I'll be 54 1/2. If there's still such thing as a pension, that's when I'm gonna retire. Maybe sooner. I'm almost half way there, in terms of years of service.
My Dad retired at 51. He got it right. Granted, he uses the time to do things like go to garage sales and buy things like partially operational meat grinders. Why? Because it's made of cast aluminum of course! Cast aluminum is beautiful. He's got the right idea because he does whatever he wants and nobody is his boss. That freedom is worth a lot. Most of us start life with a great deal of freedom and health, but no authority. It would be nice idea to enjoy some of the tail end of life with freedom, health and authority all intact.
What's spawning these thoughts? Tonight, I went to a viewing of a co-worker. He died the year after he retired. Luckily, he enjoyed those working years and (in my opinion) payed attention to what was most important in life.
And that ain't work.
Either I'm more perceptive this year, or someone's trying to send me a message. I work closely with some people who are obsessed with their careers. I can't say if these people are my bosses or not, because if they read this blog they might fire me. They carry around their Blackberry, they hand out their cell phone number encouraging that we call 24/7 if needed. They work long long hours. They lose their identity as their work becomes it. I often attend meetings with people who are introduced as someone who "flunked retirement". That is, they retired after working some forty odd years, then decided they didn't like it and came back to work full time.
Drones!
I'm not espousing being a lazy ass. There's enough of those. It's rewarding to be a professional and do a good job. I am saying I can't understand what makes workaholics tick. I can try to empathize. It's enticing to become wrapped up in it all. At work, you might have people in your ear telling you all sorts of encouraging stuff; "We need you, Mike", "You're doing a good job, Mike"..."Blah blah blah good stuff about Mike, Mike". People you work with have to say stuff like this because sans paycheck, they realize it is your only reward. They have to make you feel needed.
BUT, there's a difference between being "needed" and being "convenient". In the workplace, you are almost always more the latter than the former. You can be replaced at the drop of a hat. This is also true for relationships outside of the workplace. But, I'll try to stay focused today.
All I can say is I'm getting a friggin' "A" in retirement when it's my turn. I like my line of work, but I can certainly...ya know...think of better things I'd do if I had the choice?
Like..whatever I want to do in 2024. Even if I'm buying parts of meat grinders.
Now let's pray I don't get hit by a truck until then.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Fitness walkers
Why do these folks do that silly arm swinging motion? It can't burn that many extra calories. It looks very silly and sort of annoying. Kinda like I feel embarrased for them?
Kudos for getting off the couch and taking care of yourselves. But please let your arms hang and swing normally. You look like C3PO and you ain't impressing anybody.
Not to mention, you renew my fear that robot overlords might take over the world someday.
Kudos for getting off the couch and taking care of yourselves. But please let your arms hang and swing normally. You look like C3PO and you ain't impressing anybody.
Not to mention, you renew my fear that robot overlords might take over the world someday.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
HIPAA-crytes
I've been doing a little work at a "senior living community" for about 4 years. Until recently, I did a sort of "show and tell" science show for those who were old enough to not completely care for themselves, but need mental stimulation. I was discontinued in favor of "sing-a-long" ostensibly because my jokes were too smutty or because the nun running the show is too busy to find my phone number. That's okay, she is probably busy studying the Ten Commandments of Driving. Now I just visit a handful of people unofficially. I should quit being on the roster and pick up my last paycheck...but I don't get paid. So that would be a rather strange way of evening the score with the nun lady. Maybe I'll just bash into her car in the parking lot. But she probably took a vow of poverty and doesn't have a car. Damn.
I have to blog about this stuff because it creates so many interesting stories of frustration and gratification. I'm not as much trying to advertise what a great guy I am. That is well established. But, I also have really bad gas sometimes so it all evens out.
Here's an interesting story about HIPAA privacy laws and a guy named Wally.
I've been visiting Wally for about four years. He and I are buds. Despite the age difference, we have a tremendous amount in common. We both lived in Buffalo (Wally for 35 years) and graduated from the University of Buffalo (Wally still wears his ring), we're both scientists (Wally a materials scientist for IBM, Xerox and NCR) and we both lived in the same neighborhood of Kettering about two blocks from each other.
