Pet Peeve

My pet peeve is poop. Particularly, pet poop. More particularly, my peeve is the pet's person who permits poop in public places. Please, pick up your pet's poop!

One such person perpetually permits its pet to poop near a perimeter gate. The person scoops the poop in a bag and places it purposefully in a pile. With persistence, the pile grows each passing day. Until another person - me - personally picks up the pile and puts it in its proper place. This is quite unpleasant.

There is a pause in the pattern when the person, and, presumably, the pet, pass from this place making my performance somewhat non-permanent. But when the perpetual pooper, from whatever place they perchance visit, returns to this place their pet's perpetual pooping pattern persists.

Please! If a person is permitted to own a pet, said person should be prepared to scoop its pet's poop and place it in its proper receptacle. If said person cannot be personally responsible for its pet they should not be permitted to be a pet person, in my personal opinion. Without opposable thumbs, pets cannot be responsible for their own poop. Therefore, the onus is placed on the pet's person to perform this unpleasant duty.

While I perform this perfunctory duty on behalf of keeping this place pretty, I do so under perpetual and petulant protest.

Portland is Sustainably Weird

You know you've landed somewhere weird when people take pictures of the airport carpet. That's just what they do in Portland.

The carpet pictured here is the new airport carpet. The one it replaced, the old carpet, was famous. Go ahead, look up Portland Airport Carpet. Among other things, it has its own Wikipedia page. 

I digress. What makes Portland weird is not the carpet. That's just the introduction to what makes Portland weird. In fact, if you were flying in to Portland from another country, the test at Customs is whether or not you take a picture of your feet on the carpet. If you don't, then you can't come in.

The last time I was at the Portland airport, I saw an emotional support duck. It was a Mallard, to be precise. It was being pushed in a dog stroller (much like this one) only instead of a dog, it was a duck. It was zipped into its stroller but I could see through the mesh. It was definitely a duck. It quacked. 

I wondered if it had been on my flight*. Or, if it had taken a different flight. Did it fly with other ducks? Were they in formation? Did they have humans, too?

Don't laugh. While ducks aren't recognized by the ADA as service animals, ducks can provide emotional support. Well, not to me. But they can to Carla Fitzgerald. She traveled with her duck, Daniel, and became an overnight sensation. 

That was a few years ago. Carla and Daniel are both older now. Maybe Daniel needs more support now than Carla. Maybe it was Daniel in the stroller.

That was weird enough. I didn't even bother to go into the city of Portland. I crossed the river into Washington. It's a little less weird there. 

To be clear, we were in Washington State, not Washington DC. 'Cuz it's really weird there!

*It was not. I checked the website for Southwest Airlines. They only allow dogs and cats on their flights. (And humans.)

True Enough

I read this blog post on 76003.1414 about people walking backward and how it could improve one's mental and physical health. To his delight, he imagined that if this caught on, people would be walking backwards everywhere.

The article behind the blog post, Could walking backwards be the secret to physical and cognitive health?, recommended "that people walk backwards for shorter periods of time and that they create resistance by dragging something while they walk." 

For me, this evokes a vision of people dragging unknown heavy objects rolled up in carpet. The blogger's idea that it could simply be a shopping cart may be a better idea.

While it may not have caught on with the population at large, if you were to stop by my house just before bedtime you would find its occupants indeed walking backwards. For exactly two minutes and again in the morning while we brush our teeth.

We've gotten quite good at it. The challenge - and the cognitive benefit, I would assume - increases significantly when we are both walking backwards around the house at the same time. Knocking on wood, we have yet to trip over furniture or the edge of a rug and fallen to smash our skulls resulting in more of a physical detriment than an improvement. On the other hand, if one of us fell, the other one could drag the first one's body to even things out but let's hope it doesn't come to that.

I grin each night to think someone - perhaps this blogger - might spy in a window and catch a glimpse of our evening routine. Anyway, that should scare any potential intruders away.

In fact, they might back away improving their own cognitive abilities. Then, who knows? Maybe it will catch on.

I wonder how it was "discovered."

 

BREAKING NEWS

Large hole closes northbound Highway 99 ramp from West Seattle Bridge A 5-foot-by-4-foot hole was discovered Tuesday night on the northbound Highway 99 onramp from the West Seattle Bridge. There is no estimated time for the ramp to reopen. Seattle Times story here.

I'm so tired!

I just walked 13.1 miles at the first ever Trilogy Half Marathon! I'm still feeling amped up from the experience! (I wrote those sentences yesterday - LOL. Today, I'm just TIRED!)

