I Get to Look at Tall Buildings

Tags

fun, lessons learned, neighbors, personal, relationships

…and I looked at them in a single bound.

*insert rim shot*

Chicago can be a cool and interesting place, even to a small town bumpkin such as yours truly.  Generally, even though I live within spitting distance of the city, a western suburbanite who prefers the peaceful serenity of the burbs,  I turn up my nose at the city, pooh pooh the noise and grime and crowds and intrusiveness that comes with urban life.  Until I get a chance to embrace city life, experience it vicariously through friends or an unique adventure, I bad mouth city life in the spirit of true ignorance.  Saturday was a day where I was treated to an adventure that showed me the city in a unique light.  Even though I will never want to live there, I can appreciate Chicago a bit more.

A friend invited me to join her for a trip into the city to take an architecture tour of Chicago via boat.  She lured me by offering to pay for the day, a treat for my birthday.  I’m old and cheap, so it’s easy to tempt me with cheap inexpensive entertainment.  Besides, the Chicago architecture boat tour has always been intriguing to me, so no real temptation was necessary, no pied piper.  We took the train into Ogilvie station early in the morning, the trip not only fun because it’s not something I do every day, but it was unique in another way — for some reason the porter passed by us the entire trip.  It was if we were invisible.  We exited the train at Ogilvie, puzzled by the strange behavior of the porter, thankful to have saved $20 on the train trip.  As it turned out, we had to buy tickets at the station for the trip home — $14.87, so our transportation was $5 less than planned.

Planning comes natural to Lisa, a certification administrator for a hospital network.  She also is a Groupon junkie, thus the cheap inexpensive boat tour.  It was a deal.  The walk to the boat was a fairly long trek from Ogilvie station, but Lisa knew how long it would take us to get there.   Along the way, we would use a gift card to purchase coffee and breakfast, at an Einstein bagel restaurant on the route to the boat dock, a restaurant that Lisa had located prior to our trip together.  As I found out during the course of the day, it was a much better experience to go to the city with someone who knows the city and has a plan.

Viewing Chicago from the river and Lake Michigan lends a whole new perspective to the city.  It looks more wide open, for one thing, an opportunity to view the intimidating behemoths towering straight above from a much less restrictive view.  I was able to see the characteristics of each part of the city, witness the inhabitants enjoying the city in a different way.  The boat took a route that entered the river from the river side of the lock at Navy pier, east of Lake Shore drive.  There are no skyscrapers save one east of Lake Shore drive, something that Montgomery Ward lobbied for nearly 100 years ago and what adds to the beauty of the city.  So as we approached the city on the Chicago river from the east side of Lake Shore, we were able to take in the awesome approach of the expanse of the buildings from an outside vista, as if the city was a natural part of the horizon.  It belongs there.

Even the Trump tower belongs.  Built in 2009 to blend in with the curves of the river and the city around it, the tower adds an elegance to the view.  Unlike its namesake, it’s neither garish nor rude.  True to Chicago, it adds to the history, fits with the architectural era it was built to fill (post modernism).  That is what makes the architecture of Chicago so rich — its buildings tell a story, show a little what life was like in each stage of its history.  There are so many iconic buildings in Chicago — the Hancock, Willis (Sears) tower, Merchandise mart, NBC tower, River towers, Vista (will be the tallest woman designed building in the world), Monadnock,.. just to name a few.  To be able to view these buildings from a historical perspective, often with several eras side by side, adds to the pure enjoyment of the tour.

The boat cruised the main channel as we viewed the expanse that surrounded us, yet did not encroach, turned south as we learned the story of the Chicago fire that devasted that part of the city, then turned north to witness some of the history of gentrified warehouses turned upper end residential.  At the end of the tour, the boat swung out towards the lake, then back to give an excellent picture of Chicago’s skyline.

It was a treat.  I have lived close to Chicago nearly my entire life, a suburbanite the last thirty or so years.  Until now, my idea of the city was a large looming hodge podge that closed me in, that offered no true value in terms of peace or serenity.  My opinion was closed minded, I knew and know.  That’s just it — I am human, influenced by what I know, which is the open prairie with it’s flat, wide open, free space.  The city made me feel claustrophobic.  Now I see that someone who truly loves the city does not need to feel that way.

Tour over, we headed towards Navy Pier, a tourist area with a huge ferris wheel that extends out into Lake Michigan.  I was promised a special surprise, a treat.  When I saw it, my eyes became saucers — Rainbow ice cream, layers of different flavors scooped into one cone or cup.  Chocolate, pistachio, butter pecan, cherry, strawberry, and topped by orange sherbet.  It was INCREDIBLE.  We found a place inside the pier mall to enjoy our treat, walked the shops.  My other treat there was to ham it up on one of those screens with a camera that captures the viewer, places a goofy hat and mask on them.  I probably spent way too much time messing with that.

