I Think I Should Write Something

I don't have anything particularly exciting to write about, but Anne is out at a Master Gardener meeting, I don't want to watch television, I'm not into any book right now, I practiced my banjo earlier, although, God knows, I should practice all day, so what else is there to do. Besides, this lets me use the back lit keyboard on my new laptop.

We still have nothing definitive from our seller in Rochester. We spoke to him on Thursday and he agreed with everything we said and said he would speak to his estranged wife about a price for the house and get back to us on Friday. On Friday, I got an email from him (be still my beating heart) that he couldn't get us the information until tomorrow (Saturday) because he got very busy. Saturday came and went. Sunday came and went. Monday came and I emailed him suggesting a price and a closing date. Monday went. Tuesday came and went. Wednesday came and has almost went. In the meantime we have signed a contract to sell our house. I have little patience left. It is getting depressing.

I hate to throw out books, but I'm throwing some out tonight. Maybe someone, somewhere in the world would want them, but I don't. Old reference books, college history books, an out of date thesaurus. We won't have room for half of the books we have now in our new home, assuming we get a new home, so I have been busy sorting through stuff. I previously posted about how I really only need three books because I won't remember what I read and each will be like an entirely new book each time I read it. I am looking up over my desk to the books lining the wall above me and am getting even more depressed. That's only one area of shelving with books. I told our buyers that I was thinking of selling them the house furnished and just walking away with the clothes on our backs. they looked horrified. We aren't nearly as bad as some people. Everything is at least neat and somewhat organized. I mean there aren't piles of stuff all around the floor or anything. We just have too much stuff.

I got a call from the dermatologist today that the biopsy they took from my right shoulder is positive for basal cell carcinoma and they want to excise it. Of course they do. That is scheduled for August 30th. I figure, let's get it over with. Sigh.

I find that I'm not following up on my retirement rule to work in the morning and to relax in the afternoon. I have been having a great urge to keep on  working in the afternoon as well and then giving in to the urge. I know that some of you readers are thinking, "Give us a break," and "Woman's work is never done," and things like that and maybe some things that are more unkind. But, at least I'm giving in to the urge, sometime.

This morning, in addition to tying up books and magazines, I also filled out our applications for passport renewals. You can do it online and then print them out. It seems simple enough, but I wanted to check everything carefully. Then I took them to the post office and mailed them away. Hopefully, we will have our new documents before we travel to Mexico, maybe sometime next year.

I guess I've run out of things to say, so I will stop saying them. The AARP magazine that came today has an article about how people become creative in their "later" years. I should go and search out my creative muse or muses. I think they're hiding out somewhere. "Here muse, let's have a little talk, you and I."

Who Was That Guy Anyway?

Yeah, the guy that invented the computer. What kind of a person would do such a thing? I seem to remember that I was perfectly happy (technologically speaking) before we had these things. I remember calling people on a telephone that was wired to the wall so you couldn't misplace it. There were clocks  that told what time it was so if you were late for something it was your own fault. You could write a letter to someone on a piece of paper and for a small number of cents a man in uniform would deliver it for you. You could buy a small notebook made out of paper to write things in so you wouldn't forget. If you ran out of pages, you could buy another one and another and another. My father-in-law did that and he kept them all well marked and organized.

The other day I bought a new computer for my lap, although I hardly use the one I have on my lap. I use it on the top of my desk.  I bought it at Staples like my daughter suggested. She was right. The prices are better and they now have the equivalent of the Geek Squad only their prices are cheaper.  They were very helpful in answering questions. I had them set it up and get rid of the "bloat ware" that seems to come installed on all new computers. They did it in a day. Then came the hard part; getting all my pictures, music, etc. from my Apple iBook to my Toshiba PC. A Google search gets you a number of sites that tell you how to go from a PC to a Mac, but precious few that say anything about going the other way. I found one that was promising and it started out telling me what to do and then half way through switches to how to go from the PC to the Mac. There were even comments from people who couldn't fathom why anyone would want to transfer anything from a Mac to a PC. Hadn't we, the great unwashed, learned anything about computers? Didn't we know that Apple was the second coming and that those who used them had reached Nirvana? Yes, I know all that already, but I got this one for less than half the price of the Apple, so end of story.

