Disoriented in the panties aisle

That's right, take an over-sized bumbling idiot like myself, and drop him off in the bra and panties section of Macy's and watch what transpires.
My wife's 49th birthday is today and I went shopping yesterday morning for clothing that she desperately needed. Again, in case you don't know, she had a stroke at the end of December, last year, and now I take care of most things that she did oh so well.
Anywho (no, I didn't get the letters backwards) I realized she needed new undergarments and thought that'd be the perfect gift for her. So off to Macy's I went, back into the area of women's unmentionables, and without knowing her actual size in these things, I started rummaging. The rummaging brought forth grumbling, and the grumbling brought forth my cellphone. "Hey sis, um, I'm at Macy's trying to get Marcie some bra's and panties and I have know clue what the hell I'm doing! Do you think it's possible for you to join me here and give me some help?"
Sis was there in about 20 minutes, I saw her coming down the aisle shaking her head and laughing.
See, I was holding some of the loose panties up to my hips trying to get some friggin' idea, maybe close, of her size. Does this work? Hell no! I'm a 40 in the waist.
My sister proceeded to set me straight on the differences in bikini, briefs, etc. and then called my daughter for mom's bra size. I settled on a six pack of Fruit of the Loom bikini style, and three plain old regular 36 C pink, white and baby blue bras made by somebody or another, I don't know.
Screw that! I felt like a big old perv, cruisin' the undies section, gettin' my jollies. I was merely a husband on a mission.

Whew!

I've been silent for a few days as the test I took in biology last Wednesday weighed heavy on me, until Yesterday afternoon that is. I have this tendency to sweat tests after I've taken them because I believe that I did really poorly.
Let me go back to my very first semester of college. I took an IT course that was required and was nervous about that class because I knew not a damn thing about Word, Powerpoint, Access, and Excel. I bought this text by Microsoft that was as thick as some bills introduced to the Senate, and knew it was going to be a tough go.
My instructor was an easy going, older gentleman who probably had about 12 years on me (I being 52 at the time) and the class was made up of all recently graduated high schoolers. These kids were born with the knowledge of Microsoft Word and worked the keyboards like they were playing a piano. Anyway, the pretty black girl that sat next to me was my savior in this class as most of my questions were directed to her.
Our mid term test was an open book, 50 question test. That's right, open book. I knew I was in, I had this test in the bag. When I handed it in, the instructor asked how I thought I did. "Man I got this" I said as I practically skipped put of the classroom.
Five days later I checked out my grades on the schools website......I GOT A 52% out of a possible 100! I was livid at myself! I e-mailed the instructor ranting and raving about how failure is not acceptable to myself, how I feel so friggin' stupid, and questioning myself if I've made the right move by going back to school after 34 years.
The following Monday, back in class, he lectured on what we will be doing and then asked me to step into the hall. He spoke up on the fact I was belittling myself so angrily and asked if I've ever thought about getting professional help. I asked him to repeat that last part, and once he did I replied that I was already seeing an anger therapist and the meds haven't fully kicked in yet.
He told me that he would get me through the class, that all work was to be turned in by the end of the semester and above all not to drop out of school over one test result. I didn't drop out and my final grade in that class was an A.
Now back to my test taking fears. Ever since that over confident remark I made about that open book test, I always remark about how nervous I am for an exam, how I don't know the material well, etc., etc. When I do this, with no confidence, I have done well on tests ever since.When asked how I think I did on an exam, I remark that I don't jinx myself by saying one way or another.
On this bio exam dealing with cell structure and division, mitosis and meiosis, chromosomes and ribosomes, I missed 4 out of 48 questions. 91%. An A.
Whew!

What a day

Today was a fabulous day as far as the weather goes. Cool, cloudless, and calm. This is when I like getting outdoors and doing yard/garden work that gets somewhat overlooked when it's sweltering. To me sweltering is anything above 75 degrees.
I picked the remaining tomatoes that were large enough to be worthy of picking, and pulled the plants and gave 'em a toss over the hillside. I figured maybe the groundhogs would appreciate them. I planted some potted trees that need just enough time to get some roots into the soil before the first freeze, and put 4 mums, that I acquired free of charge, into the ground as well.
The flower shop in town has closed up due to the owner having health issues, and so he stopped by and told me to go up and grab the mums that were left out in front of the place. I walked up there this morning and grabbed the 4 that were left, but before walking off I attached a note to his door thanking him for having business that made customers feel welcomed in his establishment.
The shop relocated a block away from me about 6 months ago after a devastating fire that started in another establishment that it was once connected to. He reopened after only being down and out for a month.
I would always stop in just to shoot the shit, and when I  needed flowers, I'd get a 20 dollar bouquet for 10 bucks. I am honored that he stopped by just to offer up the mums. His business will be missed by all.

