My Wife sends a meeting request...

My wife sent me meeting request. She, after 20+ years, has finally learned how to get a commitment out of me.

The meeting is for Saturday night and the subject is finances. I have done the family finances for at least fifteen years. We have both been in the same jobs during that whole time and have, until the most recent stock market calamity and my health prognosis, been on pace for a comfortable retirement. Now we, after our 401K's have been reduced to 201K's and the assumed fact that my earning years have been shortened, have to go to plan B.

I have until Saturday night to define plan B.

I kid her about how comfortable I'm leaving things for her next husband. She says there will NEVER be another husband. She says it with such a degree of enthusiasm that I wonder if I should be insulted. I would like to think I was so much fun she couldn't wait to do it again.

There is no accounting for taste.

One Lone Egg....

Being in retail, I work loads of hours and ALL Saturdays. For years I've taken Tuesdays off. This one was fortuitous.

I've been watching the Wren family every morning as I prepare for work, with a clear view from my bathroom window.

I've often walked over to take a photo before leaving for work.

There were initially four eggs but it seemed that only two chicks were visible. They grew at an amazing pace.

This morning, as I watched, it seemed the adults were visiting the nest in a rather nervous fashion (I believe wrens drink LOTS of coffee) and seldom feeding the chicks.



I took a break from their show to do some work when I heard feverish chirping outside. I grabbed my camera and went to the window just as the last chick was peering over the edge of the planter that the nest was in.

And instant later it was gone!

I quickly rushed outside to take this one picture and went inside, visiting the nest one more time as I past. It was empty except for one lone egg.

Dreams of the Future....

I seldom have nightmares. I guess by and large I have a certain sense of reality that causes me to live in an overall state of well being. I think surviving Viet Nam sort of calmed me down. I truly do not sweat stuff I can't control.

Last night I had a dream that I needed assistance to climb a small set of stairs. I sobbed. I think it woke me up.

Geez that's pathetic sounding.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wrens have hatched and Mom & Dad are busy feeding. Quite entertaining.

Mental Agility....

I just got back from visit to my neurologist. She ask me the standard questions including how the medication (Sinemet) was doing. I told her I quit taking it over a month ago.

The side effects out performed the benefits. I believe the medicine contributed to the emotional roller coaster I was riding. Now that I'm off it, I only lose control in private.

She also gave me some mental agility tests. I won't make the Olympics but I was above normal. That 's scary considering there were flashcards involved that I believe I first saw in kindergarten.

On another note: I inadvertantly ticked off a reader who has been recommending that I go to WalMart and buy coconut oil. He/She said it "might add six months to my life." I responded that I would take six HEALTHY months but that I didn't want to add six months to the end. I think I hurt her/his feelings. Sorry, but I hate going to WalMart!

On another note.....a house wren set up house in a hanging plant outside my bathroom window (again). I quit watering the plant so I made the choice to kill the plant to save the birds.

I 'll keep you informed.

The Alien is a Woman...

Warning: This post will probably fail the "Politically Correct Test."

One of the more common symptoms of my illness is "Alien Limb Syndrome." While some of the literature describes arms that totally do their own thing, mine is not at that point yet. Mine just seems to have a personality of it's own, and in my humble opinion, it is female.

A court of law would not recognize me as an expert in the field of female identification, however, I have been around women since before I was born and I have never mistaken a man for a woman. EVER! (And that includes some rather difficult to remember nights in Hong Kong, Las Vegas, and Honolulu).

I base the gender identification of my offending limb on the following factors:

• There are times that no matter how beneficial to my well being performing a task might be, my arm and hand (further referred to as SHE) may stubbornly refuse to cooperate.
• Some days SHE is in a better mood than other days.
• Too much caffeine makes HER irritable and may give her the shakes.
• Logic has no affect on HER at all.
• SHE has difficulty with cellphones while driving.
• Getting dressed always takes HER longer.
• SHE's easier to manage after a glass of wine or two. (It's for her not me).

So there. Irrefutable proof. It sort of gives new meaning to "getting in touch with your feminine side."

Out Of The Closet...

My wife has been reading my blog but denying it. I thought using THIS photo in my last post might flush her out. I was right (surprise, surprise).

She voiced displeasure that I would use a picture of her with her tongue sticking out and wearing reading glasses. I responded, "Photos don't lie, except the ones where you use Photo Shop to remove the wrinkles."

I asked her which photo she would have preferred. She said, "The one of me and Michael Douglas."

So here is that one.

I feel obligated to let my reading public (both of you) know that the "Michael Douglas" in this photo is actually a waiter at the Hofbrauhaus in Munich, Germany. He too could carry many mugs of beer. Mmmm!

My Wife Is Leaving Me...

Not really, but it's a catchy title.

Actually, we were talking last night and she brought up her best friend who had gone through a bout with breast cancer a few years back. In the midst of the battle her husband broke camp and left.

My wife, now facing a hard few years with me, said she couldn't imagine how a spouse could abandon someone in their darkest hours.

I asked for at least two weeks notice.

See, I still have a sense of humor.

Dove of my Life....

A few weeks ago I was taking a walk on the trails on my property when I came across this broken bird's egg. I always take my camera on these walks because I never know what I might see. I snapped a photo but thought it was kind of sad and didn't use it until now.

I'm always looking for some metaphorical relationship between my photos and my blog. This time there is no need.


I was walking on the same trail, in the same spot a couple of days ago when I came across this little guy. Lucky paid him no mind. It was nice to know that there was more than one egg in the nest.

Life goes on.....


Of course you know to click on images for larger view!

Mother's Day Blues.....

My parents were mere adolescents when I was born. The good news is that I still have them in my life. They live about 100 meters from my home in a house that my Grandfather built. I see them nearly every day, if even for a couple of minutes, and feel guilty if I don't (Mom sees to that).

I told my folks about my diagnosis early on but spared them the details. Thankfully neither of them knows how to "google." My Mother however has been watching me with that eye that only Mothers have and as my symptoms become more obvious she becomes more motherly. (I can only eat so much).

This past Sunday I told them I needed to sit down with them about their affairs. There is a real possibility that they may outlive me and I wanted to make sure they had wills, funeral arrangements, and insurance in a place that was easy to find.

The conversation went well and I was pleased to find they were well prepared. Then they took the opportunity to turn the tables on me. They drilled me for half an hour with questions about my illness. I answered them in my best clinical voice...... then I began to crack. Then my Mom began to crumble. I went for a glass of water. I took a long drink, composed myself, and went back into the room.

My Dad said, "You always try to beat me at everything." It was an uncomfortable attempt at humor though true in every way. He taught me chess at age five and never LET me win....I had to beat him on my own.

I hugged my Mother like I always do. She wouldn't let go......I sobbed, "I'm so sorry. "

I live in dread of losing my parents but I can not bear the thought of what my death would do to them.

Whew! These things are killin' me!