Pain

Before And After

A little background before I get into the meat of this post. The last 12 years or so of my military career, were the married years. I was single for the first 8, then Wifey came along for the ride.

During those 12 years, we averaged a mere 22 months between moves. Yup, we moved. A lot. And now that I’m retired, we’ve been in this house for just over 22 years. During the active duty years we did quite a bit of living out of boxes. Somethings just never got completely unpacked. One example is my record albums. It was easier to just take them out of the box to play them, then put them right back in the box when done. Then the movers just put a new sticker on the box (not always covering up the previous stickers), taped the box up and off the boxes would go to wherever the hell we were going next. Even today, those albums are still in the same boxes with the same stickers.

But after 22 years those are the only boxes we still have. Well at least the only old boxes. Now we have 22 years of accumulation of pure junk. The garage is full of stuff.

One of the things that this constant moving ingrained in our heads was a lack of understanding of house maintenance. We were never in one place long enough to worry about replacing a roof, or an air conditioning system (both of which we’ve had to do lately). We have replaced the carpet with wood floor inside and painted the inside of the house, but we never did anything to the exterior. So I present these before and after photos and notes taking full responsibility for the 20 years of neglect. Don’t @ me, my brother will take care of that for you. And he’ll be channeling our dad when he does!

I’m sure you remember the tale of the leak that never ended. The wall is finally patched all damage to the cabinets repaired, and the dishwasher is back in place and secured.

Under the sink was badly damaged by the two leaks, but we didn’t know that until we tried to fix the second leak. That’s when the floor and side came apart.

This was the only piece of dry rot. Not bad for 20+ years of neglect. Painting will commence soon.

The laundry room was in really bad shape. Not so much anymore. The pressure washing took even more of the lower siding off after this picture was taken.

We still have much to do. The kitchen floor needs to be done, but we should still have enough tile for that, some finishing on the floor work (quarter round and such). I’ve started the painting of the closet doors, but the white is not covering the old dark green very well.

The lizards weren’t very happy with my work place choice. On the other hand I’m pretty sure I killed about 20 love bugs with my spray paint.

Needless to say, I didn’t do this myself. I had help. Well, actually I was the “help”. We have a contractor that we’ve used for several jobs. He’s not the lowest priced guy around, but he does quality work. I have no problem paying for quality. All I really did was pay for everything, and do the simple spray painting. Which was still physically demanding for me. I can’t stand for all that long so it was paint a door, go sit down. Paint something else, go sit down. Take some Tylenol. Drink lots of water (no beer until the work day was done).

So that was the beginning of my week. What did you do for fun?

Peace,
B

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The Week That Was, Or Is, Or…

This last weekend was a bit tough, physically and mentally. Both Wifey and I had trouble sleeping which carried over into just being plain grouchy. Not to mention whatever the problem is with my back and/or legs was extremely bothersome all weekend. I have had 3 of the 4 tests ordered by the neurologist done, with the last one, an EMG, scheduled for tomorrow morning. I had an EMG before, and it’s not all that fun. It’s not painful, but not it’s not exactly comfortable either. Hopefully I’ll know more by the follow up appointment early next month.

Ont the plus side, the hole in the kitchen wall has been patched. So hopefully, no more froggies under the sink.

But I woke up feeling better this morning, so I thought I’d post a fun little video. I went looking for something by The Monkees first. The Monkees were my favorite band when I was a youngin’. I still listen to their CDs when I get tired of the radio. (Check out this post from some Monkees fun!) Instead of using a (silly) Monkees video, and I went slightly off-course. Which, of course, is par for the course for me. (Let’s see how many more time I use “course” in this post!)

I recently finished an older book by one of my favorite Florida authors, Dave Barry. For those that don’t know who Dave is (@RayAdverb on Twitter), he is a long time humor columnist. I grew up reading his column in The Miami Herald. He received the Pulitzer Prize for Commentary in 1988.

The book I just finished, Dave Barry’s Book of Bad Songs made me wonder about the musical tastes of his readers. The basic premise is that Dave wrote a column about a particular artist, which I won’t mention so you can buy the book and read it for yourself. This opened a floodgate of responses, that went on for several columns. The book is the result.

Not surprisingly, there are songs listed that I totally agree with (see the chapter on Barry Manilow), some that I’ve never heard of, and some that I disagree with. It’s one of the latter that I want to talk about.

Gee.. I wonder what song he’s talking about??

I will admit that the fact that the horse is not named at any time during the song (they do spend many days in the desert, and don’t let the horse go until after day 9), so there was plenty of time to name the horse. Even “Jim” would be a good name.. Obviously I’m talking about A Horse With No Name.

The band America has always been a favorite. A simple little acoustic group with good harmonies and simple lyrics. Well, may not simple lyrics. While Daisy Jane, Sister Golden Hair and Lonely People are straight forward, Ventura Highway is any thing but. And I won’t even get into Muskrat Love.

(Song writer Dewey) Bunnell has explained that “A Horse with No Name” was “a metaphor for a vehicle to get away from life’s confusion into a quiet, peaceful place”

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Horse_with_No_Name

I can dig that.

Enjoy!

Peace,
B

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What’s Stuck In My Head – 18 April

A.K.A. The anxious edition..

While you are reading this (you are reading this and not just jumping to see which video I’m using this time, right??), I’m sitting in my dentist’s chair having yet another crown done. This isn’t just another crown, it’s a replacement crown for a job done only 14 months ago. Sheesh..

I do have a moderate phobia of dentists. Which is a bit odd when you consider that I went through several years of orthodontic works as a teenager with no real issues. Plus, the fact that I spent the majority of my young adult life as an Army Combat Medic (equivalent to a Paramedic).  I taught many classes on giving immunizations and even intravenous (IV) classes.  I’ve given myself an IV (as a demonstration), and even sutured both of my sons.  Needles and blood are not the problem.

The problem started long ago. In 1986 to be exact.  I was leaving Fort Bragg, NC the next day.  My wife and son (only had the one at the time), were leaving first to Florida to drop them off, then I was headed to Fort Greely Alaska.  This particular afternoon, I was playing racquetball with a few of friends that were staying at Fort Bragg.  While running to the back wall of the court my ankle turned and I went face first into that concrete back wall. I ended up shattering my right front tooth (number 8 if you’re really interested).

Upon arrival at Fort Greely, as with any military posting, you must turn in your personnel, education, medical, and dental records at the appropriate offices.  When I showed up at the dental clinic, they immediately scheduled an appointment with the dentist to have that shattered tooth evaluated.

Here’s the kicker.  About 20 years before this I was hit in the mouth by a baseball.  This damaged the tooth extensively, and according to the family dentist the tooth was “dead”.  I had no feeling in the tooth, and it yellowed quickly.

I told the dentist in Alaska the story and she decided I needed a root canal.  I wasn’t really surprised that she wanted one, but since the tooth had been damaged so long ago, I wasn’t sure it was really needed.

Now, I don’t know if this dentist was right out of school or what. But it was almost three hours in the chair, and so many injections of lidocaine; all for naught.  In the end all she could say was the root was too calcified to her to get it out. And I’m thinking, I could have told you that.  I have my suspicions that I was her first root canal without supervision and she was not about to fail.

Sad to say that I now have a dislike for dentists.

But the dentist we use is anything but that. He is a really nice guy, has great music playing, and even tries to make you laugh whenever possible.  Since this is just a replacement, and the temporary is already there, it should be cake and pie. Maybe. Hopefully.  Let’s hope he’s not having a bad day.

Peace,
B

P.S. Have a medical phobia of your own? Leave a comment so we can all commiserate with you!

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