I'm screwed

Tomorrow is my first exam in Biology. 45 Multiple choice, 15 true or false. That's it. Only one problem with that: I do better on essay tests. Word association is not at all hard, but that is where I seem to always give a couple wrong answers. You know....a simple twist in the wording and that's all it takes.
On the other hand my essay exams are always spot on. I am the one defining the question. I am the one wording my question. Even if I'm not sure of the question, I write enough bullshit so that somewhere in there I am at least touching on the subject enough to make the grade.
I have been out of high school long enough to have forgotten those ancient subjects of sciences, maths, languages, etc., and had educated myself with what I've seen, heard and tasted of the world at large. Thus going back to school after 30 plus years was a tough transition.
After years of thinking that life can't be enjoyed without the use of booze and dope, I cleaned my act up and have been free of both for over 5 years now (cigarettes as well). I decided to go to college to see if I had enough brain cells left to at least get an Associates Degree in Social Work. I wanted to get in to the drug and alcohol field in some lower position and work my way through. I want to give back to the community that is plagued with the abuse of both.
During the course of my 3rd semester I realized that I could make the grades and have now decided to go on and work towards a Bachelors Degree. Anyway, I was between my 3rd and 4th semester when my wife had her stroke, so at the start of the 4th, I had to drop two electives to free up time so as to spend more time with my wife at the hospital. So instead of graduating this past May, I am currently in a 5th semester of which those electives are being finished up. I am attending a Community College with plans to transfer to Carlow University in the Oakland area of Pittsburgh.
Getting back to the original point of this story, I will not start to sweat this exam until the instructor tells us to put all our belongs under the desks.
Maybe I should start studying...

Never to old to learn

Well I'm back in class again today, with only 2 classes but I'll be there for 7 hours. 4 hours of biology and bio lab, then 3 hours of philosophy. This philosophy has set me back 40 years since now I've found out that  I really don't know a damn thing. I blame Socrates.

I'm a "Cabin Bitch" for good reason

Any hunter knows that when you and your pals embark on a hunting trip, say for the opening of deer season, and plan on staying at someones camp, there is always a need to keep one person at the camp during the foray of others into the woods. A "Cabin Bitch" is the person who stays behind and does the tidying up and doing the dishes and cooking meals. We would always take along a buddy of ours that did not hunt at all, but rather enjoyed getting the hell out of Pittsburgh for a week. Our cabin was up in Dubois (Pa.) and was as peaceful as you could get. Anyway, this character loved going and doing the cabin bitchin' because to him it was like getting a meal just for washing dishes.
My wife had an Ischemic stroke in the early morning hours on the 27th of last December while on the operating table. Her colon had burst and she was rushed to the hospital and had emergency surgery to repair and clean up her insides. The surgeon said she crashed twice, and then had the stroke from the blood loss.
Marcie spent the next 45 days in ICU at the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center (Presbyterian) in downtown Pittsburgh, with another week on top of that at a rehab hospital closer to home. The main effects of the stroke were on her speech, reading and writing, and a small issue with her right hand.
She got as far as the visiting speech therapist could get her, and with not much more improvement after 4 months, the insurance company said enough was enough.
My point to all this folks is that my wife is in perfect physical health, but her ability to get out what she wants to say is bad. She can not comprehend written word, and can not focus enough to cook or clean. I am her main care giver now, doing all the cooking and most cleaning, all the finances she took care of, dealing with my son and his school ( he is a special education student in 11th grade), and everything else she did at one time. This is why you will read about my housecleaning ventures alongside anything else I may yammer about.
I am the permanent "Cabin Bitch."