It was a well-organized event although there were some last minute problems. I can't tell if the organizers just didn't have any experience on how to put on such a event - like any! - or if there were some unforeseen circumstances that couldn't be avoided. It didn't matter; I had a great time! 

The people who come out to cheer on the racers were the best part. It really elevated my spirit, especially in those final miles. There was such a feeling of relief and gratitude when I crossed the finish line. I nearly cried! There were cowbells (can't get enough cowbell!), music ("We Are the Champions!"), and craft beer (Fruitlands from Modern Times, no less, which - btw - is the perfect after-sport beer imo). 

I walked away with a few medals which surprised me. The last time I did something like this, I ran the whole Flying Pig Marathon in Cincinnati with my dear aunt who did the half. I didn't even come close to getting a medal then. Maybe because this was a much smaller event - you might call it "boutique" or "semi-private" (if not "exclusive") - that I had even a chance.

Today, I slept in and later today I plan to get a much deserved pedicure. The Trilogy Half Marathon was a world away from larger marathons such as Cincinnati's Flying Pig (or Seattle's Marathon which I ran just months after 9/11) but I would do it again. As I got ready for the event, I felt the lure of addiction, adding every marathon and half-marathon I could find to my calendar. I felt drawn to the "high" of exercise (if such a thing can be said about exercise) and I schemed as to when I could do this again.

Today, well, I'm just tired.

Hopefully, I'll get the opportunity to do the Trilogy Half Marathon again. Next year.

Links:

2023 Trilogy Half Marathon

2023 Trilogy Half Marathon Results

shab-LISS

Restaurant servers say funny things sometimes.  Like one time, when we were skiing in Utah, we had a waiter who also skied. He told us he would be in the Olympics one day and we would know him because his name was Kraft. "Like the cheese," he said.

We asked him what the soup du jour was and he said, "I don't know. It changes every day!"

Another time, we were having dinner at a Red Lobster. We were doing so in memory of an acquaintance who had died a year before. He used to treat us to dinner at Red Lobster, mostly because he could eat his own weight in lobster on all-you-can-eat night. He was a nice man and we always remember him when we see a Red Lobster.

On this night, we asked the waitress about the wine list. She recommended the Chablis but pronounced it shab-LISS. We laughed behind her back about the mispronunciation but it stuck. For the past I-don't-know-how-many years, we've pronounced Chablis as shab-LISS.

Then, one day very recently, we went to lunch at a nice restaurant near our town's hockey arena. It's in the clubhouse of a golf course and not only does it have good food and a nice wine list, it has amazing views from its outdoor patio. Without even thinking about it, I ordered a slab-LISS with my meal. 

The waitress said nothing but no doubt she was laughing behind my back.

I deserved it.

 

Smooth

We went to see Iliza Schlesinger perform recently and I ended up sitting next to a college student from Kansas here on Spring Break.

She asked whether we had seen Iliza before. Wanting to seem cool and hip, I told that we had adding that we also had tickets to see Leno the following night.

"Leno?" 

So much for cool and hip. 

I mentioned Leno again the next day to a young waitress, this time asking if she was familiar with him. She said, "I'm not a fan but I'm sure I'd know their music if I heard it."

The last time I saw Jay Leno was probably in the 90s. As in, the previous century. While I saw him on a college campus, I think the kids are into someone else now. To be fair, his crowd was rather geriatric. Iliza's crowd was definitely younger.

Air Fryer Review (Part 2)

I never did make the beets after publishing my first air fryer review. I thought I had too many to do in one batch so I roasted them in the oven. Instead, I made kale chips. Twice.

The first batch was rather tasty. I had freshly grown kale and while I had to make it in batches, each batch only took as much time as it took to prepare the next batch. I kept the chips on the kitchen counter and snacked on them often throughout the day. I figured it was a great way to sneak more greens into my diet. It also prompted me to floss more as I was forever walking around with kale stuck between my teeth.

The second batch was made from grocery store kale and wasn't nearly as tasty as the first batch. Was it the kale or some inconsistency in my preparation? I don't know but I've had enough kale chips for a while. (Kale has been touted as a cancer-fighting food. I can affirm that during the time I was eating kale chips, I did not have or become diagnosed with cancer. There you go.)

I also tried some asparagus in the fryer which came out rubbery. They were tasty - and I ate them all - but I prefer my asparagus to have a little crunch. Sautéed with olive oil, salt, and pepper works just fine and might be a little easier both in preparation and in cleanup.

I've also tried hard "boiled" eggs. They turned out okay, if not a little rubbery, but I prefer how they turn out when made in my pressure cooker.

