My new baby!

Well, given my adeptness in Florida on a bike, you may find this crazy, but... I bought a bike! Being on the bike (and even falling with it) brought back my old yearning for one.

I had used a bike during my childhood and into my teens, of course. And when I got divorced in the 1980's, I bought one and used if frequently after work (this was in Minnesota, so it obviously was NOT in the winter). I'd get on that baby and bike thru city streets for 30 to 45 minutes. Great for unwinding, for clearing out the mental cobwebs - not to mention the coincidental exercise. At that time, I was in good shape and the biking probably only contributed to that. When I left the townhouse that my ex-spouse and I had shared and moved to a southern suburb of Minneapolis, I took the bike with me and continued my biking habits - this time, it was usually on weekends.

Then I re-married in 1985. We were now living in Houston (I sold the bike before we moved here) and the weather was NOT conducive to bike-riding, most of the time. I tried to find a way to exercise, but the commute and everything else was not helping that. A coupla years ago, we joined L A Fitness. I loved the place, but as the enrollment increased, the wait for the machines got worse and worse. I was really chafed at the ones who would SIT on various exercise machines and chat (or worse, be on their cell phones!) - obviously they were there more for the social stuff and not trying to use the place as it was intended. I absolutely LOVED the elliptical machines - one of the most perfect things (IMHO) that you can do for indoor exercise. But we decided to halt our membership - too many things were eventually broken, including (several times) the heater on the indoor pool. Let me tell you: an unheated pool is merely a cold indoor "lake". Bah - had ENOUGH cold lakes in my past life in Minnesota!

Anyhoo: after having the trial run in FL, I had my appetite whetted for another bike. I talked with a friend of a friend, who gave me enough pointers to go shopping with. And so I became the proud owner of a Specialized Globe Caramel (not sure where this is manufactured) model. With a Shimano 21-speed geartrain (whatever that means!), it has twist-grip gears (recommended by the friend) and is pretty light-weight - frame is aluminum (also by recommendation). They had to get a small frame for me (the medium, even with the seat lowered, was too much for my short-y legs), and the bike has 26" tires - supposedly flat-resistant. Yes, I purchased and USE a helmet. Have had it out a few times for a spin - usually about 20 - 25 minutes at a time. Just using it on the suburban side streets, so far, where I live.

Now... Here's the kicker: I had my annual visit with the cardiologist on Friday and was telling him about the bike. He questioned just WHERE I was doing my bicycling, and when I told him, he relayed this (unfortunately true) story: he knows a married couple who are both doctors, and the husband is an oncologist at M D Anderson (a well-know Houston Medical Center hospital for cancer treatment and research). He was biking in THEIR suburban area one morning. A "soccer mom" (my cardiologist's wording) was driving home from running her son to soccer practice, fell asleep at the wheel of her SUV and ran OVER this man. He is now a paraplegic. He tried to tell me to invest in a bike rack for the car and to ONLY bike on bike paths/trails. Sorry, that will NOT be happening. I want to hop on the bike and just GO. Trust me, if anything at all, I am WAY too cautious.

The good news from seeing the cardiologist: he thought everything sounded good (I have an artificial heart valve), was very satisfied with my weight, my cholesterol numbers, etc. So I got out of there easy - just grabbed my prescriptions for the upcoming year and RAN for the door. Don't know if I have ever related my experiences with the cardiology community or not. The short story is that I have an artificial heart valve as the result of (1) having had rheumatic fever when I was 9; then (2) had several other bouts of strep infections which contributed to scar tissue on my mitral valve; then (3) had some stressful health incidents (the last was an awful bout of flu in 1987) which brought up the need for the valve replacement. That was done five years later, in 1992. I think I was the youngest patient on the post-operative floor of St. Luke's here in Houston at the time of my first open-heart surgery in 1987 (not the one where the valve was replaced) - I was 39 (looking even YOUNGER than that), and boy, did I draw second glances on THAT floor - both from other patients AND their visitors!

Anyway - enough about THAT. I confess that I have not YET taken the time to get a photo of the new "baby", but I did copy (and edit) said photo from some bike shop's internet site. Whatever it takes, guys.

