Category Archives: Life

On normalcy and not hitting the panic button…

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For as long as I can remember, every medical professional I’ve encountered told me that I’d feel better if I lost weight. Having lost a not inconsiderable number of pounds, I think they may have sold me a pig in a poke. The fact is, as far as I can tell, I don’t feel any better in February 2024 than I did in February 2023. How much of that is reality versus looking backwards with rose tinted lenses, I couldn’t tell you with any degree of accuracy.

I can say with some confidence that I’m feeling better today than I have since the end of June when all my latest health fuckery kicked off. I’ve worked myself off of being medicated for diabetes. I suspect the next time I see my GP, I’ll be instructed to start back off blood pressure meds. The anxiety, which at times was just about debilitating, has receded into a background hum which mostly crops up when I have the occasional odd ache or pain or when some vital sign pops off with an outlying reading.

Since none of my extremely well credentialed doctors seems to be concerned beyond “continue to monitor,” trying to get my head into a place where I don’t hit the panic button on a daily basis is probably the right thing, but it’s been challenging. Being someone who as a child was perfectly capable of worrying himself sick, this is a bit of a work in progress.

Even if none of that were true, I know I’m feeling better than I was in the summer and fall because my reading pace is picking up. Instead of sitting here in the evening holding a book and idlily flipping pages and being entirely distracted, I’m actually reading, comprehending, and burning through pages. My attention span is coming back. I’m intensely grateful for that… it’s been a long time coming.

New whip…

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After a great deal of consideration and a lot of shopping, I traded off both the Tundra and the Wrangler in favor of bringing home a shiny new Land Rover Defender. 

As a young man, it’s a one of those vehicles I saw in magazines and occasionally on television or movies and thought, if I ever make it, that’s the kind of car I want to drive. As the years passed, I made the rounds – sedans, coupes, sports cars with great growling V8s, pickup trucks, and 4×4’s. I’ve never been particularly brand loyal. At various times, I’ve owned Fords, Chevys, Pontiacs, Toyotas, and Jeeps depending on what caught my fancy at the time. But putting one of the great British overlanders in the garage was always a dream, even if it was one that felt unlikely.

Given the state of the automotive industry, with its ongoing emphasis on transitioning to hybrids or all electrics, it finally felt like the time was right. If I didn’t do it now, I might never have the chance to own a proper petrol-powered Land Rover. It was a now or never moment before the motor car transforms forever from internal combustion to whatever comes next.

So here I am, with what’s sure to be a quirky, expensive to maintain, premium fuel guzzling, British (by way of Slovakia) import.

All the forums question the reliability of these new model Defenders. I got the same warnings every time I bought another Jeep and had two remarkably reliable vehicles. Ask me in four or five years how I feel about it, but for now I absolutely adore my Pangea green, white roofed, old fashioned steel wheeled throwback.

Whatever else it is, it’s a very pretty thing that I’m dearly glad to have.

And we’re back…

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After Christmas I took a little break. I was feeling legitimately good for the first time in months, there was a lot going on. Honestly, I just didn’t have the normal burning desire to sit down and get anything off my chest.

Today, however, I spent my first day back at work working in the actual office. Rest assured after eight hours as a standard office drone, I’m cured of not having anything to say. I won’t say it’s a great routine, but it is a routine and I appreciate it for that if nothing else.

Somewhere along the way, I think we’ve all been led to believe that the purpose of vacation is to enjoy some downtime and come back rejuvenated. Maybe I’m doing it wrong, as I don’t think I’ve ever come back from a vacation re-energized and excited to be back to work. At this stage it’s safe to say that’s just not who I’m ever going to be as a person.

But back I am. Because the animals are expensive and I’d well and truly suck at living under a bridge or sleeping on the nearest park bench. There are, if nothing else, standards to be maintained.

I won’t say the day was entirely unproductive, though. I did spend an unreasonable amount of time today plugging in all the federal holidays for 2024 into Outlook and starting to plot how to maximize my days off for this new year. So I’ve got that going for me.

Brief Christmas musing…

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In the post-plague era, it feels like some of the old traditions have fallen away. In fact, since 2019, I’ve only been home on Christmas Day two out of the last four years – either avoiding the illness of others or not wanting to spread my own across the state. 

I made it home for 2023, though. Still not feeling at the top of my game, but at least I can’t blame this one on the Great Plague. So we muddle through, enjoy some rare true down time, worrying that what the cats are up to in my absence, hoping that the dog doesn’t demolish my childhood home, and hitting most of the usual high points – even if doing it with less vim and vigor than I’d like.

It’s always good to be home, sleeping in my old room, and at least for a few hours not finding myself completely tied to day-to-day normal. That will start again soon with the drive back out of the mountains towards the shore. 

For the moment, though, I’ll soak it in – all the more aware of how fragile and fleeting can be these days.

To those of you reading along, I wish each and every one a very happy Christmas. I hope you got exactly what you wanted.

