The Golf Handicap

I haven't mentioned the links because it is too embarrassing. A quick update: one of the dread meds for the dread lung disease caused tendon damage in my hands. Right hand, permanent, left hand just annoyed. I was forced into a long break from the game and then slowly allowed to resume a rather limited version of golf--9 iron and a putter. I sneaked in a driver(half-swing) and cheat with the 7 iron. Hey--it's kind of golf!

I got a lovely golf glove with the American flag on the backside. I hoped it might offset the knock-off Chinese golf clubs. Of course the glove was also made in China so I'm not sure where I am in the balance of trade.

Oh yes--I bandage up like a mummy. Hand braces, elbow brace and full girdle that would have done my grandmothers proud. Then add Celebrex and Voltaren Gel and I'm ready to go.

My last time out I teed up and took my mighty half-swing drive. Somehow one of the stays in the girdle had worked out and snagged the back of my shirt which had the effect of a seat belt suddenly locking in place. I don't think one fully realizes how public a public golf course is until one tries to remove a piece of underclothing. Suddenly I noticed that both sides of every fairway were lined with houses. Every other house had folk enjoying adult beveredges out on their patios.



It could look
like this!



There is no place to hide even though I had to unsnag the stay and ease it out of my clothing. Modern girdles have lots of velcro--wrist braces also have velcro--it wasn't long before the velcro spots had all found each other. One hand was trying to undo the stay and the other was trying to unlace and pull the girdle velcro apart to get it off. All I could think of was getting to the 4th tee where I could slip under the eaves of the clubhouse patio, in the shadows, and get untangled. Wrong! There was a wedding reception on the patio with at least 3 dozen guests hanging over the rail admiring the view. So---for the next 3 holes it was swing, snag shirt on stay, try to push free, get velcroed hands  stuck to the girdle. Not my finest round. Fortunately by the 6th hole there was shelter to run in and remove the girdle handicap. Never again!!!!

When I can, I attend Johnny the Grip's golf clinic. He's introduced the class to a little two-step and shake your bootie routine as part of addressing the ball. I can get into this! The last clinic was especially helpful when we discovered that the Firemen were having their annual golf tournament. Bet all those fine-looking firemen knew all about hozzles! Oh yeah--shake it!

The Great Handcar Regatta

Sonoma County. 102 degrees. People encouraged to come in costume(how could you tell????) Handcar races. New camera. It was hilarious.

Doesn't he know smoking is bad for you?


Dah Bro.

Not a clue.

All ages.

Is that a LEER or what?

The Winners!

NOT part of the show.

Oh---kay.

Aliens?

C'mon girls. You're giving us all a bad name with that lame design!

A young 20-something man actually was excited that this vehicle could be the answer to all our energy problems. He told us--average age of the 3 of us was around 167--that if we all pedaled things like this instead of driving cars the earth would be saved! I asked him where I could put my dogs. He took the facetious question very seriously and finally decided a sort of buckboard/cart could be attached to the back and I would just have to pedal harder. I mean, like, you know, this dude was SERIOUS!

http://www.pressdemocrat.com/article/20100926/NEWS/100929561/0/news?Title=Santa-Rosa-s-Victorian-science-fiction-

Live Off The Land Portal

While I'm busy reading up on the coming collapse of American Society as we know it, Mr. T suggested a trip to Hopland--aka Hophead Land. There is a locally famous survivalist store there--or so we thought.

I should mention everything you read about California is true--and then some. There are a lot of really crazy wackos living here. This is the car we had to follow out of town. They really make and SELL bobble-head Obama dolls? And what does it have to do with NPR?? And Moonbeam must have the largest collection of personal bumper stickers than anyone with the possible exception of Jesse Jackson.

We followed the beautiful Russian River up 101 past Cloverdale to Hopland. A wonderful local brewery  is located here--the Mendocino Brewery. We would have spent our time better simply taking the tour and sampling their wares. But we were determined to see the "live off the land" crew.  

Inside The Real Goods we were greeted with a Buddhist shrine to our left and gardening without any advancements since the 4th century self-published books. A peace sign made out of old Christmas tree lights was the focal point, hanging from the middle of the ceiling. Everything was uber-PC from the didn't harm the earth cotton clothing to the won't kill the ocean body soap.

There was a solar-powered merry-go-round--but no children around to play on it. Let the pictures speak.

The houses are yurts where volunteers come to intern in the store and learn how to live like primitives.



 

Retirement plus 50

 Mr. T has been retired for nearly 2 months now. I never before realized that he must have adult-onset ADD. He still gets up and has most of the known world organized for the day. So far, he has injured his rotator cuff and managed to get a pinched nerve in his neck. I wonder if it has anything to do with joining a local ping pong club and trying to get a year's worth of yardwork done in a week? So far he's had about 3 doctor appointments and at least as many physical therapy sessions! I'm convinced he sees retirement as something to get checked off his list rather than a new state of being.