From there, we walked to the Little Italy area of Chicago.  Chicago is like many cities, with sections that reflect an ethnic flavor, one of the characteristics of the city that adds a richness.  We had reservations at an old style italian restaurant, downed fresh pasta (gnocchi for me) with plenty of garlic spread on fresh bread and a little bit of wine.  It was a terrific way to cap the day.

Instead of walking back to Ogilvie station to catch the train back to the western burbs, we summoned a Lyft driver.  After close to 22,000 steps (nearly 9 miles), we both were beat.  Our driver dropped us off at the station with ten minutes to spare before the train was scheduled to leave.  We arrived home with an evening left to share, spent outside with more wine on my balcony, waiting for the bats to fly overhead at dusk.

Yes, bats.  It’s not creepy at all.  Rather, they are fun to watch as they weave towards the river close by, going home after a day spent away.  Perhaps they are checking out the city as well?

 

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Health Insurance Roulette

Tags

life, personal, relationships

One of the more frustrating challenges in the past few years, especially since I changed employers March 2014, has been affordable health insurance.  When I was fired, I lost the BCBS family silver PPO that my employer subsidized.  It had been close to 25 years since I had to worry about health insurance for myself or for my family, the cost of my insurance and insurance for my family subsidized by my employer.  The pay I received from that job was bad to marginal but the health insurance benefit was above average and good, the $28 deduct from my weekly paycheck worth every penny.  Suddenly, I was faced with paying for COBRA insurance, then working through the then new federal Healthcare Marketplace.  I was offered a job two days after I was fired, but my new employer was small — a three person office with me being the only official full time domestic employee of a company based in eastern Europe.  There would be no company health insurance benefit, although the job offer included a monthly allowance for my family’s health insurance.  Even then, I would be required to pay roughly 75% of the insurance cost.

One note — I am very proud to be able to say that was only unemployed for two days.  The word of my demise spread quickly, as nasty stories have a tendency to do, and someone with my reputation and experience is rare in the industry I serve.  There was a lot of interest to hire me and the company who hired me was very happy to get someone with my experience.  Unfortunately, I needed a month to recover from the stress I had been through in the months/years leading up to the incident that led to my firing.  So much had been heaped on me for a long time, combined with financial and family/marital stress that added to the stress at work, that I had reached a breaking point.  While my employer had been extremely cruel to me, I hadn’t helped myself with my final reaction, which had been to tell my boss to fire truck off — he had been looking for a reason to fire me and was intentionally trying to push me over the edge.  After a long Wednesday that had been preceded by several long days and months of constant ruthless badgering by my boss, I handed the reason to him on a silver platter.  I can only say that I have had to learn some hard lessons about dealing with anger properly.  It’s not that I was an angry, raging lunatic, but I tried to avoid losing my temper so much that it wasn’t healthy in a lot of ways.  It hurt me physically and there were times where the frustration became too much for me to handle.  That time of my life taught me a lot of lessons, the stress actually pushing my body past its limits.  It was a good thing that I had good health insurance at the time!

For the record, no matter what my ex says, curse words are not a normal part of my daily vocabulary.  I know how many times she heard me curse in the 25 years we were married — so few that I can count the number of times on one hand.  Saying fire truck to my boss means that I was stressed out of my mind.  The day before the firing, the stress had been so bad that I had to go out to my car so that coworkers would not have to watch me lose it.  I sat in my car weeping uncontrollably for a good half hour.

I negotiated the dark waters of that first open enrollment fairly well, barely making the deadline for the 2014 open enrollment.  My son was diagnosed with borderline ADHD when he was 10 years old, prescribed the expensive medicines that go along with it.  I didn’t agree with the diagnosis then, don’t agree now, definitely question the necessity of the medications.  My boy has been exposed to an amphetamine that he will never be able to quit taking.  Those medications and the psychiatric care that goes with them make it a challenge to get affordable health insurance for him.  Most plans do not include those medications or psychiatric care.  If they do, they are very expensive.  That meant that the federal subsidy was necessary to keep the monthly insurance payment below $1000 per month.

The PPO for 2014 was discontinued at the end of 2014.  The plan that replaced it cost three times as much, making it impossible to afford even with the federal subsidy.  Through the Marketplace, I found another lower tier PPO that covered the medications required and was roughly the same cost.  It was supposed to also include the pediatrician and doctors we used.  The monthly federal subsidy was a little higher.  After signing up, we found out that our doctors had dropped out of the PPO’s network.  We were screwed for 2015.  So, when that PPO was also discontinued at the end of 2015 and replaced once again by a far more expensive PPO, I changed to an HMO for 2016 that was affordable.

2016 was the year the divorce started, although we didn’t separate until April 2017.  Late 2016, I took an advance from my retirement fund to pay off outstanding credit card debt (another stress for years, as well as a symptom of a terrible marriage).  When 2016 taxes were filed and my wife and I had separated, I received a letter from the IRS that advised that our 2016 income had exceeded the maximum combined income to receive the federal health insurance subsidy — which meant that I had less than two weeks to come up with the nearly $7000 to pay back the total 2016 insurance subsidy.  Since each of us had changed addresses, the letter got to me after the due date to pay the $7000, resulting in a hefty penalty for late payment.

