SWM, 64 ISO funny, sweet, patient, huggable, slightly mental companion & partner in crime

I’m trying to decide if SWM stands for single white male, sexy white male, senior white male or serious white male.  Don’t I look serious here? 

This sounds a little strange, but here goes.  I was heading up the street earlier, and wanted to wear my lighter green henley.  But I’m color blind and couldn’t tell the difference between this shirt and the dusty purple and dark gray henleys I also own, so I took this selfie. 

I see colors in photos better than in person.  Been that way my entire life.

Anyway, as long as I was posing for the camera… I saw a story on the news this weekend that said online dating was making a comeback, particularly among seniors.  Maybe it’s time I threw my shirt in the ring.  This is my practice selfie.

“Doug, you mean your hat.  You throw your hat in the ring.”   I don’t own any hats!

For the record I like to think I’m chubby in a sexy way and neurotic in a charming way.  I’m an expert at flipping hamburgers, roasting broccoli and making tuna fish salad.  I don’t smoke or drink or use drugs (okay, I did have one wine slushi at the winery) and I may not be religious but I don’t swear either.  Well, I don’t use the Lord’s name in vain. 

I keep a pretty clean house.  I even special-order Spic n’ Span powder in the box!  (If you don’t remember Spic n’ Span in a box, you’re probably too young for this fella.)  That stuff is da bomb!  I know, no one says da bomb anymore.

Anyway, take all that—throw in a few stocks & bonds and in four months I begin collecting social security.  What’s not to love?

 

Another trip to the Narcisi Winery and surprise, surprise; oh I don’t like surprises, Gomer

On Wednesday July 23 (which was also my dad’s 88th birthday if he were still alive) our senior center took a trip 40 minutes north of the city to Gibsonia and the Narcisi Winery.

We were there once before in October 2023, which I wrote all about here.

Shortly after we arrived, I dug out my phone to start taking pitchers, and thought “you know, I’d just be repeating an older post” so I decided to put the phone away after taking this pic of their orchard.

I’m a little sorry I did that, my friend Mary dressed extra special for the day and wore a nice outfit that included a lovely peasant blouse.  Why didn’t I get a photo of that at least?

I wound up ordering the same thing I did the last time we were there; a petit filet mignon steak salad with jalapeno ranch dressing.

(But I did have a wine slushi this time ‘round, my first alcoholic drink in probably 10 years.  It was refreshingly buzzy.)

Their specialty is pasta dishes, which everyone else at my table got except for me. It’s just that they serve so much hot bread and dipping oil before your meal arrives, I loaded up on that again and was carb’d out.  

I was also smoked out—my pal Dennis sat on my right and during our meal, got up to go outside and have a cigarette thirteen times.  13 times!  I love the guy, but still…

Dennis on the right, puffing away; we could see him directly outside the window behind our table.  We had a lovely view of the winery’s grounds

All in all, it was a really hot day but still a nice time.  I felt a little guilty being there without my dear friend Evvie (who is still dealing with her sciatica, now our second outing without her) but my gosh, Mary is so dear & funny.  She’s so tall & slender though, I just wanted to shake her.  Just kidding, Mary!

Here’s the surprise though; after the Access shuttles returned and took us home (we were gone the whole day) I found a certain piece of mail taped to my front door.  It’s been 15 years since I last got one of these, I should’ve known one was coming.

I’m to report for jury duty on Thursday, August 28 (which also happens to be my sister Shawn’s birthday).  I almost dread having to take a bus to downtown Pittsburgh, it’s been so long since I was last in the city.  I worked down there for almost 30 years, y’know.

Here’s what I’m also nervous about—my long covid, which still isn’t under control.  Last week, I was in a good amount of pain Thursday, Friday, Saturday.  Burning in the face, tops of my hands, backs of my legs.  Sunday morning I woke up and it was completely gone.  Things were fine on Monday too, thank you Lord.

And then Tuesday (the day before our winery trip), I awoke with my face and eyes in so much pain I spent most of the day on my bed with the bedroom door shut and my eyes closed.  These relapses are pretty debilitating.  I felt positively blessed when I got up Wednesday morning and aside from some mild burning around my eyes, knew I could go on our trip to the winery.

I just wonder how things are going to be on August 28 when I’m expected to be at the Allegheny County Courthouse at 8:30 am.  All I can do is keep my fingers crossed and hope I don’t get a visit from Post Covid Pyle.

 

 

Look! Up in the sky! It’s a bird—it’s a plane—it’s the Boomer’s Superman

This is a thing of beauty.  I wasn’t going to share it here, but with the new Superman movie out this summer…  this is an 814 page collection of Superman comic books from the late 1950s thru the early 1960s.  It weighs a ton and every page is drenched in color.

A year ago a friend sent me a link to this book, and my eyes almost popped out of my head.  A Superman Silver Age Omnibus!  814 pages!  $100.00!

But I’m not the comic book fan I once was, and couldn’t bring myself to shell out a hundred clams for this fella.  I stuck it in my Amazon Wish List account.  Then last week, Amazon alerted me there was only one copy left and I noticed the price was reduced almost half to $53.70.  SOLD.

Silver Age comics were comic books published from 1958 to 1970.  I began collecting comics in 1968, when they were 12 cents an issue.

(Your average comic book now is 5 bucks.  They’re not marketed to kids like they were in my day.)

I don’t think this OMNIBUS is marketed to kids either—more to “older kids” like myself, Baby Boomers who loved these simpler, more innocent stories from a bygone age.

Silver Age Superman was drawn by Wayne Boring, Curt Swan and Kurt Schaffenberger, who did all the “What If” stories and “Superman’s Girl-Friend, Lois Lane”.  The books were bright and fun, with stories about red kryptonite, bizarro supermen, super cousins, super pets, beauty queens from the 30th century or the lost city of Atlantis, juvenile delinquents from outer space.

One of my favorites were Zigi & Zagi from Alpha Centauri; after arriving on Earth, they stop at a hot dog stand, gobble up some dogs and tell the vendor not to change the recipe.  They fly off in their jet packs while the vendor exclaims they owe him 2 bits each.  “Come back here!!  Superman!!”

In the late 1960s, if I could get a quarter from my dad or mom, I’d stop at GC Murphy’s on the way home from school and buy a comic book and dime candy bar (and still have 3 cents left over for penny candy). 

In the spring of ‘69, I saw this sign above the comic books:

SORRY KIDS!  ALL COMICS NOW PRICED 15 CENTS!

They had the exact same sign above the candy bars, also now 15 cents (except Reeses & Mallow Cups).  My first taste of inflation! 

For the record, I gave up collecting comic books in 1979, after graduating from high school.  Not because I was becoming an adult and had my future to think about… they went up a nickel in price 5-6 times in the 1970s, and now cost 45 cents for my favorite titles.  I just couldn’t bring myself to shell out that kind of bread for 5-6 books every week. 

Look at all the comic books reprinted in this volume; these early covers contain 3-4 Superman stories each.  Until I see the new Superman movie, I am in for some super-duper reading.