"I know what that is," said Mr. Ginley. 

photo attribution below

He pointed to the television, where a YouTube slide show displayed a series of outdated knickknacks, widgets, and doodads. 

Essentially, it was a memory test for Baby Boomers.

He hit the pause button. I knew what it was, too: a 45 record adapter.

Back in the day when albums were king, record players had spindles that were designed for LPs (aka, long playing albums). LPs, as everyone knows, have a single small hole in the middle that holds the record on the player. 

However, single records (aka 45s) had a big hole in the middle that required an adapter. Hence, the photo he was pointing at, a yellow plastic disk with a small hole in the center that snaps into the big hole in the 45.

"We just had a black plastic piece that fit on the stereo, we didn't use these things," said Mr. Ginley.

"Well, you would have if you wanted to play multiple 45s," I said.

Back to the time machine. Stereos used to have a tall spindle that dropped one record at a time. You could put a whole stack on the spindle and let 'em play one after the other.

Of course, all of this technology is now obsolete, along with 45s (and 78s, which were a holdout from my parents' generation). 

Feel free to follow me for explanations of other outdated gewgaws and trivial nonsense. 

Photo attribution: User Dpbsmith on en.wikipedia, CC BY-SA 3.0 <http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/>, via Wikimedia Commons

Coworker Appreciation Day

I'd just like to take this opportunity to give a shout-out to my steadfast coworker.

She reports for duty (most days) by tapping my leg and making noise until I lift her up to her seat. Which is next to my mouse pad. Does she get the pun of cat and mouse? 

Maybe. Maybe not. 

Admittedly, she does sleep on the job most of the time. From time to time, she stirs, makes acking noises, and convulses. Is she chasing prey in here dreams? 

Perhaps.

For the most part, her work habits are tolerable, but admittedly, she's a little too fastidious about her appearance. I'm not fond of her cleaning ritual, particularly when she starts tongue-washing her nether regions (at eye level). Ick.

Generally, she leaves my tchochkes alone. But I do find it necessary to scold her when she taps the tail on my kitty kat clock and stops it from swinging to and fro. 

I have my limits.

As the workday draws to a close, she becomes restless. She jumps down, paces and gets noisy, doinking my leg with her head. 

I remind her, gently at first, that it's nowhere near time to eat, and she needs to cool her jets.

Eventually, she gives up, stalks off, and makes noise in the hallway until I finish my work. Then she zooms downstairs and gets underfoot as I prepare our dinner.

"Don't feed her early, you'll be sorry," warns Mr. Ginley. 

But when I finally do set her food down, she leaves me in peace until treat time rolls around later in the evening.

I love my coworker. I just hope I never have to go to an office outside our home ever again.

Human coworkers are fine and all, but my feline compatriot, in spite of her annoying habits, is my favorite.

I mean, no one at the office ever purred when I scratched them behind the ears.

Then again, they probably would have just reported me to HR.

Are You Kidney Me?

I'm giving y'all a break from my navel-gazing and mindless twaddle to share a heartwarming story from the Washington Post. Although "heart"-warming may not be the right organ reference. Permit me to explain.

Attribution below

Our story begins with a guy who got dissed by his first choice for prom date and the last-minute stand-in who saved his life.

In 1988, a devastated Shawn Moyer was looking for a replacement date for the prom. He chose Elena Hershey, who was a year younger and thrilled to go.

They lost touch over the years, but one day Elena's former classmate told her of Moyer's plight. He was on dialysis and needed a kidney. When he was a teenager, Moyer had contracted an infection that resulted in his body rejecting his kidneys. He'd already had two kidney transplants – donor kidneys only last 8 to 20 years. (Fun fact: a kidney from a living donor lasts longer.) He needed a new one soon. He was on a waiting list for a cadaver's kidney. 

The wait time was 7-10 years. 

Meanwhile, in 2023, Elena, now a teacher in Boulder, CO, was approved as a kidney donor. She'd researched the process for two years before deciding she wanted to donate a kidney to someone. When she heard about Shawn, she decided that's who should get hers. 

Of course, the odds of her kidney being a match weren't good. But there is a workaround for this. You can donate a kidney to someone who is compatible and receive a voucher. The voucher is then activated in the system for a living donor. This meant instead of waiting for a decade, Shawn would be getting a kidney within a year. And because it was from a live donor, the transplant could potentially keep him alive for another 20 years.

Last month, Shawn met his match, got his new kidney, and is recovering nicely at his home in Glen Rock, PA, thank you very much.

Shawn was stunned and enormously grateful for Elena's sacrifice. The two met, shared a photo op, and plan to keep in touch. 

For her part, Elena is almost matter-of-fact about the experience. The recipient's insurance covers the expenses, so it cost her nothing in monetary terms. And after a couple of weeks of recovery, she was back to her healthy self, but with a renewed sense of fulfillment. 

"I would do it again if I had another extra kidney,” she quipped.

