Breaking up is hard to do

Mashed-heartDear Chuck,

I know this will come as a shock to you, but it’s over!

Breaking up is always hard to do.  And I’m certain you will be surprised at this unfortunate turn of events.  But you have to ask yourself how you missed all the changes.

You should have noticed that I wasn’t coming around as much.  You should have noticed that I rarely ever called.  You should have noticed how quiet and unsettled I was around you.

To be honest … it’s not you, it’s me.

Every other month simply does not a relationship make.  And yes, I’m sorry.  I have been cheating on you!

It didn’t start out that way.  At first, I was just being lazy … not wanting to put in the time or effort for our usual thing.  I was desperate once and needed a quickie.

From there it progressed so rapidly, I was – I think – caught off guard.  It was too simple, too easy, too addictive.  And once I started, it seemed impossible to return to you.

Ours has been a healthy and productive relationship.  We have been through so many life events, personal problems … Good times and bad.

You were always there to tell me I looked nice.  And I was always happy to give you my advice, although frankly, I suspect you very rarely took it.

I heard you on the phone one time after I pleaded with you to follow your heart.  I heard you on the phone with that other guy … in the other room … whispering so I wouldn’t hear.  That time it hurt, but it convinced me that all I was to you was a means to an end.

Well, let’s not rip the scabs off old wounds.

Fact is, I really don’t need you anymore.  I really don’t need anybody!  I can do all this myself.

norelco_kitWhen you offered me the Low Volume Hair Discount, I knew it was over!  So I jumped into a relationship with a damn fine Norelco …

And the next time you need a tip on a football bet, go ask that idiot who told you to take the Cowboys and the points!

I hope we can still be friends …

Mike

Harper Jeanine!

The following story is True.  The names and events have NOT been changed in an attempt to protect the “Innocent”!

Me and my infant delinquent granddaughter, Harper Jeanine

Me and my infant-delinquent granddaughter, Harper Jeanine

I’m not sure how she did it.  But I must have a long heart-to-heart talk with my granddaughter, Harper Jeanine!

She was here this week to celebrate Thanksgiving with her mom, Janelle and dad, my eldest son Michael.  It was a great time, and fun was had by all (aside from the attempts to wean certain family members from Electronic Dependency Disease).

We all kept an eye on Harper, because the house is still relatively new to her.  But obviously, all the adults failed.  The kid – apparently a truant in the making – was slinking around the house in full Special Ops mode when no one was looking.

Not sure how she did that during the day … with six other adults around … so she must have been conducting her special brand of mischief under the cover of night.  No doubt in full black ninja footie pajamas, second-story burglary equipment, and mischievous intent.

You may think I’m crazy.  The little trouble-maker is only 9 10 1/2 (Thanks, honey) months old.  What possibly could she have done to warrant this accusatory post?

The evidence however is irrefutable!

The evidence

The evidence

As I labored – as is my habit – in the days following the Thanksgiving holiday to decorate the outside of the house in Christmas lights, I stumbled upon a puzzling discovery while installing lights on the back deck.  Lodged in the rain gutter over the kitchen windows was a 14-inch horsehair brush.

Now I have never owned a 14-inch horsehair brush.  Have never seen this brush, and have no idea how it became lodged in the rear rain gutter.

I dug the offending blockage from the gutter, puzzling all the while how it could have gotten into the gutter and more so, who did it belong to?

The answer was baffling and more than a bit unnerving once I cleaned off the offending object for further inspection.  The timing – just a day after their departure – was the proverbial finger of Conviction on the Scale of Justice.

the big Aha!

the big Aha!

Harper Jeanine is in big, big trouble!

Despite her obvious lawlessness, you can vote for Harper Jeanine in Gerber’s “Growing up Gerber Be our Baby Photo Search 2014“.  I just wouldn’t let her into your house unsupervised …

Flattery, thy name is …

DarrenTwissell_Old man ring_thI must be looking good at the gym!

