Yes Virginia, there is a Santa Claus—I know because I’ve got his red shoes

Here are my new red shoes, which arrived via UPS early yesterday.  Ho Ho!  I’m so tickled to have them, I keep pausing my television to go into the bedroom and look at them.  My gosh, aren’t they nice?

Even though they weren’t cheap (more on that later) I’m surprised at their quality—it’s top notch.  And they’re real leather too.

I know what you’re probably thinking—“You got a new pair of shoes, who gives a tinker’s damn!”  Well you’re right, but you have to understand two things:

1. I’ve been looking for a pair of red running shoes for a long, long time.
2. But I’m a freak of nature and have two platypus feet.

Does this sound normal to you?  For as long as I can remember, I’ve worn a size 9 1/2 shoe.  In my thirties, my shoes began hurting my feet so I tried a size 10; but they were no good, too loose but still hurt my feet in the front.

Eventually I learned about Wide shoes, and all was good again.  Then in my early fifties, the sides of my feet began feeling pinched again.  That’s when I discovered Extra Wide.  But those shoes can be limited in style & color; still, I made do.

And then in my sixties, I began to notice that Extra Wide was a 50/50 toss up.  Sometimes they fit, not always. 

(A few weeks ago I was with my sister Shawn at a Skechers store, half the 9.5 EW shoes hurt my feet.)

So I’m on my computer a couple weeks ago, and googled “it’s hard finding mens shoes that fit”, and found a discussion board where one guy was saying the exact same thing, and someone recommended he check out Propet shoes.  They specialized in extended sizes and widths, and shoes requiring orthotics.

I went to their website and began looking around, and that’s when I saw the red shoes.  In size 9.5, up to XX (5E).  Extra EXTRA Wide.  Yes!  

Still, they were $114.95 and I couldn’t bring myself to pay that much for a pair of shoes.  (I just got 2 new pairs of shoes a month ago—buy a pair, get one for free at Skechers.)  I looked at these daily though, and then a few nights ago they were discounted to $84.00 and I pounced on them.

But there’s magic in these ruby red sneakers:  I tried them on, they fit good… but I still wished they were 2% less snug.  I looked them up again on the website and saw someone asking if you could remove the insoles as they wanted to insert their own arch supports. 

Another person said yes but remember, Propet shoes also come with removable insoles under the main insoles if you needed more room.  They do??

Yep—I found and removed them from mine (the blue insole below).  And now they fit perfect.  I think I’m going to save these sexy red beasts for our senior center’s first outing in December, and wear them with a splash of Old Spice cologne.  Maybe they’ll work their magic on someone else too. ;^)

 

 

Meanwhile, at the Pow Wow… Hiya!

This week, several of us from our senior center had the opportunity to attend the 44th Annual Pow Wow in Dorseyville Pa. (in Indian—I mean Indiana Township).  The day started cloudy but warm, but minutes after arriving the temperature fell 15 degrees and the rain moved in.

Luckily, one of the vendors there (a lovely woman from the Cheyenne tribe) hooked me up with this Indian serape blanket that kept me warm & dry.  It came with a note of authenticity, y’know!

I feel like a chooch that I didn’t take more photos other than the few below.  There were tents galore with Native American jewelry, blankets, bows & arrows, peace pipes, tomahawks, medicine pouches, leather goods… there was this camel leather tabletop teepee (with a fireproof base to burn sage) I must’ve picked up and set down 25 times.  I wish I’d bought it.

Strangely, the only food available at this indigenous shindig was fry bread, corn chili & buffalo burgers.  I was hoping to bring home some eats but other than some venison jerky (uh…no) there was no more to be found. 

I’m just glad we ate early, after the first break in the Indian dancing, the line for food stretched half a mile!

Speaking of dancing, I now have a slow drumbeat and ear-worm caught in my noggin:  HIYA!  Hiya hiya hiya….

Golden Age women—enter the circle and perform your dance!

Golden Age men—it is your turn to join the circle and dance!

Young warriors—gather in the circle, and dance!

Couples newly joined it is your turn to dance!  (I loved this young woman’s dress, her rows of hollow tubes played windsong)

All tribes enter the circle and dance!

And last, the fire keeper dances in the rain

My love-hate relationship with Keurig.com—and (I hate to say it) some Indians

Last Tuesday morning, I got up and stumbled into the kitchen, slid a k-cup into my Keurig K-Supreme, hit ‘10 oz’ and the big “K” button, went to the bathroom, came back into the kitchen and my coffee mug had exactly 2 oz of scalding hot… something that smelled like burnt plastic.  Uh-oh.

