Flu Forces Extended Stay at Home

Forced by the B strain of this year's influenza virus to stay home for several days and do nothing, I'm here to tell you that missing work and watching TV all day is not all it's cracked up to be. For one thing, I was miserable most of that time, sporting a fever that averaged 101, coughing so much I thought I broke a rib, and shivering with chills so severe that every blanket in the house couldn't keep me warm.

I know you're wondering, and yes, I did get a flu shot back in October. Lot of good that did.

My boss wants to know why I keep telling people it was the B strain. I don't know, but that's what my doctor told me. It seems more official than when people get a stomachache and say they have "the flu."

During those moments when I felt slightly better, say, having just mastered sucking on an ice cube, or when my temp dipped to 99 and my head didn't pound as much, I perused Facebook and posted what I thought through my feverish stupor were clever little gems of wisdom. When I look at them now through the clarity of 98.6, I see that among other things, I ranted at an ice cream truck's endless looping music,  and complained that my actual hair hurt. I generally don't put intimate and personal information on Facebook, but I did keep the entire webosphere appraised of my temperature. Fortunately I did not report on the ongoing consistency of my nose mucus.

And I had my phone to play with. I think I exchanged some foggy texts with my sister and brother but I'm not sure. I must have alarmed my sister because she checked in every couple hours for a couple days. It kept me from climbing the walls.

I learned that Alfalfa's in Boulder has great chicken soup. Clyde brought it to me.

I also learned that taking Clyde to urgent care after being cooped up for so long was like going on a vacation. He also got the bug, but having gone on tamaflu the day I was diagnosed, his encounter with the virus wasn't quite as bad as mine.

Like Jimmy Stewart in Rear Window, I kept a close eye on my neighbors. I didn't have the strength to rage at them through the window like I usually do, but I managed to quietly judge their actions, particularly during those walks of shame that occur just before dawn. It was also fun judging the man who wore VERY comfortable shorts on his deck while talking on the phone all day long. Kind of made me miss licra shorts guy who lived there before.

A building down the block was getting a new roof. I watched the workers up there for half a day before I realized I wasn't hallucinating them. No wonder they never started flying.

Now recovered, I'm still a little weak and I'm coughing a lot. I have to go back to work. I wish I could just stay home a few more days and really enjoy some TV.

Car Finally Fits in the Garage (and other ways I'm finally making peace with my house)

The new car is a 2015 Nissan Versa with all the extras. As Rafael, the auto salesperson, tried to impress me with facts about the engine which I didn't understand, I marveled at the satellite radio and obsessed about the color. And I wondered what it would be like to give up my Altima for a smaller car.

The Altima was bigger and had a smoother ride. But it was scratched and dented because I kept scraping the sides as I drove into my ancient, narrow garage.

I also drove it pretty hard, back and forth to Highlands Ranch every day, so after 120,000 miles, it was time to let go.

As I emptied the old car of personal items for the final time, I thought about getting all teary and sentimental. We had some good times, that car and I. I'll never forget the big road trip to Kentucky, Indiana, and other points east (see blogs of same) in the summer of 2010. There were lots of trips to Nebraska and Wyoming, and scenic drives to state parks all over Colorado.

Lots of good memories.

But as I moved the tire pressure checker thing from the old car to the new, and the can of stuff you spray into a flat tire in an emergency, and the plastic dust pan I use as a shovel when stuck in the snow, I decided that cars are only machines. They don't have souls. They aren't living things.

Unlike my house. which is very much alive and evil and out to get me.

Ok, just to be accurate, I live in one of a bunch of old 1950s multi-unit ranch style condominiums. Mine has a nice patio and garden, but don't let that fool you. It came from Hell to torture me.

I had trouble the minute I moved in (see blogs from the summer of 2013). The furnace kicked on for no reason in the middle of summer. I was inundated with ants. I found out there were people living in the basement that the previous owner failed to disclose. Every time I turned the bedroom light and the TV on at the same time, the power went off. When I removed the window air conditioner unit, swarms of wasps living inside it filled the room.

And speaking of insect life, I sure have learned more than I ever wanted to know about bedbugs.