For your consideration…

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Tomorrow is Giving Tuesday. Every non-profit on the planet is out there scrambling for your charitable dollars today. I present the following list of those I choose to support for Giving Tuesday, and throughout the year. As always, it’s a list that focuses on helping animals, because people are awful and it’s so often the animals, both wild and domestic, that pay the price for that. I’d ask that you consider them when putting together your giving plan for today and the future.

Clean Futures Fund – The CCF facilitates The Dogs of Chernobyl program. These dogs are the descendants of those left behind during the evacuation of Pripyat in April 1986. Despite an initial attempt by Soviet authorities to kill the abandoned dogs, breeding was out of control. Since their involvement beginning in 2017, no cats or dogs in the exclusion zone have been culled. They conduct sterilization clinics to reduce the population, provide vaccinations and medical care to strays, and provide food to the Dogs of Chernobyl. 

Humane Animal Partners (formerly the Delaware SPCA) – The mission of the Humane Animal Partners is to prevent cruelty to animals. They bring their mission to life through programs that provide shelter and adoption for unwanted and homeless pets, reduce pet overpopulation through affordable spay/neuter, and enable pet retention by providing low-cost veterinary services.

Cecil County Animal Services – CCAS serves as the County’s Animal Control Authority and provides quality care to animals in the community through the management of an open-admission shelter.  Additional programs and services provided through this Division include the Pet Pantry Program, Adoption and Foster Services, Behavioral Helpline, Pet Loss Support, Humane Education, Project Safe Haven, “Seniors for Seniors,” Pet Visitation Program, Volunteer Initiatives, and Pet Re-homing Intervention.

Ducks Unlimited – Ducks Unlimited is now the world’s largest and most effective private waterfowl and wetlands conservation organization. DU is able to multilaterally deliver its work through a series of partnerships with private individuals, landowners, agencies, scientific communities and other entities.

Chesapeake Bay Foundation – Serving as a watchdog, we fight for effective, science-based solutions to the pollution degrading the Chesapeake Bay and its rivers and streams. Our motto, “Save the Bay,” is a regional rallying cry for pollution reduction throughout the Chesapeake’s six-state, 64,000-square-mile watershed, which is home to more than 18 million people and 3,000 species of plants and animals.

World Wildlife Fund – WWF works to help local communities conserve the natural resources they depend upon; transform markets and policies toward sustainability; and protect and restore species and their habitats. Our efforts ensure that the value of nature is reflected in decision-making from a local to a global scale.

Fleet management…

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I’m trying to mentally nudge myself in the direction of accepting that I’m going to need to buy a new vehicle in the not terribly distant future. With both the Tundra and the Wrangler approaching a point where they should be let go, I’m starting to poke around the margins at what might replace them. 

And that, of course, is where it gets complicated. 

Is the right answer a 1:1 trade of old Tundra for new Tundra? The price point of doing a straight up replacement of my current truck runs me somewhere north of $65,000… and that feels like an absurd price to pay for a pickup truck. 

Maybe I should be looking to bundle my trade and let both the Jeep and the Tundra go to bring home… something. The math gets more involved when I remember that the Jeep is where all my trade in value is. A 12-year-old tundra, wrecked once, with 145,000 miles on the clock it is always going to have a limited audience even when it looks remarkably clean and has otherwise been well maintained. 

There’s the question of whether I need another truck at all. I’ve had a truck in the fleet for 15 years, but the bed stays empty aside from running the trash to the dump once a month, bringing in canned gas for the lawnmower once or twice a summer, and periodically hauling flat packed bookcases home from IKEA. It would certainly be less convenient, but is it more cost effective just to rent a truck when I really need one or plus up my budget for big item delivery?

If the right answer for the next vehicle isn’t a truck, what is right? A SUV? Something low slung? Certainly not a sedan. 

I haven’t quite convinced myself that I wouldn’t terribly miss having a truck, even if I don’t strictly need one. That said, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little attracted to having a fully enclosed vehicle… and perhaps on that had a less temperamental top… and windows that didn’t scratch if you brush against them… and maybe something that behaved with just a bit more polish on the highway.

Cutting the fleet by 50% would create obvious operations and maintenance savings – costs that are bound to increase the longer I hang on to a 12-year-old pickup and a 6-year-old Jeep. Is that cost savings enough to convince me any reasonable person can get by with just one vehicle? Hard to say.

As it is, interest rates are probably too high to consider anything seriously… but the ideas are definitely percolating. I’ll either get a wild hare and pull the trigger on something or I won’t. I honestly have no idea which way I’ll break or when it might happen.

I was enchanted…

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I had an absolutely bonkers dream a few nights ago. I found myself attending a concert somewhere in Cumberland in the far western stretch of Maryland. I never really quite identified the venue, but it was a small room, certainly not a concert hall or an arena. I’m assuming it only exists in my head and doesn’t in any way reflect reality in western Maryland. Don’t ask who was on stage, because I don’t have the vaguest recollection of that part. 

My seatmate, though, was arguably the most recognizable living American. For reasons defying any kind of human logic, my fever dream fueled hallucinating brain paired me off with “the music industry,” Ms. Americana herself, Dr. Taylor Swift. She was a good concert buddy. 

