Life In The Hunker Bunker

Still here.
Tedium, tedeee ummm, teeeeedeeeee ummmmm.
I was fairly certain that by now, because of forced hibernation, I would have hit on a few more million-dollar ideas like the ones I've shared from time to time on this wall of nonsense.  Who can forget the "Real Man Sushi" stroke of culinary genius featuring a bar full of wife-beater t-shirt clad middle-aged slobs serving up beer, cold cuts and sardines on saltine crackers for big bucks?  The Japanese have been getting away with the rice and raw fish scam for years.  It's our turn now.  Then who can forget the car alarm that boasted, instead of some stupid sirens and whistles, the sounds of hot attention-grabbing whoopie?  "Yes, yes, YES!!"  Manny, Moe, and Jack have yet to get back to me on that one.  These are tough times for we purveyors of pure genius.  Perhaps if I take another well-deserved nap, something will inspire me.  Zzzzzzzzz.

Okay, I'm awake and wondering just when the hell is this all going to be over??!!  It won't take many more days of this self quarantining before I'll be forced to answer one of those incessant robocalls just to have the chance to rant at somebody.  "Yes, by all means, sign me up for that time-share."  "It sounds perfect.  Do they take pet ferrets?  Giraffes ?"

I just returned from a very brave trip to the supermarket and, because there is always some form of compensation for every adversity, I discovered a wonderful new product in the cereal aisle.  NEW Hostess Twinkies cereal is in the house!  This is just what America needs at this moment in time.  Covid 19?  Who cares?  We've got Twinkies for breakfast!  Well, actually I have it right now at two in the afternoon because it's a delicious dream come true and I'm sure it's loaded with plenty of vitamins and minerals to help my immune system.  Pass the milk and sugar, please, and don't forget the soy sauce!

Only in America!  God, I love this country!

It's probably time to get back to work.  This bunker hunkering is exhausting.  If you need me, I'll be in the lab working on creating toilet-paper and disinfectant wipes utilizing cold fusion.  I understand those are today's flowers and candy for the fair sex and when we're all finished hunkering it'll be time to play.

Genius at work

Does This Quarantine Make Me Look Fat?

Let's see...

What's on the schedule today?  I made my bed, threw some jeans in the wash, read the paper, watched the market crash a little more, had a snack, attempted a walk and now it must be time for a nap or perhaps another snack.  This virus hunker down hoedown is proving to be a hotbed of excitement.  

I returned from a trip to San Diego a week ago on a plane so bereft of passengers that the sky waitress (sorry, that's what they are) kept offering me nuts, sandwiches, booze which I can no longer drink, and a running commentary on just how screwed the airline industry is because of this Corona thing.  Fortunately, I remembered my charm lessons and just nodded my head while trying to guess her weight.  I recall these defense mechanisms from my days of being married.

Come fly with me!

It was snowing lightly when we touched down in the still winterized Northwest and I confess that it was difficult to readjust my warmed up California candyass to the new reality of northern latitudes.  So, now it's officially Spring, still cold and, thanks to this viral gift from China, I, like every other "at-risk" old cat am confined to quarters and going rapidly insane.  My reading, to include magazines with subscriptions thought to have expired long ago, books, newspapers and cereal boxes, is nearly complete and I would be remiss not mention the ton of lousy TV that has been foisted upon my eyeballs.  Aaeeeiiiiiiiii!!!  I'm not certain if I can take much more.  Maybe another snack?

I live alone so the phone is my friend.  Getting in touch with people you've neglected for a decade or two is probably a good thing, though conversation falters after "how are you holding up?"  It's good to check on the kids.  They HAVE to talk to you even though they're busy.  Most of my married friends stopped speaking to each other a week ago and I'm certainly grateful not to be dealing with one of those steel cage matrimonial deathmatches.  I smell a divorce boom coming when this all shakes out. Have your lawyers on speed dial.  On the other hand, a baby boom looms for the newlywed set.)

Hmmm, it must be time to get the mail.  Whoops, just walked passed the mirror and am pretty sure I saw the Michelin Man.  It's time to lose the sodas, candy, and chips!  From now on it'll be protein snacks and vegetables!  On second thought, we are in a crisis here and this may be the last chance to really enjoy fun food before checking into the silk-lined horizontal Hilton. No sense kidding ourselves.  Costco has a deal on those relaxed fit chinos anyway.  Now, where did I put that jumbo bag of Cheetos?

Good luck to all my senior citizen incarcerated contemporaries.  Stay well, continue snacking, couch surfing, fighting, and snacking some more.  After all, what if the Hokey Pokey really is what it's all about?

Feet Food= STYLE

Kentucky Fried Footwear

Okay, I've been lazy, but I do have a bit of an excuse for neglecting this blog.  When January and February camp out on your psyche, it's time to hit the re-set button and head for for warmer surroundings.  The thought of spending another February of non-stop snow and cold had me running for the North Idaho exit in December and I have been hiding out in the company of family and old friends in the salubrious clime of San Diego ever since.  Provided the snow stays in Canada, I plan to return to the shores of Lake Coeur d' Alene late next week to make ready for summer adventure.