But, we never met each other until I met him at the assisted living center. He was living there while rehabilitating from a broken hip. Like many, he never completely made it and he had to sell his house and stay at the assisted living joint. As you might expect, he was really feeling poopy in the brain about having to give up his house. So, I went over to his house and took a digital photo of it, printed it and framed it for him. I think this won him over. Before this he might have thought I was one of Jehova's Witnesses or trying to to sell him insurance.
Wally has had an exciting life. He was a gunner in B-17's during World War 2. Then he went to college at U.B. and later worked for a long time in the photographic film and printing industry. He has 18 friggin' patents to his name.
Blah blah blah...we've always hit it off and I look forward to seeing him every time I go.
Fast forward to about two weeks ago. Wally acted a little different. He kept telling me he was leaving because his room was costing him too much. I must admit, I take some of the things I hear from these folks with a grain of salt. Sometimes we're dealing with dimensia. Sometimes people have an idea of what they want to do but the family pulls all the strings and has intentions to the contrary. So, when I left I told him I'd see him in about 2 weeks and shook his hand. Wally takes my hand, hugs it and tells me he loves me. This took me off guard a bit and so being a relatively insecure guy, I created a joke about it and told him I loved him too...but not in a funny way.
I shouldn't have doubted Wally. I took a trip to see people this week. Wally's not in his room. His name's not on the door. I asked at the desk where he was and if in fact he...was. They told me he moved and that's all they could tell me, because of HIPAA.
F*&$in' HIPAA!
But being the super-sleuth that I am, I asked the lady who changes the garbage where Wally went. Always ask the garbage lady. She knows all. She says he moved to Xenia. Cool, I have a lead. So, then I called another person at the assisted living center and asked the leading question "Which nursing home in Xenia did Wally move to?". She told me. I'm so proud of myself. I should work for the CIA. I now have the tactical wherewithall to circumvent HIPAA laws infiltrate high security areas like nursing homes. The lady also told me that when I visit to make sure I make it clear I'm not representing their organization. I thought that was nice of her. She must be friends with the nun lady.
So, I took a trip to see Wally yesterday at his new digs in Xenia. He shit his pants when he saw me. Well...not literally, which is a possibility at his age. But, I asked him; "You didn't think I'd come see you here, did ya?". He said "No, I knew you'd come, just not this soon".
Cool stuff.
I could have done without the HIPAA runaround though.
I have to blog about this stuff because it creates so many interesting stories of frustration and gratification. I'm not as much trying to advertise what a great guy I am. That is well established. But, I also have really bad gas sometimes so it all evens out.
Here's an interesting story about HIPAA privacy laws and a guy named Wally.
I've been visiting Wally for about four years. He and I are buds. Despite the age difference, we have a tremendous amount in common. We both lived in Buffalo (Wally for 35 years) and graduated from the University of Buffalo (Wally still wears his ring), we're both scientists (Wally a materials scientist for IBM, Xerox and NCR) and we both lived in the same neighborhood of Kettering about two blocks from each other.
But, we never met each other until I met him at the assisted living center. He was living there while rehabilitating from a broken hip. Like many, he never completely made it and he had to sell his house and stay at the assisted living joint. As you might expect, he was really feeling poopy in the brain about having to give up his house. So, I went over to his house and took a digital photo of it, printed it and framed it for him. I think this won him over. Before this he might have thought I was one of Jehova's Witnesses or trying to to sell him insurance.
Wally has had an exciting life. He was a gunner in B-17's during World War 2. Then he went to college at U.B. and later worked for a long time in the photographic film and printing industry. He has 18 friggin' patents to his name.
Blah blah blah...we've always hit it off and I look forward to seeing him every time I go.
