The End of the Dive-Bombers, I hope: taking the good from the bad

I think I've finally found an answer to my fruit fly problem--which was growing progressively worse these past couple weeks.

When this all began, I set out mason jars of apple cider vinegar with a drop of dish soap in both the kitchen and bathroom, where I got attacked the most.  A couple people recommended pouring Arm & Hammer Baking Soda down the drains, followed by white vinegar--I loved the fizzy action, but I think the bugs did too.  

The mason jars only collected 3-4 bugs a day, and it got to the point where the bugs were LITERALLY lined up on the top of my refrigerator door, dancing back and forth like it was Radio City Music Hall and they were the Rockettes!  Why, why??

If you knew me in the real world, I am a very, very clean person.  I wipe down everything with hot soapy water and Clorox wipes daily--including my appliances.

I began noticing the bugs weren't getting near my meals, but did kamikaze flights into whatever I was drinking.  I wound up buying a sippy cup for my coffee, tea, ginger ale--everything.

I also noticed they were attracted to light.  If I was in bed with my tablet, they bounced off the screen.  If I was in the living room on my laptop (where I need my eyeglasses) they would dive-bomb my face, over and over!  The reflection of the screen on my spectacles, I'm guessing.

That's when I remembered a bug light I bought 7-8 years ago when I first moved in here and discovered I had a gnat problem.  It was like a mini merry go round, with a strong light underneath and a sticky white base.  Thankfully I found it in the back of my apt's storage locker, the bulb still worked and included an unopened pack of those sticky bases.

I decided to put it on the bookcase that separates my kitchen and dining room from my living room.  Maybe those mini-monsters would take a detour from the kitchen before attacking me on the couch!

I decided to leave it on 24-7, and after the first night there were 48 buggos in there the next morning

And the morning after that, this pad had an additional 50 victims, nearly 100 total.  I swapped it out for a new one, and began pouring pots of boiling water down both drains and closing them off when not in use.  When I got up this morning, the sticky pad had only 5-6 dive bombers.  I'm going to keep on until there's zero.

One good thing came from this; I like having a light on that bookcase, a normally dark area in my place.  I ordered a small bookcase lamp to place on an upper shelf.  I also discovered I prefer my coffee in that thermal mug.  I normally reheat my coffee several times in the microwave to keep it hot, now I don't have to.

Meanwhile, it's doubtful I'll be going on the next senior lunch outing this Wednesday unless there's a big turnaround.  The day I went last week to the Winery, my pain number (from the long covid) was at a 2-3.  Uncomfortable, but didn't hold me back.

It remained the same the next day, and dropped down to a solid 2 on Friday.  When it's a 1-2, I start feeling hopeful.  However, by midday Saturday it had gone up to a 4, and by Sunday morning a 4-5.  I spent the morning sucking on Riccola lemon lozenges and holding ice packs to my face and side of my head.  It's 10 times more stubborn than these damn fruit fleas.

Anyway as long as I'm blogging, here's a photo of Sunday dinner.  I marinated a couple chicken thighs overnight, cooked 'em in my junior air fryer for 22 minutes.  I just love that contraption.  And for the record, those red mashed potatoes are the real deal.

It was a lonnnnng day at Narcisi Winery, but what else do I have to do?

Well, today was my third outing this year, and while I can't say I was having a great day long covid wise (a lot of inflammation is in my lower jaw right now) it wasn't a terrible day either.  

I still debated going, I've already been there twice before.  Plus, I knew my gals Mary & Evvie wouldn't be attending. But it's a lovely place to visit about 15 miles north of the city, and I'd be able to go for a nice walk after lunch.

I will admit it wasn't as fun this time as my last 2 visits.  I had difficulty eating the pizza I'd ordered and our Access shuttle was over 2 hours late returning to get us.  Also, a recent newbie to the center kept giving me grief and I came very close to telling her to shut up.  (More on that later.)

But I still enjoyed going and getting out for the day.  So on that note, here's some boring pics (no people) of the day.

Here's a view of the Winery when we pull into the place

You have to walk thru the gift shop to get to the restaurant

After we were all seated, and they took everybody's drink orders, they got to me last.  I asked "Do you still make those black raspberry wine slushies you sold last year?"  Our excellent waiter said they sure did so I said I'd take one.  TEN other people shouted "I want to change my order to that too!"  It is blistering cold, very fruity--and very, very potent.  My head was swimming after a few sips.