I had completed the first half of my grueling cardio workout (OK … a slightly grueling 20 minutes on the elliptical), and decided to take advantage of an open basketball court instead of Part II on the treadmill (normally 25 minutes).

My gazelle-like movements on the court (Picture a very old, slightly overweight gazelle.), abundance of old-guy energy, and my deadly accurate, quick release was obviously turning some heads.  I’m pretty sure I sealed the deal when they saw my signature Jabbar-like sky hook.

That would be Maurice Jabbar, a 75 year-old I once saw play in the Smithsonian Geriatric League.  He owned that guy in the wheelchair! And maybe “sky hook” is a bit of an over-sell; but it sounds a lot sexier than “hop hook”!

No, it looked nothing like this ..
No, it looked nothing like this ..

Anyways … I’m working up a good sweat and in mid turn-around jumper (Picture … Well, you get the picture already.)  I sense someone behind.

“Hey, want to play two-on-two?”

It’s a guy about half my age.  (OK … Half my age 10 years ago …. maybe 15)  Obviously he was impressed.  Or maybe just really desperate for a playing partner.

What he doesn’t realize is I’m very near passing out; everything south of my waist (Yes, everything!) is groaning for me to stop; and I feel one sudden move away from a major muscle spasm.

I must have looked at him like he had six heads, because he suddenly looked alarmed and glanced around … probably to locate the nearest portable defibrillator.

I took in a huge breath; mustered all my remaining strength; and very slowly told him, “Thanks, but … I’m … almost done … here.  And … have to … go soon.  Besides … you guys … are … way … too young … for me …”

He looked either disappointed or relieved that he wouldn’t have to administer CPR.  It was tough to tell through the gauzy haze of my overheated, sweat-drenched face.

“But you’ll be on my side.”, he said.

My guess is he was an ER doc.

Because it’s mine

Was so, so close to having the garage finally cleared out from the renovations.

Plenty of room to move around.  No more playing Sliding Block Puzzle just to find the tool box.  Maybe even fit two cars in there for the snows expected tomorrow!

(Get your milk and bread! NOW!!)

And then it was finally time to get the father-in-law moved in.

Mike's Scratch 'n Dent

Mike’s Scratch ‘n Dent

I hate my life.

But my wife had some comforting words, “Stop whining.”

She doesn’t understand me.

A Cranky GrandPop’s most Excellent Adventure …

Me and Harper Jeanine

Me and Harper Jeanine

Last week was a week to end all weeks!

OK … Maybe that’s a bit of a stretch.  But for Carol and I, it was definitely a week of incredible joy sandwiched by high-levels of anxiety and a touch of aggravation with an extremely cold coating of Winter.

The almost Head Injury

The Aggravation portion of the week started last Friday when I noticed a 7 degree difference between the house heater’s thermostat setting and inside temperature.  After ten minutes of playing with the thermostat while listening for the reassuring sound of the heater kicking on (a well-known method of heater evaluation), my wife offered some of her folksy wisdom.

“The heater’s not going to come on just because you’re staring at it.”

I couldn’t argue with her.

Fortunately the heater eventually came on by itself, but it was a portent of things to come.  And on Sunday morning I woke to a cold house and no heat from a unit just a year-and-a-half old (Lennox).

Sunday was a miserable day with rain freezing on the ground.  Not that I appreciated that as I frantically called my very responsive HVAC guy.

Dan described the potential pitfalls of ice damming up outlet vents and warned of the nasty, icy weather outside.  The first thing he wanted me to do was check the opening on the outlet vent for over-icing.

Of course I was half listening (Carol would be shocked …) as I wiggled into boots to contend with the snow piled up around the side of the house where the vent was located.

So I stepped out of the house, crossed the porch; stepped casually onto the first step … And promptly landed right on my gluteus maximus after a failed Flying Salchow with a Twist.  Nothing hurt but my pride and my wet, cold butt.  The scary part was feeling the back of my head lightly thumping the cement porch, inches from a serious head injury.