This story is getting long.  Let’s just say that I was fortunate to have the money from my portion of the sale of our house.  Otherwise, it would have been much more difficult to deal with.  As it was, it depleted my savings to near nothing, making the first year of divorce a quite bit more uphill financially.  I am thankful that I planned my post divorce budget well, something I think my ex hates.  She suspects I have unlimited finances, I think, judging from the way she asks for money.  Truthfully, if I don’t stick to the budget I have set, I would be hurting.  God help me if there is an emergency (like my car is strongly hinting at now).

Things like unexpected changes to health insurance premiums can really mess with that budget.  This month, I start paying on the Parent Plus loan that I had to take out during my daughter’s junior and senior years of college.  I planned on that, but it means my budget is even more tight.  To avoid the excessive health insurance premiums and possible federal health insurance subsidy issue, this year I avoided the federal Marketplace altogether.  Instead of health insurance, I enrolled in a federally recognized health share for myself.  I found an inexpensive health insurance plan for my son — and found out that I either misunderstood what the salespeople told me or I was lied to.  His plan is a supplementary plan, not intended to be the health insurance plan.  It also doesn’t cover his prescriptions or psychiatric care, something I was careful about when shopping for his insurance, so I know I was lied to in that case.  His insurance is definitely not the plan I was told it would be.  It sounded too good to be true and it was too good to be true, as is usually the case.

So, my son needs to find insurance that meets his needs.  I have been asking him to come over to my place so we can look into a new plan for him, cancel the plan he has now.  I can’t cancel his insurance because legally I am not allowed.  I also want to see if he qualifies for a federal subsidy on his own, probably the way we can afford the insurance he needs.  I have to pay for his insurance, 100% of it, per the divorce agreement.

He is avoiding me.  Until yesterday, he ignored my phone calls and text messages.  He has done that for weeks.  I would have tried to get his mother involved, but wanted to give Nate a shot first, let him learn how to do it on his own.  I have communicated the reason why it needs to be done this way.  The open enrollment period ends this Saturday.  It has to be started a few days before or else there will be trouble.

They both answered me, partially, yesterday.  When I say partially, both said they received my messages.  So I encouraged her (and said it has to be done) to work with him to get enrollment started in the next two days.  I said I have to approve any plan enrollment before they enroll, as I have to get it approved for my employer to pay their portion.

Crickets.

The challenge isn’t just dealing with the health insurance itself.  This would be difficult if the divorce had never happened.  Dealing with it with all the angst of the divorce is making it a real challenge.  Trying to get both my son and my wife to work on getting the health insurance questions resolved requires patience… and prayer.

Crisco is not the Answer

Tags

life, middle age, relationships, technology

This time of year is always filled with transitions, changes required due to cold weather coming on and the snow/moisture that comes with it, as well as the decreased amount of daylight available.  As soon as I come home, I am greeted by the mass of Christmas decorations that adorn my condominium unit, a brightly lit and Cardinal infested tree in front of my living room windows reminding me that the season has begun.  When I wake in the morning, I am reminded quickly that my exercise and diet need to be adjusted to a disciplined routine, my waist straining to overtake my jeans as I pull them on.

Warning — Using Crisco to facilitate pulling on tight pants is not recommended.  People question the stains and lard can cause a painful rash.  Shoehorns are also not recommended as they can get stuck.. or lost depending on the extent of your “transition”.

Last night I visited a friend for a night of watching football, something that is becoming a bit of a weekly thing.  When I arrived, he was showing another friend the bicycle training set up in his kitchen.

Yes, we’re single men.  Single men are able to keep bicycles inside the house without fear of repercussion or bicycle destruction at the hands of a distressed female.

John has a nice set up, his Cervelo connected to a Wahoo Kickr resistance trainer.  That trainer transmits via Bluetooth to a PC which has a Zwift subscription.  Zwift is a training app that controls the resistance as you “train” online with (or against) friends, a virtual group ride through various simulated terrain.  My friend’s eyes glistened as he described a recent training ride where he and another friend dropped the lead group, then carefully waited for the right moment to sprint to the finish line.  John raised an arm in triumph as he recalled edging his “training partner” at the line.

Let me pause as I wipe the drool off of my keyboard.  I WANT THAT TRAINING SET UP!  Can you say ho ho ho?

This time of year can be filled with dreams of training sugar plums.  Last Friday morning, my friend Mike gleefully showed me the app he uses for his diet and training.  Mike is a body builder, so he watches his calorie intake closely.  He has some cred, enough that I respect what he is telling me.  Mike uses an app called My Fitness Pal, something I think I am going to try to help me make it through the Winter transition.  The app is free, with a premium option, so it can’t hurt to try.  It features a dietary log with tons of restaurant food and recipes loaded in to aid in tracking calories.  Favorite recipes can be saved, a useful tool when setting up a menu and grocery list.

