Walt's Corner

As we age, we all know the usual suspects. Eyes start failing. Needing reader glasses. Sore joints. Needing to take a moment before getting out of bed. Craving the fresh taste of urine. Wait, what? That’s not normal, you say? Fine. I was just checking to see if you were paying attention. Most recently I’ve discovered a psychological change. A change in my perception and assumptions.

I’ve heard said that it takes 8 consecutive times to break/make a habit. That probably goes for our thought processes as well.

Use to be, I’d feel a wet spot on my skin and think to myself, hey, I’ve got water on me.

But now?

This morning?

I felt a wet spot on my skin and thought, oh shit! I’m bleeding!” Upon further inspection, I was not bleeding. It was, in fact, just some water from something I had been wiping off. How did I get to that bloody conclusion so fast?

Probably because that has been what it was for the past 8 times maybe? Stretching back maybe a year. I thought I must have come into contact with water, or a liquid, I look down at my hand to see it and HOLY SHIT IT’S BLOOD! I’M BLEEDING! WHERE THE FUCK AM I BLEEDING FROM?

After the initial shock I investigate the source of this blood. Lo and behold, I’ve torn myself. I’ve also heard that happens to aging skin as well. Reach into the cabinet to put something away and scrape the top of my hand on the bottom of one of the shelves and there it is. The skin tears. I start bleeding.

I reach down to pull the pin out of the trailer hitch and it releases sooner than expected, causing my left hand to slam into the side of the truck – skin torn. Now I make sure to wear gloves when doing that.

Hitting the double nickel and watching the expired warranty effect take place sure is fun. I know, I know. All my older-than-I friends will still call me a young whipper snapper and tell me the worst is yet to come. I hear ya.

Why isn’t anyone trying to reach out to me about this some extended warranty?

I heard some grinding coming from the brakes in my RAM. I’ve been waiting for them to start squealing, letting me know it is time to replace the brake pads. Only this was more of a cement brick being drug across a concrete driveway kind of sound. Not the sound I was hoping to hear. And just a day away from hooking up the trailer and heading up into the mountains!

So off to this Brake Master I’ve used and trusted for years. The kind that will tell you no, you don’t need to replace this just yet if it warrants. I just knew that there’d be some other recommendations. Sho ‘nuff. Rear shocks leaking. Rear differential showing some moisture around the seal. And why not throw in a brake fluid flush since it’s all apart anyways. Brake Masters informed me that they knew I came in here for the brakes and they can totally do that today (4 rotors and pads all around) but it would certainly save a little coin if I took care of the others while they already got it up there. Why not.

Brake Masters has come a long way from when I had to use them last. So long in fact, they asked if this was for the Firebird. Haven’t had the FireChicken for a while.They texted me a link to approve the inspection. It soon populated with actual pictures of the worn items and cost estimates. Pretty nifty.

Today, I ventured out into modern civilization. I am not one to leave my loop and improvise efficiently.

What’s my loop?
Wake up.
Go to work.
Go home with maybe a pit-stop to the grocery store for some fresh vegetables for the night’s dinner.
Make dinner.
Libations.
Watch some TV. <– here is the basis for its own article. It’s like dialing someone on the phone.
Give the girls their nightly treats.
Floss and brush my teeth.
Read a book until I can’t keep my eyes open.
Go to sleep.
Repeat 4 more times.
Dinner with Carol (and maybe some friends) at Las Palmas Mexican Restaurant Friday evening if we are in town.
Enjoy my weekend.

That’s my loop and I enjoy it. Sometimes the loop will vary with 3 or 4-day weekends. Those are probably FTX’s (Field Training eXcercises, or camping). In the summer it can vary greatly on the weekends with trips to the Sacramento Mountains since we live so close and provides a welcome, cool break from the oppressive summer heat here in El Paso.

My weekends have a loop as well that usually includes a trip to the RV storage to check on our Lance, Harbor Freight, and grocery stores.

That’s it. The point is, we rarely go outside that loop and that is the way I like it. Simple. Predictable. I don’t have to deal with people. We don’t go out for the sake of going out. I’d rather stay at home and enjoy the environment we’ve created for our lives.

Which brings me to today’s story. I wanted to get Carol some new AirPods and I wanted them today. I did some looking around from the comfort of my iPad and picked out a pair from the Apple Store. If I wanted them today I could pick them up locally at our Apple Store in the Cielo Vista Mall. Fine. I’ll exit my loop and pick them up while I ventured out to Harbor Freight and the grocery store.

The mall was packed. 10am, on a Saturday, and it was absolutely packed. I had to park at the end, enter through Macy’s. Didn’t these fuckers shut down their stores? Maybe that’s why there was even parking near Macy’s. The least visited store of the mall.

Walking through the main hallway of the mall there are all these vendors selling various odds and ends. Phone cases. Jewelry. Shoes? Yes there was a vendor selling shoes, I guess. What appeared to be some youthful 17-18 year old points down to my Jesus sandals and asks if my shoes were dirty, and was that why I was wearing these. “No. I left them at your mother’s last night and this was all I could find,” I replied. Probably in my inside voice. Maybe not. I find myself caring less what people think of me the older I get.