Got the urge?

While in San Diego I've noticed that the fashionistas of  SoCal have fallen in love with new wardrobe items from the iconically delicious In & Out burger chain.  Shoes with the red palm tree In & Out logo are going for as much as five times their retail price on eBay because of their popularity and chronic scarceness.  Granted they look pretty cool, but for $65 bust out retail on the chain's website they were already expensive.  You can buy enough burgers and fries to satisfy most any chubster for an outlay of 65 smackers.  "Come for the sneakers; stay for the grub!"

Another crime against footwear now hitting stores is the long-overdue Kentucky Fried Crocs.  Yes, your wait is over!  Now you can have finger-lickin' good feet courtesy of the Colonel.  Crocs are now available in amazing fried chicken glory (pictured) complete with authentic greasy Colonel Sanders chickeny aroma.  (Your friends will smell you coming!)  

Like the In & Out sneakers, these deep-fried kicks are also in short supply and are demanding premium prices.  I paid up and got mine yesterday and am already basking in the jealous glances they inspire as I walk the beach.

Care to take a whiff?  Yes, that delightful aroma boasts 11 secret herbs and spices (salt) and, in my case, just a hint of Tinactin.  I can hardly wait to assume the title of Style King of North Idaho!  Frankly, it's long overdue.

Little Drummer Boy

(This is a re-post from 2013, my last Christmas in California.)

At the gym this morning I was happy to be among my own kind as we grown-ups fought fiercely to beat back the tide of holiday blubber recently launched into orbit around our expanding equatorial region.  It's useless I realize to even attempt a return to moderation at this point when New Year calories are waiting to ambush us with the sobering realities of adipose tissue, but I try.

Let there be drums!!

Gone are the days when two or three pieces of Christmas pie didn't mandate a next morning shoehorn for pulling on pants.  These days every delicious morsel of good time dining packs its bags to find a home in the dunes of my jeans.  Exercise is required if I want to be around to celebrate another Christmas and make ready for an attack on a new year.  It's a slap in the face from Father Time.

This year I was treated to the look on the face of daughter Katie and her husband Doug as their boy found a new drum kit from his Aunt Kelly under their tree.  Danny kicked off what promises to be an especially noisy new year around their house with an impromptu concert on the new skins.  I predict the kid will be the next Buddy Rich, but then I did leave early.

Santa was good to my one and only grandson.  He's a lucky four-year-old lad who, I'm proud to say, remains remarkably unspoiled.  Today we are set to play in the snow at Legoland.  Snow, to a kid from Southern California, is something to get excited about.  My Midwestern memories of snowsuits, mittens, boots, and runny noses have no meaning for Dan so he can barely wait to hit the slush pile of machine groomed white stuff at his favorite theme park.

So, if you need me today, I'm afraid I'll be "on the slopes" at Mt. Lego attempting to re-think my attitude about frozen rain and its capacity to entertain.  Perhaps a four-year-old can turn around a committed snow grump of more than sixty years.  To my surprise, this grandpa gig gets better every day.  It's an opportunity that doesn't knock on every man's door.  In my case, it leans on the doorbell.  I'll bet I won't even need gloves.

"Come on Gramps, I'm ready for some snow!"

Art Lovers, This Is For YOU!

Classy artwork on display

If you love art (see above) and are ready to be the first on your block to follow the trail blazed by famed Miami art collectors Billy and Beatrice Cox who recently set the art world buzzing with their $120,000 purchase of the much talked about work, "Comedian", from artist Maurizio Cattelan, this, my friends, is for you!

"We knew we were taking a risk, but ultimately we sensed that Cattelan's banana will become an iconic historical object," said the Coxes.  They continued, "When we saw the public debate "Comedian" sparked about art and our society, we decided to purchase it."  As all art lovers know, it's hard to argue with that kind of twisted crack-brained thinking.* NOW is the time to get on board!  Show your friends and neighbors just how art savvy you are by taking advantage of this once in a lifetime offer.

For a limited time only, the Copper Gallery is prepared to offer you the same conceptual and outstanding piece of REAL ART for just $999.  You read that correctly, JUST $999!!  You'll receive your very own banana and six inches of high-quality duct tape for a mere $999**.  Hard to believe, but absolutely true! Send your cash, check. or money order today! (Sorry, no COD.)
Call now!  Operators are standing by.
Hurry!  This is a limited time offer.

*This fantastic piece was later eaten by performance artist David Datuna.

**Not responsible for spoilage, bruises or other crap that happens in shipping.
(Also no liability accepted for performance artists who may eat the banana.)

Happy merry operator Otto

Quality control expert Bernice

'Tis The Season

Like a tsunami, another Christmas rolls relentlessly toward we adults while, to children, it creeps with the patience and determination of a glacier.  Like most important transitions of human life these perceptions evolve while we are otherwise occupied.  One day we're a kid in a loaded diaper drooling and laughing at the pretty lights on the tree and the next we're old.  The good news is that memories of Yuletides past live on like roses in the snow.