We shall see.  My best riding seasons have been preceded with a disciplined off season that includes some kind of electronic resistance training (usually Computrainer) and diet.

Happy Transition-mas!!!

 

The Ho Comes Early

Tags

fun, life, relationships

My ‘lady friend’ (term courtesy of my neighbor) is Clark Griswold’s twin sister, interior design version.  True story.  The pictures above were taken inside my condo unit last night.  The pictures don’t do the decorating justice — it’s beautiful and all done, for the most part, by my lovely and talented ‘lady friend’.  The joy on her face as she toiled and fretted over each detail was cute, something I laughed at as I told her so.  That she would enjoy the decorating was never a question in my mind.  Every weekend since September, she has had a little bag of goodies for me, Christmas decorations scoured carefully by her practiced eyes from the racks at local Goodwill stores.  It’s a talent, a gift, her ability to find a gift in the midst of the mess of stuff at that store truly amazing to me.  D has been dreaming of how those lovingly selected trinkets would fit together inside (and outside) of my condo unit for months.  When she suggested early last week that our dates this weekend would consist of dinner and decorating at my place, I had no choice but to say yes.

While I am not really ready for Christmas to start happening yet, watching her in her element was pure entertainment.  Ideas kept flooding over her as she worked, changes and tweaks implemented until the detail was just right to her.  D would stand back, palms extended outward with a pleased smile on her face, admiring her handiwork.  It was cute to watch.  Saturday night, we worked on the tree together after dinner (stuffed shells with salad, chocolate cake and Malbec for dessert).  I was merely a participant as my personal designer woman directed the festivity.

It’s a good thing that I rarely use that dining room table.  We will need to invite friends over for dinner, so the festive arrangements can be shared.  My kitchen table (not pictured) also is decorated, although I had to rein her in a little bit there — that table is my place to hang out, as well as the place where some of my cooking prep is done.  Pretty is not practical, for the most part.  Decorating also spilled out into the hallway outside my front door, where an old wooden rocking horse awaits with a red bow around its neck, as well as an old restored wood sled.  The sled was used by my brothers and I, lovingly restored by my dad.  Some time this week, a wreath will be added to the sled.  There also is a welcome sign hung on my front door, a snowman couple wishing everyone a joyful season.

Now I can sit back and enjoy my decorated condo… until we help D’s mom decorate next weekend!

(I should probably apologize for the title of today’s blog — I couldn’t resist and it has no bearing on my ‘lady friend’… unless you talk to my downstairs neighbor.  In case anyone is wondering, heels were carefully removed at my front door.)

Tap Tap Tap

Tags

life, neighbors, relationships

Getting mail is always so much fun, right?  That’s usually the case, unless the envelope has an IRS return address or is a bill.  When I was growing up, back in the stone age when email was a pipe dream conceived in a dime store science fiction novel, my brothers and I fought to be the privileged one to be asked to retrieve the mail from the mailbox each day.  There might be a treasure waiting, a postcard from a cousin visiting the Badlands or a letter or a prize from a cereal box contest win.. or a secret decoder wheel from Ovaltine!  The Ovaltine thing never happened.. I am not THAT old.

I thought about those days gone by this morning as I contemplated a piece of mail received in last night’s mail, an envelope with no return address, my name and address handwritten on the front, multiple stamps carefully stuck in a line on the front right corner.  Was it a secret admirer ready to declare her desire from afar?  My check from a Nigerian prince who couldn’t help but share his immense wealth with me?  An offer to star in George Clooney’s life story (it could happen)?  Alas, the post office stamp revealed that the envelope had been mailed from the post office down the street from my condo.  It had not been mailed from a far away admirer, a Nigerian prince, or George Clooney.

As it turned out, the mystery envelope had originated from a source that I should have been able to guess, a person so close to me that they could have made the contents into a paper airplane and air mailed it to me — Terese, my downstairs darling, the nitpicker of my heart.  It’s been a while since she has formally declared her admiration, although she has bellowed a few exclamations of her deep desire in my direction lately.

It’s possible she is jealous of my “lady friend”.  I am offended, however, or maybe I should be honored that she is hiding her passion, carefully wording this letter to conceal her true feelings.  My heart is warmed knowing that she thinks of me as three legged (think about that one for a second).  Terese had help writing this letter, judging from the polite language.  That is not normally her style.  Control is her style and it’s still the reason for this letter.  A few seconds of tap tap tap once or twice a month is not a reason to mail a letter of complaint to your neighbor.

Wait, how does she know it was my lady friend?  Uh oh.  Now I know why it seems like my grandpa’s eyes have been following me.  Maybe I should hang that picture somewhere else.  A friend of mine suggested that I should dress in stilettos and drag, go downstairs to apologize.  That would keep her guessing!  It might also give her another reason to complain.  Our condo association rules don’t contain a clause that forbids cross dressing, at least I don’t think so.

