It seems like in these e-mails I whine a lot and this one’s no exception. Ever since I swam a couple of weeks ago, I’ve had a spot on my skin where my leg meets the rest of me (no, not there…in front) that has been irritated. I blamed it on the chlorine, but now I know it’s more than that.
Down here it’s humid and on our bike rides we sweat a lot. Well, I sweat…Jean “glows”. Anyway, my bike shorts have seen better days and the only other pair I brought are worse, so I hang them on a rack to dry and wear them again on the next bike ride. I wash clothes once a week and figured that was enough but have noticed a distinct odor when I walk by the rack and nowÂ all my work-out clothes have taken on a “life of their own”. Now I think the spot on my leg isn’t a rash from contact dermatitis but a fungal infection from those blankety-blank bike shorts.
It’s easy enough to treat, but when I went to Walgreen’s to find something, all the tubes of cream had, in big bold letters CURES JOCK ITCH. I was so embarrassed to take it up to the counter, I might as well have been buying Preparation HÂ or Depends or an 18 year old buying his first condom from a clerk who plays bridge with his mother.
Jean flew back up to Michigan on Wednesday to go to Mary Youngs’ funeral. The week before she left, her phone, which was on its last legs, bit the dust. We went to the Alltel booth at Wal-Mart to get new phones and, after an hour, we had two newÂ ones to learn how to use. We got them home and spent time transferring our address books to the new phones and learning what all the buttons did.
Jean had her land line turned off for the winter so she’s stuck calling me with the new phone. When I talked to her Wednesday evening,Â I told herÂ I would be going over to Bob Stack’s house at 2 the next day for a cocktail get together so some of the park people could meet Duane O’Conner, the newest HastingsÂ person to move into Club Wildwood. So she called me at 2:30 and wondered why I wasn’t here and would I please call her back.
Somehow, after we got the phones home, she set hers on vibrate (I’m not going to ask why…that’s her business). I called her when I got home and she didn’t answer, so I assumed she was at spinning. When she got home she called me and I was gone again, so she told me she would be home all evening and please call her back. I called back three times and didn’t get an answer. She finally called back at around 10 and wondered why I hadn’t called. I told herÂ I did, but apparently she couldn’t see the phone vibrate from across the room.
She didn’t know how to change it to ring, so I told herÂ I would call her back on the land line, have my phone in hand and tell her which buttons to push. I did call her back and walked her through how to make the change. She said she would hang up, make the change, and call me back. She did, and then asked me to call her back to see if it would ring. I did and the call seemed to go through but no one was there. All of a sudden I heard “Oh crap” and the call went dead. I called her back again. Apparently the phone rang but it wasn’t as loud as she wanted, so instead of saying hello like you would expect, she was fooling around with the volume control and accidentally pushed the button to disconnect the call. Sound like Jean?
I need to have Jean come back and keep an eye on me. I’ve told you that I’ve been trying to lose some weight and have been going about it by trying to eat healthy and lower the calorie intake so I could lose a pound or two a week. Even with the holidays, going out to dinner at least twice a week, Jean’s birthday, Valentines Day, etc., I’ve done pretty well. From the time I came down in early November to earlyÂ January after the holidays I had lost 9 pounds. I haven’t weighed myselfÂ lately but I know I’ve lost some more since then.
However,Â Friday night was a disaster. I had done well throughout the day, ate salmon and asparagus for dinner, but whenÂ I looked at the calorie intake, I was short of where I should be by about 400 calories. I didn’t have much else to eat soÂ I thought I would have some saltine crackers with peanut butter. Somehow I lost consciousness whenÂ the universe went through a time warp and whenÂ I “came to” there was an empty sleeve of saltine crackers and half the jar of peanut butter was gone. From the inside I felt like a drunk who passed out in an alley off skid row in Chicago with three bottles of Muscatel scattered on the ground nearby.
The attached picture is the latest batch of “Irish Red” going through its final stages of fermentation. If people knew that’s what beer looks like while it’s being made, they probably wouldn’t drink it. I’ve heard it said that if you saw what went on in a restaurant kitchen, you wouldn’t eat out any more, but knowing that the FDA allows a certain number of rodent hairs in a box of cereal, I wouldn’tÂ want toÂ eat at home either. Sometimes not knowing is better than hearing the truth.
Just (Happy To Be Me And Not FEMA’s Michael Brown) Jack