Seeing More Clearly

This is a bad day and time to write for this blog. Lovely and I just returned from a shopping spree at the grocery store. It may just be my imagination, but the prices of everything keep going higher and higher. I wasn’t long ago that we were amazed that the bill was up to a hundred dollars. Today, we topped out at $199.61. Lovely continues to feel like it is her fault for being extravagant. I reminded her that she came with a short list, but I piled too much stuff into the basket myself. “Maybe when Trump becomes president he will get the prices down,” she said. I went into old guy story mode and told her about the last time we had inflation like this was in the nineteen eighties when Jimmy Carter was president. At that time the prices never went down and they won’t this time either. The damage has been done. The government led by his excellency Joe Biden has spent money he didn’t have and now we are paying for it with inflation.

To get my mind off the predicament, I took a back road home through a section of Frankfort to see a new house being built on a five-acre tract, and the one house takes up half of it. Clearly, this family does not have money issues. The owner happens to be related to the local concrete delivery service. They are new to the community, and the man of the house is already running for Mayor. The mansion is at least twelve thousand square feet in size. The family has five older daughters and I figure they must need a lot of closet space.

Yesterday, I finally arrived at the eye doctor’s office on the correct day and time. I was ushered into one of the exam rooms and waited while a young lady put eye drops into my left eye to enable her to measure eye pressure, then another drop to dilate the eye for the doctor. I played my phone game while I waited. Eventually, I was ushered into the laser lab and directed to sit in a specific chair. I resumed my game. The doctor entered, and I was shocked. I have grandchildren that are older than this guy. “You’ve had this procedure performed on the right eye in July, so you know how it goes right?” “Yes I do, let’s get it over with.”

The last doctor who did this was now retired and happily spending his fortune doing nothing. The doctor sat opposite me and told me to rest my chin on the rest and move my forehead into the brace. “Look at the red light.” I happily looked at the tiny LED bulb suspended above his left ear. The procedure began. Pop, pop, pop—he was killing this unwanted membrane between my lens and good vision. After about ten pops, he would say, “Blink,” and then go back to pop, pop, pop, pop. I could hear him moving the laser from spot to spot and pulling the trigger at each point. It couldn’t have taken longer than five minutes for him to finish. I looked at him and said, “why did I get the impression that you were playing a video game?” “Yes,” he said, “it is a lot like a video game, I’ll see you in a month.” He ushered me to the exit.

After it was over, I opened my left eye and saw nothing but blackness. Is this what it feels like to be blind? I wondered. When I reached the exit, my vision was as good as when I had walked in. Twenty-four hours later, my left eye is seeing sharp and crisp words. Now, I can get some new glasses to correct my astigmatism.

Yesterday, I drove twelve miles to an eye appointment that didn’t exist. I was so anxious about getting my left eye laser-treated that I made a stupid mistake. It was strange that the receptionist kept asking me for more information. Eventually, she looked up at me, somewhat sad-eyed, and said, “Your appointment is tomorrow, not today.”

I was in shock! How could I let that happen? I looked at the calendar on my phone, and sure enough, it was showing the 17th, not the 16th. When I arrived home, I searched for the appointment card, and it verified the 17th as well. I went to my office and sulked. Now, I am in waiting mode again, anxiously waiting to have the cataract removed from the plastic lens implanted twelve years ago.

At the time, I did not notice how much my eyes had been affected by the cataracts. The Doc kept telling me I should have them removed, and I kept ignoring him. Eventually, I agreed and had both eyes done. I was amazed at how much my vision improved. I went around bragging that now, I could see like an eagle.

Lately, the vision in my left eye has been blurry. I tested myself by closing my left eye when reading and could see distinctive sharp lettering. When I closed my right eye, all I could see with the left was a blurry melt of print. Being a Lion, and being that the Lion’s long-standing priority has been dedicated to vision, I feel it is my duty to get my eye fixed.