She apparently travelled into the future to write this letter.  The DeLorean in her driveway should have been a tip off.  As my ever alert friend Mummalunga, observed, there just might be a tardis concealed under that tarp my neighbor has mounted under my balcony.

Shoes will be removed promptly every Saturday night (date night) upon entering my condo.  They usually are, but truthfully I have not reminded her as of late to remove her shoes, cognizant of the noise they are making but not really caring if my oversensitive neighbor is bothered.  Had she been polite to me from the beginning of my residency in my stately manor, I might be more inclined to be more polite to her.  That is not the best policy, I know, so I will try to comply within reason — until the next attempt to control comes from below.

It’s sad, really.  I would prefer a good relationship with my neighbors, of which I do have with my other neighbors, where all she would need to do is let me know that every once in a while something is bothering her.  Attempts to talk with her have always turned to hostility, so I know that can’t happen.  Ironically, two weekends ago, my other upstairs neighbor placed a nice bottle of wine in front of the doorstep of their three neighbors, with a note apologizing for the noise they have made while renovating their unit.  That was very cool.

Terese is obviously tip toeing, maybe even trying to start a paper trail.  She has curtailed her screeches.  She mailed this letter instead of taping it to my door.  Perhaps this letter was suggested by a lawyer, condo property management, or by the condo association board.  Either way, she has pushed her luck and knows it.  Constant complaining has weakened the strength of her complaints.

 

Dangling the Carrot

Tags

biking, relationships

My children would do most anything for ice cream.  These days, all I have to do is mention that I might be making my vanilla recipe and they invite themselves over.  When they were pre-teen, I would entice them to ride their bicycles with me by making the destination one of the local Dairy Queen restaurants.  The creamy temptation was too much for them to resist.

More often than not, it takes a tasty reward to motivate most people who are not bicycle enthusiasts to ride any distance at all, whether that person is child or adult.  My friend, also named Steve, is one of those people.  His wife has enlisted my assistance to get him out to exercise with me, my bikey-ness (that is a word as of this moment) part of the reason she sought me out.  She is fit, he not so much, although the guy is one strong beast, something I was glad for when he helped me move from my house to my condo.  Steve grumbles in a good natured way as his wife says things like well you should get out and ride with him or you should get him to fix your bike so you can ride it.  He knows he should get exercise, it’s just not at the top of his list.

With some prompting and to his credit, Steve went out and bought new tires/tubes for his bicycle, then texted me to see when I could pick up his bike for a tune up.  I came over right away, took the bike home and rolled it from my car rack to work stand.  The new tires went on in a jiffy, followed by a quick bath and inspection.  After thoroughly cleaning the drive train, I trued the wheels (the rear pulled slightly to the right) then took it out for a test ride.  The brakes were still in good shape, but the shifter for the rear derailleur is shot — not surprising for a 25 year old bike.  Back on the rack and with cables cleaned/greased, I was able to play with the shifting enough to get it to shift through half of the range.  Since it’s a triple chain ring bike, he will be able to ride it with ease on the crushed limestone paths close by.  The bike looks a whole lot better now, is safe to ride, but not in perfect working order.

The price for the time I spent messing with Steve’s bike is good deal.  He has to ride that bike with me.  So, when I delivered the bike back to him last night, one of the first things I asked Steve was if he is available to ride with me this week.  When he hesitated, his wife dangled the adult version of an ice cream carrot in front of him.

Maybe you can ride to Dry City and have a beer?

Bingo.  We’re riding tonight after work.

Bicycle Friendly

Tags

bicycle, neighbors, relationships

I like bicycles, so much that most people who know me identify that interest as part of who I am.  When I relax, when I exercise, it almost always involves a bicycle.  Many times over the years, friends think of me when they have a question about a bicycle they are buying, when they need an old bicycle fixed/refurbished, or simply when they start to enjoy bicycling themselves.  Many times, bicycles are the first impression people have of me.  Right now, I have a bicycle in my garage that a friend asked me to fix up for him — and it’s almost ready after one day.  I just need to look at the shift cables and make some adjustments.  The price for fixing up his bicycle is that he must go for a ride with me when I deliver it back to him.  His wife is very pleased with me, as well as her husband for taking the initiative to ask me to help.

After one year of living in my condo, my neighbors have become accustomed to the sight of me working on bicycles in my garage.  Usually, I set up my portable workstand out in the front of the parking bay where there is more light and where there is a breeze, my music playing lightly on the old stereo I have set up out there.  The community I live in is nestled into a quiet little valley next to a river, hidden away.   Each evening, my neighbors stroll by as they walk their dogs or get their exercise.  Many hang out on the drive in front of their building.  Most stop to say hello, ask about the bike I am working on, or to ask about how things are going.  A few stop by with their bicycle to ask me to help adjust a seat or to check out an issue the bike is having.  It’s a good way to get to know my neighbors, something I really enjoy.