One thing that did turn out well, was chicken wings. I had bought a giant bag from Costco to make during the Super Bowl and if not for the air fryer I wouldn't have even considered making them. I've never made chicken wings before and while I'll eat them, I've never ordered them at a restaurant either. 

All that to say, I don't think the air fryer is worth the cost (regardless of how much it cost) or the space to store it. For me, that is. I know a lot of people who love theirs. 

I haven't given up entirely, though. I saw a recipe for chickpeas make in an air fryer. Like the kale chips, the idea is to make a healthy snack. I've also read you can make a toasted cheese sandwich in an air fryer. I guess the idea there is you can toast both side of the sandwich at the same time. Like a panini press. (Register me skeptical.) I just read you can also bake cookies in there, if you only want four at a time.

If I get around to any of those, I'll let you know. In the meantime, however, the air fryer will be gathering dust in the pantry. I've got better fish to fry.

Or do I?

Air Fryer Review (part 1)

We recently acquired an air fryer for no other reason than it was on sale. I asked my sister-in-law what she uses hers for and she said it's good for all the same foods you would normally fry. This presented a problem as I don't usually fry food. In fact, I can't think of any food that I fry.

I asked a neighbor. She said she loves to make chicken and vegetables in hers. I haven't had much need for an alternate way to make vegetables but I was curious about how the chicken might turn out but haven't tried it yet.

My daughter-in-law likes to make fish or vegetables in hers. She has my interest. The next time I make fish, I will try the air fryer. (Review to follow.)

The fact is, we live in a great produce growing region and fresh fruits and vegetables are easy to come by. I just recently picked up some beets which will be my next experiment. But my first experiment was to make apple chips.

The advice I found online was to slice the apples very thin and then sprinkle lightly with cinnamon. The slices were to be placed in the air fryer in a single layer and "fried" at 375 degrees for three minutes.

The first thing I realized was that a single apple would require two batches which seemed like a lot of effort to go through to eat an apple. Plus, dirty dishes.

The second thing I figured out was I didn't get the apples thin enough. While the online advice warned me of this, I thought my knife skills were up to the challenge. They were not. After three minutes, the apples were just soggy slices. I flipped them around a little and put them in for another five minutes. Still, only one slice was thin enough to crisp up. While it was sweet and tasty, it was clear it wasn't worth trying to crisp the other half of the apple.

It's possible to get the apple slices thinner with a mandolin but then I would have a knife, a cutting board, a mandolin, and an air fryer to clean when I could have just eaten the apple.

It reminds me of something my grandson said when I told him I sometimes like to make a little shot of espresso in the afternoon and drink it out of a tiny little cup. It's a tiny, warm, and yummy afternoon treat. He said, "It makes too many dishes, Doesn't seem worth it."

I guess it's in what you value. The dirty dishes are worth it to me for a shot of espresso every once in a while but when it comes to my apple, I think I'll just eat it raw.

Up next, beets....

April 2014

I got an email from Gmail that said one of my blog posts from April of 2014 violated Blogger's spam policy and was, therefore, unpublished. The email included a hyperlink to the post but I wasn't willing to click on it so I don't really know what I posted nearly nine years ago that could have been so controversial. The post didn't have a title so I suspect it was only a photo. 

Instead, I went back in time and read all my posts from April 2014. If you have a few minutes, you should read the insanity. I literally laughed out loud.

I should consider writing more.

Truckin'

 

So what're you gonna do when you retire?

That's what people ask. My answer has included:

• take more Spanish lessons
• take American Sign Language classes
• volunteer
• get involved in more fitness activities
• cook more
• be more organized
• write more

What actually happened:

• wasted time on my computer

Honestly, that's what I did when I was working. I did laundry, walked or biked, ran errands, picked up the grandkids from school, posted photos on social media. I always had a lot of email that seemed to distract me, usually items that involved local entertainment or news. I always had a lot of tabs open on my computer for things I wanted to remind myself to do or look into.

Now I'm doing pretty much the same thing except without work getting in the way.

I have actually done some of the items on the above list - volunteered, took a Pilates class, cooked and baked. One thing I didn't see coming.

On the first day of not going to work, I tuned into a show about people going to work. Accountants, specifically. Like I missed my job already. 

On IMDb, the summary for the show reads, "This workplace comedy sheds light onto the hilarious scenarios CPAs, staff accountants, and audit professionals find themselves in on a daily basis."

Yep, that's the first thing you think of when you think of accountants: hilarious.

As tax season starts to ramp up this year, I'm happy to sit this one out. If I ever find myself missing it, I can always watch it on TV.

Yellow

 

Who will help me bake this cake?