The machine was dead.  No matter what I did, I couldn’t bring it back to life.  I knew this was coming, as the last couple weeks my cups of coffee were getting smaller and increasingly hotter.  I’ve only owned the machine 3 years, but I swear to God I wasn’t angry in the least, just sad.  Those were 3 very good years.

I got out my old K10 from storage (a mini I bought many years ago) and sighed as it creaked out 6 oz. of lukewarm, watery coffee.  I had to have another K-Supreme.  They use the same k-cups, and with 5 injection needles instead of one, produce nearly double the amount of coffee, double the strength, double the temp and in half the time too. 

I jumped on my computer, headed over to Amazon.com, thought “Why don’t I give my business to someone else for a change?” and went to Keurig.com instead.  Ah!  They had a wonderful deal going on their coffee machines—if you “bundled one”, that is bought the machine and signed up for a coffee subscription of at least 16 boxes, you’d get the machine at a BIG discount.  Well, I already have a k-cup subscription at Amazon, so I’ll cancel that and get my monthly 4 boxes here instead.  And that’s just what I did.

But when I hit the ‘Buy it Now’ button on my Keurig shopping cart, a brown banner flashed across the top of my screen.  “THIS METHOD OF PAYMENT CANNOT BE AUTHORIZED AND MAY BE FRAUDULENT.  CONTACT YOUR CARD ISSUER OR USE ANOTHER CARD.”

That’s crazy!  I just used my Visa last night at the hardware store!  I got out my second Visa card and the same thing happened.  Okay, there’s something wrong with Keurig’s website.

I went down to the bottom of the page, called the Customer Support number and an Indian woman answered.  She sounded like she was talking through a double-pane window.  I told her what happened, she said “Daht eez fine sur now to start wit thee emel of yours and name?”   I said “You want my email address and name?”  She said “Yes, daht will be perfect of you.”  

I gave it to her.  EDOUGMORRIS@GMAIL.COM.  She asked me to repeat it.  I did.  She asked me to spell it.  I did.  She said “Perfect.  Now slower.”  I spelled it very slowly.  She asked me to spell it with a word for each letter.  “E as in elephant, D as in Douglas, O as in onion…”   She asked me to do it again.

On the eighth request for my email address, I said “May I PLEASE speak to someone else?”  She said after I gave her my name and email address.  I hung up.

Now I want to state for the record, I like Indians.  I’ve never met one that wasn’t smart, friendly, polite and I worked with many in my IT career.  At UPMC, I often coordinated large data transfers with a round Indian named Sandeep, who I liked so much I had trouble hiding my affection for the man.  It was so apparent that the women in my group tried to “out” me.

(Danielle, if you’re reading this.. does Sandeep still work with Data Warehouse?  Will you tell him I said hi?)

So anyway… I waited an hour, then called Customer Support again and this time got an Indian male.  His English was so broken I had to keep interrupting him to say “I’m sorry, I can’t understand a word you’re saying.”  When he began muttering in Hindi, I hung up.

I made a cup of tea, took a deep breath and called Customer Support again.  Another Indian male, but this one I could understand a little better.  When he told me to call my credit card issuer and have my account “mended”, I told him the card did not need mending—his website was broken.  He said “Very good sir, thank you.  Now your next step is to call your credit card issuer and report your invalid card will you do this for me please?“  

I hung up on him too.

I put on my shoes, went for a walk and wondered what to do next.  I came home, cleared my computer’s cache, attempted the order again and got the same “fraudulent card” message.  I called Customer Support for the fourth time, got another Indian man, asked him to PLEASE listen, he said of course and afterward he said “Mr. Morris here is what we will do.  I will cancel your account and create for you another member account.”  I said ok.  He said “While I do that, call your credit card issuer and instruct them you have a fraudulent card and require a new number.“

I said “Goodbye, I’m hanging up now.”  His last words were “WAIT MISTER MORRIS WHAT IS YOUR EMAIL!!”   

I closed the Keurig page, went on Amazon and ordered a K-Supreme machine (at the top).  It said it would arrive in 10-11 days, but was delivered in 4, early Saturday morning.  And all was right with the world.

And finally, I should add that this past Friday, I got an email from Keurig.com (how’d they get my email address?  I’m kidding) that apologized for the trouble I experienced on their website, they looked into the issue and found my account was blocked in error by their fraud software. 

They removed the block and added a coupon for 2 free boxes of coffee to my online shopping cart when I’m ready to complete my order. 

Gee fellas I’m sorry, but I took my business elsewhere.  Love your machines though!