Last night, as I was working on my friend’s bicycle, one of my neighbors stopped by with her bicycle.  If I said that I am not interested in getting to know Lisa a little bit better, I would be fibbing.  She caught my attention last year and we have light conversation occasionally as she passes by or if I see her at the pool.  At a condo party last summer, we teamed up for a bags tournament and won.  Lisa is fun, easy to talk to, a tall blonde, pretty.  Had she not been so guarded and my marital status still not finalized, I think I would have pursued her last year.  As it was, I just couldn’t get enough to gauge whether she was interested or not.  I thought that maybe she wasn’t available.  I needed to know more about her story.  Lately, she has stopped by for a little longer each time, shared quite a bit more about herself, enough that it is obvious she wants me to know she is available.  As I adjusted the seat height on her bicycle last night, she asked how I keep my garage so tidy and in order, how it is not filled to the brim with things.  Didn’t you bring a lot of things over from your house after the divorce?  I know I did.  I took the opportunity to purge in more ways than one, I explained, plus a lot of the things on my garage shelves are things I am storing for my daughter.  Can’t your ex wife store things for her?  Where does she live?  Do you have a friendly relationship with her?  More questions, answered easily.  I was happy to tell her that my ex and I have an amicable relationship — I think that gives a good impression.  It’s not quite that way with my ex, even after so many years.  She wants me to know more about her, I can see.

What will come of Lisa is yet to be seen.  Nothing, maybe.  Even one date could be playing with fire, risky seeing someone who lives within a few seconds walking distance.  That could also be a good thing.  One of the reasons my Saturday night friend is a question mark is that she is only available on Saturday evenings.  Either way, learning to navigate the female friend waters is proving to be interesting.  Honestly, after 25 years of marriage, I thought that I would no longer be attractive or interesting to the opposite sex.  Learning that is not exactly true is a challenge, a bit intimidating, but as I said it is interesting.

Here is what is also not what I expected — I thought that the woman who would be most appealing to me is one who is a cycling enthusiast.  What I am finding is that someone who falls into that category is a bit too enthusiastic about riding!  My Saturday night friend went for a short ride with me last weekend, thoroughly enjoyed herself.  It was a casual stroll through the woods close to my place, breathtaking since it was close to dusk.  I enjoyed watching her smile as she rode, genuinely happy to be riding with me.  She has long black hair, prettier when it was flowing lightly behind her.  It set the tone for the evening, helped me see a part of her that I was delighted to see.

Bicycle friendly is taking on a whole new meaning for me!

Musical

Tags

life, middle age, relationships

One of the benefits of the changes in living situation…

I am learning new ways to not say ‘divorce’.

… is that I am having a lot of fun trying new recipes.  Before my living situation changed, I had to stick with food that worked.  Food that worked most often was frozen pizza, maybe some home made lasagna or stuffed shells or cheese potatoes or parmesan chicken now and then.  Now, it’s whatever seems interesting.

Cheese filled gnocchi in a tomato cream sauce

Soy and honey marinated grilled chicken served on a flour tortilla with cabbage and peanut ginger sauce

Garlic, broccoli, and cauliflower mashed potatoes

Pork loin slow cooked with sauerkraut and potatoes

Pulled BBQ pork sandwiches topped with cole slaw

Toasted french bread topped with grilled mushroom, red bell pepper, onion, zucchini and melted mozzarella

Hungry?  Good thing that I was a bad boy at lunch and had that jumbo hot dog and fries.

*burp*

Recently, I decided to cook dinner for a pretty lady that I have been dating now and then.  D is a princess type with long dark hair, petite, always dressed very nicely.  We know each other well enough now that she is comfortable coming to my bachelor pad (do people still use that term?).  I have proven that I am not a perv or serial killer.. or I hide it well.  D also is one whose diet prefers not consuming whatever is cute or squeals (unless it’s a pork chop), so it’s safer to cook vegetarian for her.  Thus, my choice for our dinner at my place — Pumpkin Chili.

The recipe was courtesy of the fitness advisor I consult with monthly while in the beginning stages with the health share that I joined at the beginning of this year (screw you, Health Care mktplace).  It’s a veggie chili chock full of beans, tomatoes and veggies.  A large can of pumpkin serves to thicken the broth and adds an interesting flavor.

I served a nice lettuce salad on the side, as well as cornbread with strawberry jam.

About an hour after dinner, her stomach started gurgling. So did mine.  It became gastronomically pain-fully obvious that we were about to find out how comfortable we were with each other.

BRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPP

She moved the wrong way.  To her credit, she barely blushed, merely shrugged it off.

BRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPP

It was my excuse to relieve the pressure.

She passed the test.

My guess is that if you go to a dinner party hosted by vegetarians, it had best be outdoors.