Bag tag (thanks, cuz!)

Well, I will be putting this together over at least two days. The primary reason being: that I stupidly waited until 9:54 pm to begin this post, so I know there is NO way that I will assemble the arsenal needed for this one (download a coupla photos, inventory the handbag, etc.). But I hope this will remind me tomorrow (Saturday, the 21st) that I have an unfinished task. Of course, I will only be reminded if I do log on to the blog. Okay... I am blurring the goal here.

My fellow blogger and cousin, who writes The Retirement Chronicles (another reason that she is NOT in my good graces, having had the audacity to retire AHEAD of me), tagged me (and others) with this one.

According to her, the rules are:

1. Take a picture of the purse you are presently using. NO CHEATING...you cannot take a purse that is spiffy and cute that you keep on your shelf and use for only special occassions..OH NO. You must be honest and take a photo of the one you are using everyday, right now.

2. You must post the picture of your purse and tell us how much it cost, and where you got it and a little about it.

3. (HER added rule): You must also tell us a list of EXACTLY what is inside your purse at this very moment. DO NOT lie, and you MUST list EVERYTHING, no matter NOW embarrassing.

4. Tag another 6 of your favorite bloggers to do the same and list them on your blog. Then notify them they are tagged by leaving a comment on their blogs.

That's it.

So... back to my handbag -

It's a brand called Fossil (heh heh - no comments from younger readers!). I bought it because it is leather, will (hopefully) last a while, has TONS of zippers and pockets and so on, and although it was originally pricey, I seem to remember getting a $70 bag for considerably less. It's about 10" long, and about 6.5" high. At it's widest (overstuffed) point, it is about 7" max. Yes, I HAVE had it for awhile now, and it looks a bit weathered, etc., but. So maybe I was right on that "last a while" speculation?

The inventory: clip-on sunglasses; four keys on a key-ring; an Obama-Ladin inaugura- tion key ring (not connected to the keys); several kleenexes; a pen and a mechanical pencil; business cards - from the Faux by Two business and from the Port of Houston; business cards with friends' names/cell #'s/e-mail addresses written on them; a glass "forever" nail file; a (wrapped) chocolate mint from the Olive Garden; $59 in paper money; lotsa change; a gift certificate to Walmart; checkbook; small address book; five lipsticks/lipglosses!; small container of hand lotion; wallet with credit cards, car and health insurance cards, drivers license, Sams Club card; small notepad; small tin of mints; packet of rice paper (oil-absorbing); mirror with pressed powder (okay - I have oily skin!); vinyl packet with optical cloth; wrapped pantyliner; Hallmark pocket calendar - keep track of birthdays!; two pill bottles: one with advil and tylenol and vitamins - the other with prescription drugs (I take 7 scrips a day) and various crumpled notes and receipts. OOPS! Nearly forgot that lovely Viking-purple cell phone hanging off the handle there. I think (fully loaded) the bag weighs about 5 pounds. Years from now, archeologists will find our skeletons, with the females often having a groove on their left (or right) shoulder bone (aka clavicle). I wonder what they will attribute this to?

And other bloggers to tag with this? Hmmm.... will also address this tomorrow. So there you have it: lots of promises (tomorrow never comes?) that I will have to fulfill.

Time to back-pedal to the living room, catch the weather, and the Tonight Show. Catch ya'll later, when I flesh out this post tomorrow. 'Nite!

I'm b-a-a-a-c-k!

Nancy is back. From Florida. Badly timed visit, weather-wise. Colder 'n a grave-digger's arse, folks. Two mornings where the temp hovered at 35 degrees. Brrrrrr.

Anyway, she came back with a positive frame of mind that she hopes will continue. Time, indeed, will tell.

While there, she fell.off.a.bike. Yes, her did. I will post a photo to attest to my bruises and owwwees. By the way, this happened at the very end of a much-longer bike ride than I had been on, for ages. I was congratulating myself (silently, of course) on how well I had done. And then, on perfectly FLAT ground, while rounding a small curve on the driving area, I leaned a leeettle bit too far. And found that flesh gives and asphalt does not. The photo shows my healing body over one week after my fall. It was suggested that maybe I should wear a biking helmet - but I did NOT hit my head. Maybe kneepads would have been more appropriate, although most don't wear those unless they roller skate. Sometimes you just cannot protect a person from their own stupidity/clumsiness.