She ended up inviting me to dinner at some off-brand Denny’s. They had no clean tables and everyone was staring. It was awkward, but we talked for what felt like hours before leaving to drive around while the sun came up. 

Dream Tay was very insightful, even if her driving skills were questionable. Dream me was a wonderstruck. I like to think that didn’t stop me from being the same brand of sarcastic bastard everyone knows and loves. 

As the night of being hood rats in Allegany County drew to an end, Dream Taylor did finally catch me off guard. 

“I’m engaged,” she says. 

“I know,” I reply. 

“That doesn’t make this awkward?”

“I don’t know why it would. I don’t want anything from you.”

“Really?”

“Really.” 

At least dream me is definitive and my subconscious didn’t turn me into some variation of douchebro chowderhead, so I’ve got that going for me. 

It was the kind of dream that was profoundly out of character because of a) Who played the leads and b) the fact that I remembered it at all. It was so unusual that I felt compelled to scribble down the highlights before I even got out of bed or fully woke up.

Still, I was entirely enchanted. 

The end off the cuff budgeting…

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I’ve never been much of a budgeter. That’s not to say I don’t keep an eye on cash flow and know more or less what’s coming in and what’s going out. However, sitting down and putting together a real pen and ink budget has all the appeal of a back alley root canal.

Having said that, I couldn’t help but notice that the spate of vet bills coming through these last four months has put more than a little bit of strain on my mental accounting. In fact, keeping the accounts balanced put me in a highly unusual (and disagreeable) position of either needing to sell assets or take on debt to float the bills until inflow caught up with outflow.

I’m a collector by nature, so the process of acquiring things has always come easy. I’m less comfortable when the time comes to sell some of those things off – even if I picked them up originally with a vague plan that someday I may need to convert them to cash if I ever found myself pinched. I know many people enjoy that side of the process as much as they do acquiring things in the first place. Not me. I tend to acquire and then hold on grimly.

With the current, almost punitive rate of interest on consumer borrowing, though, letting a few things go was the lesser of two evils. Maybe it’s only lesser because I know full well I’ll end up buying them back whenever the opportunity presents itself in the future.

The point of all that is to say I’m finally coming around to the idea of putting a bit more academic rigor into my household budgeting process. The personal finance gurus would probably disagree, but step one is funding a much more robust “self-insurance” account for future veterinary expenses – the one thing I can find that consistently blasts gaping holes in my operating budget. After that, everything else just sort of takes care of itself… or at least that’s what the numbers seem to be telling me.

Dreaming while you sleep…

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It’s always been rare when I remember dreaming at night. Maybe I’m recalling the one I had last night so vividly because I’ve had some variation of this dream four or five times over the last few weeks. Each time is slightly different, but each one has been a variation on a theme.

There’s not a power in heaven or earth that could get me to go back to teaching. In fact, I’m pretty sure my certificate remains revoked in Maryland since I walked out in the middle of the year when I quit. Still, there my dream self is, right in the classroom, walking the hallway, or more recently in the admin office raising three kinds of hell. Each time I have this dream the situation is more farcical than the last.

My brief teaching career was enlightening in a lot of ways, but it’s not something I feel a real need to revisit in my sleep. I’m sure there’s some important message my subconscious is trying to send through the static, but it would be more helpful, perhaps, if it contacted me during normal business hours instead of at 2:30 in the damned morning.

I just hope like hell I can sleep tonight without another visit to the past that never was.

The bullshit culture war…

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I have no idea why members of a certain segment of the population expend so much time and energy worried about how other people want to live their lives, what they want to be called, or who they want to fuck. I’ve barely got time to tend my own business without jumping eyeball deep into anyone else’s bedroom, pants, or pronouns.

Here’s the thing… I don’t give a damn one way or another if Adam loves Steve. Whether Katie wants to be called Ken. Or whether Bill keeps his dick tucked between his legs. I just assume people who have the kind of free time it takes to give a shit about this sort of thing are some unpleasant combination of sad, angry, and bored to absolute death.

I can’t fathom how bored I’d have to be to spend any time at all worried about a complete stranger’s orientation, preference, gender, or any of a host of other bullshit “culture war” issues that wackadoodle right wingers have decided to latch onto. If you’re happy – or moving in that direction – I say god bless. Good luck. If you can carve out a little joy or peace in this absolutely beshitted world, good on you.

There are enough honest to god issues knocking around to be dealt with without a bunch of chucklefucks creating new ones out of their sadly overactive imaginations.

If you’re bitter or hostile because someone chooses not to live their life exactly the way you do (or at least how you tell the world you live your life), well, that’s just the cost of the liberty you claim to value so highly. Unless, of course, what you really mean is you value liberty only as long as everyone else lives and does and behaves exactly the way these self-appointed “guardians” of truth, justice, and the American way want them to. Sorry gang. I’m a busy guy with a lot going on at the moment. I don’t have the time or inclination to deal with your narrow-minded, bigoted fuckery.

If you’re really, truly troubled about this stuff, I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe get a hobby or something. Go out on the town, have a drink or two, get laid. Maybe you’ll feel better – or at least slightly less inclined to spend your life worked up about things that don’t impact you in any way.