War is Hell

My war without ordnance proceeds quietly. For the past week, my hobby has been watching to see if the bushy-tailed critters were feasting on sunflower seeds. Not only were they feasting they were sating themselves. Luckily, I saw exactly how they were breaking through my defenses. As suspected, the squirmy critters were wiggling their bodies between and around all the barriers I had put in place. Today, I stuffed the opening between the stove pipe and the wooden post with styrofoam. Luckily, I found a sheet of the stuff in my shop that was over an inch thick. I cut off two inch wide strips and stuffed it into the pipe as a block. Now, I go back into surveillance mode again.

Notice the enemy on the ground under the feeder cleaning up spillage

The War Has Begun!

We choose not to use rockets with explosive warheads, but the battles are just as nasty. This time, the odds are four to one, with me being the one. The front was quiet for the past two years, and there has been no conflict. My problem was loneliness, which can be overwhelming at times. The multitude of friendships I had established has abandoned me. Is that the price I paid for ending the war? Why can’t we all be friends and not make living together dependent on feeding all of you? Why can’t you bushy tailed bullies who overeat my generous food supply understand that it is intended exclusively for the avian crowd? Life would be so much more tolerable if you did. Instead, you continue to impress me with your wily intelligence and unending effort to outwit every barrier I place in front of you. I accept the challenge. The war is on.

I Cried When I Sold It

I just had a fantastic idea for a post and lost the idea as I sat down in front of my keyboard. Has that ever happened to you? It is definitely related to age. In the last few months, I have found myself losing many things, ideas being one of them. Another thing I am losing is motivation. I seem too content watching videos endlessly. Writing is becoming a chore, and reading is also becoming a drag. However, reading may be eye-related. And the idea I lost in the first sentence just returned to me. Trains. I love watching videos of model trains running endlessly through some beautifully detailed man made scenery. The detail in some of these layouts is amazing. Another thing I am astonished by is the many new scales that are being adopted by the hobbiests. New models are getting smaller and smaller by the day. The challenge of course is to build train layouts with buildings and scenery to match the scale. It is not unknown to see modelers making layouts on a coffee table platform or smaller.

The model train hobby is growing. I had previously thought it was limited to old men who worked for railroads as careers. I have put building a model train diorama on my bucket list. The idea of making an utterly realistic layout on a desktop fascinates me. That, and the idea of spending my retirement nest egg on man toys, seems fun. About thirty years ago, I had a similar urge, which I acted upon and built a model railroad in my garden. The job was challenging but thoroughly satisfying. I selected G-gauge as the medium because the trains were rather large and very detailed. As with all of my brainstorms the project got out of hand because I over thought it. The larger the scale the closer to reality things have to be modeled. The first impasse I reached was that I needed a large space in order to navigate the grade changes in my yard. Trains don’t like to go uphill. When the wheels are steel and the rails are steel, the coefficient of friction is not very suitable and the tracks have to be very level to keep things running. Have you ever seen a train running up a hill? If you did, the hill was very gradual at about 1-2% grade.

This is not my garden. I lost all of my original photos.

I decided to change the paradigm to make a very long story shorter. Instead of making a yard that looked like a miniature city with a railroad running through it, I decided to make a garden with a railroad to add some drama to the plants. The effort paid off because I had enough of a project to keep me interested in gardening and model railroading. The garden involved my wife Barbara who chose all of the plant life, and me who laid the track, built a trestle bridge that crossed alive stream, a tunnel that ran under a waterfall, and a trestle to climb up the hill.

Barb and I belonged to a garden club that held a yearly garden walk to raise money. My train project deadline was debuting the PA&GRR (Prestwick Area and Garden Railroad). Of course, I finished in time, and the railroad was a hit. Many visitors told us others had told them to see this garden.

As a side story, on the morning of the Garden Walk, about an hour before the first visitors arrived, I was sprinkling water on select plants when I saw something that horrified me. A large garter snake was poking his head up vertically out of the ground cover next to the tracks. Oh my God! All I could think of was the hysteria that this critter would cause if he appeared to the many people visiting during the show. I went after him with a spade in hand ready for decapitation, but he disappeared and I never saw him again.

I cried when I sold that house, garden, and the railroad with it.