The other photo shows the t-shirt that I wore back from St. Pete. Three women were working at the checked-baggage counter for Southwest, and the first one who saw the shirt HAD to get the other two to see it, before I left there. So I was glad that I had worn it. It seemed an appropriate shirt to wear back to Texas. (If you cannot read it, it says: Forget the bull. Ride the cowboy. Some folks don't like Southwest, because they have the cattle-car boarding procedure. It has never bothered me, as long as I can get in with the first boarding group (or second one, in a pinch). And I so appreciate that Southwest has not decided to charge you for checking one bag (yet). It was a godsend, because the Florida weather this year was so changeable that I had to pack for two climates, in effect.

I had expected a jam-packed plane going into Tampa. But about one-third of the seats were empty - and this was the Thursday before the Super Bowl, y'all. Maybe a reflection of the economy? And the returning flight was about one-quarter empty, also. Although I (and most of the rest of the passengers, from what I could see or hear of their reactions) would GLADLY have left behind the parent with the shrieking child. Kid was screaming - not in pain, at all. Before boarding, I had been talking with a woman who was returning to Houston to see her grandkids, after being in Florida caring for her aging parents. She was looking forward to this. And after hours of putting up with the screaming - directly across the aisle from her, and one row behind me - I heard her say, "I do NOT want to even see my grandkids after this." Although I did see her at baggage claim, with her grandkids, later on. But when she made that remark, I knew that the shrieking had gotten to her, as well.

So, back at work and NOT liking it. Certainly hope that my house sells quickly and at a fair price, once it is painted and ready for outside eyes to see. Please, God, help me to force myself to pack, pack, pack - or to sell, sell, sell - or to throw or donate stuff as I see fit. I am already downsizing (in my mind) so that I will not have to move a lot of stuff. Anyone want a custom-designed china cabinet? Check the Houston Craigs List shortly (after I take and post photos of that item).

Gotta run. Bye for now!

Just a brief update

Nothing, really, to tell you. I will be gone for the next week-and-a-half. Hoping I am making the right decision, but going ahead, anyway.

I may or may not provide an explanation, eventually. Sorry to be so circumspect, but some things I just do not feel comfortable in sharing yet. Sigh...

My plane leaves at 8 am tomorrow, which means I'll be hittin' the showers very early and heading out to the small (old) airport, Hobby, which served Houston long before IAH (aka Bush) was on the scene. Southwest flies out of Hobby, and I am glad, because Hobby is SO much closer to my home. And my flight is with Southwest. Betcha had that all figured out by now, dincha?

So wish me luck and I hope to at least enjoy myself, with no thoughts of work or the packing or the painting, et al, that awaits my return.

'Bye!

Moving ... and moving on

Well, I took some big steps today. Rented a storage unit at a nearby facility, and bought one of those multi-box-size things for packing. Seems strange to be making these choices by myself. Hope I can discipline myself to do the necessary packing. The guy who manages the storage place is originally from Michigan, so he and I had those common Midwestern roots to chat about. He's not a Yooper (what we call folks from the U.P. of MI) but enjoyed traveling and cross-country skiing up there. My parents were both Yoopers, thus my appreciation of that area.

Packing: I think I will start with the photos and slides that Greg dragged back to Houston following his father's death in March of 2008. I can feel safe in just packing them away and getting them to the storage unit. When I get back to MN, I can sort them into two groups - one for each side of his family, his dad's and his mother's. They don't belong to me anymore. I know of at least one cousin on each side who has expressed interest in the documents, photos, etc. His only sibling does not want any of this stuff, sad to say.

Took some more stuff up to the church donation place. Funny - the guys who work the afternoon shift up there on Saturdays, know me by sight now! This time it was watches and turtlenecks and miscellany. I am leaving a smattering of his clothes and shoes here in the closet, so that when the open houses are held, it will look like a guy is living here. It seems the safest thing to do.

