WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY

Yesterday’s weather sure was nothing special, and, about the only purpose it served, was that it kept me in the house, nose to the grindstone, getting my big Spring cleaning housework project done.

I saved the kitchen for last and I know it is always a bugger to get that room in order.  But, I worked from dawn to dusk, and then some, only stopping to eat and go online for about an hour or so. I was even industrious this morning before I set out on my walk.  Yup, a real Suzy Homemaker, so I deserve a gold star on my forehead, and, thus I decided to reward myself with a long Sunday stroll for my efforts.

I planned to leave at mid-day to ensure there would be no black ice on the pathway at Council Point Park, after the snow, sleet and rain that persisted all day long yesterday. That was a smart move because, with the exception of a few puddley places, the paths were clear and free from black ice.  It was cold, but nothing like last week, and there was not so much as a sliver of sun, just a gray and dismal-looking day.  Though it was not so great for picture-taking, it was perfect for walking on this last official day of Winter.

Unlike Friday, today the Park was abuzz with people and critters. The first thing I heard and saw were the seagulls.  They were everywhere, their loud screeching noise disrupting the peace and ambiance of the Park.  They were swooping and diving high above the Park, as well as buzzing down by the Creek, threading themselves in and out of the bare trees and tall marsh grass.  It was like a scene right out of Alfred Hitchcock’s thriller “The Birds”.  I was not the only person thinking “what the ???”  There were many walkers, joggers, a biker and a skateboarder, and several people commented “hey – what’s up with the seagulls?”  There were at least another 50 gulls gathered where the baseball diamond is located too.  Luckily I escaped with no telltale blotches on my hat or coat – whew!

As I crossed the pavilion area to begin walking the perimeter path, my heart just melted when a little fox squirrel came scampering over just as fast as his legs could carry him, way across the field to see me.  He got right up by my feet and I hadn’t had time to pull out the package of peanuts, nor the camera, before he sat up on his haunches and begged.  Being the kind soul that I am, I did not make him wait while I attempted a photo op, but instead sprinkled some peanuts around my feet.  He grabbed one, took off running and proceeded to bury it … he did this three times in a row, before deciding to actually eat one of them.  His industriousness tickled me, so I gave him three more peanuts, then bent down close to him and said “you don’t have to take these three to go – life is short, just eat them now” and then I left.

I was handing out peanuts left and right as the trail was filled with squirrels today.  I finally got a picture later in my journey of this squirrel on the snowy side of the path enjoying his treat.

The ever-present screeching of the gulls was almost deafening. There were many Canada Geese walking around the pathway today, and, even they seemed fascinated with the gulls.  Those geese kept stopping in the middle of the path to look in the direction of the Creek, where most of the activity was taking place.  It was as if they were thinking “can you believe how noisy they are?”  Kind of like the pot calling the kettle black, if you’ve ever heard a flock of geese overhead.  The Canada Geese weren’t in the water as most of the Creek was still frozen over, except some portions which only  had a light skim of ice.  So, these waterfowl were forced to forage for food on the grounds, rather than nibbling on the marshy area’s reeds.

One part of the perimeter path had a low point, so snow had collected, then melted, leaving a big puddle.  Several geese stopped at the puddle to preen themselves.   First one foot, then the other, then under the arms, er … wings.  I stopped, and, once again unzipped my jacket and reached for the camera. I got one shot and after I took it, I was fairly close and quipped “lookin’ good!”  But, my flippant remark garnered a hiss and some serious wing-flapping from one of the geese, while the others gave me a steely look as if to say like “who asked your opinion?”

Once the preening was complete, they gathered in the middle of the path, blocking my way. I could have easily gone around them, but didn’t want to get my shoes all wet.  I waited patiently for a few minutes, but, it was as if they were just being spiteful  and they stood there, refusing to budge.  Finally, I said “pardon me boys, if you don’t mind …” and they reluctantly parted and I went on my way.

I made a few more pit stops to feed peanuts to the squirrels, then veered off the path a tad, once I spotted a female mallard down in the Creek.  I could see her whole body, so I soon realized that Mrs. Duck was not walking on water, but standing on the ice.

I walked over four miles today, and was gone about two hours, meandering along on what for me was a lazy Sunday afternoon.

… I set out on this St. Patrick’s Day morn.

Though I’m not Irish, I felt lucky anyway. Yesterday, freezing rain or snow was predicted for Friday in the early morning, but that crummy weather got delayed, affording me a chance to get out and walk.

I almost did a jig, but stopped myself.

After we scoffed at the Ground Hog all through February for his wrong prediction, he sure was right on the money this past week, after we got slammed with frigid temps and 5 ½ inches of snow.

But, during my walk, I was surprised just how much of that mid-March sunshine melted the snow yesterday. This morning, I could see big patches of grass beneath the dregs of snow … the lawn was not emerald green, but it is getting there.  I looked hard, but I saw no four-leaf clovers peeping in between the blades of grass.