Here was my salad which was just excellent.  (It came covered in giant warmed walnuts with a cream jalapeno dressing.)  When I told the waiter my salad was exceptional, Daria (a newbie to the center who feels the need to put everything down) said "It really isn't, I eat salads like that all the time."  I said "WELL I DON'T."  She said "You really need to get out more!"   This was all in front of the waiter.

My main course, a Calbrese pizza.  I loved the hot mini tomatoes, honey sauce and spicy sausage but could only eat one slice because of my jaw. I brought the rest home to fiddle with.

After lunch, I took a walk on the grounds--here's the view right outside the restaurant

I was sorry my pal Dennis couldn't make it, he had a last minute dental appointment.  But hopefully I'll get to see him next week if my long covid behaves and he doesn't have another emergency. We're supposed to go to Cracker Barrel and I'm anxious to try one of their Campfire Suppers.

And here's a final pic of their outside bar & grill.  I think next time I'll sit out there!

It's late in the afternoon; I should be napping, not blogging

I wish I knew what was going on.  For as long as I can remember, I've been going to bed around 11:30 pm, falling asleep in minutes and aside from waking up 2-3 times during the night to pee, getting a pretty full night's sleep, 7-8 hours.

Fast asleep in my favorite green flannel shirt, 1978  

But then a couple weeks ago something changed; nothing in my nightly routine, still going to bed at the same time and falling right asleep, but waking up around 5-6am and unable to get back to sleep.  

Since then, I've been needing an hour's nap in the afternoon and still feel tired afterwards.  Oh well, maybe it's a sign I'm getting old or my long covid is up to something.

Speaking of 1978, I was going thru my old high school scrapbook and found this--my first W2 form, from 1978.

It was from the Olde Southern Pancake & Steak House, I started working there in the fall of 1978, my senior year of high school.  I made $2.25 an hour, worked 2 nights a week but always asked for Saturdays as that shift was 12 hours long--from 8pm to 8am Sunday morning.  

Started as a busboy, worked my way into the kitchen and every 6 hour shift included a half-hour, sit-down dinner break of anything from the menu.  And if you worked a 12 hour shift on Sat nights, you got breakfast in the morning too.

I know I talk too much, but wanted to share this one story.  My boss was named George, who also owned the restaurant.  He was in his fifties, bald, morbidly obese.  He always wore black trousers, a white dress shirt with short sleeves, a big white apron.  He spent all his time in the kitchen.  He almost always had a frown, but half of his employees were teenagers like myself and he never had a cross word for any of us. 

The night of my Senior Prom, we stopped there before the dance (other guys & girls who worked there did the same) to show off our tuxes and gowns and introduce our dates to everyone we worked with.  George was so pleased, he invited us to come back afterwards for a late night treat.  

So we did, pretty late--and he was there with a big coconut cake and sundae bar.  I loved, loved working there.  Even if I did only earn $625.00 for 4 months work!

Believe it or not, I have another "black woman" story.  Two days ago I was exiting Kuhn's and there were two middle aged black women in front of me.  The one on the right said "I don't hate ALL white men, just the skinny ones."  Her friend laughed then nudged her and nodded her head back towards me.  The one on the right looked back and said "Oh he's good!  He knows he's good!"

I shared this story with my friend Pen that night and she said it didn’t necessarily mean the woman thought I was a chubby.  Hello, that's exactly what it meant!

Finally, something very nice happened to me yesterday.  Last week I was taking my garbage out, and a woman stopped me and asked if I could show her where to go, she had recently moved in and didn't know where to take her trash.  She said she asked a couple others who ignored her.  I showed her the way I take, then the more popular route thru the underground garage.  She was so appreciative and looked so much like Kathy Bates, I had to tell her.  She said she'd heard that before, and her name was Kathy too!  I told her if she needed anything else, I was in 402.

Anyway, yesterday around 10:30am, someone knocked on my door.  It was Kathy with a white haired gentleman.  She said he was her husband Denny, who wanted to meet me.  Denny explained his wife moved in a week before he did, and he just wanted to thank me for helping Kathy.  

I asked if they were new to the city, they both laughed and said no, they used to live "across the bridge" (local slang for nearby McKee's Rocks) and had been looking for a smaller place.  They somehow landed one of the few 2 bedroom apts in the Tiffany.  I thought it was so nice they took the time to visit and introduce themselves.  They appear to be in their mid-70s.