So, anyway, I was getting confused about all the steps to take to copy my music from iTunes on my Mac to iTunes on my PC. I decided to burn my music library to a few discs and see what would happen. The end result was that my new computer copied all of my music, but didn't copy the playlists. I reasoned that I should  quit while I was somewhat ahead and to just reconstitute my playlist manually. That's not too big a deal. The next job was to copy the pictures. In our household we have had the practice of downloading pictures from cameras to my iBook and to Anne's PC, so most of the pictures are in both places. Rather than to spend a lot of time figuring out a cross platform transfer, I just copied the pictures from her new laptop to an external hard drive and then plugged it into my machine and voila, there they are in Windows Live Photo Gallery. I'm still manually entering favorites, blogs and such stuff. Not a bad thing, because I now have to look at some of these things I've been carrying and realize that I no longer need or want them, but this process is taking hours and hours. I now have to become familiar with Windows Live and Windows 7 because they seem to offer a number of free applications. What they also do that's not so nice is to populate my Favorites Bar with stuff that they want me to have, but that I don't care about. There may be a way to stop that, but I'm a few years away from figuring it out. I also have to move my Contacts, but it is time to review that list also. Who the heck are all of these people? I know one thing for sure. If the name of the guy who invented the computer is on that list, I'm deleting him.

Haiti

Our son, Ted, found the attached in a Google search. Peter had to write his account for the State Department, but was somewhat embarrassed that they published it. http://blogs.state.gov/index.php/site/entry/memories_haiti_quake

I Fell Out of the Boat, Which Wasn't So Bad, Except for My Knee

We spent a week with Anne's brothers and their wives and our son Leo and his wife and various relatives and dogs at Anne's brother's cabin near Canadice, NY. Andy, Anne's brother, likes to go on the lake with a small boat and motor and just putt around. Canadice is a restricted lake in that it is part of the water supply for the City of Rochester, so you're not supposed to make contact with the water; no swimming, wading or anything. So, when we were coming back to the take out spot, Andy asked me if I would put on the waders and pull the boat in. "Sure, no problem," so I slipped into the waders and when we got close, I put one leg over the side and promptly slipped, landing on my left knee, which was just recovering from a prior fall. At this point my right leg was still in the boat being difficult to extricate while I was floundering around trying to get up. I almost succeeded when Andy, seeing the my leg was still in the boat, freed it and sent it overboard, whereupon my efforts to right myself were thwarted and I fell again. Fortunately, the water was only about ankle deed, but I felt like a walrus flopping around. Also, fortunately, there was only one other boater there to witness this debacle and he was very kind about it and didn't laugh until he was far away.

Andy and Art, another of Anne's brothers, decided that a shower was needed at the cabin, so Andy built an outdoor shower consisting of a wooden framework with a bucket that you fill with water and then raise with a rope and pulley until it is above you. There is a lever at the bottom which you operate to let the water fall on you. Art made two kettles from old propane cylinders for heating the water (don't worry, he knows how to cut them without causing an explosion) and he dutifully sat by the outdoor fire making hot water for anyone who was brave enough, or felt dirty enough, to venture into the shower.

Now the shower is in the woods and no one can see you in it, so it had no sides until some of the ladies protested causing tarps to be erected. The water was another concern. It was fairly clear when it came out of the spout (well water), but after it was heated, it took on the color of something from the Big Muddy. I thought I would at least look like I had a nice tan and the gray would have been washed right out of my hair, but, alas, by the time we got home and took proper showers, I look once again like a gray haired paleskin. Despite this, the shower worked surprisingly well and at least gave you the feeling that you were taking a nice, hot, clean shower, out there in the woods

I Don't Think I Get It

When I first retired I vowed that  I would work in the morning and then relax in the afternoon. It seems like too much relaxing, but the way this summer has been so far with the heat and humidity, it's hard to get the motivation to do much in the way of physical labor. I still try to do some work in the morning although it is becoming apparent that I am doing more relaxing than working. Some days I don't get much done. This morning, for instance, I went to the bank, Home Depot and Lowes. I was looking for a grout removal tool. I know I have one because I saw it not long ago, but, of course, I don't remember where I saw it. I don't really need two of them, so I resolved to undertake a more thorough search. It was raining very lightly when I went into Home Depot, so I carried in my umbrella, but didn't use it. When I arrived at Lowes, it was hardly raining at all, so I left my umbrella in the car. Big mistake. When I started to leave Lowes, the sky opened up trapping me there for maybe fifteen or twenty minutes. I next went to Best Buy and while the skies were sunny, I brought in my umbrella. They were still sunny when I left. I went to Best Buy to see if I could get some first hand information about laptop screen resolution vs. graphic card vs. processor. I got some information, but after I left, I thought of many more questions. They always want to know what I do with the computer. I know what I do with it today, but I don't know what I may want to do tomorrow or what programs may become available requiring who knows what processor or memory or graphics card and on and on. In the past I always bought a computer with the biggest hard drive, the most memory and the fastest processor that I could reasonably afford. Now I'm told I don't need the fastest processor. Anne thinks I'll be wanting a new one in five years anyway, so why spend extra money for things I may never need. She may be right.