My ultimate destination was the railroad tracks, but, as I neared the footbridge, it was strangely quiet. The Ecorse Creek was frozen solid and there were no geese wandering about either, so my camera remained in the case. The snow and ice on the sidewalk near the footbridge was a little dicey for walking – apparently, no one had shoveled it earlier in the week, so rather than hop, step and jump over the ice and snow, and risk going over the railing and onto the skating rink (a/k/a the Creek), I decided to head over to Council Point Park instead.

I got on the first loop and pulled out a half-bag of peanuts that were stuffed in my pocket from the last time I was here, but I had no takers. Obviously, they were tucked away in their nests in the tall trees.  Well, that was too bad … no furry pals to sweet talk and blabber some blarney to while I tendered treats.

There were no cars in the parking lot, so I might have been the only one visiting the Park this morning. I did one entire loop, than left for home.  Unbelievably, I saw not a single soul my entire trip.  While I wasn’t expecting to meet up with a leprechaun or a snake or two, even the mail carriers, walkers and joggers and the usual dog walkers were absent.  Sadly, there was absolutely no one for me to greet with a wave and a “Top o’ the mornin’ to ya!”

I got home without a drop of precip falling out of the sky, and having added a little over four miles to my total for 2017.  No nips of Irish coffee either, just a large unexciting cup of Nescafe.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day everyone.

[Image by Alexas Fotos at Pixabay]

I was thinking about Kermit the Frog crooning the lyrics “the lovers, the dreamers, and me” in the song “The Rainbow Connection” while I was taking the buggy for a spin earlier today.

I decided then and there that a parody of that song’s lyrics would be the perfect headline to describe motoring along on my morning drive.

Regarding the squeezing aspect, I had hoped to squeeze in some walking miles too, despite that bone-chilling cold, because a glance out the front door showed me the snow and ice from the sidewalks and roads had miraculously vanished since yesterday. But, what a bummer … duty called, since our work e-mail crashed for the second day in a row, dashing any hope to get both a walk and a spin in the car accomplished.  That hour-long consultation with the computer guy encroached on my morning “me time” bigtime.

I guess it’s just as well, since I was mighty distracted by the time I left the house. Driving Downriver now takes more concentration than usual these days and sure keeps you on your toes.  You mustn’t even blink, as a car will dart in front of you before you get a chance to hit the brakes.  Yikes!  I’d have a mess of gray hair if I had to commute to work on a daily basis.

It’s been about six weeks since the big Rouge River Bridge project began, forcing drivers headed from Detroit to Downriver to detour until November 2018. MDOT suggested the big rigs take alternate expressway routes, but most everyone seems to prefer Fort Street.  Southbound Fort Street consequently is jammed with back-to-back vehicles most any time of the day you venture out.  Throughout the day, and long into the night, the squeal of sirens, either the incessant whine of an ambulance, or that of a police car, can be heard.  And, the Facebook forums for Downriver are  replete with people complaining about the big trucks, or people driving way over the speed limit, or, even the opposite … those pesky drivers who go too slow.  However, those people aren’t driving all that slow – in fact, they are driving the speed limit, which was raised to 45 mph last year.

Those hapless folks are usually labeled that rather disparaging moniker of “Sunday driver”.

Yup, I am one of those people, and this big project, plus the increased traffic on Fort Street, sure takes me out of my comfort zone whenever I have to leave my street and take Fort Street.

It’s a hundred times worse during rush hour … all those people weaving in and out and squeezing people over. From my vantage point in the far right-hand lane, I just shudder and have a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel, hands strategically placed at 10:00 and 2:00 o’clock, like we learned in Drivers Ed all those years ago.

It sure was no picnic this morning, as one lane was out of commission for two large portions of northbound Fort Street, due to a water main break, and AT&T repairing a telephone pole. The latter likely was a case of car versus pole, that no doubt caused the sudden yelp of an emergency vehicle shortly after I climbed into bed and burrowed into the covers last night.

After gritting my teeth for a mile along Fort Street, I was glad to turn down Southfield Road, even if I was headed directly into the sun and couldn’t see a thing. Happily, soon I turned onto the curving stretch of River Drive, and zoomed right past Council Point Park, where I craned my neck to determine how the perimeter path looked.  Surprisingly, it was free of snow.  Then, I was sorry I looked over, as I was suddenly wistful that I was without walking shoes, nor the time, to enjoy my favorite nature nook.

With the expectation of more snow in the a.m., I may not be seeing any green on St. Paddy’s Day, as to the lawns along my regular route anyway, so that wee walk at the Park will get tabled to Sunday at least.

Grrrrrr to the Ground Hog.

[Image by Gerald G at openclipart.org]

There’s a little March Madness in the air and it’s not just on the basketball court.