He has also figured out how to use the Rat Zapper and caught the nasty rodent--electocuted that Norwegian roof rat as soon as it went for the bait.

http://toccatamundi.blogspot.com/2008/11/to-catch-rat.html

Work around the house? To the left is the "before" shot. And after all his hard work? The "after" shot. "Holmes on Homes" would be so proud!

He's also replaced the broken sliding screen door that the dogs went through trying to catch the same roof rat. If Byrdie were smart, she would be a dangerous dog! Talus would never be dangerous--he just stays annoying. When Byrdie spied the rat she just lunged for it--screen door never figured in her calculations of a battle plan. Talus never saw the rat but takes the lead in plunging and yapping. (He didn't really have to worry about the screen door since Byrdie had flattened it already.)

Talus headed around the corner away from the rat because he remembered a part of my garden he'd torn up and wanted to finish that job. Byrdie, seeing Talus having a plan, abandoned the rat destruction mission and followed him around the corner. Sigh....At least Mr. T. was able to get the Zapper up and running in Lethal Mode and replace the door.

I've noticed the beer consumption is going up.

Chronometer

In stillness she observed

As had always been her way

Not yet knowing her detachment

Alone changed what she saw.

At some late hour she felt
Another’s eyes upon herself
Alarmed her pretense was laid bare
She lied deeper to her soul.

Although uncertain no one heard
She thought she’d keep it there
Tucked inside her heart in pleasing rows
Not breathing hard enough to show.

But now detected she withdrew
Reclaimed observer status
Once again but changed what she observed
Too late to warn herself.

Mama Toc Ventures Out and Scurries Back

Vuvuzela??
Vajazzle???
Hozzle????

This is what happens when I venture outside SeniorLand. I am falling behind in culture vocabulary and events. I haven't watched American Idol in 3 years now and so am hopelessly sidelined on most au current conversations.

However, withdrawal from "24" and "LOST" drove me out to the polo field and adult conversation. I'm not sure it was an improvement.

First of all, there's Louie the Letch--a 6 pound, white toy poodle, 13 years old and no teeth so his tongue is always hanging out of his mouth. That's not all that is always hanging out. After his days in the show ring, Louie was a stud dog. He is only interested in one end of any dog--and he is not discriminating about the size of the dogs either!

After a particularly long day of "performing" Louie was, uh, in trouble. He could not return to "normal"--at least normal for Louie. The vet advised holding a sack of frozen peas to his underside until his swelling and discomfort subsided.  But listening to six grandmothers discussing poor Louie's medical crisis was certainly entertaining.

The second topic was the beginning of a revolt of the elders who are being deprived of lawn chairs at the swimming pool.

It seems the grandchildren who are arriving in droves throw towels over the chairs and then are never seen again. The seniors arrive and are scolded by mothers when they move a beach towel in order to sit down while their own grandchildren swim.

This is going to be a big issue--a lobbying group has already formed to storm the administration with demands for more signs stating that the pool chairs are for residents. What has happened to GUMPTION? Toss the towels aside and then explain courtesy and respect for elders if the rugrats complain! But no...it is the way of SeniorLand to call in the Hall Monitors.

It is rather a sad commentary that youngsters don't notice that grandparents are standing in the sun for fear of moving a towel so they can sit down. Oh this new generation......

Slowly Crawling Out.....

I lost my sense of humor for awhile. Coming to terms with a parent's dementia just sucked it right out of me. I shouldn't have worried--after the grief and worry and readjustment I should have known that there would be moments of humor that will stick forever.

The first time I laughed was an encounter my mother had with a mailman. I should explain that she believes all mailmen are her personal enemy. She thinks they steal her mail and pass up her house on purpose. She isn't quite sure why the mailman should hate her but postmen are now alerted.

After an exhausting morning of little errands, we were just leaving the bank. Money is not a happy topic:  she had lost the $100 in cash I'd just gotten her and she's also convinced I'm robbing her blind. Fortunately the teller was very understanding and I'm pretty sure she didn't push the ROBBERY button under her window when my mother told her I was a thief, adopted, in cahoots with the mailman and had cleaned out her account.

We almost made it to the front door when dangnabbit! the mailman walked in. It wasn't even my mom's personal archenemy--it was just a regular mailman. My sweet, Southern, dressed to the nines mother went up to him, looked him in the eye, and spat out just one word: "Bastard!"

Well pass me mah salts and get me out of here. I'm pretty sure the bank security cameras caught me elbowing my mother in the ribs as I hustled her out the door before the startled mailman could start asking questions.

But it didn't end there. On the ride home we had to wait for a Fed Ex truck to turn in front of us. The red and blue markings on the truck convinced my mother it was the despised mail truck. The next thing I knew she'd rolled down the window of the Jeep and was FLIPPING OFF the driver of the Fed Ex truck! (Are smoked windows allowed in the front seats of vehicles????)

I have laughed over things like this. But I've been mostly grateful for the kindness of strangers who have noticed what is happening and manage to whisper words of encouragement to me, just in passing. That, and the understanding of Mr. T and friends have propped me up as I adjust to a new phase of daily life.