 

12 Short Months

Tags

divorce, lessons learned, life, personal, relationships

April 1, 2017

I woke to the pungent odor of cigarette smoke wafting through the slightly open window behind my head, early, the stench combined with the brisk morning air through the window bringing me awake quickly.  The room was foreign to me, a crowded reminder that I was no longer living in the home that I had occupied with my wife and family for nearly 22 years.  Two days before, friends had helped me cram as many of my belongings as possible into that room, the rest of my belongings shoe horned into a small rental locker a few miles away.  Late in the afternoon of March 31, I had bid good bye to the house that had been my home.. my family’s home.  As the cigarette smoke cleared my head, I looked around the room from where I lay on two beds combined into one, boxes and furniture stacked to the ceiling.  In order to go to bed the night before, I had to clear a narrow path from the bedroom door to my bed(s).  My temporary roommate was outside on the balcony, just outside the window, chain smoking and playing games on her smart phone.  She had vowed to quit smoking inside the condo that I was buying from her.  In another month, she would move into the house she had bought.  Over the course of the month we shared the space, we would reacquaint after nearly a 25 year absence from each other — when we had dated seriously.  I became used to her chain smoking and habits — she sat outside smoking and drinking wine until nearly 9 each evening, went to bed, woke up at 5 AM to smoke before going to work.

Often, I relaxed outside on the deck with her, glad to have a friend who cared.  We are similar personalities, a real benefit to us when we dated, probably one of the reasons we had become such good friends during the time we dated.  We were also different people in certain respects, likely the reason why our dating relationship didn’t work out, something very obvious when we reconnected after a quarter century.  Good friends usually stay that way, even after a long absence, and I was happy to realize that at one time in my life I had been able to give a woman the friendship she needed (and vice versa).  On April 1, 2017 it was very important to have a friend who supported me like Marge supported me in the weeks that followed.

There was a lot to get used to, much to process, much more than I could imagine at the time.  I felt relief to be away from the stress that had been such a constant part of my life for years.  My journey had taken the turn in the direction it had been heading for years, I knew, what felt like the direction it needed to take, the uncertainty in my mind wondering what was ahead.  This was uncharted territory, but I could see light through the darkness and I was stumbling towards it.

That part of my story is not about a love rekindled.  I like to think of it as it was — a kind blessing and one of the blessings or mercies afforded to me during the time after the separation.  My life took what felt like a sudden turn, even though it really wasn’t a sudden change, but in one moment, in one day, my life changed drastically.

I have chronicled some of the past year here.  As I contemplate what has happened in one year, I am amazed.  A lot has happened, a lot has changed. as have I.  The smoke infested condo that I bought from my old friend is now my home.  It took a lot of effort, but no longer are the walls yellowed or the strong odor of stale cigarettes evident.  That place is slowly becoming my own.

Another good friend of mine really likes to decorate.  A fun date for her is to decorate my place with the curtains and furniture and plates and pictures and candles and glasses and… yeah.  Her mark is all over my home now.  We are getting to know each other, slowly and not so slowly discovering the different things we need to know about each other if our relationship is going to continue.  There are a few questions, but we are happy with each other, enjoying each other.  She brings me contentment and peace, a reason to smile each Saturday evening, a companion via text and phone the other six days of the week.

I have not told my family about that friend, but they must know.  If they read this blog, they know now.  That revelation, when to share it, is one of the challenges that I have to face now.  Dad’s dating has to be a hard pill to swallow.

In a year, I have learned to value even more the friendships in my life, both old and new.  Survival through the challenges I have encountered since April 2017 has depended a lot on recognizing how God works through other people, his blessings and support brought through them.  It’s a bit humbling.  I recognize those blessings a lot easier now, that recognition bringing me back to the God that provides them.  Skeptics will say that it is impossible to see God.  I say they are very wrong, especially since I can see him so clearly now through what he has brought to me this past year.

My children, my ex wife, probably don’t agree with me, but the change that began seemingly so suddenly on April 1, 2017 was a change that needed to happen.  I see now that the pain of divorce for me happened prior to that day.  The healing, for me, began as soon as the opportunity to put the pain behind me presented itself.

My relationship with my son is evolving.  He lives with his mom, goes to college at the community college across the street from their apartment.  We are learning how to communicate with each other, and I am seeing where I have influenced him over the years.  It’s encouraging that he is beginning to reach out to me, text and call, largely using those things we have in common as a means to reach out — sports, fixing his car, food, even church.  When we lived in the same house, the conflict was continuous, fueled by a mother who thought that taking his side in each conflict was the correct way to deal with things, a frustration to me and one of the main contributors to the breakdown in our marriage.  Now that the conflict is distant, the relationship with my son has a chance to be positive.. and I think we are both happy with what is happening.  Yes, the divorce is part of the path my journey needed to take and the change in the relationship I have with my son is evidence of that.

My daughter is graduating from college next month.  She came to see me last weekend, spent Sunday morning and afternoon with me — church, replacing windshield wipers on her car, going over her taxes.  I cooked her lunch.  We talked some about what it is going to be like when she moves to Turkey at the end of the summer.  I sense that she is tense, needs to talk more about what happened in our family.  Some day, I hope that we can.  I am proud of her.  She is someone who dreams and does something about it, evidenced in so many things she has done, especially her choice of job.  Things that scare people she faces with courage, sees the reward in the challenge, knows that she is listening to a God who will use her immensely.  Want to talk about God’s blessings some more?  Just ask me to talk about my daughter.

