Aw fudge, once again I’m on the inside looking out—I’m sure it’ll end soon

I’m a little bummed.  Yesterday (Wednesday) I was supposed to head to the Lutheran Center for a pot roast lunch and 50’s root beer float, but spent the night before with a lot of body aches & fever.  When I finally got up, my head was congested and throat hurt to swallow. 

C’mon, I just got over the flu a little over a week ago!

I’m guessing it’s a lousy cold, with really awful timing.  Colds always remind me of that one episode of The Mary Tyler Moore Show where Mary gets sick and mumbles to herself “Colds are 3 days coming, 3 days with you, 3 days going…” 

I sure hope this one doesn’t last 9 days.

Still, I consider myself lucky.  The day before this cold hit (Tuesday) I did make it to the center (my first time there since our trip to the aviary last week) and got to see some of my favorite people—Geri, Colleen, Mary, Paul & Evvie.  

Lunch was chicken stuffed with broccoli & cheese, orzo, green beans, chopped fruit.  There was also some wonderful slivers of blackberry pie.  I have to admit, I was pretty surprised when they announced a second grade class from a nearby elementary school would be paying us a visit.  Shortly after, the place pretty much exploded with children but I say that in a good way.  These kids were all 7-8 years old and you couldn’t ask for a sweeter, more fun bunch.

One little girl came over to my table and plopped down in the seat beside me.  She wore such a serious expression that my first instinct was to try and make her smile, but decided against it and just talked to her like I would anyone else. 

I asked her name, did she have any brothers or sisters, own any pets.  She told me her name was Ophelia, she had 3 sisters and 1 brother, and a cat.  I said “Your brother has 4 sisters?  Is he your slave?”  She did smile but said no, because he was 2 years older.  Makes sense to me!

Here’s our lunch—stuffed chicken, orzo, green beans and blackberry pie.  The kids made us laminated placemats with messages of caring.

Something just occurred to me—back in 1968, before we moved to the farmhouse and still lived in town, my cub scout troop made Christmas “snowball” ornaments to hand out to the old folks at the local nursing home.  And now here I am… I’m not ready.

Well, I don’t have a lot else to share here—just wanted to check in and keep the old blog fresh, like the milk in my fridge.  And speaking of fresh milk, I believe I’ve found what I was looking for, for now at least.

If you recall, I recently wrote about the 2% milk from the store going bad in just a couple days, so I needed to find an alternative.  I tried oat milk, but it was too thick for me with a chalky aftertaste.

A couple other bloggers suggested Fairlife Ultra Pasteurized Milk which also comes in 2 percent; when I went to buy it, I noticed my market had a generic version for a much lower price.  Like the Fairlife, it also has a month-long expiration date and was only a dollar more than regular milk!   So I got a carton and it has stayed fresh and delicious for over a week now.  I am blown away, ultra-pasteurized is the way to go.

I still want to try the coconut milk, and the Fairlife—but for now I have something I can enjoy.  I’ll never go back to regular milk again.   And on that happy note, some juice and a hot bath are calling.  Thanks for reading. 

 

“It’s for the birds” applies here in more ways than one

On Wednesday a few of us from the Lutheran Center took a little road-trip to visit the National Aviary.  The day started out pretty chilly (around 40F) but 5 seconds after this photo was taken, I was in a rainforest setting and wishing I’d brought my loincloth.

I was kind of bummed that none of my peeps (Evvie, Mary, Debbie, Geraldine, Dennis) elected to go; Dennis yelled “It’s not an eating trip, Doug!  I like eating trips!” 

Well Dennis, I will have you know that I enjoyed the best grilled chicken & bacon wrap of my life at the Aviary’s Kookaburra Cafe—so there!

Weirdly, my phone—my NEW phone stopped taking pictures in color towards the end and my chicken wrap only came out in black & white!  I was really bummed about this, you know how I am about my foodie pics.

Here’s a few boring pictures of my visit there.   I really think the aviary is someplace you have to visit in person to appreciate fully—some of these birds really astonished me with their personalities.

These 2 GIANT tropical birds kept shouting “Hello boy!” & “Hello down there!” 

I honestly believe this peacock believed it was directing human traffic

I liked this one passageway with dozens of paper mache birds hanging from the ceiling

One of two toucans here, a woman kept trying to get this one to say something.  I said “I don’t think toucans can speak” and she said “What about Toucan Sam?”  Um…. that’s the cartoon mascot for Fruit Loops.

Speaking of dodos, I really liked this oversized oil painting of a dodo bird

These 2 bald eagles were beautiful, but I felt uncomfortable seeing them in this cage.  (The staff assured me they’re happy here.)

This pink flamingo is much prettier in person—right around the corner, there was 20 more, standing at attention

I think the penguins were my favorite exhibit—they would wait until all eyes were on them, then go crazy with splashing water at us

And finally, my delicious grilled chicken & bacon wrap with tomatoes & purple onions—my camera suddenly stopped taking color photos and I still don’t know why.  (I fixed it on the ride home by doing a phone restart.)  The End!

Sometimes I’m good with change, sometimes not so much

Have you switched to a smartwatch yet?  Or do you wear a regular watch and wonder if you’re the only one who still does.  Up until 3 days ago, that was me—all I owned was a couple of Timex watches.   But more & more I felt like the odd man out.

(I would say I felt like the old man out, but I’ve seen these gadgets on just as many seniors wrists as I have younger ones.)

I began checking out these gizmos on Amazon, and thankfully don’t own an iphone so I didn’t feel compelled to buy a $749 Apple Watch.  COME ON, THAT’S A LOT OF MONEY.  The one I selected pairs with my Android phone, has 12 different clock faces, records my steps, takes my temperature, monitors my sleep, heart rate & blood pressure. 