 

Photo of the Day: When every hour is golden, time is on your side

Isn’t this a nice wall clock?  It’s 10” wide by 13” in length, I found it on Etsy for $65.00.  It’s a very heavy cut steel, with a brushed gold finish.  When I first got it, I worried it was too “glam” for my bachelor digs, it didn’t seem to go with anything.  But it does—it’s the same gold finish as the floor strips that separate my various rooms.  That’s good enough for me.

This is going to sound mental, but this wall beside the dining room window has been driving me a little crazy for a few years.  Everything I got to hang there just felt wrong.  A square of red glaze ceramic, a small framed art print, a half “wall pot” for succulents…

The last thing I hung here was a small framed mirror that forced me to look at my chubby, tired face everytime I went into the kitchen to feed myself.  No!  And then I found this—modern, minimalist, functional.  I like looking at it from my livingroom sofa.

It’s a bit more subtle without the camera’s flash

After hanging it (and convincing myself I liked it), I went down the hall to see if my friend/neighbor Pearl wanted to come up and have a look.  She had the laundry room door open, and was standing there folding her bloomers.

When I asked if she’d like to come up and see it, she said “Oh I’m too tired.  Why don’t you bring it down to me.”   I said “No!  Besides, you were supposed to come up and see the new artwork in my bedroom two months ago and I’m still waiting.”

She said “Why don’t you go ask your precious Maureen?  I’m sure she’ll dash right up there!”   I said “Fine, I will.”

I love Maureen.  She’s 83 years young, has a neat, trim figure.  She’s always dressed like she’s ready to meet friends at the country club for a round of golf and drinks—and SHE HAS THE PRETTIEST APARTMENT IN THE BUILDING.

I don’t mean pretty as in frills and lace; her place is decorated in a smart, fashionable style.  When she moved in last year, she didn’t like the wood parquet flooring throughout and had Molyneaux come in and lay down carpet.  But NOT wall to wall; it has a perfect 3” gap from the walls, even in the nooks & crannys.  Her place—I love it.

(Here’s the one thing that creeps me out a little; from the neck up, she looks like Bette Davis in Whatever Happened to Baby Jane.  She wears a lot of pancake on her face, and paints her cheeks with too much rouge.  Still, once you get to know her--she’s a super nice person.)

So I head downstairs, knocked on her door—she was just leaving to go to Mass.  But she said she had time so she rode the elevator with me back upstairs to check out the clock.  She said “Sweet Mary, Doug!  I love it!  And this whole apartment—it’s the nicest man’s apartment in the building!”   Well, she didn’t have to go that far…

But who am I to say she’s wrong? ;^) 

 

In search of good air, the things (and people) we take for granted

For the first time in 3 months, I am feeling comfortable in my apartment again—more than comfortable, some relief too.  It smells…cleaner, fresher.  It’s getting there.

It isn’t because of the device pictured here, but I do like this contraption I got a week ago.  It’s a helper.   

This is a PuroAir HEPA 14 (Hospital grade) Air Purifier.  Click on the name to see it on Amazon.  Last week, my friend Erin asked if I was still dealing with the bad smell in my apartment coming from my air ducts. 

I said it wasn’t as pungent as it was in March when I first reported it to Steiner, my landlord.  But there was still an odor of sour, wet or burnt dirt in the air that annoyed the heck out of me.

She said “Have you thought of getting an air purifier?”   Nope—it never occurred to me.  So after our chat, I got online and looked at several models before deciding on this one.  I like it very much, it’s whisper quiet but effective.  It’s also great at collecting dust & pollen (I get a lot of both).  It’s 16” tall, 10” wide & deep, and has a small light-bar on top that goes from orange to green as the air becomes clean. 

The day Erin suggested I get one, I found and ordered this model for $151.00.  The NEXT DAY, Canadian wildfires were reported on the nightly news and the price for this same unit increased to $239.99 on Amazon. 

They’ve since gone down to $190, but that’s still 40.00 more than what I paid--talk about timing!

When the smell first started in March, I went and stayed at my sister’s for a week and hoped my landlord would find the issue and correct it.  I talked to them daily on the phone, they said they were running an “ionizer” in my apartment (which they did) and cleaning the air ducts (which they didn’t, that was a lie).

When I returned a week later, it had a VERY, VERY strong smell of “dusty hotel room” from the ionizer.  But I could see right away that the livingroom, dining & bedroom wall grates had never been taken off the walls.  They still had layers of paint on them.

After 2 weeks, the effects of the ionizing machine had worn off and that same smell was wafting from my air vents again.  I spent $85.00 on various duct cleaning sprays which masked the smell for a couple hours at best.

When I reported I was still having this issue to Nicole (the building’s off-site manager) she responded she was sorry but there was nothing more they could do.  If I’d like, I could move to another apartment the next time a one-bedroom unit was available in the building.

