Thoughtless Tuesday

Tuesday’s blog never showed.

Sorry….

I waited…but nothing.

No call, no text…no nothing.

That’s just how it is these days…you can’t rely on anything…not even a blog.

And the fact that it was Tuesday was kind of disappointing.

I mean if it was Wednesday, from a couple of years ago, sure…I wouldn’t have been surprised.

But Tuesday…reliable, thoughtful Tuesday?

I just don’t know.

I mean it saw what happened to Wednesday.

Of course, maybe it also saw how many chances I gave Wednesday to get its act together.

Maybe that was my mistake.

Because we all know nothing ever changes these days.

A bad day’s a bad day…no matter how many chances you give it.

So now it’s Tuesday.

Oh, it had some lame excuse about getting caught up in all that political Bridgegate hokey pokey going on in New Jersey…but, hello…that all took place last summer, not yesterday, Tuesday.

But that’s how blogs are…they never get past the flashy headline…and they never stick to the facts.

Plus they also think that you do the same, so you won’t notice when they’re making stuff up.

But I notice…and I’m sure you do to.

Although most of the time I hope that you don’t.

In fact I depend on it.

So I did some digging and found out that instead of being here doing what it was supposed to be doing, Tuesday’s blog was still on the Pennsylvania Turnpike getting a little too cozy with some chick blog, at a rest stop …miles outside of Jersey.

They were seen swapping cappuccinos and discussing dirty diaper stories.

Dirty diaper stories? 

Tuesday?

Give me a break.

Then, next thing you know, Tuesday starts showing off, pontificating on the plus or minuses of skinny jeans.

Like he’s an expert or something.

I don’t think so.

Everyone knows Skinny Jeans was Wednesday.

So I don’t know who Tuesday thought it was fooling.

Truth is. I’m not sure I even know who Tuesday is anymore…not after this.

So I tried dragging Wednesday out of its forced retirement, which to be honest wasn’t all that easy.

I mean it’s been a while since anything was asked of Wednesday, and it’s gotten kind of used to its time being its own.

And I get that. 

I just thought it might like a chance to get back in the game; take advantage of Tuesday’s indiscretions.

 But I was wrong.

Apparently there was a morning Yoga class to attend and a spin class in the afternoon.

In between—and this one really caught me by surprise—Wednesday volunteers at the Senior Center, serving lunch.

So apparently these days can still surprise.  

You just never know what each one will bring.

Anyway, I had no choice but to go downtown and see the guy who hangs out behind the luncheonette selling refurbished blogs.

I know…that’s the last thing I wanted too, but this whole Tuesday thing caught me off guard and I had to get something up before I lost any more of the 6 people that actually read this thing regularly.

Sure, most of his stuff is recycled garbage, but if you dig enough you can sometimes pick up something that’s at least halfway presentable.

Sometimes….

Not all the time.

Obviously…..

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The Sunday Archive of Retort - 1/9/12

 

 

 

 

A lot of us are always saying…“If only I had done this when I was younger”….or…“Maybe I should have thought of that before”…or…“Why couldn’t I have taken more chances back then…”

Or maybe that’s just me.

From 1/9/12"

"If Only"

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No Resolutions

I don’t make resolutions…other than I won’t make resolutions.

Neither New Year’s, last year, this year or any year.

No resolutions for me.

I mean what’s the point?

You’re either going to do something or you’re not.

Saying you “are” doesn’t get it done.

Getting it done gets it done…no matter when you do it…even if you don’t say it you’re going to do it.

And if you’re silly enough to “resolve” to do something…and you don’t…then you just feel dumb for not doing it…on top of being silly.

So you’re silly dumb.

Or dumb silly.

Either way, you don’t feel good.

So no resolutions…at least not for me.

If you still want to make them, go ahead…just don’t say you haven’t been warned.

So…having said that…I’m going to lose some weight.

15-20 pounds worth.

And if you’re saying to yourself, “Hey, isn’t that some sort of resolution?” you shouldn’t, because...one—talking to yourself looks weird…and two—it isn’t.

It’s just a fact…a fact that I have to face and get done.

And I know I will…this time I will…because I’ve done it before…at least 25 times or more over the last 37 years.

About 500 pounds gained and lost and gained and lost over that time period.

Not good…not good…scary not good.

Not when you put it that way, which you didn’t…I did.

Some of you might be saying...again?

We've been through all this before.

Remember the "Fat Summer"  debacle from a couple of years back?

Yeah....