Mother Nature’s shenanigans lately are leaving us longing for Spring, even though the weather we’ve had the past two days IS more typical for March. We sure were spoiled by those balmy days back in February.  Here in Southeast Michigan, we are lucky our March madness was no “snowmageddon” like Winter Storm Stella.  For the second day in a row, I suited up in warm clothes, slipping on the snow boots instead of walking shoes, just like most of you.

When I opened the screen door, I glanced over at the big thermometer on my neighbor Marge’s back deck, and noted it was 20 degrees, just like the weatherman said, but, in reality … the wind chill made it feel like only 3 degrees. It was so blustery and cold, and where did that three-foot-high snowdrift in front of the door stoop, and all along the side of the house come from?  I had to high-step out the door over the drift, and hop out.  Soon my booted feet felt the crusty ice patches below the snow.  Ugh!

Nope, this white stuff is not going anywhere soon.

I was already feeling miserable before the storm door slammed shut, muttering under my breath “this is for the birds!”

But, even more miserable than me, was one of those very birds, a plump robin who was perched on the top of the cyclone fence, feathers puffed up in an effort to bar the brutal cold from its body. Though robins are not my favorite species of bird, (as you well know if you are a long-time follower of this blog), my heart did soften a bit when I saw him sitting there, as I do feel badly for any of our backyard critters who must survive in these Winter elements.  Marge told me that after the wicked wind blew through last Wednesday, only one of the many squirrels’ nests remained in the huge trees in back of our houses.  The wind tore the rest down and scattered them in neighbors’ backyards.  So, this morning, I glanced up toward the sky, to those bare branches in the massive trees, to see if replacement nests were already in place – there were none.  Well, obviously there are no warming centers for squirrels, so where do they hang out in this freezing weather?  I am curious about their welfare, even though I am not inviting them in for coffee and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches anytime soon.  My heart is not quite THAT warm.

So, are you all over the time change nonsense yet, or did the snowy weather just trump EST’s exit and DST’s arrival? I reset all the clocks on Sunday and did not have to bother with the car clock.  I will confess that I left it the same way all Winter, after asking the tech to set the time when the car was at the dealership for its last recall.  Maybe by November, I’ll consult the manual and make myself a cheat sheet on setting the clock, to keep in the glove box, like I did with the Regal.

While I am comfortable with computers, and able to deal with most of the quirks that come with the territory, it is the other techy things that throw me for a loop sometimes, and those categories waver between “high-tech”, “low-tech” and “no-tech”.

Like my cellphone for instance.

Now there’s a story that still confounds me.

Last week I was sitting here in the kitchen, working away and minding my own business, when I heard that familiar singsong noise, the one when you turn the cellphone on or off. Okay, fine and dandy … except I was here, the phone was a room away, and I ALWAYS keep the phone turned off.  I frowned, shook my head and thought perhaps I imagined that noise, so I dismissed the incident.  But, the next time I got out of the chair, curiosity got the better of me, and I went down to my room, took the phone out of the case, and, it had indeed turned itself on and AT&T had left me a message.  Hmmmm.  What was even stranger, is that there was only ¼ worth of battery power left in the phone, though I rarely use it and charge it regularly.  For the most part, that phone rarely leaves my fanny pack, where it is strapped on, for any emergency that might come up while walking or running errands.

So, I turned the phone off, put the charger on it, and six hours later, it was only charged halfway. The following day it kept turning itself on and sending me messages about how many minutes I had left, and it kept depleting the battery.  Exasperated, I knew Meijer had a big sale on Saturday so I decided I would get a new phone.

At Meijer, I perused the selection of simple phones, picked one and went to the counter to get some help. The girl was friendly and when I told her about the cellphone-with-a-mind-of-its-own issues, she suggested I remove the battery cover, take out the battery and ensure there was no dust in the battery cavity.  Me, the skeptic, said “okay, I will try that, but I’m going to get this new phone anyway for now, since it is on sale … just in case that idea doesn’t work.”

I had not yet tried the sales associate’s “fix” for the glitch, when Monday at mid-day, the phone was up to its hijinks again, but this time it was chirping with a red icon that announced there was zero battery life. Annoyed and frustrated, I figured I’d try her suggestion, and, if it didn’t work, I’d pull the battery out for good until I could get to the phone store.  I did the “fix”, charged the battery and woo-hoo … the phone was as good as new in an hour!  This low-tech trick fixed the high-tech glitch … so, now what the heck do I do with the new phone – keep it or take it back?

Which leads me to another story …

This phone was the first electronic device I have ever purchased at Meijer, as anything else in the past has come from Best Buy. So, when the helpful young miss unlocked the phone from where it was hanging, she handed it to me and I walked to the cash register at the electronics counter.  She noticed my full shopping basket and said “you can pay for the phone when you check out if you want”, so I thanked her and off I went.

