At A Loss For Words

I don't know why I can still be shocked by the cultural mores so common to Northern California--but I can. Blatantly written up in the local rag on PAGE ONE was the following article:
http://www.pressdemocrat.com/article/20101211/ARTICLES/101219902/0/NEWS

The Emerald Cup?? NINE days to judge the winning bud??? We sure ain't in Kansas! I really shouldn't be surprised. A medicinal marijuana shoppe is going in right down the road about half a mile from SeniorLand. I guess they know their target market.

I've been rather discouraged that I've not met friends closer to my own age here in SeniorLand. The Hall Monitors and Nazis-on-Golfcarts crowd seem a bit off-putting to me. So--after 3 years of grousing I decided to send out a tentative feeler for other Baby Boomers who are now entering retirement.

I placed a discreet notice in the local paper, hoping to get a handful of replies. It felt as if I were putting a blurb in the personals section of the newspaper. You know, "first-wave Boomer wants to meet other Boomers for staying up past 7pm, using words like "cool" and maybe even "groovy" if they happen to slip out." Or, to put it in Boomer lingo--We are, like, lookin' for a Happening!

I've been shocked to have had 80 responses to my article! So much for a quiet evening in our living room with a few bottles of good wine. It's morphed into a full-fledged meeting and definitely BYOB and not at our place!

On the other hand, maybe the local MaryJane Medicine Shoppe really does know it's all about location, location, location.

I'll be keeping you posted on the emerging Boomers
in Retirement group.

1066 and All What??

Veterans' Day found me at one of the golf courses here in SeniorLand. I had signed up for a group golf lesson--Johnny the Grip was going to walk a group of us through some of the basics while we actually played at the game-you know that game--hit ball(most of the time) advance ball, wave 3 foursomes through, pick up ball and start again at next hole. That very same game.

While waiting I struck up a conversation with 3 Brits(Reggie, Reggie, and Ol' Reggie) who were telling stories about WWII. They spoke of being in Egypt and France as though it had happened just last week. There was no bragging, no navel gazing, just matter-of-fact recounting what had to be horrendous times in their young lives. None of them had been in the Pacific so I volunteered that I had been born at Pearl Harbor. At this glad piece of news one of them leapt out of his golf cart, grabbed me around the waist and proceeded to dance me around the pro shop! I think it might have been the best dance of my life--we didn't miss a step and surely turned heads as we spun and waltzed around the building.

This, of course, lead to a more detailed discussion of war topics and we got onto the topic of who had been the last English king to go into battle. I maintained Richard III(1452--1485) had been the last to lead his army into battle at Bosworth Field and Reggie One insisted it had been George II(1683--1760) at the Battle of Dettingen in 1743. This eventually brought all 3 Reggies into the lively discussion. (Dettingen???? What is that??)

Of course Reggie One had been correct. Richard III had been the last English king to die in battle while George II lived through Dettingen. Ol' George II was also the last British monarch to be born outside of England. It's amazing the things one learns on the golf course.

Later that day I stopped by our little market and ran up a tab of $10.66. Still enlivened by the Richard vs. George discussion, I joked to the boy at the register that 1066 seemed a fitting tally for this Veterans' Day. He just looked at me as if I'd lost it. I tried again--"You know, 1066?" (Dull look) "Battle of Hastings?" (His eyes glazing over) "William the Conqueror? The beginning, in a way, of our own history?" Nothing, nada, zip.

What's that about being bound to repeat it?

Chlorpheniramine 4mg and phenylephrine 10mg (KLOR fen IR a meen and FEN il EFF rin)

 Anyone with allergies knows that Actifed is the pill of choice. Anyone with difficulty breathing knows that Actifed lets you take in more air since your airway is less obstructed.

Anyone who has tried to buy Actifed in the last few years knows that somehow drug-type druggie drug makers need Actifed to make meth. (How did they ever figure that out?)

In California, to get Actifed, one has to show picture ID and sign that you will poke yourself in the eye if you're lying that the only reason you want Actifed is because you're sneezing your head off. Once the Solemn Oath Ceremony has been performed, the cashier doles out a two-week supply of the pills.  It works well for the pharmacy since you have to go in every two weeks and Actifed is cheap--about $6.00. It's the fifty dollars of other stuff one throws in the cart that keeps the chain store running.

Today I went for my Actifed. Stop! Red Light! Call for Upper Management!

"I'm sorry Toc. We are no longer allowed to fill that prescription or provide Actifed. You will have to arrange with your doctor for a substitute medication." Now remember--Actifed is an OTC drug--well, behind the counter anyway. It needs no prescription.

I guess people who depend on the antihistamene to breathe more easily will be in the peculiar position of contacting a local drug dealer--not to buy meth--but to buy Actifed! Is it illegal to deal with a drug dealer of illegal drugs to buy the legal drug that only he now has????

Shake It Out, Baby

First it was the Great Handcar Regatta. Then it was the Blessing of the Animals. Now it is going to be the Great California Shake Out. But wait--I forgot to bring you up to date with the local version of Blessing the Animals.

When I was a church organist I hated the Sunday when people brought their critters to church. Most of the pets were dogs, a cat or two but ALWAYS a snake or rodent. Those creatures inevitably belonged to 9 year old boys who felt compelled to shove the freshly-blessed trap bait up at my face while I tried to keep playing "All Things Bright and Beautiful."

But here in SeniorLand there is a winery nearby called the St. Francis winery and it seems only natural that instead of a church the Blessings should take place in the winery courtyard. And what an upgrade that turned out to be! There were HUNDREDS of people there and almost as many animals. How "sonoma-ish" can it get? Every breed of dog, a few exotic animals like a camel and macaws, wine tasting, wine buying, hired pooper-scoopers in uniforms, beautiful scenery.....sure beats bad hymns, inside and a long sermon!

I did have some coordination problems. While I can drive, use the cell phone(but never text), put on lipstick and manage a Starbucks latte, I could not handle a 70 pound Labradoodle, the new heavy camera, take pictures and do wine tasting. I never thought the wine tasting would have to go but since Mr T opted out for a hike, I was stuck --no wine. The line for animal blessing was long but the company was lovely. I think it was long because most dogs insisted on drinking the holy water as they were sprinkled so the supply had to be renewed about every 10 blessings. All in all, it was a very civilized event.

But now comes the really exciting civic involvement--I have been asked to be a "victim" in the Great California Shake Out next Saturday. This is going to be the biggest Pretend Earthquake ever. Of course, in my mind, it is very bad luck to do this. It was like Chevron naming their drilling platform in the Gulf "Typhoon" and then being surprised when Katrina smashed it to pieces. What do you expect when you tempt fate like that?

In any event, I am to be an earthquake victim, taken to the triage area, given a dread diagnosis and transported to the emergency care center. My only requirement was that I have no broken arms so I can photo-doc this entire Shake, Rattle and Roll. Meanwhile I need to practice my moaning, shrieks, and swooning. The pretend earthquake is supposed to be a doozy so maybe a few drinks from the wine from the Blessing of the Animals will make things more authentic when it comes to swaying and stumbling around. More to follow--I wonder if Hollywood will have agents watching.

http://www.shakeout.org/

(Sorry there weren't more pictures. After the first photo, I could only get "Server Error" messages.)

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......