But that’s okay, because I’m going to drop the weight...again…all of it…most likely before spring.

And I’m not being brash or bold or overly confident…I just know.

I just know when my body has had enough and finally takes over for my head.

Mostly because it’s tired of nearly passing out from lack of oxygen every

time it bends over to tie its shoes, which are really my shoes, and not my body’s shoes…but that’s an issue for another day.

Possibly St. Swithin’s Day…if I remember to pencil it in.

So lack of oxygen is key… plus the fact that it’s time consuming to constantly remove the roll of fat that hangs over the waist band of the my pants and slips into my pockets, every time I need to get change.

I’m also tired of constantly “starting” these weight loss adventures only to give up after a couple of weeks…or really, more likely, a couple  of days.

I mean how long can a fella go hungry before he gives in to the temptation of that gallon of Hagen Daz that just happens to be sitting in the freezer…of your Great Aunt Hilda’s house three states over, and two states north….on a Tuesday afternoon?

I mean can it be any more tempting?

But if I’ve learned anything from the past, I know once I put my mind to it, it will work.

The first week is tough, and the second week is even worse.

And the weekends harder even still.

Wooziness, crabbiness, hallucinatory confusion such as when your friends begin to look a lot like Pork Chops.

All tough....

But if you can get by all of that, mostly unscathed, because let’s face it…there is going to be some scathing…you then start to settle into a comfortable routine, where for the most part you’re not even thinking of stealing the Kibble from your neighbor’s cat, anymore, who to be honest, could stand to lose a few pounds herself…the cat, not the neighbor.

Then the first two pounds fall off, which eventually becomes four, then eight, then ten—the magic number that either motivates you to keep going or tickles you enough to stop…and pretty much start the whole cycle over again, something you always swear you’ll never do…again.

While you’re mulling that over, you indulge a little, but tell yourself it’s just the reward you’ve so richly earned. You’ve lost 10 whole pounds, two and half inches off your waist and you can pretty much get your hands in and out of your pockets again without pinching yourself.

Of course, at your next weigh-in and waist measurement, you find you’ve plateaued or worse, gained a half to a full pound back.

Either way, you get annoyed but quickly hunker down and jump right back on that horse, which is, at the same time, inspiring and disturbing, because you have no idea how a horse got into your house in the first place.

Hopefully, the horse is a pleasant horse that doesn’t try to buck you off and pretty soon you’re down 15 and people start noticing there’s something different about you…even to the point of asking if you’ve finally thrown away that 20 year old sweater you constantly wear to parties. 

Then, before you know it you’ve reached your goal, or gotten close enough so that your friends start asking you how long you’ve been sick, or worse, if you’ve made any decisions as to who’ll get your new flat screen TV…you know, when the time comes.

Now, finally, you’re able to take a deep breath of contentment…but find that your pants are slipping to your knees, so you make a note to dig out that smaller pair you bought the last time you went through this trial, a couple of years ago.

Then, looking back, you realize it was a long haul, but a satisfying one, so much so that now you have reason to celebrate!

Bring on the 3 M’s…Milky Ways, Mallomars and Most everything else you’ve done without over the last 3 months….

What?

Give me a break.

I just lost 20 pounds…and it’s only been two days.

Don’t I have a good reason to indulge myself a little?

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Weather or Not…It’s All We Got

At the beginning of a new year, which traditionally means January—unless you have another tradition, which many people do— It’s way too easy to simply sit here and write about the weather.

That’s why I’m trying to stand on my head while I do it.

But I keep typing backward, and I'm constantly correcting myself.

Not to mention driving spell check crazy.

But…speaking of…crazy…that’s just how the weather’s been the last few days…yzarc!

Opps…yrros.

See what I do for you people…now I’m having trouble feeling my feet.

But I’m standing on my head so what’s there to feel?

Anyway…we were in the single digits this past Friday with blowing and drifting snow.

Shoveled that away on Saturday and then enjoyed a nice 20 plus degree day, which felt like a heat wave…and then a day of freezing rain on Sunday, which basically turned everyone’s front walk into a skating rink by 10 AM

Not that I minded the skating, but the organ music was annoying and my hot chocolate sales didn’t do as well as I expected.

Okay…I’m kidding about that part….the hot chocolate sales were actually pretty good.

Hey, what do you expect from a guy whose entire blood supply has pooled around his earlobes.

Then, as midnight approached, the temps had risen back into the 40s, which pretty much put the kibosh on my whole Moonlight Skating package.