Well, don't know how I managed it, but I did somehow just log myself off the internet. Magic! And I'm ba-a-a-ck...

Hey, P - you didn't tell me that you sneaked in a spicy chocolate truffle with the four-pak that you gave me. Thanks (I think!). Had to pour myself some milk to tamp down the fire in my mouth a bit - wasn't expecting that.

Good news: got a phone call from the lawn guy, who will resume cutting today. And while he was here, we talked about him putting down some weed-n-feed, and he'll do that for me, too. (I had mentioned to him that I was gonna contact ChemLawn because I just cannot keep up with this lawn stuff.)

And even better news - a phone call from the painter, who WILL be able to start power-washing my house this week. The nasty cold weather delayed that activity last week. AND... Leroy (painter) told me that Ruben (master electrician) will also be available, so he can install my new outside lights outside the door, front entry and back entry. Progress is about to made, people! So the investments that I made a week ago (new lights, 10 gallons of paint, 6 tubes of latex) will actually be put to use soon. I got those motion-detector lights. I think that is the wisest move for me. They are on a low-light program unless motion is detected, then BRIGHTS ON! The element of surprise may offer me a little more protection, and definitely more peace of mind, at the least. Damn, it is a bitch to be a woman living alone sometimes.

It is the 17th today, and two days ago marked the 8th month since Greg's death. It is getting a bit easier, but a part of him will always be with me. Not the least of that being, his pretty good-sized vinyl (records) collection - those former musicians tend to do things like that. And now I am trying to find folks who might be interested in certain artists. My sis wants a Rascals album that was played when she and her "kids" were here in May, and my niece wants a Whiskey River album (WR was the band that Greg played with for 10 years). A nice guy who works at the Cooking Collection (at our local H-E-B grocery store) expressed interest in any jazz albums. And I know I will cull some albums out for myself, too. Currently, there are ONLY about 6 wooden crates of albums upstairs. I think we moved about a dozen-crates plus, down here in 1984. And with the advent of CD's, he was growing that collection, too. A-a-a-r-r-r-g-h-h!

My neighbor across the street wants the rolling tool box thing-y that Greg had in the garage. I thought I might be forced to put it on Craig's List, but that will certainly save me the trouble. I really don't care how much I get for it - I just want someone to have it who will put it to good use. Now that means that I have to actually open those drawers and see what tools I will keep. When I met Greg, I had my own little tool box with some good-quality tools, and he gradually intermingled some of his and mine. Then I was looking for something specific one day (probably my needle-nose pliers) and had a fit when I couldn't find them. So he sorta restored "my" toolbox. I did lots of little fix-its back in the day, when I was single and had a little house of my own in a south Minneapolis suburb.

So... makin' progress here, folks. Each day, one step in front of the other. That's the only way to move forward, to reclaim and rebuild ME. I think I am startin' to like the new me - I am more light-hearted and laughter comes much more easily now. It ain't a walk in the park, but it now seems do-able. And that's a discovery that is surprising to me, after all those days and weeks in a fog, and then stumbling a lot, too.

Anyhoo... it's about quarter to ten as I am finishing the post. Gotta grab me something to eat - popcorn for dinner! Yummy. Catch y'all later in the next post.

How did you find this blog?

Well, I am occasionally (okay maybe obsessively) glancing at the traffic feed on the far right side of my blogpage. And I am noticing several who are coming in to this point (back in July '07, when I was ranting about a change-his-mind-constantly client when we were doing faux painting). And noticing several Aussies (hi, y'all, from Houston!) and a few others, notedly, someone from Gdansk (my mother's Polish and I am sure she would say hi, too).

This post:
http://akanancydrew.blogspot.com/2007/07/please-release-me-set-me-free.html

But, what oh what are you searching for (noticing that some came in from Google-ing in their own countries)? That particular post mentions Ralph Lauren (paint, folks - this is not a promo for ol' Ralphie or any of his multitudinous products). Also once a mention of Benjamin Moore (paints, again).