Fall is in the air

I did a little house cleaning today since I could shut down the a/c and open the windows wide. My main objective was cleaning the living room carpet being it's the most highly trafficked area, and to bring the houseplants back in for the next 7 months.
The only real problem with pets that don fur is the abundance of that fur that accumulates on carpets and upholstery. So in preparation of using the rug scrubber, I vacuumed and vacuumed and vacuumed until finally nothing appeared in the dust cup.
Scrubbing carpets is such a pain in the ass, with having to move furniture from one side of the room to the other, waiting for the carpet to dry in order to move stuff around, and then putting it all back together. With the help of my son, it took a total of 6 hours, not to mention in order to move some pieces of furniture, I had to empty and clean the fish tank and the turtle tank, adding another 2 hours
onto the workload.
Starting the day off before the floor cleaning was the dish washing that I should of done last night, but was too damn lazy to get to it. Next I went out and did my outside chores such as feeding the birds and picking veggies that were ripened enough as far as I was concerned. Of course I can't forget the piles of dog crap that needed cleaned up and doing an overall yard check before heading back inside.
The weather today was rather gloomy, but refreshing, as temps didn't get up past 61 degrees, not to mention that there was a steady breeze and spits of rain here and there. Thus the reason I decided to clean carpets.
Finally to top the day off, i cooked dinner, and also baked a cake, the kind in a box mind you, but it still counts as baking one. I was hankering for something sweet so I did one of those opening and closing of cabinets and pantry door things, unsure of what the hell it is I wanted, then going back to the first cabinet and starting the process over again. Finally I saw the can of butter-cream frosting and decided I would make a Betty Crocker yellow cake. So.....half of it is gone already and only three of us are here today. Let me make it clear however, that I am the pig when it comes to sweets, and so my pieces were much larger than the others.
Hell, I made it, so it's only fair.

In case you didn't know

Pink Floyd rules!  And speaking of dogs:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9lgOo8yEIPs
You gotta be crazy, you gotta have a real need.
You gotta sleep on your toes, and when you're on the street,
You gotta be able to pick out the easy meat with your eyes closed.
And then moving in silently, down wind and out of sight,
You gotta strike when the moment is right without thinking.

And after a while, you can work on points for style.
Like the club tie, and the firm handshake,
A certain look in the eye and an easy smile.
You have to be trusted by the people that you lie to,
So that when they turn their backs on you,
You'll get the chance to put the knife in.

You gotta keep one eye looking over your shoulder.
You know it's going to get harder, and harder, and harder as you get older.
And in the end you'll pack up and fly down south,
Hide your head in the sand,
Just another sad old man,
All alone and dying of cancer.

And when you loose control, you'll reap the harvest you have sown.
And as the fear grows, the bad blood slows and turns to stone.
And it's too late to lose the weight you used to need to throw around.
So have a good drown, as you go down, all alone,
Dragged down by the stone.

I gotta admit that I'm a little bit confused.
Sometimes it seems to me as if I'm just being used.
Gotta stay awake, gotta try and shake off this creeping malaise.
If I don't stand my own ground, how can I find my way out of this maze?

Deaf, dumb, and blind, you just keep on pretending
That everyone's expendable and no-one has a real friend.
And it seems to you the thing to do would be to isolate the winner
And everything's done under the sun,
And you believe at heart, everyone's a killer.

Who was born in a house full of pain.
Who was trained not to spit in the fan.
Who was told what to do by the man.
Who was broken by trained personnel.

Who was fitted with collar and chain.
Who was given a pat on the back
Who was breaking away from the pack.
Who was only a stranger at home.

Who was ground down in the end.
Who was found dead on the phone.
Who was dragged down by the stone.

I am not an animal!

but I certainly have enough of them living with me: Two dogs, a cat, two rabbits, a couple nice sized goldfish, and a rather large red eared slider (turtle).
My parents rarely let me have pets, and outside of the parakeet, the ones I did have were always given away "to a nice man with a farm" or let go in the wild. The folks were never animal people with a few exceptions, i.e. my mom loved wild birds, and the old man warmed up to the parakeet, so it was never hard for them to dispose of the pets when they became their nuisance.
"A boy and his dog" was more like "That boy and his goddamned dirty dog" in my household. Both dogs that I had for such a short spell were not allowed in the house, and were chained to a stake, accompanied but raggedy dog houses. My dad despised them more than mom, so when grueling cold weather set in, she would be the one to have me put them in the garage "without telling your father." The female I owned, Rosey, was a beagle/something/something mix, and was never fixed. Needless to say, stray males would get a whiff of her and show up in the wee morning hours fighting, howling, and mounting. That was her downfall, being a non-spayed  female, by God we won't stand for it kind of dog. And so, upon my arrival back from school one crisp October day (yes I still remember 40 years later), I saw a bare chain on the ground with no dog attached. In the house I went, yelling that we must all go look for Rosey, that she broke loose. "Oh no" says my mom, "I called a nice man who has a farm and he came and got her. She will live and play happily there from now on." Of course some years later, I come to find that the "Nice Man" was the high kill shelter just outside of town.
The male I owned after Rosey was named Dusty. Without going into detail, he basically met the same fate. He lasted a shorter period than Rosey, and this time I knew his time was coming. My mom was jealous because I "spent more friggin' time with that fleabag than I did with the family." Now remember people, I was a young lad at the time, so on the night before he was to be taken by another "Nice Man" I sang my rendition of Harry Nilsson's (I Can't Live if Living is) "Without You" to him. Hearing this song today would still make me emotional all these years later. Songs remind us all of a certain time, place, someone or something. The old lady tells me I'm a rough, tough cream-puff. So be it!
The rabbits that I somehow acquired off and on never lasted long either, but this time the "Nice Man" didn't get called, Dad just loaded them up, took them and I for a ride, and dropped them off by the side of the road in the middle of a wooded hollow. "They'll be fine" he said, "look at ll the green stuff there is for them to eat!" Yep, that made me feel so damned much better.
I now compensate, and have been for many years, by surrounding myself with animals. My kids were lucky growing up, they always got the pets they never asked for. They didn't have to.