There was a long, long list of problems that first year. In addition, though I was in the luxurious new position of having an actual garage, it was too narrow for my car. To add insult to injury, there was a bump in the concrete floor which scrapped loudly against the bottom of the vehicle as I drove in and out.

Things with the house have gradually improved. I have a new portable air conditioner. I've adjusted to the odd circumstance of not having any drawers in the kitchen. The furnace now limits itself to winter only, though we regularly have to open the windows while it's snowing because it gets so hot in the living room. And we are bedbug free for over a year.

Best of all, Clyde moved in, making it feel so much more like home. He likes it there. He doesn't think the house is evil.

He also discovered and removed  a huge colony of ants in a planter outside the front door which was the source of the infestation that first summer.

I've made my peace with most of the problems and I'm gradually fixing things up so I can resell my house someday. Some of the little flaws actually add a touch of character. So the front door sticks sometimes and actually makes me worried we'll be trapped in a fire some day. HA HA! Character.

At least now, I can park my car in the garage. It's lighter too, so I don't scrape the bottom any more (unless Clyde is in the passenger seat - he has to get out before I pull in).

I actually almost think I like living in my old house now. Our house, I mean.

Darn it, I think I left all my reusable grocery bags in the old car.

Huffington Post Adds Years

I realized things were changing recently when reading the Huffington Post. Instead of automatically clicking the Gay Voices section like I've always done, I started with the Huff/Post 50 section - you know, the one directed at old people.

This is nothing less than a seismic shift in my interests. I now relate much more to contemplating retirement than millennial celebrities getting drag queen style makeovers. Also, I'm really not interested in the different ways gay men are using dating apps. What's a dating app anyway? Is this that "Grindr" I've heard about?  In my day, you walked up to a guy in a bar and asked him to dance. What ever happened to that?

Reading about why women should date men in their 50s is much more interesting to me than James Franco's constant toying with us about his sexual orientation. Is he or isn't he? I don't care, James! Just take your shirt off and shut up.

Aging is inevitable, and it turns out, I'm kind of enjoying it.

For example, there are opportunities to save money. It hasn't happened very often yet, but occasionally a store clerk or ticket taker asks Clyde and me if we'd like to take advantage of the senior discount. Rather than standing there insulted, I calculate the savings and ask what age qualifies us. I'm usually not quite old enough (I won't speak for Clyde), but I'm looking forward to the day when I can save a dollar on museum admission.

And there is retirement to look forward to. Thanks to a couple of good investments here and there, it looks like I'll be able to do it.

The next decade and a half will probably fly by so some plans need to be made now. Like, if I want the mortgage paid off before I retire, I'd better plan ahead. How many new cars will I buy between now and age 65?

When the time comes and our fuzzy loved ones are no longer with us, should we adopt a new kitten who might tie us down 15-20 years from now when we want to travel? Ok, on that  topic, I have been informed in no uncertain terms, that yes, we will always have cats, no matter what.

In some ways, we're already plenty old. I'm a card carrying member of AARP. And Clyde and I are regular early bird diners. We like to get to Black Eyed Pea about 4:30, before it gets crowded.

Still Recovering from Old Yeller

I don't care for violence on TV or in the movies. Just ask Clyde - it doesn't matter how many Oscars it's won, I refuse to watch if there's any blood or killing.  If, for example, we see a gruesome death while  watching the X Files, something that we do occasionally thanks to Netflix,  I'll close my eyes until it's over. On the medical shows, I'll close my eyes when surgery is portrayed. If the bleeding character is a human adult, I don't like it.

But I absolutely come unglued if a fictional child or animal is threatened or harmed in any way.

I know it's all just make believe.  As you might explain to a child, no one is really hurt in the TV show, it's just actors pretending.

I take them at their word when they say no animals were harmed during production. I know no actual actor of any species or any age is hurt when something pretend happens on the screen.

Yet, I just can't stand to think of even a fictional child or animal getting hurt. I teared up just researching web sites for movies where the dog dies.

