Tag Archives: Mike getting old

The Cranky Hobo

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images-1Life at my house is officially in total upheaval.  And like a lot of people, I detest disruption in my daily routine, the fabric of my life.  However,  changes are the inevitable developments of middle-aged life.

Just as many males will meander through the various temptations of the Mid-Life Crisis … convertibles, sky-diving, yoga, andro-gels, and women much too young to take them seriously;  many females find one outlet for their restless middle years …

Home Remodeling!

It’s an age-old phenomena.  Every husband, lover, or significant other will eventually experience the dread, the uncertainty of the day they step through the front door to find paint swatches scattered across the vestibule/bathroom/kitchen or heard the warning claxon of those immortal words, “Honey, I’ve been thinking …”

Yeah, right ... This has never happened.

Yeah, right … Assuming it’s a married couple, my bet is this never happens.

No fun nor favorable experience ever grew from such innocent beginnings.

That’s not to say that the End Results are not good, uplifting, exciting, or renewing …

But no one, who is not a contractor or do-it-themselves nut job, EVER enjoyed the in-between parts.  The preparation, the shopping, the displacement, the mess, the shopping, the selection process, the color wheel migraines, the shopping, the second thoughts, the changes in all the decisions you thought were already made, the re-shopping, and worst of all the construction disruption …

And that’s where I am stuck now … in the worst possible space in the house … my refuge, my quiet place, my comfort zone, my Fortress of Solitude …

Yes, they are tearing apart my master bath.  Bad enough the bedroom, but the bathroom too?!?

Now what am I going to do?

Apparently, it’s living as a Hobo!

Living out of boxes and cardboard “valets” … Nothing where it’s supposed to be.  Nothing where it can be found without crawling around on all fours and opening no less than three 20-gallon sized Rubbermaid containers.

Showering in the Commoners Bathroom (Ew … What is THAT?!?) and soon to be sleeping in a strange, cramped bed.

No man was meant to live like this!

And right about now, there’s this very attractive, extremely gifted housewife, sitting at her desktop Mac, reading this blog with a building whistle of steam leaking from her ears, muttering, “Oh stop being such a baby!  Why can’t you be excited?!? They’ll be done in two weeks!”

Mona Lisa's iconic smile rumored to be the result of Color Wheel Dementia during rehab of her Camden, NJ row house.

Mona Lisa’s iconic smile rumored to be the result of Color Wheel Dementia during rehab of her Camden, NJ row house.

Yeah, right … And I’m Mona Lisa.

It’s already been roughly three months of shopping and searching, searching and sampling, sampling and spending … and we haven’t even gotten to the Color Wheel of Mind Numbing Choices.

“Honey, do you like the Tawny Apricot Caramel (beige) or the Cinnamon Mud Brickle (reddish beige)?”

Of course, it will all look magnificent once it’s completed, as it always does.  She does have a gift for getting it right.

It’s just those intervening 18 weeks in Hobo Hell I dread.

Two weeks?!?  Yeah, right …

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Almost Empty Nest Syndrome

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Today we moved our youngest son, Alex, into his new digs at Temple University for his freshman year of college.  A great step forward for him, another exercise in letting go for us. 

We’re not empty-nesters yet.  There’s always one who seems to hang around.  But that’s just fine by me.  I have realized I’m not quite ready for The Vacant Inn.

You hear it a lot from people our age.  How great it would be to have an empty nest.  How carefree life would become with no kids.  The freedom that’s enjoyed after nudging that last chick out of the nest.  Funny thing is, I don’t recall very many Mr. and Mrs. New Empty Nesters extolling the virtues of their hollow home.  No, it’s usually those whose lives seem way beyond full that enjoy the Empty Nest Vision that’s still way off in the distance.

You wonder how many feel the same way about it when they finally arrive at the bridge between The Vision and The Reality.

Alex and I have had this little “good night” ritual of high-fives and fist bumps.  Heck, we’re just guys trying to avoid the awkwardness of adult male displays of affection.  Mom still gets the kiss ‘n hug.  We give the fist bump.

Last night, the ritual was different.  Still a male salute for certain.  But this time the handshake, one that lingered a bit longer.  And for some reason I flashed back to Alex as child.  Nothing elaborate, just the size of his hands as an adolescent … then as a child. 

In an instant you realize how much has changed.  It’s all good though … or so you tell yourself.  More so to prevent that newfound hole from growing larger.

Empty nest?  Nah … I’m not really ready for that yet.

Quest for PERFECTION

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Perhaps it’s the time of year, maybe it’s the time of man; but baby, there are times when I feel all of my age and then some!  Of course watching prime time TV does little to assuage my anguish.