I was shocked.  First of all, they didn’t DO anything.  Second, I didn’t want to move.  Even if I could have any apartment in the building, there were only a couple besides mine I really liked (because of their location/flooring/kitchen/color palette). 

I’d also be forfeiting my current lease of $840 I’ve got locked in for the next two years.  One bedroom units in my building currently rent for $900.

Since the smell was worse from the bedroom’s air duct, I set about removing the grate from the wall.  I used a box cutter to cut around the grate and it took 2 hours to unsecure eight 60 year old bolts.

It’s a long but narrow tin duct.  I was unable to get my hand in there, when it hit me—my Swiffer mop!  I went thru 4 Swiffer pads, wiping out a lot of ancient dirt & even gravel.

I sent photos of what I’d done to Nicole, hoping she would take me more seriously now.  She told me she’d send a maintenance man to check it out.

Bob (who no one likes, me included) stopped in for exactly 10 seconds, scratched his head and said the air seemed fine to him.  The next morning, Nicole told me she understood what I was going through as she once lived in an apartment and experienced ‘phantom smells’ of smoke in her building.  I responded that MY ‘phantom smells’ were only in my apartment, not the hallway or lobby or anywhere else. 

She didn’t bother responding, of course.  I swear to God, if I could sue her I would.

At least the bedroom was better now, the odor from the vent was still noticeable but fainter.  I experimented with home & car air fresheners, and if I ever smell Fabreze again, I’m probably going to jump off the roof.   This went on a few more weeks, and then my friend Erin suggested an air purifier, and it DID help but didn’t address what was causing the smell.  And I sure wasn’t looking forward to taking down more grates.

So last Tuesday I began poking around in my bathroom’s drop ceiling.  And that’s when I discovered the ceiling panel directly above my toilet, when raised, had a strange ‘muddy’ smell high up inside.

I put on some rubbermaid dish gloves, and standing tippy-toe on the toilet, arm reached as high up as possible, began feeling around up there. 

Sure enough, I felt a squishy, wet mass.  I grabbed a handful and slowly lowered my arm, praying it wasn’t something dead (or raw sewage from the apartment above mine).

It was a handful of mud, plain & simple.  I reached up again and grabbed another handful, I did this 3-4 more times.

I’m wondering, where did it come from?  And I was reminded that the tenant’s bath tub above mine used to leak into my bathroom ceiling a couple years ago. 

And the day the smell in my apartment started—Saturday March 18—was the SAME day the tenant above me moved out of his apartment.  For all I know, he was dumping dirt from his houseplants into his tub’s drain, and the dirt wound up in my ac unit’s drip-pan which is only supposed to collect condensation.

So, for the last week I’ve been opening that bathroom ceiling panel, reaching up above my head with Clorox wipes to swab out as much muck as possible.  It’s difficult as I can’t see what I’m doing, and the pan doesn’t have a smooth surface—it’s lined with sharp ridges, like a cheese grater.  I go thru several wipes until my arm aches and my wrist gives out, then repeat the process the following day.

But after the second day, I realized the smell from my ducts was lessening.  After the fourth day, I detected virtually no smell at all.  I still rubbed at that dirty drip pan another couple days before deciding I was done.

My ac has a faint musty smell when it runs (and I admit it, I’m hypersensitive to ANY smells in here now).  But that sure as heck beats the oily, wet mud smell I’ve been living with.  I also admit the angry side of me wants to go over Nicole’s head, contact Steiner directly and tell them how unhelpful she’s been.

But I don’t want to win any wars or make any enemies.  I intend to live here a long time.  I’m just relieved I was able to fix this on my own. 

My Puro purrs in agreement.

 

To coffee table or not to coffee table; that is the question

A couple months back, my sister sent me this photo and said “A year from now when Sophia is away at college, this will be on my television 24-7.” 

That’s my 18 year old niece Sophia on the tv screen, who is a senior and starts college in the fall.  I told Shawn I believed her 110%.

Meanwhile, isn’t this a nice room?  At the same time, I thought “it’s been 17 years since my sister had a coffee table.” 

When Sophia was a baby and doing a lot of crawling, Shawn decided it was in her kid’s way and they didn’t need it.  I can still remember thinking “this is crazy!  Who doesn’t have a coffee table??”

It turns out plenty don’t have a coffee table, including me.  But I didn’t set out NOT to have one.  In fact, I want one as much as I don’t want one.  I’m faced with a real conundrum here.

When I moved to my new apartment in the spring of 2017, I sold or gave away almost everything from my old apartment, my former coffee table included.  It was part of my “Ethan Allen collection” of 2 matching tables and 3 heavy bookcases, all cherry.