I have a really good feeling about them, maybe we'll become friends. 😏

And now that I've bored you to sleep, I'll try doing the same.

Remembering the days when I was somebody-- with a badge

The other week when I was going thru a shoebox of old photos in my closet, I came across a couple of work badges that really surprised me.  I thought I'd lost these or turned them in years ago. 

I wish one of them had been for my first IT job in downtown Pittsburgh.  It said:  Omega Systems, Information Technology & Consulting Services.  

Below that it had my name, with "Data Services Specialist".  

I was so proud of that badge.  After dropping out of college and floundering for a few years in minimum wage jobs, I went back to school and landed my first professional position in 1988.

I wore a suit to work everyday, sat behind a desk and drew up flowcharts and met with users and wrote a thousand computer programs.  I loved it and woke up every morning thanking my lucky stars.  

Anyway, no Omega Systems badge in the shoebox, darn it.  But here's an early ID badge I was required to clip on my breast pocket when I visited secured areas as a consultant for Allegheny County Computer Services.

I sure miss those days!

Here's an official work badge from Allegheny County.  After 10 years as a contractor for the county, I was working at GNCorp but was miserable and knew I had to find a new job.  I contacted an IT headhunter and got an offer right away from BNY Mellon.  At the same time, my former boss from Allegheny County Computer Services heard I was looking and offered me a permanent position.

I took the county offer, I could set my own schedule and even dress business casual, a rarity at the time.  But right after I started, Mellon came back with another offer that was 5K higher in salary. 

The look on my face below says it all--the people at the county were like family, but I had to reconsider Mellon's offer.  I worked out a deal with both and went to work at Mellon after 3 months.  

As for Mellon, I enjoyed my work there but my supervisor and I did not get along.  After a couple years I got an offer from UPMC and decided to move on.  When I gave Mellon my 2 week notice, they took my green metallic work-badge and handed me a paper "Temp Employee" badge.

And finally, my work badge from UPMC Health Plan.  I worked there 16 years, retired, then a couple years later they called and asked if I wanted to come back.  I was so flattered I said ok and did, for a bit.

Once you've had a taste of freedom though, it's hard to go back to that grind.  But I confess, some days I miss my working years still.

Microblogging, Teepee Style: Microbugs and a couple other random things, just because

First of all, I want to apologize for removing my earlier post today.  I came across an old photo of myself and my cousins from the 1970s, shared it with a little backstory, and a couple hours later took it back down.  Just been doing a little too much reminiscing lately.  On that note, here's a few items that aren't exactly blog-worthy in themselves, but all together...

1. This serves me right for buying bananas

I'm wondering if anyone can offer some advice...the other day when I was in the store, the produce man was setting out bananas. 🍌  How come I haven't bought any bananas in awhile?  I love some sliced banana on my morning cereal!  So I got some.  

I remembered why I stopped buying them, when the fruit flies started hopping around my apartment--and into my coffee.  I asked AI what the deal was, it said they come in teeny eggs on your yellow fruit, so wash those nanners right away when you get home.  I did, but was too late.  And now I'm getting assaulted by one whenever I enter my kitchen.

I set out a bowl with warm water, apple cider vinegar & a couple drops of dishwashing liquid this morning (on my stove underneath the light).  It caught 10 of those things, but I don't know where they are coming from.  The kitchen drain?  I'm going to start pouring pots of boiling water down it I guess!

2.  I wish I was this crafty...

My friend Kimberly recently told me she'd signed up for a glass mosaic class, and was creating something on her own for her home.  I asked her to please send me a photo when she was done.  

She sent me this.  I was amazed and told her it looked like something you'd find in a pricey catalog.  Isn't this an awesome piece of artwork?  I'd pay good money for it too. 

3.  This Medicare book came with ham & beans... I think

When I was downstairs getting my mail the other day, one of the other residents was getting hers.  I don't know her name, she's a tall black woman who looks around 60, from the 6th floor.  (She is really tall--I'm 5'7", she's over 6 feet.)  She saw this Medicare book in my hand and asked "You on Medicare?"  I said very soon, in October I turn 65.  She nodded and didn't say anything.  

We walked back to the elevator and she said "You're no spring chicken, but you don't look 65."  I said thanks, I think.  She said "Do you like ham and beans?"  I said er... yes.  She said "That's what I'm making for dinner."  I said it sounded good.  She said "Well, I'm not asking you twice."  Did I miss something?  I said if that was an invite I had other plans, thanks anyway.  Was that an invite?

