A tree for the holidays?

I never get sick of retirement. Even when I read the news, and it’s all horrible and depressing, I think, well, at least I got to sleep in for two years.

Jury duty did not materialize. I called the automated line the first day, and they said call again tomorrow. I called again the next day, and they said you’re done. I was relieved to be set free but ready to do my part for democracy, if there should be any shreds left when all is said and done.

The Medical maze

Good news regarding my wrists. As you may recall, I fell off my bike in 2012 and broke my right wrist. It was in a cast. A couple of years later, I fell at work and x-rays were taken. My left wrist had an old fracture. I never knew it was broken, but I recall an anger management incident whereupon I pounded my fist on the arm of a chair, and I remember it hurting for weeks.

My wrists still hurt occasionally, and I attributed it to the fractures, although I also suspected carpal tunnel syndrome. Then in September, I did a fitness assessment that involved push-ups and other weight-bearing tests. They haven’t been the same since.

My primary care physician ordered x-rays and said my right one showed no signs of a fracture, and my left one had multiple fractures. She sent me to an orthopedic specialist.

I saw the ortho Monday. I will say that over the past couple of weeks, my wrists were starting to feel a lot better. I’ve continued to swim and play golf, wrapping my wrists in sports tape, which was hugely helpful.

Apparently, my primary care physician does not know how to read x-rays. The ortho said both wrists show signs of old but healed fractures. There is no evidence of arthritis. No symptoms associated with carpal tunnel.

He said my wrists look good and saw no reason for an MRI. The worst thing would be to immobilize them, so he said to keep doing what I’m doing. Play golf, swim, do weights, whatever. Tape them, don’t tape them, take Advil occasionally, whatever works. I asked about these little bands called Wrist Widgets, and he said sure, try them.

Later, I started having imaginary conversations.

 “What about bat’s blood? Do you think that would help?”

“Sure, give it a whirl.”

It kind of reminds me of when we lived in Egypt. You’d have horrible diarrhea and go to the medical clinic, and the first thing they’d ask is, “How long have you lived in Egypt?” And no matter what you said, they always replied, “That’s normal.” We started making up stuff.

“Doctor, there’s purple puss pouring out of my nose, and I’m vomiting baby chickens.”

“How long have you lived in Egypt?”

“Two years.”

“That’s normal.”

Anyway, I’m happy to be given the green light to play golf and swim and do weights, and as I said, both wrists are getting better, but I was a little surprised by his complete lack of concern. I guess that’s a good thing.

No signs of a Christmas tree

My Christmas tree experiment backfired on me. I reminded Dale once that Christmas would come fast following Thanksgiving, because I know he procrastinates, and if he wanted a tree, he’d better hustle. I would rather skip the whole thing, so I never said another word, hoping he’d forget.

He did seem unmotivated, and there were no signs of a tree. That’s when I started to feel bad. The tree makes him happy. I should encourage that, not secretly hope time gets the best of him. I finally said, look, I was hoping you’d forget about the tree, and I feel terrible if my bah humbug attitude brought you down. He said I was completely absolved. The tree is his deal.

Still, there’s no sign of a tree. Our neighbors got one yesterday, and it’s parked temporarily on their doorstep. It’s small but nicely shaped. I said, hey, check out Mike’s tree on their porch. I wonder where he got it? Dale nodded but didn’t say anything. By this time tomorrow, I’ll be begging.

A tree, for God’s sake, just get a tree already!

Retirement reading

I read where Tahoe Girl was re-reading one of her favorite books, “The Historian” by Elizabeth Kostova. I got it from the library and dove right in. First off, I will say it’s a beast of a book, weighing in at some 650 pages.

The story revolves around a group of academics studying the lore of Dracula and eventually their travels in search of his tomb. The principal narrator is the daughter of an academic, but part of the story is told through the father’s eyes, as well as through letters from another professor who went missing in the midst of his research. There’s even a love story tucked inside.

I liked it a lot. The history is detailed and quite interesting. I admit to speed reading here and there. But all in all, I found it hard to put down. I had a bad vampire dream toward the end of the book, and I finished it in the parking lot of the library, because I wanted the book out of the house.

Now that vampires aren’t stalking me in my sleep, I’m between books. I have a hold on the new Grisham book, “The Guardians.” Oh, and I got a nice note from Jay Harrison, our friend at BoomSpeak. He likes the Kristen Lepionka books I recommended. The character, Roxane Weary, is a private eye in Columbus, Ohio. She’s also bisexual.

I usually don’t like it when the author gets too cute with the private eye’s background. “He’s a retired clown who lives with witches on a mountain in Mongolia …” All that to say Roxane’s sexual preferences are an interesting sideline that don’t interfere with the integrity of a good private eye story.

California Dreaming

Since I didn’t have jury duty, I went to my golf club’s holiday luncheon. I blew out my hair and wore nice wool slacks that haven’t seen the light of day since I retired. Black pants, white shirt, denim jacket and black booties. For me, that’s festive.

As I was driving to the event, it was overcast and drizzling. I could hear the Mama and Papas singing, “All the leaves are gone, and the sky is gray.” And something about driving among the barren trees through California’s winter gloom to celebrate the holidays with a bunch of old lady golfers made me crazy happy.

Now I’m getting sentimental. I guess that means I will go with Dale to get a damned tree.