I don’t know if this is making a difference, but what’s the alternative?

This Sunday morning I got up early and made a cup of coffee and turned on the local news for the weather, and was astonished at what I was seeing.  That ‘No Kings’ protest held nationwide on Saturday, they were showing the turnout in Pittsburgh.

Thousands showed up, lining the streets from the Hill District to a gathering at the City County Building downtown that had to be 10,000 people.

I was expecting hundreds, not this.  It was gratifying to see, exciting, humbling.  I felt guilt too, not being part of things.  I also felt a little depressed, as I couldn’t help but wonder if all this clamoring for democracy was falling on deaf ears.

When I googled my question, I got this (courtesy of that infernal AI):

Yes, protests can make a difference. Throughout history, protests have been a driving force behind social and political change, exposing injustice, demanding accountability, and inspiring people to work for a better future. While not all protests are successful, research suggests that when organized effectively, they can influence policy, shift public opinion, and even impact elections.

Pretty generic stuff, but still made me feel a little hopeful.  I will NEVER understand how we wound up with a convicted felon in the White House again, even if his campaign was largely funded by that Nazi Elon Musk.  The sad fact is, the majority of voters in this country are assholes.

Sorry, that’s how I feel and I’m tired of keeping silent.  There was no excuse for voting that crook back in office a second time, let alone the first. 

Well, I didn’t get on here to write mean things about Trump and his minions.  I just hope that common sense eventually prevails and we get our country back on track to something resembling a real democracy again. 

A few weeks ago I started a blog titled “I miss feeling patriotic”, but felt so down writing it I threw it away.  Seeing this protest brought back some of those proud feelings for our country again, at least.  I hope it helped other’s spirits too.

 

Fast cars, fast ladies (just kidding) and lunch at Rockefellers Grille

This past Wednesday, a few of us from the Lutheran Senior Center took a road trip to McKees Rocks, home of Rockefeller’s Grille.

Here’s short chubby me and tall skinny Mary before our trip.  Mary chose not to go, she just returned from a family vacation.  I was a little bummed, but glad she’s back.

On my way to the center, I stopped at the barbershop to tell them the restaurant we were going to and got a resounding “boo” from my haircutter and the patrons there.  No one was too impressed with the place.

It didn’t matter too much to me, I was just glad to get out of the house and be with friends.

It’s a good thing too, as this wasn’t one of our better outings.  Our waitress was short-tempered, my own meal was drowning in tomato sauce, and we only had 20 minutes to eat before our Access ride showed up early. 

Plus mine felt overpriced; my lunches never go over $20-22.00 and this one was over $30.00.  But I will say it again, I’m just glad I was able to go. 

Here’s a mish-mash of pics, you know how I roll!

This is Melvin, a regular at the Lutheran Center.  In his nineties, very quiet, but has managed to make a lot of friends.  You should see photos of him from the early 1950s, his “hot-rodding” days.Here’s the Rockefeller’s Menu, the back was as full as the front.My gal Evvie listening to some wild stories.  Boy, she has my dad’s eyes.And here’s Evvie’s lunch, a club sandwich & fries; it looked & smelled so good.Here’s my lunch, eggplant parmigiana and a side of linguini.  Everything was drowning in tomato sauce, the eggplant & pasta were both mushy and tasteless.  Had a nice salad before this came out, wound up bringing most of this home to “doctor up” for dinner.I couldn’t resist sharing this.  When we were heading into the restaurant, a 1957 DeSoto convertible was sitting in the parking lot, with black & white leather seats.  What a sweet ride!Finally, here’s that leftover eggplant I had for dinner—I spooned off half the sauce, added some olive oil, minced garlic & dried basil and put it under the broiler for 5-10 minutes.  It looked & smelled a little better the second time around!

Between you & me, I haven’t been in the best of spirits lately—I keep having these post-covid relapses where the left side of my head & face will burn and ache for 1-2 hours a couple times a day.  I’m trying to not let it stand in the way of getting out there, but sometimes it’s too much. 

It happened on the way to the restaurant, I sat there in silence and thankfully it did lessen. 

On the trip home I was pain-free, and my tipsy pal Dennis & I discussed signing up for Social Security, and should we make plans to visit Club 412 (a gentleman’s club aka strip joint we passed on the way home).  I’m sure those women on our shuttle were getting a real earful—I hope they know we were kidding!  That’s it, thanks for reading!

 

The perfect meal, clearing the air and an extra about that space heater

How many blogs have I written that started off with a hamburger?  I’m afraid to look.  Anyway, this was last night’s dinner and while chowing down I decided it does NOT get any better than this.

This is a 1/3 lb Bubba Burger on an Arnold Potato Roll.  It’s topped with sauteed peppers & onions, and steak sauce.  Hands down, Bubba Burgers are the best burgers you can buy.  Those are Red Robin Steak Fries, and if you cook them just right (32 minutes in a cold oven set to 425F, shut off the oven, open the door to let out steam, then close it for 2 more minutes)… absolute perfection.