4.  And finally... someone is paying attention to my butt

A couple weeks ago when my LC symptoms lessened and I was able to join the others at the senior center for a lunch outing, I stopped in the barbershop along the way to say hi to my friend and hair cutter Roe.

I shoved my phone into my back pocket, and we chatted for 10 minutes or so before Roe said "Hey your phone is lit up."  I pulled it out and my most frequent contacts were on the screen.  How did that happen?  I shut it off and went on my way.

I got to the center, we go to lunch, and Paul the Playboy (one of the other seniors) asked if I owned a "vSee Box".  I said I'd never heard of them.  He explained it's a tv box that allows you to stream local channels, cable channels and even paid streaming services on your tv for free, with no cable or subscriptions required.  They cost around $300 and he'd be happy to set me up with one.

(It sounded pretty shady to me.  I'm sure the FCC will be shutting that down.)

When I got home, I heard from my friend Diana who said she got a call from me earlier when I was at the barbershop--my phone "butt dialed" her and she heard us chatting.  (It won't be happening again, I finally activated the security app on my phone so it won't turn on without a pin.)

Later that night, I got back on my phone to watch a couple of YouTube videos before going to sleep and what pops up on my Recommended to watch list?  4-5 videos for vSee boxes!  Coincidence?  Maybe, but I doubt it.

What is LDN? I'm about to find out

Last week, I was having some trouble falling asleep a couple nights  (my long covid flareups strike any time of day or night) so I got on my tablet to do some more reading on nicotine patch therapy.

(I bought them back in June, used them for a few days, didn't like their effect on me.  Maybe I didn't give them enough time.)   But the recent articles and videos I was seeing weren't very hopeful.  More and more users and doctors were saying they did NOT help with chronic LC issues; the nicotine was only serving as a distraction, a mild stimulant.  Now what?

That's when I began noticing more and more articles & videos about something called "Low Dose Naltrexone", or LDN for short.

What is LDN?   It's typically prescribed in much larger amounts, 50mg pills to combat opioid and alcohol addiction.  But some years back, medical professionals began noticing that much smaller doses, typically 1.5 to 4.5 millograms, were helping some people with chronic diseases like fibromylgia and MS, and others with chronic fatigue, brain fog, nerve pain, and inflammation.

But most pharmacies only carry it in 50mg form, so if you want to try micro-dosing, you need to get the pills from a compounding pharmacy.  You'll also need a doctor's prescription.

I found both a doctor and special pharmacy online (at 3am!) and had to fill out a lengthy medical profile.  A couple days later I got a call from Dr. Ira Shika that she was approving my prescription.

I just got the pills in the mail Monday afternoon.  It was $105.00 for a 3 month supply if you take 0.5 mg a day.  I'm expected to increase my dosage by 0.5 every 2 weeks until I reach 4.5 mg daily, so this could get expensive.  Also, you're not expected to see results anytime soon, not for a couple months.  But right now I'm willing to try anything to reduce these LC symptoms.

What have I got to lose besides a few bucks, right?  Wish me luck...

Why 1971 was a big year for my dad, Donovan Morris

After the recent passing of Dolly Parton and my mentioning Dad was part of the country music scene in the early 1970s, I thought I'd share a little more of that here.  After forming the Morris Brothers band in the 1960s with his brothers Mike & Shane, Dad struck out on his own and got a weekly gig performing as a singer and piano player on the WWVA Jamboree in Wheeling, West Virginia.  

One of Dad's publicity photos

It was a very popular live audience radio show showcasing regional country music, but always billed someone famous.  Conway Twitty, Loretta Lynn, Jerry Lee Lewis, June Carter & Johnny Cash, Tammy Wynette, Charley Pride, Dolly Parton--the Jamboree had 'em all, and was considered second only to the Grand Ole Opry.

Mom with Charley Pride, after one of the shows at the Wheeling Jamboree

Dad became a local celebrity of sorts, and when he recorded 2 of his songs for a 45 record, the local paper accompanied him to the recording studio and did the nice article above.

Those songs got played plenty on our own local AM/FM radio station in Waynesburg, WANB.

I remember as a kid, strangers often approaching myself or one of my siblings and saying "Aren't you Donovan Morris' kids?  We're big fans!"

One time in sixth grade, the kids were invited to bring in their favorite records for an afternoon party.  The girls brought in Donny Osmond, the Carpenters and Partridge Family, and one boy (Audie M) brought in my dad's 45.  I was so proud of my old man.