You would think, when offered, both kiddos would have jumped at the opportunity to bake something sweet but when they found out the plan was to make coffee cake, they both declined to join me in the kitchen.

"I don't really like cake," the first one said.

"I don't like coffee cake," the other one said more specifically.

I proceeded alone.

I mixed white sugar with brown sugar and flour. "It's not like a cake you eat for dessert," I tried to explain. "It's more like a breakfast cake."

The first kiddo was still uninterested. The second one tried to disguise her intrigue as disinterest.

I added cinnamon and nutmeg. "See? This cake has all the same ingredients as apple pie . . ," one of their favorites, " . . . except there's no apple."

The older one looked at me disbelieving. This could not be a thing, he seemed to be saying. "I think it will be too sweet," he said being the discerning baker himself.

"It'll have too much coffee," the younger offered matter-of-factly. (She, being matter-of-fact in all things.)

"There's no coffee in this cake," I said. This utterly stumped the younger one and did nothing to change her mind. She stood steadfast by her previous statement regarding her opinion of coffee cake.

I added the rest of the ingredients and poured the batter into a pan. I added the crumble topping and popped the cake into the oven. Soon the kitchen filled with the aroma of cinnamon and sugar. When the cake was done, the little one wanted to know if she could try some. (The older one having already wandered away.)

"You've already had dessert. Besides, it's time for bed." We said goodnight as their parents came home and we went home ourselves leaving the cake for them to enjoy in the morning.

The next morning I received a text from our son thanking us for the breakfast treat. "Did the kids try it?" I asked. 

"Yes, they were going to help eat the cake," he answered.

Next time, I bet, they will help me bake the cake.

I got my ass kicked by senior citizens.

On Tuesday, I took a Pilates class. It's the first fitness class I've taken in roughly 30 years. (From that reference, you might think that I'm a senior citizen myself and you'd be correct.) For most of my life, I've relied on what I could do without paying someone to tell me how to do it: walk, hike, bike; situps, pushups, and the like. This method, it seems, has served me well. I feel fit; I look fit; and, I feel great. I don't remember why I thought I should try a Pilates class but I figured it couldn't be all that hard. Besides, the class I was taking was in a gym whose membership is entirely made up of senior citizens. How hard could it be?

Pilates is all about balance, stretching, and strengthening the core muscles. Or so I thought. Once upon a time, I purchased a book (limiting my fitness expense to the book alone) and tried the exercises at home. I  don't know if it had the desired effect, or even what effect I was going for. It was just the popular fitness craze at the time so I thought I would try it.

It's popular again with gyms (they're called studios now) devoted to the practice. This form of exercise (and I never really thought of it as exercise) has been modified to incorporate equipment which means not only more of an investment if one is to do it at home but requires an instructor which, as I've mentioned, I usually avoid.

Whatever possessed me, I signed up for the class.

I was the last to arrive and noticed that everyone had a yoga mat, a ball (such as one you would use for dodgeball or foursquare), a giant rubber band, and hand weights. Although I expected the yoga mat, I couldn't imagine what the rest of it was for. A very helpful white-haired man helped me gather all the requisite equipment from around the gym - er, studio - and the class began.

We started innocently enough with some stretching and range of motion exercises that incorporated the ball and the rubber band. Then, we proceeded to sit-ups combined with leg lifts. Later, we were instructed to clamp a hand weight behind one knee by bringing our heel to our buns and then lifting our leg behind us while we were on all fours (well, threes if you don't count the leg we were lifting). I couldn't keep my weight in place and dropped it on my other stationary ankle. At that point, I decided it was safer to proceed without the weight.

Finally, we did an exercise that closely resembled squats and we did them in slow motion which exercised the quadriceps - the fronts of our thighs. I'm not sure how many we did but I can tell you, it was not my core muscles that were begging for me to stop. When the class was over, all the senior citizens got up and put their equipment away while I lay on my mat and wondered if I should call to get a ride or if I could still walk home. Although I fared the rest of the class fairly well, my legs were shaky.

On Wednesday, my legs were so sore, I took a bath with Epsom salt which helped a little but by evening, I could barely get myself in or out of a chair. I had decided I would do some baking but when I realized that my mixing bowls were on the bottom shelf, I decided it wasn't worth the effort to crouch down to get them. Laundry was similarly out of the question as the dirty clothes were on the floor.

Today is Thursday and I had wanted to take a Zumba class offered by the same Pilates studio. Even though I would have had to pay for the class, Zumba doesn't appeal to me as an activity to be done alone. Besides, it sounded fun: music and dancing. Again, I asked myself, how hard could it be?

Well, I won't be fooled by these white-haired senior citizens once more. If I sign up for Zumba, I'll never walk again!