I only use the U-scan when I go grocery shopping, no matter how many items I’m purchasing. I can triple bag, or pack things the way I like, to make it easier to unload at home.  So, I scanned my way through the items in the shopping cart, all my wonderful buys at the big sale, and then I got to the cellphone.  I walked over to the U-scan station clerk and asked for her help.  She unhooked the anti-theft device and handed it back to me, so I promptly put it at the end of the belt with the rest of my already-scanned items.  Of course, I assumed that by virtue of unlocking it, she had scanned it in as well … and, if you use the U-scan line, you know if you are mindlessly scanning lots of items, and put one on the conveyor belt without scanning it in, the machine is savvy and will let you know you made a mistake by flashing a message … it’s a sort of silent hand slap.

After I fixed the phone, I decided I no longer needed this new phone. So, I went to dig out the receipt and see if there was any policy on returning electronics spelled out on the receipt. Imagine my chagrin to see the phone purchase was not on the receipt!  The girl didn’t scan it in … but, neither did I!

Well, Mama raised me right, so I called Meijer and asked for the store manager. Breathlessly, I explained my faux pas, then said “please don’t send a pair of Lincoln Park’s finest to my door before I can get back to the store, and, that would be after this snowstorm is over, okay?”

He heard me out, laughed, and thanked me for my honesty, then told me to come back whenever I wanted to, and not to worry about this issue. Whew!  I even offered my credit card number to transact this purchase over the phone, but he said he could not take it verbally – it must be done in person.  He asked for the model number of the phone and said he’d leave a note at the customer service desk.  He conceded that there was a definite technical glitch and someone needed to check out the U-scanners ASAP.

Yup, I agreed, then added “this high-tech stuff just kills me sometimes.”

So, let me see if I’ve got this scenario right … I take back the phone that I never bought, but just hand it over at customer service with no money or credit card tendered. Kinda/sorta makes no sense does it?  So, I think I’ll just buy the phone, then keep it in reserve to make everything a whole lot easier.

If all life’s problems were solved so easily – no Plan “B” would ever be needed, and oh, how simple life would be!

So, here we go again, springing forward, just when it was light enough to take the car for a spin, and still get in a decent walk before I started my work day. But, the bonus of an earlier sunrise is a’comin’ … I just know it.

I wish I could say the same about Spring.

It is barely one week away from the start of Spring, and the weathermen are predicting three or more inches of snow over the next two days. It looks like Mother Nature will get the last laugh as she watches us humans first scramble for shorts and tee-shirts, then reach for the parkas and woolens a short time later.

And, don’t you just know that a pair of groundhogs named “Phil” and “Woody” are laughing and saying “I told you so!”

Meanwhile, today was a beautiful day to venture forth. Since it was so bitter cold, I waited until mid-day to take my walk. I had intended to go to Council Point Park, but, I thought I’d take the camera and see if I could get any pictures of those geese standing on one leg, still as statues, to use with this blog post.  Unfortunately, though I had all the time in the world, a beautiful sunny day, and the camera handy to capture that shot, the geese were gathered on the grass, their legs tucked beneath their study bodies, similar to the above image created by my artist friend Maggie Rust.  Maybe early morning is a better bet to catch them in their flamingo-like stance?

I took the car for a spin two days in a row due to the bitter cold and the predicted snow. As I rolled past the Dairy Queen, the marquis touted “Tis the season – DQ is open” and I’ve got to believe that they counted on that Spring-like weather hanging on a lot longer than it did.  They figured customers would be queuing up to get their Blizzard fix … now they will get their fill of frosty wonders by looking out the window, and driving, walking and shoveling it.

I got a full-fledged walk in this morning. I’d been favoring my foot, and, in so doing,  I’ve been knocking at least a mile off the daily walks, so today I did four miles, and it felt great.  My foot is doing much better, and I hope that good report is the byproduct of chugging down 12-15 eight-ounce glasses of water a day since the beginning of March.

This Winter season has been a little loosey-goosey, and, on the heels of that wicked wind last Wednesday, we are about to pay the price for our unseasonably warm February.

[Image of Canada Goose (2015) by Maggie Rust]

We’re in the deep freeze again.

It’s hard to believe only two weeks ago we were breaking out the shorts and enjoying that Spring-like weather, and now it is back to layering up bigtime and bone-chilling temps.

Talk about being in the icebox … this morning when I left for my walk, it was only 22 degrees and the wind chill made it feel like 11. Brrrrrr.  I donned my down coat, double gloves, and, once on the road, I was mighty glad I had been smart and added the hooded scarf, as that wind sure was fierce.

