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.

It's Finally Warm and After All, Tomorrow is Another Day

After ceaseless wind, cold and even rain, today was 80o and clear. The excitement was palpable. We've been back at our favorite hot springs taking the waters and waiting for the weather to clear. Byrdie cut a paw pad on some sharp rocks, I fell into a nasty palm tree and sliced up a few fingers, the poodle whines about everything and Mr. T is the rock holding it all together.

Mr. T is also the one who decided that of course we could drive this 31' RV up Excelsior Mine Road to Horse Thief Springs. In the Jeep, washboard roads, rocks, and sand are no problem. But in the Minnie--it took us 2 hours to go nearly 15 miles. And did we get to our destination? NO WAY!!

Halfway there the road suddenly turned into boulders, washouts and deep ruts.There was no choice but to make a 39 point turn with the Minnie and head back to the RV park. At least we had plenty of time to brace ourselves for the hooting and "told you so's" we knew were coming from the old-timers who run the place. Ah well--it was nice to relax and clean up and enjoy the date milkshakes from China Ranch.

Tomorrow we will tackle the mountain again only this time we will reluctantly drive to the Interstate and go 100 miles around the "problem" and come in the back way. In the meantime, the flowers are fantastic, the views spectacular and the crowds non-existent.

We played on sand dunes last night and now we have an extra night of soaking in the hot spring water. The water is pumped up from a 600' well where the water is 119o. The flow of water into the pools is controlled so the water temp is "only" around 100--105o. The water is so smooth and silky--just don't try and drink it or wash the shampoo out of your hair!

Bakersfield, Barstow, Yermo but no Cucamonga

I don't know what has come over Mr. T. After arriving at the RV park late last night he fired up the Minnie at 7:30 gerund-deleted AM. What is this? No morning coffee brought to me in bed? No checking of email? No casual lolling about and finally getting underway before check-out time at 11:00AM? At least he relented and grabbed me a Vente Latte before we headed down I-5. On the other hand, when the only soap I could find was an old hotel sample of Neutrogena soap that smelled like the nurse's office in grade school, Mr. T was the one who magically produced a tube of Crabree & Evelyn shower gel. What a guy!

Yes, the Congress-created dust bowl still lined both sides of the freeway. Yes, the smelly cattle feed lots still assault the senses. Nothing can make I-5 go by any faster and so we were grateful to listen to Rush Limbaugh and do the "country's goin' to the dawgs" comments. Somehow, it was fitting that we hit Bakersfield at High Noon when KNZR blares out the Star-Spangled Banner and Jaz McKay takes the mike. All seemed right again with the world.

The wildflowers were just beginning to come out in the Tehatchapi Mountains and as we passed into the long stretch of desert, everything was green with solid yellow wildflowers everywhere. It was stunning. I would post a picture but Mr. T was hell-bent on getting to Barstow and when we did stop there wasn't a flower in sight. However, there was this amazing pile of broken glass that was turning blue in the desert sun.

 

I'm very sentimental about Barstow.(Take that, Jay Leno!)  My grandparents came West in the early '20ies when my grandfather worked for the Santa Fe. I spent my first 7 years there--it's in Barstow that the desert imprinted on me. Too bad that now it's such a dump. So we pressed on to Yermo--also a place I lived in my childhood. (In case you think my childhood was deprived, let me assure you I also got to live in Daggett.)

 

Old tires are a desert staple--two examples of creative tire use discovered in the town of Old Boron off Highway 58.

So, here we are in Yermo--close to the old desert haunts that always draw us back. The saddest part is that the monastery has moved and so, for the first time in 10 years, we are on our own with no monks to regale us with desert stories or spiritual encouragement. The desert seems to be a place where dreams come to die.

But Barstow will outlast us all.

It's 7pm but hey! Mojave Here We Come

Local crises notwithstanding, we finally got the Minnie loaded up and the Jeep hooked up to tow. We have truly arrived at Old Gramps and Gran'ma status. Leaving at 7pm only gave us about 3 hours of travel time before our first stop--but those 3 hours of traffic through the East Bay equals about 2 days of normal RVing.

The first half hour I had to watch out the back window of the RV to make sure the Jeep didn't break loose from its moorings and pass us on the freeway. Eventually, I gained enough confidence in the towbar to maintain the proper vehicle order and took my place in the co-pilot's seat. Usually we travel with me driving the Jeep and Mr. T driving the RV while we communicate via CB radios. Now we were in the same truck and he was too busy driving to keep up any patter of chit chat.

So----I began to play with the camera and all the lights from the bazillion cars trying to drive around us, over us and possibly through us. This camera waving at the car lights entertained me for a good 90 minutes and we arrived at Ye Olde Kit Fox RV park just in time to hit the sack. But, some of the photos are of interest so I give you some samples.