Not quite remembering if the Apple Store is on the 1st or 2nd floor, I stop by a touchscreen information kiosk to verify. No dice. The touchscreen ain’t working. Figures. I pass another kiosk on the way with the same results. Whatever happened to the tried and true map display? I guess with how fast today’s shops come and go, it probably makes sense to go with a digital one that can be updated 3 times a week as needed. I take my chances and guess that the Apple Store is on the 1st floor and continue on. Thank fuck for that.

I proceeded to the pick up area inside the Apple Store let an associate know I was there. Within a minute my new AirPods were brought out. I asked if they had cases for these AirPods 4. She acknowledged that they did and proceeded to introduce me to another associate who showed me where they were. Carol likes purple so I picked out a purple case and the associate started to check me out, in the salesman-way, not the biblical sense. I whip out my Titanium Apple Card and the associate tells me that if I wanted I could use Apple Pay to charge it to that card and I’d be contributing 10% of the sale to something something. No fucking clue what it was, but sure. Why not. Let’s do it.

He holds his phone out to me like it’s a Tricorder and he is trying to determine if I have a phage. So I pull out my iPhone and look at it. I’m expecting something to pop up on my screen. Nothing does. Then he shows me that I have to tap a button twice on my iPhone. I tap it twice and complete the sale. He tells me I must not use Apple Pay much. Nah, bitch. I use it all the time. On websites. Or giving someone money through Messages. I don’t use it a brick and mortar store. Again, probably my inside voice.

He hands me his phone and tells me to put in my name and email address. MF. Didn’t I just pay with Apple Pay? And you’re telling me it didn’t use my name and email from it like it does at all the websites I use it at? Would have been much easier to just use the Titanium card when I first handed it to you.

Sturdy little Apple bag in hand, I leave the store and walk back towards Macy’s. I pass that shoe vendor again. Shit. He recognizes me. “You sure you don’t want some shoes?”

“No thanks. I’ll be back at your mom’s tonight. She’ll have them cleaned.”

I don’t get it. A logo change? Personally I can’t stand the restaurant and ever since I was a grown-ass adult I have never stepped foot into one. My mom loves it. As a kid it was a rare luxury to be able to eat at any dine-in restaurant. Mostly it was a McDonald’s or Burger King and was only while traveling from Michigan to Florida packed in the family station wagon. The only time we would eat at a Cracker Barrel was during special occasions. So that was maybe 2 or 3 times max? And I hated it.

Now I don’t put anyone down for liking it. More power to ya if that’s your thang. The point here is, if you like that slop, errr… sorry… that food that the CB puts out, them changing their logo is not going to have any effect on that shit. Sorry. Food. I meant to say food.

I’ve heard other say, “Well it was better than Denny’s.” Sorry. No it ain’t. But – given a choice between some breakfast staple meal, like a couple eggs, bacon, and some toast? I’d pick Denny’s over it in a heartbeat. Provided there wasn’t a Village Inn around. That’s my favorite place to hit up for breakfast, Village Inn. And I’ll order the ultimate skillet with a side of salsa.

Boxers or briefs? That’s the penultimate question, isn’t it? I know you’ve been dying to know which I prefer. I guess there’s a third option, commando, but that’s never been an option for me. My choice happens to be the result of a war story.

A war story that I had forgotten until yesterday, when my son tells me that where he thought I was going with my 2 Factor Authentication Gone Plum Wrong story. Hint – it wasn’t the story he thought. At least he got a new story out of it.

This one takes us back to Desert Shield time frame. Somewhere in the sandbox that is Saudi Arabia, before we spearheaded into Iraq. I went to sick call for something I can’t even remember now. My vitals are being taken, but I hear this guy screaming like a bitch in the cubicle next to me. I use the term “cubicle” in the most primal way. We were in a large tent called a GP-Large and there was an olive drab green piece of canvas separating us.

After vitals are taken, I’m just playing the waiting game. Waiting for the doctor to get to me. In the meantime, the doctor is in the cubicle next door. With someone screaming their fool head off. I couldn’t take it any more; I had to look. WTF was going on next to me?

Quietly I got up and moved closer to the dividing canvas. I pried the canvas open a bit for a better look. What I saw horrified me. Some dude with his pants down around his ankles. One of his balls the size of a grapefruit. That alone is enough to make a guy scream. But here’s the kicker. The doctor? He’s flicking that shit like he’s checking the ripeness of a watermelon. Then he lifts it up a bit in his hand AND DROPS IT. Asking, “Does that hurt? Can you feel this?” MF, what do you think? That shit will hurt even if it ain’t swollen. Goddamn.

When the doctor was finished with him and was seeing me, I had to ask him. What made his ball swell up like that? I wanted to know just to make sure that it never happened to me. At least while I was out here and with this particular doctor.

The doctor told me that one of his testicles had wrapped around the other and cut off the circulation. Son of a bitch! That made my nut start pulsating in pain just thinking about it. I asked him what how that could’ve happened. Now, this is what he told me. Was it true? Could be. I don’t really know, but it made perfect sense to me at the time so I took his word for it. He said that it was probably from the kid wearing boxers. He went on to explain that boxers did not provide enough support, especially when you lead an active lifestyle, such as that of a Soldier.

I woke up that morning with 8 pair of boxers and 8 pair of briefs. I ended that day with 8 pair of briefs only. I never wore boxers again.