And a paragraph about me doing some serious oversleeping, which is the price you pay when you burn the candle at both ends, as I had been doing back then, between my regular job and this faux crud we were doing. The client that time was a free agent that had just been given a tryout for the Minnesota Vikings (they did not pick him and let him go just before the season). We were amused because he phoned us from training camp - us, with our Minnesota roots, painting for him down here in Houston. Although he did not know the connection at the time.

Or maybe someone was looking for song lyrics? Sorry, if that was your goal.

So if any of you ever read this post and want to let me know what was so all-fired interesting about that one, please let me know.

Gotta run now. My tummy is telling me that it's hungry and I am TRYING to pay attention to it more carefully. Another bagel half is in my immediate future! Panera to the rescue.

Can I feed myself?

Well, I seem to be lacking in several skills lately. Obviously, if you have read these things at all (and you have my profound apologies, if you have), you may have read the one about dressing myself.

Yesterday (Thursday) at work I was sitting in my cubicle at work. The folks nearest to my cube were both gone - one, out of the building (I think) and the other in a conference call in a cube about 20 or 30 feet across an aisle-kind-of-thingy. And suddenly my vision was darkening and I felt like I was gonna lose consciousness. I though I had heard a guy about 2 cubes away (nearest co-worker) and I wasn't sure if my voice would or could be heard. But I called out his name, got no response, then turned up the volume and repeated his name. Fortunately for me, he answered me and I asked if he could come over to my cube. Which he did, and I told him I thought I was gonna pass out. So he stepped close enough to rub my shoulder and ask questions like how did I feel, etc. And (according to him) I proceeded to pass out - just for a minute or so - and was still sitting, but slumped a bit to the side. Of course, I was not the best witness of me, at that time. I don't know how the crowd started showing up in my cube, but they got me to lie down (lay down? I am never sure what is the right word to use) on the floor and they elevated my feet and made sure that my head was lower than my feet.

Next thing I knew, my dept. manager and also the head of HR (call her M) show up. Some of them want me to go to an ER to get checked out. And all I can think of is the co-pay that I will be responsible for. Well, M suggests getting one of EMT's to check me out. These guys operate out of the Marine Dept., so she phones the dept. head and he's not there; and neither is his secretary. By now, I am laughing about this - good thing it was NOT a real emergency, eh? And I am feeling like I am probably NOT going to pass out, so someone grabs my cup of water off my desk and then my smoothie, and I drink most of the water and finish the smoothie.

Then come the questions about how much I had had to eat that day. And I had to admit that it probably hadn't been that much. Not intentionally - but it just happened, and there was a trend like that for the several days preceding that day. My conclusion is this was from low blood sugar. So I am trying - really I am - to eat something at every mealtime. Today I had half a bagel (Panera - yummy!) plus a small cup of coffee in the a.m.; half a burger and half a malt (Beck's - yum again); and a bowl of chicken wild rice soup (thawed from a batch that I had made and frozen back in December). And I am sippin' at a glass of red wine - I think that I poured it about 2+ hours ago. I will have to work at that drinking pace...

They would not let me leave by myself (usually I take the van pool to work, but I'd driven myself that day). So one of the guys who rides in the same van was elected to ride with me (I think they thought he would drive, but HEY, it's MY car). Anyway, I dropped him off at his car at the parking lot, and I got him there just fine, thank you very much. And then got me home - also just fine.

So now I have failed at dressing myself AND feeding myself. Can an assisted living center be coming far behind this?

On unrelated news: my sis put in her two cents' worth on this "my sister's boyfriend" replacement. She wasn't fond of that "beau" word, either (P - you will be very happy about that!). So I think I will just call him "my sister's guy". P (friend from high school) had suggested "my sister's friend" and I said that I didn't like it, because someone might think my sister was gay. And he replied (this was on back-and-forth e-mails) that that was politically incorrect of me (in a kidding fashion); I retorted that this was, after all, MY blog and I got to choose! So R, you are offically "my sister's guy". Well, I guess you have been for some time - but now you have that name on my blog, as well. Love ya, sis! Hugs to your guy!