A link to the watch on Amazon is RIGHT HERE.

There’s 50 other functions it supposedly does, but I haven’t gotten around to figuring all that out yet.  I doubt I ever will. 

I really like it.  I haven’t started wearing it full-time yet like you’re supposed to, but it’s very comfortable on my wrist and shares it’s readings with an app on my phone called “Da Fit”. 

Amazingly, it only cost $24.95.  I hope those $750 Apple Watches can dance circles around this one!

The other day I was at the market, bought a quart of 2% milk and in 2 days the milk had gone sour.  I was FED UP.  This same thing happened a couple weeks earlier, and I just assumed I wasn’t keeping my fridge cold enough.  I set the interior temp to 37F, and no longer put my milk in the fridge door.

So when it happened again last week, I said “no more” and began looking at alternative sources of milk.  I know my store carries regular milk, 2% and skim, lactose free milk, 5 varieties of oat milk, soy milk, almond milk.

My friend Diana said soy milk played havoc with womens hormones, and according to the folks on Reddit, almond milk was either too sweet or too watery.  So oat milk it would be. 

I was happy to see it had a “Use Buy” date of 3 months (!) and rubbed my hands together in glee at all the cold cereal I’d soon be eating for breakfast again.

Okay, it’s been 5 days and the verdict is in.  First of all, I can’t get used to the color—it’s a murky tan.  Secondly, it’s so… thick.  And I only bought the regular oat milk, I can’t imagine what the ‘Extra Creamy’ would be like.

Also, something about it’s texture keeps triggering my gag reflex, and reminded me of that stuff a snail leaves behind.  I’m headed to the store right now for some good old fashioned 2% dairy.  

The last time I was there I told the cashier about their milk souring in just a couple days, and she told ME to keep my receipts from now on and bring it back if it doesn’t last at least one week.  I will do that. 

If anyone has any other suggestions, I’m listening… but honestly, I don’t see myself giving up the cow’s stuff again!

 

Lunch at the Cracker Barrel: Just a gigolo, everywhere I go…

This past Wednesday, I was able to go with a few friends at the Senior Center to the Cracker Barrel Restaurant in Cranberry Township for lunch.  

For those not familiar with this franchise, it’s set up to look like a large scale country general store—with rocking chairs lined up out front and a store full of clothing, curios & doodads inside.  You’ve gotta walk thru said store to get to the restaurant deeper inside.

My 20 year old niece Sophia works at a Cracker Barrel in Morgantown WV (between college semesters) where I’ve eaten at twice, and both times the food was excellent. 

This CB wasn’t bad, but freshness-wise did not compare to the one in Morgantown.  Still, it was nice getting out of the house and spending time with friends.

After arriving at the restaurant, Dennis tells us to head on in while he finishes his smoke outside

Some of the doodads on display in the store inside.  A few of the women remarked there were new items they hadn’t seen before.  Ugh. STUFF.

This is Rita, who attends the Bible Study at the Senior Center on Mondays.  She’s a quirky bird and asked how a handsome man like myself managed to stay single, then insisted on paying for lunch and wouldn’t take no for an answer.  Sigh!  Thanks Rita…

                    

And here’s Evvie, who also said I looked good—so I didn’t mind (too much) when she added I was so white I belonged on Trump’s Cabinet.

Evvie’s meal was a Breakfast sampler of eggs, pancakes, bacon, cooked apples, sausage & country ham; I thought it looked a bit sparse and she agreed.

Here was my meal, pot roast with glazed carrots, mashed potatoes, country fried green beans & corn muffin

Here’s me, asking our server Paige if she could bring me a to-go cup of their famous peach iced tea for the road.  Thanks Paige!

After we finished eating, we still had 40 minutes to kill so all the ladies remained inside to shop.  I pulled up a rocker outside and commenced to some dozing & people watching.  The End!

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

NEW:  Hi Everyone.  I wanted to thank all of you for your very kind comments below, and for reaching out to me personally this past week.   I went to bed late Tuesday night and spent the next 3 days flat on my back with some crazy high temps.  When I woke up Saturday morning, my sheets were drenched and I knew my fever had finally broke.

(That’s when I made the big move to my livingroom couch where I can now stare at my tv instead of my tablet or bedroom ceiling.) 

I’m still working on making a full recovery, I have a persisent cough and congestion.  But I’m guessing in 4-5 days it will be out of my system.  Gigi if you’re reading this—I’m sorry about your own cough, I used to go thru a lot of those Halls Lemon lozenges too.  But I’ve since switched to Riccola Lemon Mint Drops.  They’re sugar free and all natural.

And Peter if YOU’RE reading this, I did have my flu shot in November!  Do you know they only reduce the risk of flu in seniors around 41%?  And dkzody, you brought up a good question: I’m not around a lot of people, so where did I get this.  The NHS says you contract the virus 4 days before you begin showing symptoms. 

Anyway… I regret sharing all of this.  The ONLY REASON I did when it sprang up was because I sort of panicked.  I am still wrestling with long covid relapses, and 2 days before the flu hit, I developed a painful burning in my head and behind my eyes. Long covid headache.  (Miss Merry, I’m very sorry for your son-in-law’s relapse.)  

I knew I’d have to deal with that and the flu both, and it just overwhelmed me.  

So, I’ve had quite enough of the “woe is me” talk.  Thanks again for your kind words and concern everybody, and for reading this update too.  I haven’t looked at the news in days, I hope we’re not at war with Canada!  

 

Tues, Mar 04:  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