But, I digress. I was talking about retirement and my approach to it. Time is going by with alarming speed and I feel that I don't have complete control of my life. Maybe no one does. And, there is too much relaxing by the pool. Whenever I sit by the pool, I think it's a Sunday and that I should have a drink. I don't have one each time (maybe only twice a week), but I think I should. Well, it looks like I still have to figure out retirement. Also, I think part of the problem is that we're still waiting to hear from a certain seller in Rochester. This is a big deal, but my mind is and has been in idle about it for a couple of months. I think when we finally hear something positive, I will shift directly to over drive and I'm sure that will be the subject of another post or two or three.

Starvation Island

We finally got out kayaking. I had been admonished by my friend, Laura S. (also known as Mrs. T) because I had yet to be kayaking this year. Well, wouldn't you know, but the very next day I got a call from our friend Jim who asked if we wanted to go kayaking on the Navesink River Saturday evening. So the Corp of Adventure consisting of Jim, his wife, Alice, their son, Mike, Anne and I met at Lafayette Park in Rumson and launched our vessels. We paddled down the river and under the Oceanic bridge towards parts unknown. The river used to go right out into the ocean without having to make a left turn and go around Sandy Hook. The opening has long ago silted over and now Sea Bright pretty much sits where the opening was. That's good because I didn't want to get carried away paddling and suddenly find myself in the North Atlantic as darkness approached (we launched at 6:30 p.m.). We passed by the residents of Rumson (I'm sorry, the river front residents of Rumson) enjoying the summer evening on the lawns and several boats and skidoos passed us.

We could see it in the distance and as we got closer we could discern some sort of structure on the land. Starvation Island is a small, uninhabited (so they say) island in the Navesink where the students from the Monmouth Boat Club sail during their summer lessons, take a break and then sail back. A nice day's adventure for new, young sailors. We drew closer still and I, using my acute skills of history and seamanship recognized that the structure we saw was clearly a pirate stronghold. It consisted of a rough lean-to with a pile of fire wood and something that looked like a rustic trash can. I suggested that we circumnavigate the island. The men suggested that I go first. The ladies were still far up the river leisurely chatting and occasionally dipping their paddles in the water. So, I started out, cautiously, keeping a low profile and noiselessly as possible got around the island. We didn't actually see any pirates, but I thought I could see some movement of the reeds and grasses and hear a murmuring from within. We got back to our launch site in the twilight and were glad we had escaped the clutches of the pirates of Starvation Island.

My, My, How Time Flies

I have been reprimanded by a couple of followers of this blog for not blogging. Well, I am guilty. Something must have happened since May that was worthy of blogging about. We had a picnic here for the Matawan Memorial Day Parade, I had surgery on my face that is healing nicely, we celebrated our 45th wedding anniversary and summer has already arrived. Tonight we await thunder showers that never seem to come. [There is now some light rain.] For a couple of weeks, the prediction has been for rain or showers in the late afternoon, but they never materialize. I was waiting to paint our garage doors for over a week after I primed them because of the threat of rain.

We took a trip to Rochester to visit family and to look at a house that is supposedly for sale. The owners showed it to us very enthusiastically and we liked it, but we can't seem to find out if it's for sale. Oh well. The thought of possibly selling our house has motivated us to start cleaning out, something that we have been doing gradually and talking about for some time. What do we do with all the stuff? Where did it all come from anyway? We have concluded that we certainly don't need it all or even most of it, but most of it is also not stuff we would want to consign to the garbage heap. Anne thinks we should have a garage sale. I'm not sure that's worth the trouble. You have to organize and label everything, sit there while people come around looking for little glass dishes and bowls and then make a pittance for your efforts. We have an old Coast Guard uniform of my fathers from World War II, old wool bathing suits from who knows when, a World War II gas mask (I'm keeping that), a thing that is used to convert 8mm movies to VHS tape, an 8mm projector, fishing poles, reels, tackle (what happened to my promise to myself to go fishing when I retired?), scuba fins, weights, masks, cameras, photographic equipment, oil painting supplies, watercolor painting supplies, easels, paintings, pictures, picture frames, record albums, tapes, CDs, books, books and more books, not to mention trains, trains and more trains and the list goes on.

So, you see what I mean. The task of sorting through all of these sacred possessions is a daunting one. Even if we stayed here, we knew we wanted to eliminate a lot of stuff, but the thought of moving to a smaller house makes the job mandatory. Oh shaw, I'm getting myself depressed. But, I guess it's good to know that I won't get bored any time soon.

I should put a new picture or two on here, however, that always seems to present some difficulties as the pictures don't seem to want to go where I want to put them. I think I'll do that another time, but for all of my fans, please take note that I have, in fact, updated my blog.