Finalizing my afore posting

Okay, everybody was fed, so I shall finish up my history...
I left off with saying that I adopted  pup from the pound in Norfolk, which was the first time I've gotten a dog that way. That dog brought me so much love and happiness, and I basically revolved around his needs. Billy Bear died about 13 years back, and as I type this, I'm flooded with bittersweet memories. Yes, I am a dog person.
I met my wife at the True Value I worked at part-time, but we didn't start dating until around my 6 month mark of employment. She was friendly enough, but always looked a tad pissed off. One night while working on a good buzz at a local Va. Beach hot-spot called "Bottoms", she (better known to me as Marcie) was there celebrating her 21st birthday. She saw me before I her, and upon her approach she says to me "I didn't know they let assholes like you in this bar." Now folks, I had never done a thing to upset her, we were on friendly terms, and I was a bit taken aback. I surmised that it was the booze she consumed (Kamikazes), and let it slide.
We sat together for a while, doing general bullshittin', when I bluntly asked her "Why are you such a bitch?" She fielded that question rather smoothly by telling me that she's only like that as a front. Anyways, we were soon dancing together and buying drinks for each other, which led to her giving me good reviews to other employees at the hardware store. In turn it all led to us marrying 5 years later, moving to Pittsburgh 2 years after that, having kids, and settling into the "American Dream."
In posts to follow, I will tell of triumphs, trials, and tribulations. Life as we all know, is filled with ups and downs, and regrettable mistakes, but also with accomplishments and victories.
This is the part where my thoughts run rampant...

I've Too Many Thoughts To Keep To Myself.

So I thought I would let loose some of the insanity that thrives and breeds within my head. I am like no other you've known, for my thoughts are far reaching, from one end of the spectrum to the other. They are indefinite, and plain strange at times. I have no clue as to how I arrive at one to the next, and to the next, and, well, you get my drift.
Some background for anyone who ventures onto this blog:
I am older than 45, but younger than 55. I was raised in western Pennsylvania in a small, once upon a time, steel town just outside of Pittsburgh. I graduated high school when it was still cool to wear bell-bottomed pants, silk shirts, and platform shoes. I chose the wearing of Levi's bell-bottom jeans, rock and roll groups t-shirts and steel toed boots over the former. However it's not to say I didn't have the "Disco" clothes hanging in my closet, as I was a chameleon among those I hung around with. I joined the Navy at the beginning of the end for the steel industry around Pittsburgh, wanting to see more than just smokestacks and a polluted Ohio River. Luckily I did so as the bottom began to fall out of the industry my first or second year in the military, leaving many, if not most of my friends unemployed.
Fast-forwarding, I got out of the Navy after serving 6 years aboard two different nuclear powered aircraft carriers and hundreds of thousands of logged miles in all seven seas. I will pass along many "Sea Stories" in other posts, but for now it's onward we go.
I left San Diego and headed to Virginia Beach to move in with a friend I met on a family vacation during my senior year of high school. He had an place close to the beach, partied as hard as I did, and had a gorgeous sister that I hoped I could hook up with. I got a job with the City of Norfolk as a plumbers helper and made a decent paycheck, but I also took on a part-time job working at a True-Value Home Center at the beach for some extra partying money. Topping off the semi-perfect life was my adopting a puppy barely 8 weeks old.
I will continue this saga of sorts, but for now I must attend to my prepping of dinner, as the inhabitants of this house of mine  are singing the blues of hunger.
Until later folks,
Dave