As I neared the borderline of Lincoln Park and Wyandotte, I saw that same terrier had crawled through the hole in the privacy fence and was running around on the sidewalk yapping and snapping at a man. When the dog started nipping at his heels, the man broke into a run, but kept turning around, checking out this canine who was still dogging him.  I quickly crossed the street, having tangled with this terrible terrier myself once already.  From a safe distance, I called over to the man, a fellow walker, whom I often encounter in my morning walks, that I thought I was the only one this dog didn’t like.  He responded “he tried to take a bite out of my leg one time!”

While crossing the footbridge, I glanced at the geese that had gathered on the homeowner’s large property for the third day in a row. What’s up with that?  Oh, a few were in the ice-cold water, but most of them were trespassing, either strutting around on the back lawn, or standing on one foot.  The flamingo-like stance was something new for me – those geese were lined up like soldiers with one wide, webbed foot neatly tucked beneath their belly feathers, while balancing on one leg.  I did a double take at first, then concluded their feet were freezing and they were warming them up … one at a time.

Just like yesterday, I found myself stepping around branches and tree debris up and down the Boulevard. Emmons is full of large trees, so that was no surprise to see so many small limbs on the ground, as well as large chunks of bare wood, from trees that had snapped during Wednesday’s ferocious winds.

Luckily our neighborhood remained unscathed. Some debris was on the lawn, but there were no shingles missing and nothing amiss – we sure were lucky.  We’ve only had a few really frigid days all Winter, so how unfortunate they had to be at this time when so many people are still dealing with the power outage.  I feel for them.  We lost our power one Winter years ago, and, we hunkered down in the house and stuck it out, but it was pretty brutal.  I recall we went to bed dressed like Eskimos , wearing woolens and parkas , huddled under a pile of blankets and a down comforter … and still being very cold.  The worst was keeping your hands and feet warm.  No happy feet during those days … just ice-cold tootsies.

During my walk, that bright sunshine tempered the cold temps somewhat, making it worth the added aggravation of piling on extra clothes and fighting the biting cold, to get some steps added toward my total.

I got about three miles walked this morning, before I arrived home ravenous and with ruddy cheeks.

And frozen lips.

And fingertips.

But happy feet.

[Image by Moini at openclipart.org]

Well, the weather folks had been predicting all along that we’d have a windy Wednesday, and, sure enough … they were right. In fact, as I write this blog post, the wicked winds are still raging, with the occasional gust up to 38 mph.

But, the weather folks also mentioned that the high wind advisory would not begin until 10:00 a.m.; they were a tad off on that prediction.

I figured I had the perfect window of opportunity to go for a stroll and return before Mother Nature turned on the industrial-sized fans.

I was happy to escape for a walk, having been held hostage by sprinkles and spritzes which wreaked havoc with my morning walk two days in a row. That rainy weather got me thinking that we had flipped the calendar from the month of March and were having April showers.  But, March eventually resurfaced, complete with its infamous high winds.

When I left the house, the winds were already humming along at about 20 mph. As I shut the door, it caught in the wind momentarily, so I  jiggled the screen door handle to ensure it shut properly, simultaneously patting my hat in place, firmly down over my ears, just in case the wind sent it airborne.  You might recall that a few years ago, while walking at Council Point Park, a gust of wind sent my beret airborne, just like a Frisbee, and, it flew over the Ecorse Creek, hooking onto an old branch.

Just like today, it was a hold-onto-your-hat kind of day.

I headed over to Emmons Boulevard, as the Park would have been way too windy with all its open spaces. As I crossed the footbridge, there were about twenty Canada Geese milling about, some in the water, and a few had climbed up onto the homeowner’s lawn that is adjacent to the Creek.  They were strutting around, not giving one whit if it was crazy windy out there or not.

I got a few blocks past the footbridge and a terrific gust of wind pummeled me and I had to stop and actually stand in place to keep my balance. Yikes!  Time to turn around and head home.  The wind siege apparently had begun already, and, all the way home, those occasional gusts were so strong, they threatened to knock me right off my feet.  I was happy to get to my street, and hurried up the driveway and into the house.

The extraordinarily high winds got me thinking about an incident with a black felt fedora many years ago, and that hat is pictured above.

I had a below-the-knee, gray dress coat, with a fox-trimmed collar and lapels. Since it was a dressy coat, I got a pair of black leather boots, black scarf and black kid gloves to accessorize it.  But, that ensemble needed a hat, and not just a beret, or wool cap like I usually wore in the Winter elements – no, that coat needed something with a little pizzazz and flair.  So, I bought this black fedora with the bright feather in the band.  It had sash straps as well, which enabled you to convert the hat to tie it under your chin.

To wear this hat stylishly, one had to adjust it on their head just so. For me, that was a little hard since I had long hair, and, tucking all that hair, plus the sash straps inside the hat and out of sight, made it difficult to keep the hat sitting right on my head and not rocking back and forth.  In fact, I soon discovered, I couldn’t talk much, or even chew gum, or the hat would slowly start rising off the top of my head.  Not a good look.

