.” 

Carol snapped “You don’t NEED to eat chips.  Go grab a can of beans!”  I laughed and said okay, I’ll shut up.  I said I was sure she’s heard plenty already about the steep price of these chips. 

She said “I hear it every day about meat and cereal and other things, but not about potato chips!”  OKAY CAROL.

I wanted to crawl back under that rock I must’ve recently crawled out from.  By the way, the ham sliders were delicious but those Ruffles potato chips really hurt my gums.