I wanted to go with a minimalist, industrial look—and no matching pieces.  Of the 5 Ethan Allen pieces, I kept one end-table.

I procastinated getting a new coffee table, I liked the freedom of not having to walk around one when I got up from my couch.  At the same time, my living room is large, and not having one makes the room feel empty.  So I finally decided it was time to buy one… then developed severe lower limb edema in both legs. 

My doctor suggested I start walking a lot more (which I now do, daily) and to keep my legs elevated or stretched out in the evenings when I’m watching tv.  That’s when I got off the couch and on the floor, and I’ve been down here ever since.I use my couch as a backrest, and the ivory blanket on the floor is where I do my stretching exercises, watch tv, work on my blog, eat my dinner, read Star Trek Magazine, take calls, drink coffee & plan my takedown of the GOP

I’ve been doing things this way for 16 months now, since October 2021, and have gotten quite accustomed to it.  (Plus it saved my legs.)  Did you know this is not so uncommon?  In South Korea, it’s called “Korean floor culture” and many families do their day to day living on the floor.

(Many have couches for guests, but use them as a backrest, same as me!)

Anyway—lately I’ve been wondering if it’s time I rejoined conventional society and got a coffee table.  I like the idea, but I like the floor too so I just don’t know.  I’m wondering if there’s a way I can have it both ways. 

Here’s a few I’ve been looking at, from Amazon & Wayfair.             

Of the 4 tables above, each one (at one time or another) was my favorite; but I’m pretty sure the final table, the Remus is what I’m going to end up buying if I go this route.  It’s the lowest priced, but honestly that is my least concern. 

I want something with a minimal, industrial look and the reviews said it was sturdy but not heavy.

And hey--if it’s too spare, I can always go with something like the one below.  Amazon says they have plenty of these in stock.          I’m kidding, of course!  Any thoughts?  Suggestions? 

Handbook for the Recently Sixtysomething: Skin-tags, they’ll grow on you

Do you remember in the movie Beetlejuice when the ghosts of Alec Baldwin and Geena Davis are given a book, the Handbook For The Recently Deceased? 

I think the same thing should happen after we turn 60.  Someone should give us a handbook for what’s coming.

WARNING:  Skin photos ahead.  Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

10 years ago, shortly before my 52nd birthday, I grew… something on my left shoulder.  It looked like an eraser on a No. 2 pencil.  

Was it a wart?  I googled warts and read they usually disappear on their own. 

So I left it alone, but it never went away.  And then several years later, 4 smaller ones grew on my neck: I was up to 5 total.

Then a year before I turned 60, two more joined the party.  Both eraser-sized like my shoulder, but on my waist & inner thigh.

Only that one on my waist really bothered me, if I was wearing pants with my belt notched too tight.  But STILL that wasn’t the end!

I grew small, droopy ones under both of my arms, 10 total.  I read that nearly half of all people will develop skin-tags in their lifetime, and they’re more common around age 60.

Oh well, welcome to old age!

The eraser on my shoulder (that’s been with me for 10 years)

When I was in the hospital last April for a kidney stone, after a nurse had inserted a catheter to help the stone pass, a doctor came in and asked how I was doing. 

I said good, but asked if we could we go after my skin-tags next.  I was kidding, but he came closer and said “Show me”.  He examined the 4 on my neck (one large, one small on each side).  He asked if there were any others.

I said there was a large one on my shoulder, two large ones below the belt, 6 tags in my left underarm and 4 in my right.  He actually took the time to look at them.

He told me the ones on my neck and underarms could be snipped or frozen, the larger ones would require cosmetic surgery.  I could forget about my insurance paying for them though.

The nurse later told me her mother helped get rid of hers by taping on cotton balls soaked in witch-hazel.  I thanked her for the tip, asked how many she had; she said 3.  I had 18.  That’s a lot of cotton balls to change daily.

I did some research, and found several other ‘home remedies’ people claimed had faster success— one was cotton balls soaked in Tea Tree Oil.  I ordered a bottle from Amazon and that stuff was AWFUL—it smelled like tree sap soaked in kerosene! 

I still tried it though, reapplying 5 cotton balls nightly (on my shoulder & neck) for almost a month.  The tea tree oil did nothing but smell up my undershirts.

And then one night while googling skin-tag removal suggestions, I found this little contraption on Ebay.

You use that cone with the needle-sized tip to slide a silicone band to the bottom.  Then you slide that “L” shaped handle over the top, press it against your skin and pop out that cone. 

You now have a silicone band stretched around your skin-tag.  (You can see one above in that photo of my neck.)

