Strange things you find in the bathroom

I had an MRI this morning at 8 am. It was of my hump on my back which seems to be growing.  It took 2 hours.  Most of that time was waiting because the PA wrote the order wrong.  She had the codes for my lower back and it was actual upper between the shoulder blades.  There are medical terms for these locations and the tech shouted them off to me. The up shot was a call to the doctor to get insurance approval  for the new location.  Seem nothing can be done without proper coding and approval. 

Anyways, it got approved. I was in the machine for maybe 20 minutes. Contrast was administered and then another 10 minutes shoved in the tube.  Oh and 20 minutes wasted on the first machine  that was to tight for my body. Oh the embarrassment.  But they we nice about it all.

Ricky and I when to breakfast after to Breakfast Republic.   It’s okay but that’s another story. 

Came home watch the View on tape and went for my swim.  Came back took a shower and when I was drying off I found this on the floor.

Strange object

What the heck is it?  I ask Rick and he didn’t know either.  Took a picture and asked Gemini.

This is a MR-Spot® skin marker (specifically item #121 by Beekley Medical). 

Key Details & Function:

Medical Purpose:

It is a radiological skin marker used primarily in Magnetic Resonance Imaging (MRI) scans. 

How It Works:

The small clear tube filled with yellow liquid contains a specialized contrast solution. When stuck onto a patient’s skin before an MRI, it glows brightly on the scan images without causing imaging artifacts or shadows. 

Common Uses:

Technologists place these adhesive markers on specific areas of concern (such as a painful spot, palpable lump, surgical scar, or point of interest) so the radiologist reading the MRI can easily locate and correlate the exact area on the images. 

So somehow this thing was left on me from this morning’s imaging experience. It stayed on during my swim and shower. It only came of when I dried off.

Update on the neighbors

Our Saturday happy hours are now called socials.  Reminds me of the church ice cream socials when I was a kid.  Alcohol is now BYOB. It seems there were county code problems with sell drinks. You need a permit or a liquor license and proper insurance  coverage.  Until the board and management company  work this out we are dry town USA.

Unless it’s a special event we probably won’t  be attending the socials anymore. Mind you we like our neighbors, but some are barely tolerable with a drink or two (in both them and me!).

The ones we do get along with we continue  to have at the house for cocktails. Often we go out to dinner first or cook something here at home.

Cooking for other people  involves concern for dietary restrictions. Gluten free, dairy free, nut allergies and so on make for a fun time modifying recipes and deciding what to make. I don’t remember my mother having  such concerns. Back then you ate what was presented or you didn’t eat, end of story.

Going out is not without it’s problems. Again does the menu offer gluten free items. Thankfully most do now. Making the reservation and getting everyone to show up on time has become a challenge.  Even when cooking at home late arrivals persist.

To that end here are a couple of examples.  First we planned a dinner party.   Cocktails at 5:30 and dinner at 6:00.  It was dinner for six at six.  One quest didn’t show.  That’s  would be okay except he kept texting that he would be here shortly.   Finally we ate with out him at a out 6:30.  Then he showed  up after all the dishes were cleared. My kind husband fixed him a plate and the rest of us watched him eat. Crazy.

Here is the thing. He is ADHD and maybe on the spectrum for autism.  Why was he late?  He started working in the yard at 4:30 and was compelled to finish the job before he could leave home. (Literally two culdasacs away).

He has no concept of time or time management. Yet he teaches high school  physics and chemistry. We asked him how he resolved being late to school.  He gets up at 4:30 which gives him three hours to perform all his rituals or rather tasks before leaving  for work. He has an exercise routine and lord knows what else. Which brings us to the second example.

We were trying to schedule a trip to Big Bear for October fest.  Our schedules couldn’t align so he, I call him squirrel, suggested we have our own  October fest at the local German  restaurant, Alps Village.

So we are set for this past Saturday night at 6:00.  This time it was a party of five.  Well, late boy strikes again.  We are leaving for the restaurant at 5:45. He is not here. Ricky is texting him.  The back and forth  texts (he won’t pick up the phone) become heated and we send the other guest ahead to confirm our table. Finally he says he’s walking out of the house. We get in the car. He is nowhere.  We drive towards his place. Rick thinks maybe he is over at the clubhouse so we pull in there first. Then we see his car racing pasted headed for the gate. We follow, he goes the wrong way.  We go to the restaurant.

Party of four we don’t know if he is coming.  Rick is still in text conversations. There is some disconnect he says he’s not late they always have room you don’t  need a reservation blah blah blah.  Then at the table he texts he’s  not coming.  We order and are finished  with our meal when out of the blue he shows up.  Again we sit and watch him eat.  The other guest order another glass of wine.