If you're old enough to have grown children and maybe a grandchild or two, then you also recall the much simpler Christmases of youth.  The dog-eared Sears catalog left where your parents could see the wonders of that Barbie dollhouse or the beyond cool Mattel nearly real looking submachine gun that was precisely like the one John Wayne wielded in the Sands of Iwo Jima, batteries not included.  School was out and the extra homework the teacher had assigned could surely wait until after Christmas.  There would be plenty of time to tackle that drudgery in the days before the new year.  It was time to goof off with your friends, build snow forts, and anticipate the fun you would soon be having with the loot that Santa and your parents would shower upon you.  Of course, all of that depended on the economy.  In the '50s and '60s, credit cards weren't in abundance and ready to prop up a lifestyle or Christmas a family could ill afford.  Debt was for serious purchases like houses and cars, not discretionary items such as toys and fancy food.  If the economy was in the tank because of a strike or other circumstances, then the glue and macaroni, pipe cleaner and clay projects lovingly cobbled together in school would have to play a larger role in the festivities.  Most of us had a few of those holidays.

As young adults, we gravitated toward different presents like furniture and other necessities required of our new household which often contained small children.  Christmastime was beginning to move at a faster clip as our responsibilities increased. We came to appreciate the season more as we viewed it through the eyes of our children.  There was magic in the air.

One day, almost without notice, we no longer had children in the home and thoughts turned to whether or not to bother with decorations this year and more toward where to spend the holidays. The "kids", now adults, became impossible to buy for, so we didn't.  A check for what seemed to us to be a lot of money,  to them probably not much at all, goes in a Christmas card and the shopping is done.  Who knows what they really want anyway and, face it, you haven't been in style for eons.  Christmas got simpler.

Just as it is with most of life, this rotation from the simple Christmas of a toddler to the rabid almost manic Christmas of a child is gone in a nanosecond.  Nearly as fast is the Christmas season of young parents enjoying the beauty of what they once had through a different lens, the eyes of their children.  We Boomers now enjoy the privilege of seeing the holiday at a slower pace not only through our children but now, if we're lucky, through our grandchildren and that may be the best Christmas present of all. 

 So here's to this time of year and the joy it brings.  Hold it close and dear for in what will seem only an instant we may once again be in a diaper drooling and smiling at the pretty lights.

Grandson, Dan, at age 5 looking for Santa on Santa Claus Island.

   

"Ahoy, it's Santa!"

"I wonder if I'm on the nice list?"

Grateful? You Bet!

The one good thing about feeling this full after Thanksgiving is knowing there is no need to scrounge around for something to eat until at least Monday.  My generous neighbors, Rick and Roxanne, were once again kind enough to include me as an honorary member of their weirdly wonderful family and I ate accordingly.  I do believe it was my selection of not one but TWO slices of pie for dessert that caused me to succumb to the dreaded Dunlop's disease.  (You know, the condition which presents itself when your belly done lops over your belt.)  And I didn't even have the ice cream!

I have been thinking a lot about gratitude this week, just as many of you have.  Whether it's a function of more years on the old odometer or simply the wisdom that seems to if we're lucky, accompany age, a new appreciation of my good fortune has lately asserted itself.   This past Monday, while diligently getting in my 10,000 doctor ordered steps, I happened on a moment that will stay with me for the rest of my life.  I was traversing the same long over-water boardwalk around the Lake Coeur D' Alene resort where I recently came upon a young man proposing to his girlfriend.  Unexpectedly, in almost the exact same spot, I approached three individuals who turned out to be a grandmother, young mother, and a four or five-year-old girl.  As I got closer I heard the mother identifying various landmarks in great detail as she spoke carefully to the beautiful little girl.  The child's back was to me and it seemed strange that her mom was being so elaborate in her description of the landscape.  Then I saw it.  The girl, smiling radiantly, had a small white cane in her right hand.  She was blind and anxious for all the descriptive narrative her mom could provide.  She had eager and intelligent questions and seemed to be comfortable, at least to my untrained eye, with her situation.  The tableau made me both happy and sad at the same time.  Happy that the child appeared to be dealing with her handicap in a positive way yet sad that she had been robbed of sight.

I said hello and made some lame comment about the weather before continuing on my way still gobsmacked by the seeming injustice of it all.  I walked on in grateful appreciation of my now nearly perfect eyesight, thanks to my recent cataract surgery, and silently thanked God for the gift of vision and offered him the opportunity to deliver a swift kick should I ever forget my good fortune.  I've thought of little else all week.  I'm lucky.  Most of us are and we often take the things of everyday life for granted.  Vision, hearing, smell, our good health, kids who turned out okay, a warm bed, food, friends who love us, ALL of it can be taken in an instant.  During this week of thanks and the coming season of giving, I know I'm going to be thinking often of the little girl on the boardwalk and, though I can't make it possible for her eyes to see, maybe I can remember to appreciate the gifts given me.  The most beautiful presents we have are the ones that can only be purchased with our gratitude.
It is nearly sundown here in the Pacific Northwest and it looks to be another spectacular light show.  I view it now with new eyes and a newly ever grateful heart.