If it stays on (a few of mine popped off after getting soapy in the shower), the skin-tag turns black after a week and begins to shrink. 

You don’t pull them off, you let them fall off on their own.  Mine all seemed to fall off & wash down the drain in the shower.

It would’ve been nice if one kit contained bands for different sized skin-tags, but no such luck.  I had to buy 3 kits, one at $16.99 and 2 for $14.99 each, one for large, the other two for medium and micro (small). 

The underarm tags took 2 weeks to fall off; the ones on my neck took almost twice as long.  It’s not an entirely painless procedure, for the first 2-3 days I felt like I was being pinched constantly.  After that, they only bothered me when my clothes would snag on them.

I had red welts in my underarms for a couple weeks after the skin-tags fell off.  The welts are gone now and there’s no evidence anything was there at all. 

After my neck & underarms were clear, I went after the three largest ones.  (The ones on my shoulder, waistline & thigh.) 

They WERE painful, for a couple weeks.  They bled sometimes too.  As they got smaller, I changed the bands to smaller sizes.  It took two months before those last 3 were finally gone.  I was left with some pretty sore welts.

But the other morning after my shower, I was toweling off—and realized the last of the welts had finally faded.  All 18 are gone, not a mark to be found. 

I’ll ultimately lose in the Game of Life, but this game of tag was over and I won. 

        

My Christmas Wreath Conundrum—darn it, this shouldn’t be a conundrum

A couple days ago after getting a haircut, I stopped in the hardware store to have a look around.  While I was looking at their (pretty meager) holiday display, the thought occurred to me I hadn’t hung a Christmas wreath on my front door in maybe 10 years.

I asked if they had any in stock, the clerk said she had one remaining from last year.  I bought it (in a box, sight unseen) for $25.00. 

When I got back to my apartment building, two of my favorite 4th floor residents, Opal & Sarah were sitting downstairs in the lobby chatting after getting their mail.

Opal’s my friend, but I love Sarah—she’s a quiet black woman in her mid 70s who’s very sweet and always calls me John, then apologizes profusely.  She is just so nice.

Opal asked what was in the box and I thought why not and told her.  She said “Well open it up so we can see!”   I peeled off the tape and lifted the lid.  Inside was a skinny ‘O’ ring of green encased in clear plastic.  Opal slapped her knee and laughed.  She said “I wouldn’t want that on MY door!”  I checked my pocket to make sure I kept the receipt.

But after bringing it upstairs and cutting off the plastic, this artificial wreath REALLY sprang to life, so to speak.  I got my door hook to hang it up and fluff it out (that’s it above).  It wound up looking just wonderful—and twice as big as the pizza-style box it came in.

I also discovered something really special.  It had a tiny green box embedded in the branches that took 3 AA batteries.  When I installed them, the wreath came to life with 40 led lights, in a variety of twinkles.  (There are 9 settings to choose from.)  Nice!

The thought occurred to me, why don’t I hang it on the INSIDE of my apartment versus the hallway on my front door?  I live down a dead-end hall (no one sees), plus I don’t have a Christmas tree other than the ceramic tree that sits on my dining table. 

I’d love to have something in here with pine branches, without getting an entire tree.  Would that be too selfish?

I remember several years ago seeing a news story where people who lived in NYC (in apartments) hung their wreaths inside to enjoy more (and to keep them from getting stolen).  But that’s NYC, this is Pittsburgh.

I moved it to my closet door, then went down the hall and asked Opal if she wanted to see the wreath again.  When I told her I was going to hang it inside instead, she said “You men are all alike, your front doors are bare!  Only the women bother to decorate!” 

She did surprise me later though, when she returned with Sarah and both agreed it would be nicer in here.  (Now my conundrum is which door to hang it on.  The closet door seems better, it faces the center of the room.)

Still, I felt guilty.  That all changed though, when I googled my conundrum and found this article on Apartment Therapy:

If You’re Not Putting Your Wreath in this Spot, You’re Missing Out

The article says if you live in an apartment and your door doesn’t face a public place like the street, you’d probably be happier hanging your wreath on the inside.

All’s well that ends well—yesterday I came across these 12” wooden door plaques with a sparkly bow-tie and got one for my own front door.  Opal said “That’s perfect!” 

          

When your butt’s almost toast, it might be time for a new one (toaster I mean)

Here’s my new toaster, I’ll get to it in a minute.  First, is your own toaster more than a few years old?   You should check the cord.  I’d unplug it first, but you know that already.  Go on, I’ll wait.  Hum de dum…

Here’s what happened to me:  for the last couple weeks, I’d been noticing a faint ‘ozone smell’ whenever I made toast in the morning.  Where was that coming from?  