Anyway, Dad spent a couple years on the Jamboree then reteamed with his brother Mike and played music for the rest of the 70's as Donovan & Mike Morris and The Country Rockers.  But those early years were some heady times for sure.  You can listen to my dad's 2 "hit songs" below.

Goodbye Dolly

Mom & Dolly Parton, 1971

In the early 1970s, my dad was a weekend fixture (a singer & piano man) on the WWVA Jamboree, a country music radio show in Wheeling, West Virginia.  It was second only to the Grand Ole Opry, and my parents got to meet and hang out backstage with some pretty big names--Jerry Lee Lewis, Charley Pride, Loretta Lynn, Johnny Cash--and Dolly Parton.

I was never a big fan when it came to her music, but of course I loved her dearly and in the few movies she made; 9 to 5, Best Little Whorehouse in Texas, Steel Magnolias.  Never missed her on tv, she was always funny and sweet & honest in every interview.

And of course, she devoted her life to helping millions thru various charities and her famous literacy program.

Anyway, I was just sitting down with my dinner and turned on the 4:30 local news and saw where she'd died.  I've only shed tears over 2 celebrity deaths in the last 20 years--Ralph Waite (who played John Walton on The Waltons) in 2014, and Leonard Nimoy in 2015.  Dolly Parton is the third.   Goodbye, Dolly.

The older I get, the stranger some things from long ago seem

This is me, October 31, 1981.  It was my 20th birthday.  (My mom always got me a Halloween-themed birthday cake.)   I have a good memory of this day.  No longer a teenager, I got a pretty short haircut and Mom told me I looked like a man.  It really meant a lot to hear that.

I was dating someone my age named Charlotte who I really, REALLY cared about.  She took me to dinner at Pizza Hut, and then we went to see a movie.  Two pictures were playing:  Arthur with Dudley Moore, and Only When I Laugh with Marsha Mason & Kristy McNichol.

Charlotte wanted to see Arthur, I didn't.  I saw the trailer and didn't think there was anything funny about someone who was drunk all the time.  (45 years later, I've still never seen it.)   I remember telling Charlie "C'mon, Marsha Mason is great!  I loved her in The Goodbye Girl!"  

Since it was my birthday, she said okay.  Afterwards she said something along the lines that it was a lame movie and I remember thinking she was right.  

The reason I'm sharing this is because a few days ago I came across the movie on The Roku Channel, and realized I hadn't seen it since the night of my birthday, almost 45 years ago.  I couldn't even remember what it was about, so I put it on.

In a nutshell, Marsha Mason is a stage actor who is coming home from a 3 month rehab stay for alcoholism, and her estranged daughter (Kristy McNichol) wants to move in with her for her senior year of high school.

Without giving away the ending, it's a pretty tough film and doesn't have a "happily ever after" ending--but it does have a bittersweet, very honest one.

So the whole time I sat here watching it in the present... our culture was so different then.  I wasn't feeling any sense of nostalgia.  More like a sense of wonder.

In the opening scene, Marsha is leaving an upscale rehab clinic in upstate New York.  She fumbles out a cigarette and lights it, and will begin every scene in the movie lighting a cigarette or smoking a cigarette.  Every single one.  No exceptions.  She kisses the row of white doctors and thanks them, hugs the row of white nurses and thanks them, waves goodbye to the row of black housekeepers and shouts "Thanks for smuggling in that rumcake for me, girls!"   

She's so madcap! 😏 Her upper East Side, wealthy best friend Joan Hackett is waiting to take her back to the city.  (Sadly, Joan died of ovarian cancer just 2 years after making this picture.)   

While driving her Cadillac in Marsha's neighborhood, Joan sees kids playing in the street and says "Why must you live someplace with all these children?"  Madcap Marsha puffs on her cigarette and says "Because I've got a 2 bedroom sublet for $300 a month from Mary Todd Lincoln that I'm keeping till the day I die!"  

Marsha is so funny.. and wow, 300 bucks for a 2 bedroom apartment in the city.

Meanwhile, Marsha's best gay friend James Coco is arranging flowers in her apartment and fluffing pillows, when a smirking Latino grocery boy delivers 2 paper sacks of groceries.  In one bag you see a one liter bottle of TAB Cola and red carton of Marlboro cigarettes.  The delivery boy tells James Coco it's $14.28.  James is shocked--for two bags of groceries??