It sure wasn’t practical for taking the bus, so I only wore the coat and its accessories on special occasions.

And, yup – when I wore it, I thought I was “all that”, like when my grandmother and I went to Midnight Mass one year. It was a cold and frosty December 24^th, and, there we were, walking arm-in-arm, alongside all the neighbors from St. Clarens Avenue, as we headed en masse up that steep climb to Dundas Street and St. Helen’s Church.  My grandmother never missed Sunday mass, and everyone on the street attended St. Helen’s, so there would be visiting, catching up and gossiping about the past week as we ascended the hill.

Just before we were ready to leave, we put on our heavy coats, then our hats. My grandmother was wearing a black pillbox hat.  She wagged a finger at me and warned that my exposed ears were going to freeze since my long hair was all tucked up out of sight, and handed me a big woolen scarf to wear instead.  But vain me, of course, would not hear of it.  Instead, I plopped the fedora on my head defiantly, to which Nanny said “not only will you freeze your ears off, that silly hat is going to fly off your head when we walk up the street.”  She marched over to her bureau, opened a drawer and pulled out a worn burgundy velveteen box and slowly pulled out a long pin with an ornate rhinestone rosette on the pinhead.  “Here” she said.  “This hatpin will do the trick and keep your hat on your head where it belongs, so you can concentrate on the service, and, besides, it will be handy if anyone gets smart with you!”

She carefully wove that hatpin through the hat, and my hair, as I tried not to grimace when she jabbed my scalp more than once.

Then we set off to join the procession up the street to Midnight Mass.

Well, no one got smart with me, and my hat stayed intact, even though I lost that hatpin somewhere on the way home. I retraced our steps on Christmas Day when it was light, and, it was nowhere to be found.

I have never worn that black felt fedora since that night. It has languished on the top of the cedar closet, sealed in a clear plastic bag, some thirty odd years, until I took it down to take this picture.

P.S. – Since writing this 2017 post, I have digitized all my photo albums and updated this post to include a photo of the aforementioned hat and coat. The coat is long gone, but the hat remains sitting on a shelf in the cedar closet in a plastic bag.

When looking at the title of this blog post, you’ll probably assume it is related to the Spaghetti Western by the same name; or, perhaps …

It is a tale of a trio of squirrels at Council Point Park that came running for the peanuts that I spread out around my feet on a sunny Sunday afternoon.

But, alas … it is neither of the above. It is, however, a saga of doing what you believe is good, but it is really bad, and turns into an ugly situation.

If you’ve followed this blog for some time, you probably know that I am a poster child for healthy eating. I’m not much of a cook, and, my meals border on blah as I have attempted to follow a healthy diet for the last five or so years.

I have given up eating sweets and treats, salty snacks, fried food, fast food, and, two years ago for American Heart Month, I gave up eating red meat.

Well, hooray for me … or so I thought.

Ten days ago, I went on a long walk to Council Point Park. My boss was out and I had a leisurely stroll on a beautiful Spring-like day.  But, by mid-afternoon, I had the strangest tingling in my right foot.  Now, I’ve had this tingling feeling in that foot off-and-on for about a year, and, more than once, I’ve taken off my moccasin, or even my walking shoe, to peer into that dark crevice to see if there was a rough seam, or the tongue padding was rumpled up, but nothing was amiss.  So, I just dismissed it.

That tingling sensation on February 23^rd persisted through the night, and, by the next morning, my instep and base of my big toe were downright sore.  I thought maybe I had strained something on my foot.  The weather was not so great anyway, so I didn’t walk.  By Sunday, it felt a little better, so I decided a walk was in order.  I did, however, take the car for a drive and drove to Council Point Park … just in case I had an issue walking.

I even put on my padded walking socks and broke out a brand-new pair of walking shoes. Well, the walk was fine, but my foot not so much.

Finally, I sat down at the computer Monday night to see if I could self-diagnose this problem. There’s nothing like Google where I could plug in the key words “why is the base of my big toe swollen and red?”  Google responded quickly, giving me a half-dozen or more sites to read all about “gout” … no, they must be wrong!  But, though I was dubious, next I Googled “images for gout” … lo and behold, there was the mirror image of my foot staring at me from the computer screen.

I have spent an inordinate amount of time since Monday evening perusing the net’s medical sites to research gout, its causes and how to remedy it, and, no one could be more shocked than me to find out the healthy diet that I followed, was not so healthy after all!

For example, one of the major causes of gout, which is a build-up of uric acid in your body, is the consumption of certain foods containing chemical compounds called purines. While it was a smart move giving up white bread in favor of whole grain, making that sandwich with turkey and/or tuna was not.  Turkey and tuna are both high in purines.  I could have chosen chicken and salmon, much better choices, but who knew?