I survived the tax season, my fears real when looking at the potential of debt.  For the first time, I hired an accountant to do my taxes, one of the best moves ever if just for the complications of a new divorce.  He winced when he saw the federal health insurance subsidy amount from last year.  If I had to repay that this year, like I did last year, I would be in serious debt to our government.  Instead, I am getting refunds.  For the first time in a long, long time I am able to start saving money, my car decided to quit breaking down (still crossing my fingers) and I have control over debt (or the lack of debt).  That too is a blessing.

My downstairs neighbor has not been home for over a month.  Shortly after the condo meeting we both attended, she must have decided to live with her husband.  He has a home elsewhere.  Blessings are pouring down right now and the absence of her presence is a big one.

 

So much more to write.  One year, so many changes…. I look over my shoulder and see where I have been.  There is a lot of darkness over that shoulder, a lot of light as I look forward.

I Am a MAMIL

Tags

biking, personal, relationships, sports

I am a MAMIL and proud of it.  I always have been, always will be.  My friend, John, and I went to see this little documentary last night and were delighted at how relevant it was to us.  John and I are each over 50, have been MAMIL for quite a while.  Frankly, it’s one of the reasons why we are friends, as well as why we have so many MAMIL friends.

If you ride a bike, are male, and are over 40 years old, go see MAMIL.  You will howl at much of what is in the movie.  Don’t take your wife, a family member, or significant other as the documentary covers such topics controversial to riding bikes, such as the Plus 1 rule, injuries, time constraints, obsessions with cycling gear and trinkets, racing.. and how riding can strain relationships closest to the rider.  It also talks about physical and mental health benefits to the over 40 male.  The movie starts out light hearted, poking fun at how lycra is not kind to anyone who wears it, especially middle aged men.

We don’t care, do we?

After all, we ride a MFing bike (the video is in MAMIL).

MAMIL is for a very specific viewing audience.  I doubt that it will be all that popular, but it is indeed relevant.  While most of the guys interviewed in the movie were a bit extreme, I know a lot of guys who make them look mild in their obsession.  One thing in the movie that I found sad was the seemingly intentional segue from a segment on gay cyclists in NYC to Christian cyclists in Minneapolis.  Thankfully, the Christian cyclists were not portrayed in a negative way.

I found myself thinking back to when I started cycling as an adult.  I was 30, newlywed, recovering from a second surgery on my right knee.  Stationary bike riding was part of the prescribed therapy, something that I really enjoyed.  Because of marital bliss weight gain as well as a lack of cardio exercise due to a knee that swelled every time I ran, I leapt at the chance to train for a century ride with several people at work.  A friend loaned me his extra hybrid bike to train for the ride.  Quickly, I was putting in 400 miles or more a week on the bike, the fat literally melting off of my body.  In a very short period of time (July through November), I went from nearly 240 pounds to under 200 pounds.  My knee quit swelling when I ran, my performance in other sports soared, and I felt incredible.  A year later, I had my first road bike and was riding events several times a month, including my first of seven RAGBRAI tours.

Also within a year of that first bike ride, I began riding my bicycle to work.  When my daughter was born, her mother decided that she needed to be a stay at home mom.  Our funds were limited to the meager salary that I made, which had to pay a mortgage and family expenses.  Bike commuting became a way to not only get extra time on the bike each day, but it also became a way to save on transportation costs.  My coworkers began to identify me by my biking obsession, laughed as the sight of me in lycra became a daily thing.  People started coming to me with biking questions, suggestions on what bike to buy, requests to help them fix bikes, etc…. I can remember being proud of stretching $10 worth of gasoline over a 4 week period of time.  That was in my old Ford Aerostar van, not exactly a gas stingy machine!

Juggling riding time with family time was a bit of a challenge, but even my ex wife would admit that I did a pretty good job of it.  Every weekend involved a BCD (Butt Crack of Dawn) group ride on Saturday, with a warm down early on Sunday.  I tried not to let my bike habit become a drag on my family time and mostly succeeded.  Only the occasional tour would take me away from my family.  Not once did I miss a birthday or holiday celebration or family event.  Nor did I let the cost of cycling dip into family funds.  I rode used bikes, throwaways from more financially fortunate friends, fixed my bikes and upgraded only when I had planned and saved.  I know that some guys can’t say any of that, as well as their wives not being able to say their husband’s cycling habit was the best for their relationship, but I know that cycling was not one of my ex’s complaints.  She was proud that her husband biked.

Today, cycling is still the activity that I know will carry me past middle age.  Mountain biking is a fairly new thing for me, but something that refreshed my joy of turning the pedals when the road started getting to be less enjoyable.  I will always cycle as long as I am able.

I will always be a proud MAMIL.