This is the same guy whom I wrote  about before that is taking up Rick’s time.  Anyway it was a stressful night. Back at the house I needed a drink. Philippe who lives right next door and Rick and I drank till 2 am.  Squirrel went home about 10:30.

Ricky has more patience for this crap then the rest of us. He has been reading up on it and trying  to figure out how best to deal with him. He went over on Sunday afternoon to talk to him. He was in full hyper drive running around from laundry to mopping the kitchen floor etc.  But just maybe he heard some of what Rick was explaining. 

Until next time.

Collectibles on display

We moved here five years ago and still there are things to unpack.  We didn’t move our huge curio cabinet from Reno.  Not the stye we wanted here plus it mostly would have broken in transit.

As a consequence Rick’s Disney stuff has remained  in boxed in the garage closets.  Some were put out in the bedroom.  As were some of his prized German smokers.

Cabinet in bedroom. This is the only curio display we brought with us.  It was a place for bar wear once upon a time.

Alice, Dumbo, and smokers, oh my.

Side two.

Last year I gave up the bar idea in the living. First it was a cocktail bar the a coffee bar.  But the distance from the kitchen  made it hard to use. No sink.

So the smokers came out of hiding.

This was a bar. But without a sink it was a long walk back to the kitcnhen.  Last year I decided to make this the home for German smokers.

I found a console on-line that could be used as a display cabinet in the guest room. It came in a flat box, IKEA style. But i managed to build it with only one blood letting.

Guest room console.

I added some lighting.

More Alice

More Disney

Snowwhite

Tinkerbell

So now these treasured (Some might call junk!) Disney pieces can see the light of day.

It gave me something to do last month. The retired life.

P.S. The there were 4 casualties from what we unpacked.  Donald lost his head. The White Rabbit lost a foot, Tinkerbell broke a wing and Pinocchio lost a hand.  Nothing a little  epoxy can fix at some point.

Bagged and tagged for later repair.

Voting

We dropped  our mail in ballots off at Palm Desert City Hall.  We can’t trust the post office  these days. Such a shame.

“Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.”

There’s nothing in there a out MAGA.

Palm Desert City Hall parking lot.

The return

The season officially starts the month.  We are hoping  the snowbirds return in droves to boost our economy, though I do love the quiet summers.  Canadians may be reluctant to return thanks to our dear leader.  Fifty percent of our residents here at Park Palms are part-timers.

We had a dry run of the clubhouse happy hour last Saturday. The official welcome back party is this Saturday.  It was truly a dry run. No alcohol. Seem the there have been some issues with the county soon to be resolved. They even closed our pools. Certain safety stands need to be met. Then a reinspection and  hopefully all is well.

So I haven’t been swimming.  I am lethargic and becoming addicted to games on my phone.  Mahjong is my latest captor.  I made number 1, but must keep player or drop down the leader board. I now dream about Mahjong tiles. Time to take a break and find a new obsession. To bad I can’t  be obsessed with exercise and  diet or something useful.  But the games do keep my mind sharp so it’s  not a total waste of time.

Oh, we got a new couch. The excuse was the old one was uncomfortable and hurt Rick’s back. Also the new one can accommodate more guests.

New sectional. We are still working on lighting and thro pillows.

There have been thunderstorms and lightening. This has given us beautiful sunsets.

Love the clouds.

Enhanced by our friend Tommy in North Carolina.

The original. Both are amazing.

66

I turned 66 a few days ago.  Like the route I am a trail of faded attractions, potholes, and dreams.  It’s  not all negative. Though I show signs of wear, I am still going strong.

A recent check up so me on track.  My ailments are controlled. Nothing is completely out of order demading immediate attention. 

I do have some issues. I asked the doctor to check my cortisol levels.  It’s  a special  blood test to rule out something call cushing disease , a disorder with the adrenal glands.

I am also following up on my Buffalo hump with an MRI and a trip to the surgeon.  Hopefully it can be removed.

And finally I am talking to my heart doctor to see if changes in medication will help with my lack of desire and ED.

I suspect it is all just aging and I can live with that too.

I did have a nice birthday.

Streetcar name desire

Looking back

Took a ride on the streetcar  through the garden district.  Tennessee Williams wrote a play with this trolley in the title.  Blanche and Stella lived in the French Quarter where this line starts.  We boarded just off Canal Street.

We got off and had lunch in the Oak lined neighborhood at Paulie’s Delicatessen Italiano .  There was even live music.  Lots of memorabilia on the walls.

Simon and Garfunkel in Central Park.

Imagine  seeing the Beatles for 4.50.

Passing another car.

Lots of trees and houses.

For just 3 dollars you can have unlimited rides all day.  After lunch the line broke down. But never fear they sent us an air conditioned bus which was much more comfortable.