James Coco put out bagels and cream cheese for Marsha's triumphant return

I forgot to mention that while in rehab, Marsha lost 35 pounds.  When James opens the door and hugs her, he yells "Where is your ass--WHERE IS YOUR ASS!!"  Madcap Marsha flings her luggage down and says "I packed it away in one of my suitcases just for you, I knew you'd miss it!" 

Anyway, in the days that follow Marsha meets up with estranged daughter Kristy McNichol and is talked into letting Kristy move in with her.  Kristy is not madcap, in fact she's quite the opposite.  

"Someday when I grow up" Marsha tells her daughter "I want to be just like you."  Not exactly what a kid wants to hear from their mother.

That first night, Kristy comes into Marsha's bedroom and asks if they can have a mother daughter chat.  Marsha takes off her reading glasses, puts down the script she was reading and invites her into her bed.  

You can't see it in the photo above, but when Kristy begins talking, Marsha reaches over on her nightstand for her pack of Marlboros and lights one up.  Smoking in bed?  Yep, we all did.  With your kid right beside you breathing that secondhand smoke?  Yep, we all did.

I don't want to give away the rest of the picture, but in one scene where Marsha falls asleep on her living room sofa during the late show, she wakes up and fumbles around, looking for something.  "Where's my cigarettes?"   She slips on her shoes and exits the building and looks for an open business but can only find a bar.  Ducking down, she enters and puts 55 cents into the cigarette machine and pulls the knob--nothing comes out.  She yells "GIMME MY CIGARETTES!" and pounds the top of the vending machine.

The bartender says "Lady, stop beating on my machine!  How much money did you put in there?"  She yells back "TWELVE DOLLARS!"  The bar patrons erupt in laughter.  

A pack of Marlboros in New York will now run you $18.00.

A letter from Shelley and taking things day by day

I occasionally get emails from people who read or have seen my blog and want to offer some advice, or share their own experiences.  Yesterday I got this email from someone named Shelley:

I’m sorry to read about your long covid Doug I’ve had long covid for six years. As a nurse I got it in my lungs in 2020 while working a Covid wing. In that time it took everything from me. Short of breath today as I speak my lungs burn but it comes and goes. But when it hits hard I want my life to end. I get so depressed. Before covid I loved to dance and exercised all the time. Now I work part time with severe neuropathy caused from Covid. I’ll smile through any symptom except for the shortness of breath it gives me and when I feel inflammation in my brain, the dark thoughts it gives me. What did help was antihistamine and Prilosec. That was a game changer but sadly it wasn’t a cure. Take care and good Luck Doug. Shelley.

I know this wasn't a pleasant read, I'm sorry about that.  I don't know this woman, but my heart still broke for her while reading it.  I totally get it, the anxiety, depression, the dark thoughts.  I earnestly pray for a miracle for Shelley.  (Shelley if you're reading this and want to talk, contact me.)

For all the blogging I've done about this, and sharing with friends, it's still something you pretty much suffer with alone.  I am coming up on the one year anniversary of the return of my long covid, and it didn't make sense the first time I had it, and even less sense now.

I suffered with this for 18 months--from January 2024 to late May 2025--before it began fading for good.  Aside from a 20 minute episode almost daily last summer, and a scary 4 day relapse in July, by late August 2025 I considered it pretty much over.

 (Late August was also the time I got plantar fascitis in both feet, and I had a real temper tantrum over that.  I should've been thanking my maker that the long covid symptoms were gone.)

When I made that dental appointment to get one cavity filled (not the 5 or 6 that shyster claimed needed drilled into and filled) I was 100% certain I was LC free.  He saw me on September 4 for x-rays and a very, very intense cleaning with scrapers and a rotating sand wheel that lasted over an hour and I was STILL absolutely fine the next day.  

It's when I went back on September 11 and he began that drilling, injecting 3 shots of lidocaine into my face and then that one injection of articaine, that did it.  I'm convinced that articaine was the "trigger" for the return of the long covid.  It sent me nearly all the way back to square one.

Anyway, it's been nearly a year now and I get glimpses of hope--but they never seem to last too long.  I was very, very fortunate last Wednesday when I was able to go on that lunch outing at the senior center.  While waiting for the Access shuttle to arrive, my dear friend Mary came in and we got to chat for awhile.  It felt so much like old times.  

But later that night, when I called my friend Diana to tell her about the day, the right side of my face was hurting so badly I had to cut our conversation short.