Fast forward to about two weeks ago. Wally acted a little different. He kept telling me he was leaving because his room was costing him too much. I must admit, I take some of the things I hear from these folks with a grain of salt. Sometimes we're dealing with dimensia. Sometimes people have an idea of what they want to do but the family pulls all the strings and has intentions to the contrary. So, when I left I told him I'd see him in about 2 weeks and shook his hand. Wally takes my hand, hugs it and tells me he loves me. This took me off guard a bit and so being a relatively insecure guy, I created a joke about it and told him I loved him too...but not in a funny way.
I shouldn't have doubted Wally. I took a trip to see people this week. Wally's not in his room. His name's not on the door. I asked at the desk where he was and if in fact he...was. They told me he moved and that's all they could tell me, because of HIPAA.
F*&$in' HIPAA!
But being the super-sleuth that I am, I asked the lady who changes the garbage where Wally went. Always ask the garbage lady. She knows all. She says he moved to Xenia. Cool, I have a lead. So, then I called another person at the assisted living center and asked the leading question "Which nursing home in Xenia did Wally move to?". She told me. I'm so proud of myself. I should work for the CIA. I now have the tactical wherewithall to circumvent HIPAA laws infiltrate high security areas like nursing homes. The lady also told me that when I visit to make sure I make it clear I'm not representing their organization. I thought that was nice of her. She must be friends with the nun lady.
So, I took a trip to see Wally yesterday at his new digs in Xenia. He shit his pants when he saw me. Well...not literally, which is a possibility at his age. But, I asked him; "You didn't think I'd come see you here, did ya?". He said "No, I knew you'd come, just not this soon".
Cool stuff.
I could have done without the HIPAA runaround though.
Monday, June 18, 2007
Goodbye Flat Mushed-up Pillow
I'm heartbroken. I left my favorite pillow at one of the hotels in Alabama or Florida. I wasn't paying much attention to it I guess.
Yes, I bring my own pillow because I sleep on the floor. Long story.
I feel like part of me is gone. I got to know this pillow so well. Over the years I had indentations worked into it in the right places. It was comfortable. We worked together well. We were a team. One time I washed it the wrong way and all the stuffing in it got clumped up, making it very lumpy inside. But, I accepted that and adapted to it. In a strange way, it made us even closer.
But now it's gone. I could probably call down there and see if anyone found it. But, I just know my efforts would be in vain. There's a small chance the hotel might call me and we could be reunited. But, I've been around long enough to know that's not usually how things work out. If I did actually call down there I'd probably encounter something like this:
Mick: "Did you find a pillow the other night?"
Hotel: "I don't knowwwww. What does it look liiiiike?"
Mick: "Well, it's white and has a little stain on it. The stuffing in it is kind of lumpy"
Hotel: "Hooooowld on, let me check"
Hotel: "I have 7 pillows like that"
Mick: "Does one have an imprint in it that looks like the back of a guy's head"
Hotel: "Yeessss"
Mick: "Great! Please send it to me"
Hotel: "How do I fit it in the envelope?"
Mick: "Never mind..." click.
So, I need to accept that it's gone and try to move on.
Last night I was desparate to fill the void. I grabbed a spare pillow out of the closet and slept with it. I regretted that in the morning. The thing was way too thick for me. My head was propped up at too high of an angle and now my neck is sore. I think I was really forcing things my spending the night with another pillow so soon.
The blessing in disguise here is that I discovered that I am not ready for another pillow yet. I'm going to try to sleep without a pillow for a while until I can make an honest assessment of my pillow needs. I've slept without a pillow before and I'll be just fine. I need to actively shop for another pillow. But, I'm not going to run all over town every day and wear myself out. If the right pillow presents itself, I'll know it. I'm very selective and this might take a while. Who knows, maybe I'll never use a pillow again.
Goodbye flat-mushed up pillow. I hope you found someone else who will take care of you. I miss you.
Yes, I bring my own pillow because I sleep on the floor. Long story.
I feel like part of me is gone. I got to know this pillow so well. Over the years I had indentations worked into it in the right places. It was comfortable. We worked together well. We were a team. One time I washed it the wrong way and all the stuffing in it got clumped up, making it very lumpy inside. But, I accepted that and adapted to it. In a strange way, it made us even closer.