Tripping

We are home from our visit to Oklahoma and our vacationing in New Orleans. The first part was about seeing family. Why else would anyone got to Tulsa Oklahoma? It was a nice five day visit. We stayed at eldest granddaughters house. Ricky got to spend time with his son, daughter-in-law and youngest granddaughter. The wicked in-laws next door stayed at bay. But we did she Ricky’s ex-wife (son’s mother) who also lives next door on the opposite side. It’s like Knotts Landing without all the fun.

New Orleans was great as always. We went a week before Decadence to celebrate our new friend Tommy’s birthday which happened to be during Decadence last year when we met him for the first time. The gay town was not nearly and busy but it was still fun. The bars are everywhere. If you stumble and fall, no worries you are at the threshold of your next adventure (bar).

We came home to a broken washing machine. It is out of balance and wants to walk away. Me too. Anyway the parts are on order and should come in 7 to 14 days. I think I have enough clothes, but there is always the laundromat, at least I think there is one around here.

I will tell the rest of this adventure through photos. I am tired. The time change has me all messed up.

Sunset from our rooftop pool at Hotel Monteleone

Carousel bar, Tommy, me, and Ricky

Tour carriage in the Quarter

I wonder if they earned all those beads

Cafe Lafitte in exile. Claims to be oldest continously running gay bar in the French Quarter

Random  courtyard. They are everywhere.

Breakfast at Brennan’s

Backspace bar.  Fun with typewriter theme.

Dinner at Olde New Orleans Cookery

Flowers in the lobby.

The upload failed so I will continue this in another post.

Dealing with it

My sister in-law once said she doesn’t have any friends because they are too much work.  In many ways that can be true. You have to find balance.  Is the joy you received worth the effort you put out?* I think we ask ourselves this question about everything in life.

You’ve heard my complaints about my husband’s new bestie.  But I have to step back and look at the happiness he has found. Who am I to deny him that quest.? Ricky has suffered from depression in the past. It’s something I don’t relate to well because I can’t fix it. I am a fixer by nature.

Some things just take care of themselves with enough time.  I know this from my own past. But I have never been depressed. Unhappy yes. But depression is more than that, it’s a dark cloud that hopefully passes over.

Ricky relates to this young man because he has had those dark clouds too. 

So being the good husband I have made peace with this situation.  I may not like it to have him around all the time but in a few weeks he will go back to work teaching and his availability will be reduced to Friday and Saturday.  What’s that song, “If it makes you happy” by Sheryl Crow.

If it makes you happy
It can’t be that bad
If it makes you happy
Then why the hell are you so sad

*To put it more bluntly “Is the screwing you’re getting worth the screwing you’re getting.”

Taradiddle

There recently  was a video in my Threads feed of a man being frisked by police and then shot to death.  It was very disturbing to me. 

A young white man had his hands on the side of the car while an officer reached around and into his pants. He appeared to be molesting him. The guy struggles to get away and is thrown to the ground where he manages to get up and run. The officer shoots him.

The comments on the video say he was treated like a black man.  I am sorry, but nobody should be treated this way.  Is this what black people tend to expect?  Things need to change for sure.

The story is sort of a taradiddle.  The lies told by the officer to justify his actions.  Potentially, the lies of the victim for a supposed crime he was pulled over for in the first place.  And then the surreal results of those words and actions. 

It starts out looking like pretentious nonsense and ends with a horrible truth.

It reminded me of a time I was pulled over New Years day 1986.  I had been to a New Year’s Eve party at a local club called Robbie’s in Pomona.  The cops were patrolling to catch drunk drivers on what is probably a good night for it.  Ah, but I had not been drinking.  I took a break from alcohol after being in a car crash that Halloween. I was completely  sober.

The officer realized this after talking to me, but to save face he made me get out of the car and frisked me in the same manner as that poor guy in the video.  He didn’t put his hands down my pants but I was wearing pleated pants with no underwear. He gripped my crotch and I immediately froze.  Eventually it was over and he had to let me go.  I didn’t report him. The police had a reputation of harassing gays.  I tried to stay calm, got back in my car and drove home.

My thoughts are this could have gone down much differently had I struggled or questioned his behavior in any way. This location where I was pulled off was at the end of Indian Hill Boulevard.  Several years later the LA riots would come down the street.

Most people don’t think of Pomona and the LA riots. But there were splitter riots throughout the county. Pomona is the Eastern edge of LA County.

I bring this up because a friend of mine’s  niece’s boyfriend was killed during the riots. She was black and only sixteen years old.  She was at her aunt’s house sobbing.  It was a sad time.

So again it was a taradiddle.  The police had one story. The family had another. The truth was lost.

Perhaps these aren’t the truest sense of the word but my own interpretation. Here is the definition.

Taradiddle
noun
1. A petty lie.

2. Pretentious nonsense.