I look back on this past summer, spending those 8 days in the hospital, the 2 surgeries, the at-home physical therapy and rehab for walking and breathing, I'm almost surprised how successfully that all turned out.  So why can't this?   

I have to believe this isn't going to last forever, it just needs time.  But I'm turning 65 in 2 months and time isn't something I have in abundance.  Okay I'm done, just needed to get this off my chest.  Thanks as always for letting me share.

PS.  I'm finishing up a more lighthearted post I'll be sharing here real soon, I hope you dig it! 

The Laddie in Red and a trip to Carmody's Grille

Today was my second senior outing since last September, a restaurant trip to Carmody's Grille on Neville Island.  

I've been dealing with some oral inflammation these last couple weeks, but had to get out and be with people.  So I filled my pocket with Ricola Mouth Lozenges and off I went.

When I got to the center, they were taking votes on future restaurant outings.  I was excited to vote on a couple places like PF Changs & Mister Lee's, only to see them get shot down in favor of Chili's and Cracker Barrel.  I don't know if I'll be going, these older people are in the majority and keep opting for the same tired places.  

My votes never count, and darn it I'm craving some Chinese!

Anyway, today's lunch was nothing spectacular but the company is always great, it's a nice group of people.  I even had a fun, friendly conversation with "Barb Wire", a short-tempered woman I wrote about on here a year ago.  

Not much to share here, just a few photos.

On my way to the Senior Center, I saw they got a pretty groovy electronic sign out front.  Nice!

Here's Carmody's Grille, on Neville Island.  It's a pretty bleak area but nice inside

My boy Dennis told the waitress  "I want an order of cheese balls, an order of lemon pepper chicken wings, an order of garlic parmesan chicken wings, I want onion rings, a double Bloody Mary, an Alabama Slammer, a Reuben sandwich with french fries, a Hot Sausage sandwich with fries and slaw, a bowl of your famous Turtle Soup for here, and a bowl to take home!"  

Here he is getting started with his soup and appetizers, before they bring his entrees

Here was my Reuben & Coke.  The fries weren't great, but the sandwich was very, very hot (just the way I like it) and very fresh

My bill came to $16.00 and Dennis was $173.00!  (His drinks alone were $40.00.)  I also have to say we had the kindest waitress I've ever met.  She asked each of our names at the start, and remembered them throughout.  

On our way out I told her how much I appreciated her great service and she said "Thank you I'm finally getting the hang of this place--I just started my 40th year here a week ago!"  

Why do we believe death comes in threes? Well, because it often does

Several days ago I was informed that "Bingo Joe" from the Senior Center had recently passed.  I actually knew Joe long before joining the center in 2023, he lived in my apartment building.  

I'd often see him downstairs in the lobby, just kicking back and chillin'.  I'd say "Whaddya know, Joe" and he always smiled and nodded at me.

At the center, I only saw him on Mondays & Fridays when he arrived to call the Bingo numbers after lunch.  I have to tell you, the Bingo crowd is a FAR different crowd than the regulars that are there daily.  A few minutes before noon, the players show up with their various doodads and such, and mark their spots while people are still eating.  We knew to high-tail it out of there before Bingo Joe started calling out numbers at 12:15 sharp.  

One time a couple years ago, my friend Geri was explaining Aetna Medicare to me, and it was 3 minutes to Bingo.  Bingo Joe quietly came up behind Geri and began scooting her chair back from the table while she shouted "Hey, Hey!!  I wasn't done!"  Bingo Joe said "You are now!"   RIP Joe. 

A few days after learning of Bingo Joe's demise, I learned of the recent passing of Sil Confortini.  I haven't seen Mr. Confortini since 1979, but remembered him quite well.

Mr. Confortini was my junior high school Social Studies teacher in 1973-1974.  Truth be told, there's not a lot of things to share about Social Studies, but I remember him always dressing very well.  Always crisp dress shirts and modern ties, and a hint of aftershave.  His son Dean was in my class, we graduated together.  Dean always came to school dressed well too.

Mr. Confortini in the early 1970s, precisely how I remember him

One thing I remember clearly, I had his class at 6th period after lunch.  As he would go on about things like Brazilian exports, I would sometimes get a little dozey.

One time he suddenly stopped lecturing and said "Mr. Morris, I wish you would stop using my classroom for your nap times."  No one laughed, the other kids just turned and looked at me.  I was so embarrassed!