Wait, there is more.

That can of organic vegetable, lentil or split pea soup I so enjoyed, and believed was filling my body with extra vegetables and nutrients, was also contributing to the high uric acid level because beans, spinach, tomatoes, lentils and peas are all bad for gout.

I also discovered that sugar was one of the culprits … how can this apply to me, who eats no sweets?

To begin with, I found out I was eating too much high fructose sugar. I have never been a pop drinker, downing only coffee, milk or water.  (Okay, that one quart of eggnog at the holidays.)

For years I used only sugar-free syrup on my oatmeal, but warnings about the dangers of aspartame caused me to switch to regular syrup. At that time, by studying the labels at the grocery store, I found Log Cabin contained the least amount of sugar in its product, so that has been my brand of choice for years.  But it has an abundance of sugar in each serving.

Not only was the sugar counter-acting the good benefit of the oatmeal, but, those raisins I sprinkled so liberally through it are full of sugar as well. Sometimes I use Craisins, those delightful dried cranberries – sugary and bad, bad, bad!

I thought those “Cutie Clementines” were beneficial, especially in the Winter months, as they not only taste good, but help ward off colds and flu. Sure, but four of them daily added another 25 or so grams of sugar to my total for the day.  Ideally, your total daily sugar consumption to prevent gout should be 25 grams.  I blew the entire daily amount on dribbles of syrup on my big bowl of oatmeal or four Clementines.  I was devastated to read this.

Likewise, I often eat a banana, or other fruit, or even canned fruit – more sugar consumption. Heck, I might as well have eaten a candy bar.

Compounding all the “bad foods” that I’ve eating, I was ecstatic when the National Dairy Council announced a few years ago that it was acceptable and healthier to consume milk with fats, rather than drinking only skim milk and eating no-fat or low-fat dairy products. I immediately began buying tasty dairy products again.  I have now discovered that high-fat dairy products were also a contributing factor to gout.

Over the course of the next three evenings, I went to only the legitimate sites to find out information on gout, then started methodically ticking off all the items in my daily meals, not to mention all the food still in the fridge and pantry, that are now forbidden foods. I planned a Saturday morning grocery shopping trip with a list that was not committed to memory, but I had to keep consulting, as I went down each aisle.  Before I wrote out that list, I had studied nutrition labels online, but, at the store I also compared products, to load up my shopping cart with low-fat dairy, lots more vegetables, and multiple bottles of refrigerated tart cherry concentrate.  Downing that cherry drink or munching on those cherries once they are available might just be the highlight of my day.  I seem to remember my friend Cathy, who follows this blog, telling me a long time ago, her brother was on a cherry-eating/drinking regimen to help tame his arthritis.

So, what is the takeaway of this tale?

I cannot really blame myself for this malady. I thought my monotonous eating regimen was helping me to have a good cholesterol level and thwart any potential heart issues, because heart disease runs in my family.  I believed my lackluster, sodium-free diet would help prevent a stroke, and, that healthy eating, combined with the walking was making me fit as a fiddle, as that expression goes.

My mother, who had a host of medical conditions her entire life, woke up one morning about ten years ago, and the second joint of her right index finger was inflamed. She suffered horribly from arthritis most of her life, and this bump, that was warm to the touch and somewhat painful, prohibited her from holding a pen to write.  She asked her GP about it.  He told her it was gout.  I accompanied her to the visit, and can still hear her saying “I thought gout was only in your big toe – in a finger?”  The doctor said that it could occur at any joint in your body, and, then he questioned her diet, remarked that her eating habits were healthy and gave her a list of food restrictions.  The only one that pertained to her was liverwurst, which she ate occasionally on toast.  So no more liverwurst and the painful bump eventually went away.

I refuse to see a doctor and I will beat this on my own, unless there are complications, because I don’t like taking medicine, and I don’t like the side effects of the meds they suggest. One recommendation is drinking a lot of liquid.  I am drinking so much water (a dozen cups of water at a minimum) that I feel like I am sloshing when I walk.

And, I won’t stop walking … because exercise was recommended, especially low-impact exercise like walking.

So, life goes on, and, I am mindful that medically, things could be a whole lot worse.

I will toe the line with my food going forward, and, head down to Council Point Park every chance I get, where, like today, I will ensure I hand out every last peanut from those two big bags I bought yesterday at Meijer. (Of course those peanuts for the squirrels are salt-free … um, some habits are just too hard to break.)

[Image from Three-shots from Pixabay]

For years and years, the arrival of March 1^st not only signaled turning the calendar page to a new month, but, everyone was chattering about whether March came in like a lion or a lamb.  Folklore has it that if the month of March arrives boisterously like a lion, then it likely would exit gently like a lamb.

Last week my neighbor Marge mentioned March 1^st and what it would bring when we were discussing this ever-present wacky Winter weather.