The solution to getting heat into our home this day ended up being the skillful hammering – That’s right, hammering – on a half dollar-sized piece of indubitably foreign-manufactured plastic that forms a pressure switch.

As I triumphantly declared “Heat on!”, Dan the heater guy, promptly offered me all his weekend emergency service calls!

Harper Jeanine (Needless to say, the highlight of the week/month/year!)

Princess Harper

Princess Harper

Sunday night the alarms went off.  A simple call from the northern edge of the Shortall family, a small town near Williamsport, set in motion a whirlwind of grand parenting speculation and frantic decision-making.

Mom’s water had broken and the Launch Clock was running!

We opted to wait until first thing Monday morning to leave for the Home of the Little League World Series hospital because the weather up north consisted mainly of freezing rain. And of course, shortly before we were to leave on our three-hour race to the north, we got the call that we were Grandparents!

Harper Jeanine … 7 pounds, 12 ounces of incredible unbaby-ugly cuteness was born at 0719 hours at Williamsport Hospital!!

And with hitting official Grand Pop status, I aged a decade – mentally – in an instant.

But without a trace of subjective Proud GrandPop blathering, I can assure you that she is in fact the Most Beautiful Baby of 2014!

She has all her fingers and toes. (I checked several times.)  She smells of new-baby-scented perfection. (I checked several times.)  And Harper Jeanine looks a lot like me. (That I checked a few more than several times.)

There is no doubt she is the product of a perfectly developed and extremely attractive gene pool, of which of course I consider myself Lead Specimen.  And no, I am not saddled with an overactive self-perception!

Heat?  Who needs heat?!?

004c0803llold-man-winter-blowing-bad-weather-into-a-city-postersAfter a joyous day of baby coddling and embarrassing goo-goo talk, Father Winter decided to ratchet up my desire to retire to Arizona with two days of the coldest weather many will remember ever experiencing.  The Wind-chill in Williamsport on Tuesday began at -6 and wormed to a toasty +10 by mid-afternoon.

Since I was tasked with welfare checks on our new tenant, my father-in-law, who declined to make the trip with us, I made several “What’s up?” calls home.  When I asked my FIL how everything was on Tuesday morning, he told me the house was cold.

uh oh …

“How cold?”, I asked, “What’s the thermostat reading?”

He laughed, and told me without a hint of concern, “53”.

uh oh …

Now fortunately, I have a very good neighbor, an ex-Marine who loves a good crisis.  He’s a dependable, no-nonsense, get-it-done type.  We help each other out whenever we can.  Everything good neighbors are supposed to do.

No one wants a frozen Pop-Pop

What I felt like going out to my car Tuesday morning

And he’s good friends with my former Marine HVAC guy!  So, with a minimum of frantic scrambling, more pressure switch pounding, and frequent house checks by the Marines, we were able to avoid Frozen Pop-Pop Syndrome.

Getting the cheap foreign-made replacement part was another problem altogether, complicated by the horrendous weather, or so the parts supply source kept telling us.

So for two days I spent a bit of time making phone calls and requesting neighborly Wellness Checks.  And I harassed my helpless HVAC guy who eventually had to beg the required part from his Lennox tech rep.

This Winter is stacking up to be a real (select your favorite Adjective of Disbelief here).  But Harper Jeanine is here, and everything will end up just fine!

OK, since you insist …

What could be better?!?

What could be better?!?

Cranky Man down!

Now that's fainting!

Now that’s fainting!

“Carol … Something’s wrong.”

She turned from watching the Phillies’ Cliff Lee on the mound, “What?”

“Something’s not right with me.”  And that quickly, I was out cold.

The next thing I remember is coming out of this fog, my head drooped slightly.  I’m freezing cold.  I sense I’m still at the ballgame; but I can’t figure out how it got so damn cold at Citizens Bank Park.

Ice bags … There are pounds of ice in bags on my neck and shoulders.

Uh oh …

Then the yelling started … “Mike!!  Mike!!  Can you hear me?!?”  Not just one voice either … a lot of them … No, not good.