Mr. Confortini graduated from Jefferson Morgan High School in 1949, went to college, returned and taught there for 36 years.  He died of natural causes, a few weeks before his 96th birthday.  That is quite a life.

Finally, I just learned of this one yesterday while getting a haircut--it affected me the most.

This is not a recent picture of Denice.  Her hair was mostly gray like mine, and she wore it pulled back in a ponytail and wore glasses.  She worked at Kuhn's for as long as I can remember, often in the small office near the registers where I would buy stamps or get money for my apartment building's laundry machine.  

I don't want to sound mean, but I always assumed Denice was in her early to mid-70s.  She was slender, but a heavy smoker and in the last year had developed a bad cough.  Last Friday while working, she had a sudden heart attack and dropped to the floor.  When the paramedics arrived, she was already dead.  She was only 62 years old.

She was a wife and grandmother, and had 3 adult children.  I was just talking to her on Wednesday, two days before her passing.  I said her cough was sounding better and she said it should be, she'd had it since December.  It's difficult to believe she's gone... at least she didn't suffer.  

Three people I didn't know well, but still knew well enough.  I just felt compelled to share something.  Thanks for reading.

Goodbye Pennie, Hello Neighbor & Lesson Learned

Can I get something off my chest?  When I applied for Medicare Advantage a couple weeks ago, I was told when the card arrives to call Pennie (Pa Health Insurance Marketplace) and disenroll from my current Insurance plan, but ensure it lasts until Sept 30.  Medicare doesn't begin until October 1.

I got my updated Advantage card yesterday, so I called Pennie.  I spent the next 11 minutes identifying myself by answering 'Yes', 'No' or punching various numbers on my phone.  It was trying my patience, but I get it--they REALLY want to ensure someone isn't posing as me.  I finally get a computer voice saying "The next agent will respond to your call.  There is a current wait time of 7 minutes."

Cue the godawful wait music.  TWENTY TWO MINUTES LATER, Abu from 'The Simpsons' says (in the heaviest Hindi accent possible) "Hlu entarrour fooro dodos if yor su-chill shoity."  

I said "I'm sorry, can you repeat that?  I can't understand you."  He repeated it.  I repeat myself.  I get the same nonsensical response.  I said "This isn't working, can I speak to someone else?"  I hear more gobbledygook.  I said "I'm sorry I don't mean to be rude but I CANNOT UNDERSTAND YOU."   He begins speaking in tongues again.  I sadly hang up.

I realize we all need to eat, we all need to live, most of us need to work.  But for a customer service line for Pennsylvanians who pretty much speak English only, why must they outsource it to people with the heaviest accents this side of Bangladesh?  I worked with several people from India in my career, have had several doctors too.  They all had accents, but spoke well and were easy to talk to.   

I called Pennie back a couple hours later, went thru the same 10 minutes of AI prompts, was told there was a 1 hour wait time, would I like to be called back, I said yes.  AI said "Great, you will be called back within one hour."   No one called back.  I eventually figured out what to do on the Pennie website.  SO GLAD I AM DONE WITH PENNIE.

A couple mornings ago, I was sitting here watching tv when I began hearing chainsaws outside.  I looked out my living room window and saw one of those white trucks with a giant arm on the back, stretched up to the sky.  Someone was cutting the top branches off the tree across the street.

I've lived in my apartment 8 1/2 years and have never seen the second house across the street from me.  It had giant hedges that separated the houses, and a tremendous tree in front that hid the house and went way above the rooftop.

It took 9 hours to chop everything down.  (They returned the next day and got rid of that remaining trunk and pile of wood.)  

I realize this isn't a good picture, it's reflecting my vertical blind.  I should've taken one of the sidewalk below while it was going on.  It was lined with people in my neighborhood, all holding their phones out, taking pictures.

Last night when I was taking my trash downstairs, I ran into the transgender person who lives in the first floor apartment across from that house.  He was standing outside smoking and asked me if I noticed the trees were gone.  Er... yes.  

He wasn't happy.  He pointed behind us and said "That's my window.  I hope they enjoy the view."  😐

Finally, I recently saw a story where a man was found dead, face down on his kitchen floor.  When they rolled him over, they discovered a kitchen knife and a box of (thawed) frozen hamburger patties.  

Apparently he'd been trying to pry one free, only to force his knife too hard and pushed the blade into his chest.  I'm sorry, I know this was a grisly thing to share but it was a real wake up call.  I'm a big fan of these frozen hamburgers, and often do the same thing.  I've learned my lesson.