I am seeing a pattern

I realized something today. My approaches to working out and house cleaning are very similar.

My Dyson vacuum cleaner was on the fritz this morning so naturally I wonder if it's time to get a new one. I'm in the kitchen thinking about this and, looking at a dull floor, wonder if a new steamer is in order, too. I know we got one a couple of years ago, but think maybe we loaned it to one of the kids.

Truth is, I am a sucker for any gadget that makes cleaning house easier. There is a collection of mismatched broom attachments in my laundry, mostly of the dusting variety. The kind that will dust overhead fans and hard-to-reach ceiling moldings. I don't need them anymore because my Dyson has a cool attachment for that. And some day I might even try it out.

I have been wanting to get that Swifter box that's all over TV recently.  You see the ads: the older couple, the couple with kids and pets, etc. A box appears on their doorstep and, like magic, their floors and overhead areas are dust and pet-hair free. I must have that box.

It hits me today that I have accumulated a good number of gizmos and gadgets for cleaning just as I have accumulated machines and what not for working out.  Examples: two unused treadmills, a row machine the kids now have, stationery bike, jump ropes, free weights, resistant bands for every part of the body and the list goes on. All neglected while they inhabited my house. Same with the sham wow (we really did have one!), the floor steamer used maybe a half-dozen times, and the untold number of magic dusters magically disappeared. It is a pattern. It's me avoiding the hard work.

So I stop thinking about a new vacuum and employ broom and dust pan to the worst areas. I end up getting more done than I planned. Paul diagnosed the problem with my Dyson and has a filter arriving via Amazon in a couple days. Best of all, I got some good insight.

To be honest? I still want that Swifter box.

Dew Drop Inn

Love is in the air this time of year every year since 1978. That's when Paulie and I got married. August 19 to be exact.

This morning he texted me a "Happy Anniversary" one day early. Awwww. I texted back a more accurate "Happy Dew Drop Inn Anniversary." For every wedding day story, isn't there always a night before the wedding day story?  We sure got one.

August 18, 1978. Think about that. Bee Gees were singing about Stayin Alive, the most popular arcade game was Space Invaders, Jimmy Carter was president, and Garfield the cat was first introduced in newspapers. It was a long ass time ago.

We both had just graduated from college at the University of South Dakota and chose to get married in Montana because that's where most of my family lived. My folks managed a campground about a mile from Glacier National Park. A nice place to gather. The number attending the wedding was small as it was quite a trek for most of our friends.

Paul was represented by three childhood pals from the Chicago area where he grew up. For them, it was more reunion than wedding, which is typical for these kinds of events. Still, they took seriously their obligation to throw a goodbye to single life party for their friend.

Hello, Dew Drop Inn.

The chosen party spot was a local dive bar in the middle of nowhere just off the main road about a quarter mile from the campground. As I recall, I had stayed back at the campground with family members - my parents, five brothers, a sister-in-law, niece and nephews, aunt and uncle, grandmothers, and mother-in-law. Once things wound down, I along with my brothers and sister-in-law headed out to join Paul and his friends at the Dew Drop Inn.

My two younger brothers were not of age.  One snuck in through the kitchen. That makes me laugh thinking about that. Today he's the brewer of great beers. The youngest was left out in the cold. And it was cold in Montana when we were there to get married. Snowed the day of the wedding. Snowed!

Back to the Inn. We gather tables together and commence celebrating. Lots and lots of drinking.  Paul's friends kept them coming for my soon-to-be husband. He was smashed. I was getting there, too. I can only recall having maybe one of the best times of my life in that moment in that Montana dive. That was about to change.

"Are you Paul?"

We all look up to see a 6-foot mountain dressed in overalls. No way to process. 

"Are you Paul from Chicago?" Now he's looking directly at his subject sitting next to me. His tone has silenced the table, none of us prepared for what he was about to say next.

 "You got my 16-year-old daughter pregnant," he says as he rounds the table toward our side. I think I went blank. I hear lots of shouting but no words. Then my oldest brother Frank begins a chorus of "You got the wrong guy. You got the wrong guy."

By this time Mr. Mountain is standing next to Paul. I instantly insert myself between them and join in my brother's chorus, "You got the wrong guy," all the while I am lightly tapping this behemoth on  his face. Why? I have no earthly idea.

While this was happening, a group of manly men, locals, were eager to join in the commotion. To prevent a real tragedy, someone responsibly ended this obvious (to everyone but me and Paul and four of my brothers) pre-wedding gag. Mr. Mountain then broke character and wrapped his arms around both of us, squishing me so tightly my glasses broke. In half.

Mr. Mountain turned out to be a tourist from California. Of course, Paul's friends had put him up to it. I don't recall much of anything else from that night, but we did have a lovely wedding the next day. Below is one of my favorite pictures from the day. My parents, Frank and Shirley, in conversation with Paul's mom Lew. The newly weds only have eyes for each other. Notice I am not wearing glasses.