Monday morning we awoke to the balmy 50’s, with periods of deluging rain through the day, which pretty much finished off whatever remaining snow remained.

Kind of sad to see all the weekend snowmen dwindling down the storm drains.

Even sadder to see all the piles of pristine snow, the symbol of all our hard shoveling labor diminished to the size of a snowball.

But not to fret, if fretting is within your repertoire of worry… by noon the thermometer began to drop again, little by little, inch by inch…so by this morning we’re once again in the single digits with the return of blustery winds and a wind chill of minus the dark side of the moon.

Apparently, it’s all a part of this unusual “Polar Vortex” swirling down from the Artic. Of course, I know, if you’re reading this in the Midwest, where actual air temps are minus 30, you’re saying, “What…this guy must be standing on his head if he thinks that single digits is cold!” and you would be right…on both counts!

But cold is cold, no matter where you are and no matter how low or not how low the numbers go.

I mean to me, anything under 15 is all the same because by then I go numb and by the time it hits 5, the inside of my nose freezes, which I actually enjoy.

Most of us can get used to anything…even writing upside down, which I have to admit has started to feel quite tnasaelp…I mean pleasant.

But is it too much to ask for a little consistency. 

Skates on Sunday… Shorts on Monday…Eskimo-wear on Tuesday.

But I suppose that’s just how it is here in the Great Northeast come January.

You have to be ready for anything.

Even a guy standing on his head trying to be funny.

Hey, there’s the Twinkie I lost a few years ago.

I knew it was impossible to lose a Twinkie.


Mmmmmmmm...still fresh.

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The Sunday Archive of Retort - 1/4/12

It’s January 5th…already. ...

Can’t believe it…..

How fast we speed through this tunnel of time...just like the old TV show ....


My Ode to January from 1/4/12

So Fast...So Wary

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Already Late

It’s only the 3^rd day of the year and I’m already late with the first Retort of 2014.

I suppose I could blame the weather. 

Traffic conditions are hell out there this morning.

Blowing snow and 6 degrees with wind chills in the minus gazillions.

Even the penguins are complaining.

But that would be misleading.

The only obstacle I face on my way into do whatever it is I do, is to navigate around the pile of socks I left in the hallway, between the bedroom and the office, that Z refuses to pick up.

I mean what’s the problem?

They’re practically still clean and besides… how long can bacteria survive…a year….two…possibly three?

Anyway, I managed to plow through so here I am.

Late…but better than not at all…right?

Wait…I heard that!

So the snow is moving out as I write, but the wind is still howling, as I said, so it’s hard to tell the difference between actual precipitation and the blowing stuff.

I keep shouting to Z, who’s out cleaning off the cars, “Is it still snowing, or what?” but she can’t seem to hear me through the wind, and she’s not answering her cell phone.

Plus the constant gale is making it difficult for her to maintain any sort of solid footing to talk for very long, even if I could communicate with her…something that she says has been impossible for the last 30 years, anyway.

Which, as anyone who actually knows us understands, is a complete exaggeration.

Everyone knows it’s only been 29…or more likely, 28 and a half years since we discussed the taco incident.

Come on…It was one taco…get over it.

Or maybe it was me who had the problem…and maybe it was an enchilada?

Who can remember after 28 and a half years?

Hold on…it was a Chimichanga…and it was my Uncle Ernie who had the issue.

Wait til' I tell Z…if she can ever stand up long enough to finish the shoveling and get back inside.

I mean the hot chocolate’s not gonna make itself…. not to mention our cozy little fire.

So it’s a new year and a clean slate for all of us.

Z keeps saying there’s gonna be a lot of changes this year…which I take to mean she’s planning on rearranging the living room again.

I just hope she listens to me this time and bends at the knees so she doesn’t hurt her back again.

That’s the worse.

Whenever Z hurts her back it takes her forever to get the laundry done.

Even without the pile of socks.

Hmmmmm….I just noticed she brought all her luggage downstairs and put it by the door.

Maybe she’s planned another surprise trip to Cabo for us.

No…I see there’s only one ticket.

What would Z want with just one ticket to Cabo?

And only one way to boot.

Oh well, I guess it’s a mystery, at least until she pulls herself out of that huge drift over by the dogwood.

I told her to be careful out there.

But you know how it is…does anyone ever listen?

Anyway…can’t worry about that now. 

I just have a feeling 2014 is gonna be full of surprises!

And wouldn’t it be a nice way to start if “someone” would make that Lemon Coconut cake that I like so much.

I’m just sayin….

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Happy 2014!

 

 

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