That roasted broccoli is God’s gift to man.  Cooked a little longer than 30 minutes?  Delicious.  Take it out a little earlier than 30 minutes?  Delicious.  You can’t go wrong.

Okay, enough of my meal.  Speaking of meals, why am I always taking photos of my lunches & dinners?  I don’t always share them here, but I still take ‘em.  If you’d like to see more pics, why I’d be happy to.

I wanted to say something about my friend Diana.  After my last post, three people reached out and asked if something special was going on with us, and if there wasn’t, how come?  That was nice they asked, I got a big kick out of it.  But if I gave anyone the wrong impression there was more between us, I’m sorry. 

The simple truth is, Diana & I are only friends and will never be more than that.  Diana lost her husband to covid 3 years ago, and now wants to devote her golden years to her garden, church, events in her community.  (She lives in nearby West Virginia.)  

As for me, I’m not ruling out the possibility of hooking up with someone someday, but I’ll be just fine if it doesn’t happen.  I like my apartment in the city, I like watching too much tv and eating too many hamburgers.  And I am not a church goer.  And that’s that.

Finally, here’s that “extra” I wanted to share about my new space heater.  What you’re looking at below is my LASKO Oscillating Tower Fan.  It has 3 speeds, rotates, has an ionizer feature, and it came with a handy remote.

I bought this fan in 2017, and it’s been a real champ.  In the summer, it distributes the cool air from my main vent throughout my lving room.  It does the same with warm air in the winter.

3-4 years ago, the remote stopped working.  I replaced the batteries, it didn’t help.  I contacted Lasko, and they sent a replacement.  It didn’t work either.  When I let Lasko know, they said “The remote isn’t the problem, it’s the circuit panel in your fan.”  Made sense to me.

The fan has manual buttons on top, but then the IONIZER button stopped working, and the highest fan speed went next.   But here it is, 8 years later and I’m still using it.

Okay—a couple days after getting that Dreo space heater, summer finally arrived in Pittsburgh and I decided it was time to pack it away until the fall.  (Our building won’t switch over to heat until October, and there’s bound to be some chilly days come September.)

I’m not the type to just toss it in the closet—I packed it in it’s original carton, packing materials included.  After it was safely stored away in my bedroom closet, I came out into the living room and DOGGONE IT—I forgot to pack up the heater’s included remote.

I sighed and plopped down on the couch, picked up the remote and aimed it at the TV, pressed the ON button for no particular reason.  My LASKO fan to the right of my set suddenly came on.  What the—!!  

I pressed the Oscillator button—my fan began rotating.  I pressed the timer button, the fan increased to speed 2.  I pressed it again, it went to Speed 3.  Speed 3 hasn’t worked in 3 years! 

I pressed the ECO button on the remote and the blue IONIZER light above my fan lit up.  That hasn’t worked in 3 years either!

So not only did that little space heater deliver some much needed warmth, it’s given my old fan some new life.  I did look up both brands (Dreo & Lasko) and they are not owned by the same company, they are competing brands.  So go figure!

Okay that’s it for now—until next time, thanks for listening and take care everyone.

Tales from the Tiffany: The space heater story I mentioned in my last post

Here’s something interesting about the Tiffany (my apartment building).  They advertise that central heating & air is included in your rent—but that’s not entirely true. 

Built in the 1950s, every apartment has a “heating/cooling pipe” in the bathroom ceiling, and a propeller fan that blows a steady stream of air on this pipe.

You have a thermostat in your apartment to contol the temperature.  BUT:

• From October 1 to April 30, that pipe in the bathroom ceiling is HOT. 
• From May 1 to Sept 30, that pipe is COLD.

So there are days thru the year when you wished for cool air, but it’s not time for the switchover yet.  And there are times (usually early May) when it got switched to cool for summer, but outside temps are still chilly.

That’s what happened a few days before Memorial Day.  The local weather forecast chilly temps for May 20-26 and Steiner (our landlord) sent an email to everyone with suggestions for keeping warm as they’d switched to cold on May 1.  Don’t turn on your air!  Keep your windows shut!  Sip warm drinks!  Take hot baths!

I told my friend Diana what lay ahead.  She gave me the same suggestion she did last year when something similar occurred, and this past winter when the pipe in my ceiling went cold a couple mornings and was not supplying heat.  “Why don’t you get a space heater?”

Here’s another picture of my friend Diana, from her recent trip to Utah to visit her son & daughter Anyway, the first time she suggested a space heater I thought of that metal box with glowing orange rods we had in our farmhouse in my childhood; it’d burn you if you got too close.  I told her “No way!”  Then I’d lose my heat again, she’d make the suggestion, I’d remind her I’m a man and can handle a little cold air.