ED-living-with-matching-bathtubs … High triglycerides?!?  Where’s my Lovasa? …  Are you feeling a bit Low-T there, fella?!?  …  High cholesterol?  …  Maybe you just need to color that hair!  

Reality dictates that it’s just a natural part of the process  …  That vague awareness that some physical tasks used to be easier to perform  …  The sometimes achy process of unfolding yourself from that a-little-too-comfy spot on the couch …  

Fahgettaboutit!, your Psyche says.  You’ll get over it.  You’ll rebound.  Just drop a few pounds; get back to the gym; remember how well you felt when you worked your program?  Of course I told you to keep working.  I told you not to take the easy way out.  I told you that summertime wasn’t a reason to skip the early morning gym sessions.  I told you not to …. 

Enough with the GUILT already!!  It’s already depressing to think that so much work has to go into wringing every possible ounce of utility out of this  aging machine.  Do I really need to be reminded of all the woulda, coulda, shouldas?!?

Certainly, having my younger brother around the last two weeks ain’t helping!  Only two years younger, he can crank a golf ball much, much farther than I with a ridiculous ability to coil and uncoil it makes my back hurt just watching.  And he claims he’s not coloring HIS hair … Pffttt … To top it off, HE retired this year!  Ugh …

Time to rededicate!  Recalibrate … Inculcate … Without so much as a whisper to remonstrate …

Only this time take it seriously!  Treat it like a life decision, not a life sentence!  Only of course it is a sentence without parole … For to stop, to let up, to take even a little time off …

Insidious is this sense of doom!!  This feeling of impinging gloom … How does anyone keep up the struggle, when all I want are naps to juggle?!?

Nattering nabobs of negativity; Cease betraying my need for alacrity!  Just get me over this imposing ridge!  Or geez, just get my eyes off the ‘fridge!

Double Nickle

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I have come to dread the divisible-by-five birthdays. 

Birthdays lost their attraction quite awhile ago, roughly around the time I turned 45.  There is little more sobering than seeing the Big Five-O getting larger and larger in the windshield … unless of course - it’s The Big Six-O. 

Usually these times give me pause to consider where I’ve been; what’s been accomplished; and where I want to go.  Unfortunately, it also elicits regrets over opportunities missed, decisions on which I desperately want a re-do, and  uncertainty about the future.  But if you’re looking for me to answers those questions here tonight … Fahgetaboutit!     

This year, I choose to count the blessings bestowed upon me and those I care for most.

I choose to appreciate the little things in life.  The small triumphs that make all the worrying worthwhile … the worry a silly indulgence in retrospect.

I choose to give thanks for overall good health, sufficient wealth, and the tolerance of those I love for my eccentricities. (Of these I have a few, but then again, too few to mention.) 

I choose to bask in the warmth of family and friends. 

I choose to cherish the love of a patient woman (See eccentricities above).

I choose to continue to have what fun I can get out of life, to enjoy whatever life brings my way.

This should be more than enough.  Enough to keep me going.  Enough to make all the problems manageable.  Maybe enough to make the next five years most fulfilling.

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Note:  Although my birthday was celebrated here today with family, it will be observed by the nation tomorrow!  Please feel free to take the day off from work, should you be employed at a place where this national holiday is recognized.

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Events in history that occurred on February 20:

1872 – New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art opens.

1915 – The World’s Fair, entitled the Panama-Pacific Exhibition, opens in San Francisco, celebrating the opening of the Panama Canal and San Francisco’s recovery from the 1906 earthquake and fire.

1927 – Golfers in South Carolina arrested for violating Sabbath.

1944 – Batman & Robin comic strip premieres in newspapers.

1975 – Margaret Thatcher elected leader of British Conservative Party.

Birthdays:
Ansel Adams, photographer (1902)
Aleksei N Kosygin, Soviet premier (1904)
Sidney Portier, actor (1924)
Patty Hearst Shaw, famous kidnap hostage (1954)
Kelsey Grammer, actor (1955)
Cranky Man, blogger (1956)

Deaths:
Frederick Douglass, escaped slave/anti-slavery leader (1895)
Chester W Nimitz, US Admiral during WWII (1960)
Walter Winchell, writer/actor (1972)
Clarence Nash, voice of Donald Duck (1985)
Richard York, actor-Bewitched (1992)

Die, Winter, die!!

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Wonderful … Had ice on top of snow Tuesday. We’ve had at least 3-4 annoyance level snows already, some before it was even officially Winter. And tomorrow we’re supposed to get 2-4 more inches.

So I’m ready to strangle Winter until it is lying limp and lifeless at the feet of Spring. As a result, I will no doubt have to spend the Autumn of my life in a hell much much hotter than any Summer. But at least I’ll be warm!