Photo attribution: Laboratoires Servier, CC BY-SA 3.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0>, via Wikimedia Commons

Emerging From Hibernation

Well, it's that time of year again, when the clocks spring ahead. 

photo attribution below

Y'all know the routine. You change your clock, lose an hour of sleep, and think, "But tomorrow the sun won't set until 7:28!"

Somewhere inside your brain, there's an awakening. Spring, which has become an abstract concept these last awful months, comes into focus. There will be flowers. And birds. And more daylight hours to do stuff. No need to huddle indoors and binge watch mystery crime series on BritBox. (Guilty, as charged.)

And yet...

I'm not quite ready to reenter the world. With all the nonsense going on in our government, will there be any rangers in my favorite parks to guide and instruct? Will I drive into a chuckhole that the city couldn't afford to fill, never to be seen again? Will I be able to afford to eat? And what's happening to all the butterflies (their numbers have dropped 22% since 2000).

Reading the final report about Gene Hackman and his wife, Betsy Arakawa, has got me thinking, too. Turns out, Ms. Arakawa died from a respiratory infection while Hackman, who had advanced Alzheimer's Disease, passed away a week later when his heart gave out.

The thing that got me is that it took two weeks for anyone to miss them. And it was a stranger – a maintenance worker – who raised the alarm.  

Hmm, thinks me. How long would it take for someone to miss Mr. Ginley and me if we kicked off? The only ones who are in daily contact with me (well, weekdays, anyhow) are my coworkers. If I didn't log in for several days, would they send the cavalry or assume I'd just done a runner?

Then I realized that if we both went toes up, we wouldn't care, anyhow. Although that leaves the cat, and I wouldn't want her to suffer.

I know, how morbid for a Saturday morning, eh?

Maybe all this will be cured by a dose of springtime. It's supposed to be in the 50s this week, so that should help a little. 

In the meantime, I think I'll tuck into a cup of hot chocolate and another episode of Vera.

Bye for now, luv.

Photo Attribution: Jorge Barrios, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

My 10-Step Exercise Regimen

We can all agree that getting old sucks, and when your body starts its litany of random aches and pains, even getting out of bed in the morning can be a major undertaking.

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And yet, we're all encouraged to keep exercising.

Having partaken of said exercises in the basement for several years, I've discovered a thing or two. First, I'm still overweight, so regular exercise has not helped there in recent years. (Yes, I know, I need to cut down on my portions, don't start.) Second, vigorous exercise is painful in a way that it didn't use to be. Joints creak and groan and fail to work properly.

Most recently, I've been diagnosed with rotator cuff tendinosis (a chronic condition that causes degeneration and pain in the tendons.) I asked my doctor what the difference was between tendinits and tendinosis, and she said what I have is a long term condition. And, according to the google, more difficult to resolve.

But I digress.

I've come to the conclusion that I need to come up with exercises I can incorporate into my daily routine. That way, I'm still stretching, at least, so things don't seize up altogether. 

Here's what I'm thinking:

1. Cheers 

Lean to the left. Lean to the right Stand up. Sit Down. Fight Fight Fight. (I've never liked cheerleaders, but this one gets the blood flowing.)

2. Sock it to 'Em

Grab your compressions socks. In a standing position, jam your toes into the sock and pull. Hop around if you have to to get your balance as you work the sock over your foot. Place your foot on the floor and yank the sock into position on your calf. Repeat with the other sock.

3. Reach for the Stars

It's time to open another bottle of multi-vitamins. They're on the top shelf of the cupboard. Grab a wooden spoon and reach up. Tap, tap, tap the side of the bottle with the spoon. Hold out your hand and catch the bottle as it falls. (Watch out for other items that are in the way and may come tumbling down uninvited.)

4. Grocery Shopping

There are plenty of opportunities here to get your exercise. Grab a cart, bend over and shove your reusable bags in the bottom of the cart, and push your way to a healthier you. You'll do plenty of reaching, bending, and twisting to acquire the necessary items. Not to mention hefting gallon jugs of milk into the cart. Bonus points if you also bag your groceries and park farther out so you have to schlep the cart a ways.

5. Cat Boxing

Cleaning out the cat's litter box is a good way to burn a few calories. You have your bending and scooping motion. You get even more credit if you purchase the gazillion-ton-sized barrel of cat litter that has to be dragged from the trunk of your car and upstairs/downstairs to where the box is located.

6. Hooking Up

Whoever invented the brassiere should be horsewhipped. Why did they think it was a good idea to put the hooks in the back? But, admittedly, it is a good stretching exercise – unless you have tendinosis and your arm won't cooperate. In which case, you can engage your partner in a bit of exercise. 

7. Shake a Leg

The cool thing about working from home is my coworkers can't see me (unless I'm on a video call). Given my attire most days, this is a good thing. It also helps when I get up and dance a little to a tune that tickles my fancy. Nothing crazy here, just a shimmy and shake here and there to get the blood flowing. All in the privacy of my own office. 

8. Stair Climbing

This one is a no-brainer, especially when one is forgetful. Here's how it works. You go upstairs to get something. Oh, wait, I forgot to brush my teeth and comb my hair. I should probably open the curtains in the bedroom. Mr. forgot to take his keys downstairs, I'd better bring them. And back downstairs you go. At the bottom of the steps, you remember what it was you were supposed to do. Back up you go. Repeat as necessary.