Tree

 

When a Bitch meets an Angel

When I say "bitch," I mean this - in the bitch's own words - as a term of endearment. And this bitch is the most endearing one you will ever meet. She is a kind and caring soul to her core, a woman of faith. She is no angel; she is but human suffering like the rest of us.

I saw her recently when we went to a holiday party where everyone was supposed to bring a gift for a “white elephant” exchange. We were a little reluctant to go. Why, for instance, would we want to go to a party to exchange crappy gifts with people we don’t know well enough to think that could be amusing?

We went, nevertheless, and brought an elephant as our gift - albeit a brown one. We had acquired it in a similar gift exchange but rather than feeling stuck with it, I rather liked it and kept it for several years. It had hinged limbs and has sat on the mantel every year alongside the Christmas stockings. 

The elephant became sacrificial when a week before Christmas, I didn't have a gift for a gift exchange that I didn't really want to go to in the first place.

Once the party was underway and everyone had been served a drink, the gift exchange began. It was played as a game. We all drew numbers to determine the order for each of us to select a present from under the tree or to steal a previously opened present from someone who had already taken their turn. With 41 players, it was destined to be a long night of embarrassment. My number was 12.

The first player opened a bottle of wine. A fine gift. Surely, it would be stolen by player number 2.

The next gift was a martini shaker in the shape of a penguin. It was was a nice present. I planned to steal it myself if I got a chance. I guessed the giver had gone above the budget of $20 set by the hostess (it also came with vodka) but the gift also seemed to reveal an unspoken theme for the evening. I mentally slapped my forehead for bringing an elephant, white or otherwise, when alcohol would have been the safer bet.

Trepidation set in. Players number 3, 4, and 5 selected their gifts. No one was stealing because no one selected duds from under the tree. As predicted, all of the gifts contained some quantity of alcohol. I was starting to strategize that I should select my own gift from under the tree and act appropriately disappointed for having selected a (nearly) literal white elephant. At least someone else wouldn’t be stuck with it.

Then, it was player number 11 who provided my solution. Their gift was handmade pottery - items made by dear friends of ours. They had just taken an introductory class and these pieces were their "mistakes." Rejects to them, the bowl and mug were treasures for me so when my number was called, I swiftly snatched the pottery gift from player number 11 without explanation or apology.

At this point, I will clarify that I am neither the bitch in this story. (Nor am I the angel.)

The elephant was eventually selected and I felt sorry for the recipient; she was clearly disappointed. I was relieved when the woman who was standing to my left later stole the elephant and claimed it for herself. I was surprised that someone actually wanted it.

A later player got a knit hat that looked like braided dreadlocks, another disappointment. However, the potter who made my bowl loved it. He traded his alcohol-related gift for the hat and immediately put it on. The dreads fit him to a T. Both parties to the trade were happy with their outcomes. Things seemed to be working out for all involved.

Finally, everyone had their turn but two presents remained under the tree. Coincidentally, two people in the room didn't have gifts: the hostess and the bitch. 

The crowd roared that the gifts should be distributed. One appeared to be a wrapped candle but the other was a mystery. The group's decision was the hostess should receive the candle and the bitch should get the last remaining gift.

The bitch unwrapped her present and found an angel. The woman who cherished my brown elephant had brought it. It was a metallic figure that could be hung as a wall decoration.

The bitch sobbed. She sobbed for a recent, personal, and tragic loss. She sobbed for a loss other people have suffered. Her heart was broken and as much as she is a positive light, the sight of this angel reminded her of an anguish she couldn't contain or understand. It was like a message from heaven. 

I don't know what the message was, or what it meant to her. To me, it meant that everything will eventually work out as it was meant to be although that's impossible to imagine in time of such momentous loss. 

2022 was hard for me, in its own way, and for people I love. There was the loss of loved ones (some expected, some not). There were diagnoses of cancer, covid, flu, and pneumonia. Others were sick but didn't know what they were sick from, just beat down and exhausted. It all seemed to pile up in the month of December and made for a very sad way to end the year.

I say, good riddance to 2022.

However, that angel reminds me that there were far more good moments in 2022 than bad ones and that life, though difficult, goes on. 2023 promises more of everything - the good and the bad. My heart aches for the people who are suffering or having to struggle through horribly difficult times. My prayer for all the bitches in my life - and remember, I call you this because I love you - is that the good will eventually outweigh the bad in 2023 and beyond.

Just hang in there and watch for angels.

HNY

 

Don't tell anyone ...

 ... but I think my heart grew three sizes.

But, hey, the day isn't over yet....