But now it's gone. I could probably call down there and see if anyone found it. But, I just know my efforts would be in vain. There's a small chance the hotel might call me and we could be reunited. But, I've been around long enough to know that's not usually how things work out. If I did actually call down there I'd probably encounter something like this:
Hotel: Ring...ring, click..."Hello Y'all, Hotel Alabama, where a confederate flag on your truck earns you a free nights stay. This is Daisy, how may I help you?"
Mick: "Did you find a pillow the other night?"
Hotel: "I don't knowwwww. What does it look liiiiike?"
Mick: "Well, it's white and has a little stain on it. The stuffing in it is kind of lumpy"
Hotel: "Hooooowld on, let me check"
* 15 minutes later *
Hotel: "I have 7 pillows like that"
Mick: "Does one have an imprint in it that looks like the back of a guy's head"
Hotel: "Yeessss"
Mick: "Great! Please send it to me"
Hotel: "How do I fit it in the envelope?"
Mick: "Never mind..." click.
So, I need to accept that it's gone and try to move on.
Last night I was desparate to fill the void. I grabbed a spare pillow out of the closet and slept with it. I regretted that in the morning. The thing was way too thick for me. My head was propped up at too high of an angle and now my neck is sore. I think I was really forcing things my spending the night with another pillow so soon.
The blessing in disguise here is that I discovered that I am not ready for another pillow yet. I'm going to try to sleep without a pillow for a while until I can make an honest assessment of my pillow needs. I've slept without a pillow before and I'll be just fine. I need to actively shop for another pillow. But, I'm not going to run all over town every day and wear myself out. If the right pillow presents itself, I'll know it. I'm very selective and this might take a while. Who knows, maybe I'll never use a pillow again.
Goodbye flat-mushed up pillow. I hope you found someone else who will take care of you. I miss you.
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
Pissed at Sister
I volunteer at a local assisted living/nursing center. It's a Catholic sponsored facility. I've been going there on the first and third Tuesdays of the month.
On the first Tuesday of the month I visit some relatively disabled folks in the nursing facility. The goal is to just talk and help stem some of the loneliness and boredom they are condemned to. This is a very rewarding experience and I'll blog about these folks some other time.
On the third Tuesday of the month I go to the assisted living center where the people are more independent and in need of some mental stimulation. Here I do a sort of "science show" where I bring science related goodies for show and tell. They call this "Science with Mike" and I've been doing it for about three years all spirit of preventing these people's brains from being caked with plaque.
Welp, as fate would have it, the activity coordinatorship changed hands and it's now being run by one of the nuns. To protect her identity, let's just call her "Sister Witch-Face" for the duration of this blog. Last month, I showed up with butt-loads of stuff (well not literally) from Biology including but not limited to lots of bugs, lizards, frogs and a dog brain. They were all dead and preserved in formaldehyde by the way. When I arrived there was nary three people there. Sister Witch-Face didn't know she was supposed to round everybody up and prod them to go. They don't remember to go on their own. If they remembered stuff like that, they wouldn't need me to come there and try to stimulate them by showing them dog brains and telling them dirty jokes. I felt like some of my efforts were wasted with such small attendance, but I had a great visit with three old ladies and they really admired my dog brain. So, I chalked it up as a rookie mistake by Sister Witch-Face and didn't pay much worry.
Today I visited the other building. Had a great time. After I was finished, I signed out and thought I'd go over to the other building to take a snoop at the activity schedule to make sure the new lady scheduled me on the third Tuesday. I looked at the schedule and when I did, I was more than disappointed to discover that Science With Mike was not on the schedule.
The schedule clearly stated that particular tuesday was "sing-a-long".
Now, if that's not the biggest ass kicking a science educator's ego could ever receive, I don't know what is. To be bumped at a nursing home by a nun playing piano and singing 1940's show tunes. I mean come on..."sing-a-long"? I could understand bingo or hand-bowling, but for fook's sake...sing-a-long?