I looked into the toaster with a penlight, turned it upside down and shook it out… nothing.

And then, in all my infinite wisdom, decided to see if the cord was overheating when my toaster was on. 

I uncoiled the cord from beneath, pushed down the lever and was running the cord thru my hand when it suddenly felt like I was holding onto a lightning bolt. 

No joke, my hand erupted in pain and my forearm felt like it was trying to detach itself from my elbow.  I’ve been shocked a few times in my life, but not like this; my heart was pounding like I just got defibrillated.

Midway down the cord was a large rupture, exposing a thick bunch of metal.  I have no idea how or when that happened.  I bought this Kitchen-Aid toaster 20 years ago, but always kept the extra cord wrapped in its base and the toaster in one spot.

    

Anyway, after the shock of what happened wore off (cough), I went to the hardware store and got a roll of electrical tape.  But while wrapping that rupture in the cord, I noticed a series of smaller cracks & fissures in other places. 

Dammit, I’d better buy a new toaster before I burn my apartment building to the ground.

Have you shopped for a simple 2-slice toaster recently?  When I visited Amazon, there was 40 vendors selling the same Chinese toaster (a black plastic box with a square of brushed steel on the front) for $29.99.  

The retro-themed toasters were cool looking, but oversized, overpriced and had the worst reviews.  I have a compact kitchen and exactly 7” x 12” available space on my counter for a compact 2-slice toaster.

After reading 250 reviews for every compact 2-slice toaster with the same features (extra wide slots, defrost/bagel/reheat buttons, 7 shades of toast) here’s what I bought:  the Redmond Toaster 2 Slice for $29.99.

I liked its matte black exterior, European look and controls on the front.  (The buttons glow red when it’s in use.)  But here’s the weird thing:

Have you ever picked up something expecting it to be heavy, but it’s so light instead you almost fling it across the room?  My 20 year old Kitchen-Aid toaster weighs a good 5 lbs; this Redmond toaster weighs next to nothing.  Seriously, it’s like 8 ounces.

What I want to know is, is it just a cheap product?  Or has toaster technology impoved so much in 20 years that they’re all lightweight appliances now?  

Well, I doubt this one will last 20 years—but for now it makes great toast!  

    

The Angry Trans & the Draft Dodger: if it’s good enough for him or her…

A few weeks ago I was headed to the laundry room (we have one on each floor) and stopped in front of the second studio apartment on the right to admire something.  My friend Opal lives diagonally from it, and opened her door and quietly said “What are you doing?”

Nothing gets past her—nothing.

I said I was coming to get my clothes and stopped to admire this person’s draft-dodger.  Opal said “Their what??”  I pointed down at the long purple tube at the bottom of their door and said I hadn’t seen one of those in years.  My grandma had one but it had a dog’s head on one end.

Opal came out and joined me in the hall.  She said “You know who lives there, don’t you?”  I shook my head no.  She whispered “The Angry Tranny.”   I whispered back “You’re bad!  I thought that person lived on the first floor?”  Opal said “They used to, not anymore!”

FYI, the Angry Tran she’s referring to is a male figure in their late 20s who’s tall with long black hair and bangs (like Bettie Page from the 1950s).  He-she’s always wearing a gauzy nightrobe and dark lipstick and a pissed off expression.  To be very honest, this person scares me a little. 

I motioned for Opal to walk with me to the laundry room, and I said “So what is Angry anyway?  A transvestite or transgender?”  Opal laughed & clapped her hands.  She said “Douglas I have NO IDEA what either of those even means!”

Anyway, a couple weeks pass and then one night I went down to the lobby pretty late to mail my niece’s birthday card.  I was surprised to see Angry sitting on the small sofa, a book & pen in hand, sipping from a tiny goblet.  I said “Hi, how are you this evening?” 

He-she shrugged their shoulders and said “Alright”.  I said “May I ask you something?”

He-she didn’t answer, just looked at me and raised their eyebrows.  ARE YOU A BOY OR A GIRL!  No, I didn’t ask that—I said “Why do you have a draft dodger at the bottom of your apartment door upstairs?  The hallways are heated in the winter and air conditioned in the summer…”

Angry said “Because my door isn’t flush with the floor.”  I nodded my head and said I didn’t think any of them were.  Angry said “It blocks out the light from the hall.  And noise and smells.  And people.”  Well.  I was going to ask Angry where he-she got theirs, but before I could, he-she said “Go on Etsy.” 

I said thanks and good night.  And then I got the heck out of there.

