Tag Old

Does “NEW” Hate You Too?

Michael Leave a comment

Is it just me? I hate new stuff. No, I don’t live in the past. No, I don’t get buyer’s remorse. No, I’m not anti-progress. (Would that be antigress?) It’s that new stuff hates me so I just return the sentiment.

Let me start from the beginning. I got a new pan couple of weeks ago. I needed a good, all-purpose, use for anything, go from stove top to oven, can’t hurt it no matter how hard you try pan. So I got one. A top ranked, best buy, do it all carbon steel pan. It does everything it should do. It seasoned easily. Nothing sticks to it. Its construction was clearly well thought with a welded handle so there are no interior handle rivets and that handle is a perfect length and angle so it fits comfortably on top of the stove or inside the oven. It’s everything I wanted – and it hates me. It heats much faster than my old pan so I burnt everything I put into it for the first three days. It’s not too heavy but heavy enough that when I was using an older smaller pan and flipped an omelet I over compensated for the weight I didn’t have at the end of my arm and ended up having to clean half-cooked egg off of a textured ceiling. (While we’re at it, I hate textured ceilings also.)

Give me another two or three weeks and I’ll love my new pan but right now it hates me so I hate it. And I figured out I go through this with everything. I’ll get a new TV and I spend the first month with it adjusting the audio and picture settings. I got a new keyboard and experimented with every tone, tempo, and special effect before finally settling on the default settings. My new car is coming up on two years old and I still haven’t found just the right position for the seatback. New shoes – soles are too slippery. New book – pages stick together. New tablet – reset bookmarks. New pen – it’s probably easier to never write again! Seriously, is it just me?

Antigress? I think I’ll submit that as my nomination for best new word of 2016. I should start using it more now sto that by December I’ll be more comfortable with it.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

 

Aged to Perfection (?)

Michael Leave a comment

I think I’m getting older. No, not old age older but things are starting to take on a more senior disposition than, oh let’s say 2 or 3 months ago.

I noticed it while sitting at a stop sign waiting to make a left turn. And waiting, and waiting, and waiting some more. It was but a couple of months ago that I would have edged my way in as long as I had a one or two car length head start on that truck barreling through the intersection. And even though I came to complete stops, signaled for turns, and stayed right except to pass, I was decidedly brusque in my driving.

What I was driving is another sign of the years creeping up on me. After 30 years of trucks and SUVs I have made my primary ride a mid-size, American sedan. In dark blue even. What’s next, a full-sized Cadillac registered in Florida?

I stopped for breakfast at a nearby diner. The waitress took orders from the trio sitting at a nearby table. “I’ll put that right in,” she said and turned to the nearby kitchen door and delivered the order to the probably nearby cook. I know she was being polite and efficient but did she really need to tell the table that she would be putting their order in immediately? It was breakfast. Nobody was having cocktails or appetizers. If not “right in” when would she place the order? After the lunch rush? It was just a little thing but I ruminated on that for the rest of my eggs. Now that’s something only an oldster would do.

But what really concerns me about the impending golden years are my pants. These are the same pants I’ve worn for the past several weight changes. They are worn in the same manner – put on one leg at a time and pulled to my waist where they are secured with a belt. Just like everyone else. They look just fine standing up. But when I sat down this morning I felt them creep up my front until the belt was halfway between my shoulders and my waistline. Does this mean it’s only a matter of time until I’ll have to open my fly to scratch my neck? How did that happen? I didn’t buy those pants that way. They betrayed me!

I suppose I should just face it. I’m getting older. Thank Heaven I’m not getting more mature.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

The old man and the see if we can get him to pick up a fake hooker

Michael Leave a comment

“An 86-year-old widower on his way to pick up a headstone for his late wife’s grave was cited today for soliciting a prostitute.  Dayton police had a decoy out today in an ongoing effort to get johns off the streets, according to officials.  The man told police he was lonely, and that’s why he was looking for a prostitute. He was cited, but not arrested because police said they were worried about his age and the man’s depression.”  [whiotv.com-12:49 p.m. Thursday, May 2, 2013]

We would tell you more but that was all there was of the story.  There should be more!  It begs for more.