Today, on this first day of March, I heard and saw nothing about March coming in like a lion or a lamb. Not a peep on the radio, not a tweet or a post on social media.  What’s up with that?

Those raucous storms in the early a.m. woke me up, so I would think March arrived like a lion, but, when I stepped outside, it was nearly 60 degrees, and mild, as if it was April 1^st, not March 1^st.

So, I am a little flummoxed.

Yesterday, I stayed indoors due to the rain, so I was surprised to see buds galore on Marge’s magnolia tree, and the tulips in the garden bed across the street are already about six inches high … all this happened in a mere 48 hours? Well, buds and sprouts are always a sure sign of Spring, only it is not Spring for another three weeks.

And, much to my surprise, I opened the garage to run the car, and what did I see, but three worms crawling around on the garage floor? I have never seen worms in the garage before – ever.  Ugh!  While they were not the long and juicy worms like you see on the sidewalk in the Summertime, a hungry robin would have enjoyed any one of them, or, an angler would have plucked one up in a heartbeat and jabbed it onto his hook.  While I certainly don’t mind worms, (they are slower than me, unlike spiders or centipedes), I was still a little dismayed to see them.  I can only guess that we had so much rain that it saturated the ground and so they crawled under the sweep and into the garage seeking refuge.

Sometimes nature versus mankind is way over the top ….

When a determination is made as to March’s arrival, i.e. lion versus lamb, be sure to let me know, okay?

[Images from Pixabay]

The rain might have stopped me in my tracks, but, the diehard paczki lovers didn’t let a drizzly and murky morning deter them from getting their favorite Polish pastry for Fat Tuesday.

Social media was all abuzz yesterday with their annual tales about how many folks would be queuing up in long lines around the blocks at bakeries in Hamtramck, or, even your favorite local bakery specializing in the “real deal”, i.e. those fat-laden paczki donuts, guaranteed to spurt fruit or cream filling across your face if you don’t bite into them a certain way.

This morning, just as predicted, the lines were long and stretched many city blocks. People had already been waiting in the rain as long as three or four hours.  No complaints – just the anticipation of the joy of that jelly or cream-filled indulgence.

Paczki are not your regular old jelly donuts. And, paczki purists probably find the concept of American Coney Island’s newly created “coney paczki”, a hybrid of pączek and coney dog, just a little unsettling.  But, hey … if you enjoy both treats, it might be the best of both worlds!

Likewise, another pączek 2017 creation is the pairing of peanut butter and chocolate, instead of the traditional fruit or cream fillings. Well, some things are left well enough alone, in my humble opinion.

As for me, I have not had a pączek since giving up sweets permanently in 2011 – how boring is that? But, I also don’t have one staring me in the face, and I’m not smelling a boxful of them at close range either, so it is easy not to yield to temptation.

Friends of our family once serenaded my mom on her Valentine’s Day/Fat Tuesday birthday, by showing up with a dozen paczki. Mary even put a candle on each pączek and then lit them all and sang happy birthday to her.  What a fun surprise!  But Mary didn’t stay to have one since she and her husband had already downed a half-dozen of their own before visiting my mom.  Mary and Frank lined up for these treats at the crack of dawn, along with a large crowd of paczki lovers, at the now-shuttered Oak Leaf Bakery in Wyandotte.  We couldn’t finish off that dozen in one day, so the remaining ones went into the freezer, to be enjoyed in dribs and drabs after Easter had passed.

Last night I watched the highlights of the Oscars online … a bit ho hum, except, of course, for the faux pas at the finale. When I was younger, I stayed up late to watch all the awards shows.  Back then, I knew about all the pop culture nominees – now, I haven’t a clue who most of them are, or the music or movies they are associated with.  Granted, I’ve not been inside a movie theatre in nearly 25 years, when I went to see “Sommersby” in 1993. After that, it was just so convenient to grab a videotape from a nearby Blockbuster, and kick back in the easy chair, with a bag of Better Maid cheddar-cheese popcorn propped up next to me within easy reach. Microwave popcorn, hot and smelling so wonderful, also made staying home an easy decision. No long line to buy tickets or treats, and no one talking or kicking behind your seat.  Now, there is Netflix and movies on demand to catch up on all those blockbuster films.

I used to love looking at the clothes the stars wore to the Oscars. There were the handsome male movie stars in their tuxes and the women with lots of hairspray, glittery jewelry and teetering on high heels.  Most of them had their bodies squeezed, stuffed and pushed-up to the extreme to fit into those skin-tight, er … formfitting dresses.

One thing is for sure – those seasoned stars and starlets weren’t stopping for any paczki today – one bite of that tantalizing treat and they’d bust their seams wide open, and that, my friends, would be a bigger disaster than “Oscargate” was.

[Image of Coney Paczi from American Coney Island]