I heard Sister at her desk around the corner. I almost walked over and paid her a visit from Professor Beelzebub. But instead, I decided to go home, calm down and I'll call her tomorrow.
But until then, sing-a-long with this Sister! You better pray Satan doesn't come and get you!
On the first Tuesday of the month I visit some relatively disabled folks in the nursing facility. The goal is to just talk and help stem some of the loneliness and boredom they are condemned to. This is a very rewarding experience and I'll blog about these folks some other time.
On the third Tuesday of the month I go to the assisted living center where the people are more independent and in need of some mental stimulation. Here I do a sort of "science show" where I bring science related goodies for show and tell. They call this "Science with Mike" and I've been doing it for about three years all spirit of preventing these people's brains from being caked with plaque.
Welp, as fate would have it, the activity coordinatorship changed hands and it's now being run by one of the nuns. To protect her identity, let's just call her "Sister Witch-Face" for the duration of this blog. Last month, I showed up with butt-loads of stuff (well not literally) from Biology including but not limited to lots of bugs, lizards, frogs and a dog brain. They were all dead and preserved in formaldehyde by the way. When I arrived there was nary three people there. Sister Witch-Face didn't know she was supposed to round everybody up and prod them to go. They don't remember to go on their own. If they remembered stuff like that, they wouldn't need me to come there and try to stimulate them by showing them dog brains and telling them dirty jokes. I felt like some of my efforts were wasted with such small attendance, but I had a great visit with three old ladies and they really admired my dog brain. So, I chalked it up as a rookie mistake by Sister Witch-Face and didn't pay much worry.
Today I visited the other building. Had a great time. After I was finished, I signed out and thought I'd go over to the other building to take a snoop at the activity schedule to make sure the new lady scheduled me on the third Tuesday. I looked at the schedule and when I did, I was more than disappointed to discover that Science With Mike was not on the schedule.
The schedule clearly stated that particular tuesday was "sing-a-long".
Now, if that's not the biggest ass kicking a science educator's ego could ever receive, I don't know what is. To be bumped at a nursing home by a nun playing piano and singing 1940's show tunes. I mean come on..."sing-a-long"? I could understand bingo or hand-bowling, but for fook's sake...sing-a-long?
I heard Sister at her desk around the corner. I almost walked over and paid her a visit from Professor Beelzebub. But instead, I decided to go home, calm down and I'll call her tomorrow.
But until then, sing-a-long with this Sister! You better pray Satan doesn't come and get you!
Monday, June 4, 2007
Rockin' Robin
I went out for a training ride yesterday. About half way through, toodling along at like 20 mph, I saw two red robins on my right side taking flight from a nearby tree. The one bird whizzed right past my eyes and the other one trailing him bonked me right smack in the front of my head. I looked over my left shoulder and saw that he musn't have been hurt too bad. I only diverted his flight path a little bit.
This was one of the weirdest experiences I've had on my bike. I was wearing my helmet and he hit me pretty hard. He felt really squishy like being hit with a flying Big Mac still in the wrapper. When the bird hit me, it made a really loud squeeky noise. It sounded like one of those dog toys. It startled the crap out of me.
So, a couple of hours later, I get home and take my helmet off. I see that I have several feathers sticking out that were lodged in the vents of my helmet.
What's really funny is that I met another guy riding back home and I rode along side of him and had a conversation for 10 or so miles. It occured to me that he was on my right side so he must have seen the feathers. He didn't say anything about them. I bet I looked like a complete tool.
This was one of the weirdest experiences I've had on my bike. I was wearing my helmet and he hit me pretty hard. He felt really squishy like being hit with a flying Big Mac still in the wrapper. When the bird hit me, it made a really loud squeeky noise. It sounded like one of those dog toys. It startled the crap out of me.
So, a couple of hours later, I get home and take my helmet off. I see that I have several feathers sticking out that were lodged in the vents of my helmet.
What's really funny is that I met another guy riding back home and I rode along side of him and had a conversation for 10 or so miles. It occured to me that he was on my right side so he must have seen the feathers. He didn't say anything about them. I bet I looked like a complete tool.
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