My surroundings are under water; all these wavy figures are hovering over me.  People … lots of people … standing in the early stages of a Phillies game.

No, not good at all.

As things are become clearer, I try to find Carol.  The look on her face is a glaze of immense relief over deep concern.

Man, am I in trouble …

That fast and a Phillies game on a warm, humid September 11 turned into a six-hour medical ordeal.

The heat had nothing to do with it.  Neither did the one beer I barely touched.   I was feeling fine all day; had cut the grass in the mounting heat the previous evening with no problems.

We arrived just before the start of the game; and I was standing in the aisle minutes before for The National Anthem following the annual 9-11 remembrance.  My only problem at the time was this stabbing pain high on the right side of my ribcage towards my back.

This illustrates something about my thing.

This illustrates something about my thing.

The pain was a couple of days old, self-diagnosed as a pulled muscle …

(Hey, I spent six months pre-pre-med in college, ya know.)

… probably the result of moving boxes or bags of solar salt for the water softener.  It was intermittent and seemed random, but very sharp when it acted up.

For some reason on Wednesday night the pain was driving me nuts.  Couldn’t get comfortable in my seat.  Kept stretching and twisting my back which seemed to help a bit.  It was the worst the pain had been since it started several days ago.

Finally, I get situated in a position that didn’t provoke any spasms and settled down to watch the game.  For all of maybe 10 minutes …

As I’m sitting there, gazing towards the outfield, I suddenly get this weird feeling, a spell of dizziness I expect to pass quickly.  Only it doesn’t.  It starts getting heavier and heavier, as though someone had placed a wet bag of sand on my head.

I feel groggy, not nauseous … But something is definitely wrong.  My vision gets murky.

I start to panic a bit because I can’t figure out what’s going on.  What do I do?

Should I try to make it up to the concourse for help?  Do I tell Carol?  If I tell her, game over … rightfully … with swarming EMS teams and maybe even a medevac extraction from behind second base!

… And a chance to meet Chase and Jimmy!

So – of course – I decide to see if this will pass before I set off The Panic.  Wishful thinking – most times – only gets you so far.

All this took place in the span of maybe 60-90 seconds.

When I broke out into a cold sweat, I gave up the struggle to hide my oncoming Medical Attack (a professional medical term).  That’s when I turned to Carol and this blog post begins.

The episode was scary enough for me.  But I feel terrible for what I put Carol through.  She told me I was out of it, lips blue, face white, at one point convulsing, and unable to speak briefly when I did wake up …

… Minutes later apparently, and I remember not a thing from the moment I turned to her to waking up under all those bags of ice.

There ... That's better ...

There … That’s better …

This was one of those moments when I was glad I married a very beautiful, accomplished, and knowledgeable nurse!

Fortunately, I was still sitting down when the lights when out.  And after a preliminary evaluation at the Citizens Bank Park first-aid station and a more thorough going over at Abington Memorial Hospital’s ER, no obvious physical cause was found.

That’s a bit maddening though.  Not knowing the whats and whys, only a theory.

The predominant theory appears to be the passing of a kidney stone or some other blockage that caused the back pain (which has disappeared since Wednesday’s episode), and triggering something called a vasovagal reaction to the pain.

It’s a weird, somewhat embarrassing explanation that seems to fit the circumstances.  I had never heard of it, but every medical expert we have seen favors the theory.

Could have been a lot worse.

One lesson learned was it ain’t funny – apparently – to the spousal unit left to manage the care and maintenance of a cherished (might be a stretch here …) fainter, especially when there’s no readily available explanation.  Got in Big Trouble posting my little adventure on a favorite social media site in mid-evaluation.

Unknown-3She promptly dislocated my iPhone from my possession.

Lesson:  Never piss off a nurse!

I finish this with very high praise for the guest relations and first-aid personnel at Citizens Bank Park.  They were responsive, professional, and very understanding given the circumstances.  The Phillies guest staff did an excellent job!

Thanks to all!