Then this Memorial Day cold spell came along, and over that week I watched the temperature in my apt drop from 70F to 66—62—58—!

So, one night while shivering under my blankets in my chilly bed, I got out my tablet, pulled up space heaters on Amazon.com and was very surprised. These portable heaters looked smaller and a lot safer than the contraptions I remember from the 1960-70s. 

I placed an order for one and prayed I wasn’t getting rooked.Just a couple days later, I’m sitting here on my computer and an email pops up from Amazon.  “Your order has been delivered.  The driver has left your package under your mailbox in the lobby downstairs.”  Yes!

I grab my phone to call Diana and tell her the space heater is here, and run downstairs.  I go into the lobby and see a CRATE-SIZED BOX from Amazon under my mailbox.  What the—!!  How big is this heater anyway??I call Diana back and tell her this box is HUGE.  She says “Maybe it’s like one of those Russian nesting dolls, and they just packed it in different sized boxes to keep it safe.”

I say “Nope—it has HEAVY stickers all over the box, and when I tried to lift a corner it won’t budge!”  

I called Amazon and said if you’re still in the area this is too big for me, come and take it away.  No way do I have room for this thing.  The Amazon driver returned, pointed his tricorder at the carton on the floor and said “Er… this isn’t your order.”  

He went around the corner to the smaller mailroom (for first floor tenants only), and returned with a much smaller box.  “Here’s your package, sorry for the mixup.”

Whew!  I brought it upstairs, unpacked it, was surprised at it’s compact size.  It only stands a foot tall.  Anyway, I couldn’t be more pleased.  It’s whisper quiet, gently rotates and pushes out a WHOPPER of very warm air.  I have a bookcase thermometer that had been displaying 59F when I plugged it in, 20 minutes later it was 72F in here.

That’s my story and here it is.  How did I go this long without one?EDIT:  Wait, this story isn’t over!  To be continued…

Relapse, remission. Relapse, remission. Relapse.

Right off the bat, I want to say I’m not looking for a slew of sympathetic comments or anything like that.  A lot of us deal with chronic health matters.  It just helps me to put this out there, on here.  It helps me feel less alone.

A couple Wednesdays ago (the day I went to the Grant Bar & Lounge in Millvale, two blogs back) I had a pretty serious relapse. To be fair, I’ve been dealing with “long covid relapses” almost daily for months; but they usually just last a couple hours before winking out until the next day.

This last occurrence… I came home from that outing, lay down to take a nap, and woke up with the left side of my head & face in a good amount of pain.  It’s pretty much been a lot of inflammation and burning in the eyes & mouth since.

(Also the smell of burnt oatmeal—which isn’t as bad as the smell of diesel fuel a year ago, but it’s still unsettling.)

I had a telemeeting this week with my neurologist, told him I was aware this affliction is chronic and can last a couple years, but it’s been 17 months now and I am wiped out. 

He said “Douglas… who told you it would resolve itself in 2 years?”  I said I read that in an article published by the BHS.  He said he was not aware of this having a finite lifespan, and that he has others with post-covid conditions that have lasted longer than mine.  This was most depressing.

He told me they believe it settles into “compromised” parts of the body, and brought up mine.  I have a dark area on the left side of my brain that used to be the source of headaches & seizure activity when I was younger.  And a few years back, my jaw was in pretty bad shape from TMJ. 

(I recovered from TMJ in 2021, but my masseters have never been the same.  That’s what hurts a lot now.)

He didn’t have any real answers for me either, other than avoiding stress and ultra-processed foods which can cause inflammation, sleep 8 hours daily, avoid alcohol & tobacco products.  He said “I’m convinced Naproxen could help with the inflammation, but you can’t afford the spikes in your blood pressure.  You know ibuprofen is dangerous for you, right?” 

He asked if I would consider meeting with a therapist (psychologist) to share my feelings.  No.  I do enough of that here on my blog, and a little at the senior center, but mostly with my good friend Diana.

Here’s a recent photo of Diana at Bruce Canyon in Utah; she recently traveled there to visit her son & daughter who both reside in Salt Lake City

She really has been a terrific friend and insists I don’t owe her anything but I do.  She recently retired, but keeps busy writing a weekly column for her local paper, organizing events for her church & community.  I’m surprised how much time she makes for me.

(I actually have a funny story involving Di, myself and a space heater, maybe I’ll write about that next time.)

Well, that’s all I have.  All I can do now is wait for the next remission and hope the relapses weaken over time.  A couple days ago I woke up and made a promise to myself to go to the Lutheran Center that day, regardless of discomfort. 

Made it there and saw my friends, and had this wonderful lunch below—turkey & smoked gouda sandwich, potato salad, Mediterranean vegetable soup, grapes, chocolate donut. 

You can’t ask for much better than this.