9. Garbage Day Cha-Cha

The garbage can is on the tree lawn (or devil strip, if that's what it's called in your neck of the woods). You hear a garbage truck go by. Stand up, walk to the window, peer out. Nope, it's for the other side of the street. Go back to work. You hear it again, it's for the recyclable cans on the other side of the street. Repeat until it actually is your turn. Retrieve the can from the street where the merry band of garbage collectors has left it before it becomes a traffic fatality.

10. Eye Rolls

Eyes need exercise, too, and we all have plenty of opportunities to roll our eyes throughout the workday and while watching the evening news. And when loved ones drive us bonkers. (Am I referring to Mr. Ginley? Of course not, I was talking about the cat. Who can't read this.)

Well, there you have it. As always, feel free to chime in with any other routines that keep you moving. 

As for me, I'm going to go engage in a little exercise commonly known as "channel surfing." 

Time to wave buh-bye!

Photo attribution: University of Texas at Arlington Photograph Collection, CC BY 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0>, via Wikimedia Commons

Celebrating the Quirky

We were watching an old episode of The Big Bang Theory the other night, when one of the characters said he preferred to think of Sheldon as "quirky."

Salvador Dali, another quirkster, attribution below

In this context, it meant he was trying to put a positive spin on someone whom most of us would thing was just weird. He could as easily have said Sheldon was unique. An odd duck. Or that he marched to the beat of a different drummer. Any one of these descriptions would have been just as accurate.

As for me, I've kind of taken to the word "quirky." It gives me license to engage in "unconventional" rituals. 

Yes, I say a Hail Mary before I get behind the wheel of the car, even though I'm no longer a practicing Catholic. (I perfected, then abandoned the religion of my youth some time ago.) 

I thank my car for starting up in the morning, and I thank it again for getting me home safely with words you would direct toward a pet. ("Who's a good car?")

I count the steps up and down every time I ascend or descend. There are 13 steps going upstairs (plus one extra at the top on the right) and 12 steps down to the basement. As I've gotten older, I've discovered this is actually practical because I can move about in the dark and not lose my footing.

Then there's this thing I have about socks. They're my favorite part of my wardrobe. This hasn't always been the case, it's definitely been since I started working from home. I have preferred socks as well, but I'm admittedly fickle. Currently, my footwear of choice are the Bombas. They're soft and comfy and they make my feet feel happy.

Some of my quirks are rooted firmly in the past. When I was growing up, my Mom would sometimes indulge us at the end of the week by making peanut butter and chocolate chip sandwiches for our lunch. It's something I still enjoy, although admittedly, not always on Fridays.

Also, I put ketchup on egg sandwiches. Please don't judge.

And yes, I have a subscription to the local newspaper, but I only read the weather, obits, and comics. I also partake of the advice columns, which are on the comics page. And I do a couple of the puzzles. But not all of them.

Now, I'm sure I have plenty of other quirks which are simply not coming to mind at the moment, but I think that's enough for today.

Feel free to chime in with any "unique" rituals you may have!

Photo attribution: Roger Higgins, World Telegram staff photographer, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

 

Eulogy Virtues

At the funeral service for my former boss, Harry, last weekend, the rabbi quoted something from a New York Times article by David Brooks.

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Called "The Moral Bucket List," Brooks talks about the two kinds of virtues: résumé virtues and eulogy virtues.

If you've ever read an obituary, you've likely seen both types of virtues lauded. Titans of business often have lengthy obits with a laundry list of all their professional accomplishments. I seldom look twice at these. 

But I often pause and read the ones that talk about the personal achievements of the deceased. I figure that if I come away after reading it and think, "I wish I'd known that person," it means they enjoyed a life worth living.

Of course, all of this has made me do a lot of soul-searching. I remember that in my 20s, I was telling my grandmother about my accomplishments at the office. I was quite pleased with myself, but she remained unimpressed. I was frustrated. Didn't she get how cool my job was? I mean, family is great and all, but women have professions these days, and they're important.

Now, I look back and grimace. I've spent way too much time caring about my job, worrying over this project or that, ruminating about coworkers or clients on weekends when I should have been thinking about other things.

These days, I'm a little better. And I forgive myself to some degree. After all, we spend a lot of time at work, so it's understandable that it takes up so much of our bandwidth.

But I also know that's not a get-out-of-jail-free card. There's no reason I can't smile at the guy who packs my groceries and say "thank you." Or tip my server a little more generously. Hold the door for the person behind me. Or even share a little something on social media to brighten someone's day.

I've accepted the fact that I'm not going to set the world on fire. I won't have nearly the presence at my funeral that Harry did, he who truly did embrace the eulogy virtues.

But I can do better. Just don't expect me to lose the snark all at once. 

I'm only human, after all.

P.S. Here's a link to that David Brooks NYT article. It's well worth the read.

Photo attribution: Kimberly Vardeman, CC BY 2.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0>, via Wikimedia Commons.