I went on Amazon instead to check some out.  I found this square brown one that’s just right for squares like myself.  Why didn’t this occur to me before?  It’s not only an odor stopper (the hallways in my building have perfumey wall deodorizers that creep into my apartment, plus my neighbor fries a lot of fish) it’s a soundproofer too!  And it works surprisingly well.

I have it on the OUTSIDE of my door (like Angry), so I have to remember to step over it when I open my door.  It included a velcro tape strip to attach to the bottom of my door, but I didn’t want to risk damaging the wood.  Plus, this is so heavy and square-shaped, it stays in place on the floor anyway.

Here’s something important to consider if you want it to fit your door perfectly.  Measure the width of your door (mine’s 36”) and READ THE USER REVIEWS.

Half of these will include the loops on both ends in their length measurements.  You don’t want that!  You think you’re getting one 36” in length and it’s only 34”.  After I made sure this one didn’t include the loops in it’s measured length, I chose the 36” and it fit perfectly.

And finally, here’s Opal’s front door—cute, huh?  But if you look at the bottom, she could use one of these too.

 

Food shopping: Hands down, these are some of my favorite brands

Whenever I visit the deli at my local market and Carol is behind the counter, if I ask for something like smoked turkey Carol will say “You want Boar’s Head?  Hands down, Boars Head is the best!”

If I ask for sliced cheese, I’ll get “Hands down Land o’ Lakes American Italian is the best!”

Everything is hands down!

I’m not making fun of her, but her expression seems to have stuck in my craw.  I can’t seem to go to the market now without thinking “Hands down, this is the best ice cream/peanut butter/orange juice I’ve had”.  So.. I thought I’d share a few here while they’re being consumed.

FYI, no one is paying me to endorse these products… but I wouldn’t object! 

1.  Hands down, this is the best sloppy joe sauce I’ve ever had

A couple months ago, my market had MANWICH Sloppy Joe Sauce on special, 3 cans for 99 cents.  Even though I haven’t eaten Manwich in 30 years, I snapped 3 right up. 

Big mistake, it was bland, tasteless & watery.  After that first can I put the other 2 on the ‘Free Table’ in my apt building’s package room.

GIA RUSSA Sloppy Joe Sauce is the best.  ADD 1 TBLSP BROWN SUGAR & 1 TBLSP MINCED GREEN PEPPER.  Hands down it makes the best sloppy joes I’ve ever had.

2.  Hands down, these are my favorite french fries—better than most restaurants even

I HATE FROZEN FRENCH FRIES.  Ore-Ida, McCain, crinkle-cut, shoestring, zesties… I’ve tried them all.  They always taste like heated up frozen french fries.

And then a few months ago I was in frozen foods, and a man was putting a bag of these Red Robin steak fries into his cart.  His wife (well, the woman he was with) said “We already have two bags of those at home” and he said “Yeah but the store’s only got two bags left!”  He saw me looking and said “I’m obsessed with these fries.”

I decided to grab the remaining bag and am so glad I did.  THESE ARE SO GOOD!!  Crispy on the outside, smooth & creamy within; they’re lightly seasoned with a mild red-peppery heat. 

I’m obsessed with these fries.

3.  Hands down, this is the best breakfast cereal on the shelves

I’m not a big breakfast cereal person.  My favorite thing to eat in the morning is one egg over easy, toast and some sliced tomatoes.

Still, variety is the spice of life and every once in awhile I like a bowl of cereal splashed with too much milk.  For the longest time my go-to was Life cereal—and then a couple months ago I gave this a try.  THIS IS NOT YOUR GRANDMOTHER’S SPECIAL K.

Sweet but not too sweet, love the cinammon & there’s lots of pecans (one of only two nuts I can chew with my TMJ).  These don’t get soggy either!

4.  Hands down, these are the best potato chips out there—for more than one reason too

I know potato chips aren’t the healthiest thing on the planet, but I was forced to give them up a couple years ago after developing severe TMJD. 

Even after my jaw mostly healed, any food that’s too salty can cause very painful inflammation that lasts 2-3 days.  (Of course, foods with high sodium content wreaks havoc with my high blood pressure too.)

I didn’t even know these EXISTED until 2 months ago.  They’re delicious and I’m in saturated potato chip heaven.

I’ve since found & tried a couple other low-sodium brand chips, but they don’t compare to Wise.  It’s these or nothing.

5.  Hands down, this is my favorite condiment right now

Grab a couple slices of bread, a wedge of lettuce and a couple hunks of roast turkey.

Now spread on a dollop of Duke’s Mayonnaise with Bacon & Tomato.  THAT’S ALL YOU NEED FOR A GREAT TURKEY BLT. 

And it’s not just me—the manager at my market says he can’t keep this flavored mayo in stock. 

Do you have any personal favorites?  Let me know.