  • What kind of decoy does one use to entice an 86 year old to attempt to pick up the lady and presumably offer money for sex?
  • How long has the wife been gone?  Was this a newly needed headstone or one he had to save over many years to purchase?
  • Why was the man depressed?  Was he depressed because he was caught?  Because he misses his late wife?  Because when he found out just how much a happy ending cost nowadays, he realized he’d hadn’t yet saved enough for the headstone?
  • How did the decoy and her handler decide to target an 86 year old?  Was it close to the end of the shift and they hadn’t scored as well as they planned and said “screw it, he’s still a man; go shake your wahoo at his winkie and see what comes of it?”

Last year we proposed that by the time a he or she gets to be in his or her eighties that he or she is due whatever is gettable in exchange for a lifetime of putting up with the world. (See “Entitlement Programs,” March 29, 2012).  If an 86 year old wants to pick up a hooker his only concern should be that of his missus, dead or alive.  He shouldn’t have to worry that it’s a hooker cop.

It took some digging but we eventually found out that the man had only recently lost his wife of 55 years and his daughter as well.  When the decoy approached him he offered her a few dollars to sit and talk with him.  Apparently talk was all he has left since the cancer that he suffers doesn’t allow for sexual activity.

We said back then that today’s eighty-somethings have done it all with more class than their elders did because they had to, and with more class than their youngers will because they can.   You just can’t find a no-class 86 year old.  Why did someone in a position of authority have to try to out-class a lonely old man.  Maybe those police should have followed the example of Andy Taylor of Mayberry and makes themselves available to serve however is needed.

The real Andy Griffith said, “I firmly believe that in every situation, no matter how difficult, God extends grace greater than the hardship.”  Sometimes it takes someone down here to be the vessel of that grace.  Maybe that’s why some of the better ones get to hang around for 80-plus years.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

Entitlement Program

Michael 2 Comments

We were talking the other day, at what age do you get to say, “Screw it, I’m old, I’m entitled.”

Please keep this in mind.  Neither of us is wild about people who are selfish, self-centered, self-absorbed, or anything else that screams, “Me first!”  But we’re ok with our older neighbors taking what is really their due for a lifetime of putting up with the younger crowd.  Even us.

If we were pinned down we think we’d say the magic number is 80.  By the time someone gets to be 80 there isn’t much more you’re going to be able to teach them, show them, expect of them or that they’ll want to be taught, shown, or expect of you other than respect from you. 

Today’s eighty-somethings have seen all the wars anybody can invent.  An 80 year old today saw nuclear tests, nuclear threats, nuclear bombs, nuclear disarmament, and now nuclear rearmament.  They’ve seen Europeans invade other Europeans, Asians invade other Asians, Africans fighting among themselves, and Middle Easterners drop a pair of skyscrapers on 2,700 innocent bystanders.

Today’s eighty-somethings have seen all the inventions we really need.  They went from transportation by foot, by train, by car, by plane.  They’ve seen air travel go from something special for the very few to something else for the very rude.  They’ve seen entertainment go from the stage to the theater to the radio to the television back to the theater and back to the stage.  They’ve seen communication go from telegraphs sent letter by letter, to telephones, to party lines, to private lines, to wireless phones, to cell phones, to texts sent letter by letter. 

Today’s eighty-somethings are politically correct.  Anything they have to say comes from experience, not from experts on television.  If they want to call the President a bleeding heart or a fascist, a do-gooder or a no-gooder, a boom or a bust, they’ve seen them all and know exactly what he is.  They don’t need to, nor should have to mince words.  They don’t have time to be sugar coating anything but their breakfast cereal.

Today’s eighty-somethings have done it all with more class than their elders did because they had to and with more class than their youngers will because they can.  And that’s real class.

No doubt about it.  You find us a couple of eighty year olds and we’ll join them in telling the world, “Screw it, he’s entitled. And so is she.”  It’s an entitlement program we can get behind.  Even us.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?