Poetic tribute

 Poem read at my parents' memorial by great-grandchildren, ages (approx.) 7, 9 and 10.

GREAT Grandparents

 By Irelyn, Teya and Delaney Lochridge

G is for

Grandma muffins she made all the time, with 3 little raisins on top in a perfect design.

R is for

          Reading us our favorite books, they would sit with us and read for as long as it took.

E is for

          Eating cookies galore, Grandpa was always the first one to want more.

A is for

          Always wanting to help clean up from dinner, if we would have raced, we know Grandpa      

          would have been the winner.

T is for

         Target to where we would walk, where grandma would always let us pick out our own pair

of socks.

G is for

         Goofy jokes Grandpa would always tell, I've heard them so many times I know them well.

R is for

         Really, really sweet, like the candies, cookies, and ice-cream Great Grandpa and Grandma

         would always give us to eat.

A is for

          Amazing athlete Grandpa always will be, he played basketball with us well after he had turned

Ninety.

N is for

          Nothing but nice all the time, they always had patience even when we would whine.

D is for

          Dominoes that grandpa love to play, he always reorganized them when Delaney put them

          away.

P is for

          Playful They played games all day, we never wanted to leave we always wanted to stay.

A is for

          All the time we visited and played, we wish it could have always stayed that way.

R is for

          Remembering the time she used to play, cat with Delaney almost all day.

E is for

          Every time Grandpa started to tickle, Delaney would fall to the ground with an enormous

         giggle.

N is for

Never forgetting all the love that they gave, the smiles, the laughter, they're very special way.

T is for

          Walking to the community room together, where all of their family and friends would gather.

S is for

         Special in our life, they were huge part, we will always keep memories of Great Grandpa
        and Grandma close to our hearts.

 

 

Day One

Day one. Beginning something can be exciting. Wiping the slate clean. Forward ho!

It also signals a long road ahead. Hard work. Change.

Today is day one of my latest attempt to get healthy. It really started yesterday with a visit to a new doctor to talk about weight management. It's his specialty and he had come highly recommended.

Immediately he identified areas that needed to change. And there are so many areas: high blood pressure, heart disease, pre-diabetes, depression and of course obesity. Vicious cycle.

Starting today I will be injecting myself with Saxenda to treat Type 2 diabetes. It just happens to also curb hunger and has shown to be valuable in weight loss. He also added a medical vitamin called PoDiaPN, which works on the nervous system. Something about folic acid and metabolism. It was a lot to take in. He did say something about mounting evidence that this could be valuable for someone like me.  

I go back in three weeks, when we get to see what was running around in the four tubes of blood extracted in his lab. Can I say how convenient it was to have onsite lab? I was the only person in line.

Until my next appointment it's on me to move forward. Three meals a day five to six hours apart, no snacking (handful of almonds, spoonful of peanut butter if necessary), no food after last meal, protein for breakfast (no toast). And mild exercise.

Can I do it? I believe I can.

How do you spell relief? O-l-y-m-p-i-c-s

Isn't it magic how you can get completely absorbed in a sport you never thought you cared about, such as shooting or fencing. And women's rugby, a first-time event in the Olympics.

We are drawn in not so much by the sport, but by the athlete. Awed by their self-discipline and inspired by their singular mission: to represent their country, medal or no medal.  And this year there's even a team of refugees that includes a young Syrian woman who swam a boat filled with refugees to safety. Her performance in Olympic waters wasn't good enough to advance, but it sure inspired the world.

The Olympics this summer deeply contrast with another competition: our never-ending presidential election. I personally have Trump fatigue. I know others have Clinton fatigue. For me, it's time to step back. This morning I deactivated my Facebook account. What was left of it anyway after already un-following half of my friends. I am sure I won't be missed.

So thank you, Olympians. You represent what is good and you inspire hope for the future. It's pretty hard to be cynical watching a young woman who was born to an addict and then rescued and adopted by her grandfather and step-grandmother in Spring, Tx., compete on the world stage.

Nope. Nothing conspiratorial about Simone Biles and the rest of the incredible women's gymnastic team. Except that they may be conspiring to bring us all to tears!

Dental correctness

I have to leave in about 30 minutes for a root canal followed by a fitting for a crown. Been there done that many times before. Still, it's not something high on my can't wait to do list.

First, I am having to pay over 2 grand for the root canal and crown. Odd that I don't mind the crown work as much as the rooting. The rooting does cost twice as much.

Maybe if we tweaked the wording it would make it more acceptable. Crown is a nice, strong word. Who doesn't want a crown? Positive connotation.

But root canal. Really? That is about as negative a connotation as it gets. How about nerve recovery? Not specific enough. Get your bite back procedure? Too wordy. Tooth restoration? We boomers seem to be fond of the word restoration. I know I am. If anything on my person can be restored, count me in.

Ok, so now I have to go because I am having tooth restoration procedure this morning. 

I feel better already.