Tom grew up in Milwaukee, bartended in Wauwatosa in the '70s and moved here in 1984.
Commentary, observations and musings about the outdoors, life in general and maybe Tosa politics and personalities will be the order of the day. He savors a lively debate as much as terrific cooking.
You know - being around home lately seems to agree with you. Even your blood pressure is setting record lows. Maybe you should seriously think about retirement.
I give Jill the hairy eyeball and remind her that my recent confinement to quarters has not necessarily been of my choosing but largely because I am convalescing. Oh sure, it's a decadent pleasure to read a couple of daily papers and all the magazines I can handle. I've even gotten any number of books under my belt and just started on an old favorite - Chesapeake by James Michener.
Today the visiting nurse made her last weekly visit. Tomorrow morning the physical therapist and I are going to discuss taking my rehab to the next level - probably a weekly schedule at Sports Medicine at the WAC.
My surgical scar isn't the only thing that itches - I'm itching to operate a vehicle safely. I'm also itching to get back to the day job. Enough of the email and phone from the home. I want to get back to the office and poke my cane at somebody.
About the cane. Years ago Jill and I purchased a really nice cane - a fancy cane with a handle carved in the likeness of a bird - for my dad to use for when he was going out and about. Something much nicer than the ratty old Walgreen cane for daily use. After dad passed-way I kept the fancy cane for sentimental reasons. It has been propped next to the desk in the den ever since. This week I appropriated it for my own personal use. Sawed-off an inch and added a new rubber gripper. Who'd a thunk way back when I'd end-up making use of it.
Some portion of my surplus time has been consumed with researching new vehicles. I need a small SUV that lends itself to a person that must be hip-compliant. In this process I have stumbled-upon the ultimate weapon for disarming the zealous car salesman. Park in the handicapped spot and drag yourself into the showroom with your walker and a pained look on your face.
One of the dangers of being stuck at home is having a wee bit too much time to surf the web and indulge any political proclivities. I'm telling you it can suck you right into the partisan morass like cyber quicksand. Then there are all of the breathless emails that come via the Tea Party, or the Democratic Leadership Council, or Governor Walker, or Americans for Prosperity, or the Recall Governor Walker people. It's like trying to sip from a fire hose. And that's not even the entire list. They all arrive with the urgent news that calamity is nigh upon us if only I could contribute $25 and turn back the tide of the evil ones.
As tempting as it might be to compose a provocative post with a political edge I need to give my body some period of time to detoxify.
Nevertheless, in preparation for all of the accusations of socialism run-amok during this coming election year I have been working on perfecting my Bolshevik look. What do you think?