I trace my sensitivity back to Old Yeller, a Disney movie from 1957. Featuring a boy and his dog on the frontier of Texas, Yeller is the boy's best friend and protector of the family. As a very young child, I watched enraptured by the whole movie, identifying with the boy (I too had a dog best friend), following the ups and downs of their lives.

Until the part where the boy has to shoot Old Yeller.

I was so shocked and upset that I never really got over it.

In all fairness, Yeller had rabies and in the context of the story, shooting him was the right thing to do. But I never got over it. I wouldn't have cared, in fact I would have cheered, if the overly strict father had been shot instead.

It seems like every Disney movie from that era involved animals that died. One need not look beyond the classic Bambi, to know what I'm talking about. Everyone who's seen it remembers vividly the moment when Bambi's mother is shot by a hunter. It was enough to put me off Disney, which severely limited the movies I was able to watch as a child.

If I had children, I wouldn't let them watch Old Yeller until they were well into adulthood. Even then, not without warning them.

Marley and Me? Forget it. Never saw it.

The only exception I'll make is The Lion King. Even though Mufasa dies, it's such a great story that I'll overlook it this one time.

Language Snobbery Ensures Superiority

I try to keep things upbeat and positive in Billsweek. The hope is that my naturally cheerful disposition will bring some pleasure into your otherwise humdrum day.

But there are times when I am pushed to the limit and can take it no longer. My sunny outlook is transformed into teeth-grinding frustration.

At the moment, I hate it when those who set an example for the rest of us  (journalists, teachers, writers, and just people who should know better) misuse the English language.

I am especially annoyed by use of the word, "Nother."

As in, "If you think I'm going to say that, you have a whole nother thing coming."

In fact, "nother" is not a word. What the speaker means to say is, "You have another whole thing coming."

I'm sure that if you listen to me speak in ordinary conversation, you'll hear a number of grammatical errors. I'm not perfect.

When someone asks me how I'm doing, for example, I usually reply, "Good!" I should say I'm doing "well." So I obviously don't practice what I preach. At least not always. But that doesn't excuse other people.

Another one that bugs me is when someone says, "... whether or not ..."

It is not necessary to say, "or not" after whether. "Or not" is implied.

Whether you agree with me, I think we can all get behind the idea that no one should ever say, "Irregardless," which, like nother, is not a real word. Usually, "Regardless" will suffice, as in, "I refuse to speak incorrectly, regardless of the ignorance of those around me. "

It drives me crazy when individuals take it upon themselves to be the language police, correcting everything that is said to the point where friends don't feel comfortable speaking at all. But it's just so hard to not be that person!

There's a reason why we speak with certain rules: so we can understand each other. If you use a lot of slang in your speech, for example, you may not be understood by someone from another country or region, or someone for whom English is a second language.

In class-conscious societies, and ours is, the level of adherence to standard language identifies an individual's socio-economic status. In other words, speaking well makes you look more sophisticated and less ignorant. As demonstrated in the play, Pygmalion, by George Bernard Shaw, and in its later incarnation as the musical, My Fair Lady, one might overcome one's low class background by bumping their language usage up a notch.

In other words, you can probably get more opportunities in life if you "talk good."

Next time I feel like being the language police, I'll write about the proper way to use commas. That's not controversial at all ...

Old Boomer Reflects on Young Millennials

Ask me anything about the millennial generation. That's the group of people born between the mid 1980s and early 2000s.

I am an expert because I've been soaking up endless articles and broadcasts about them. Turns out, a fair number of hand-wringing pundits fret about handing the world over to this surging demographic.

Millennials are the biggest generation since the baby boomers. According to the media, they live with their parents because they are un- or under-employed and up to their ears in student loan debt. It is also said that they are lazy, self-centered, entitled, and unable to compete.

Older folks tisk and shake their heads and remind anyone who will listen that this is the generation where everyone who participated in little league got a trophy, even the team that lost. No wonder we're losing out to China! On the other hand, I like the idea of a whole generation where crushing your opponent isn't the most important thing.

As for laziness and being self-centered, that is said about every generation when its young. They said it about my generation, the baby boomers.

I acted pretty entitled when I was in my 20s. I was a legend in my own mind, so talented that no one could tell me anything. I was an expert on everything. I cringe now to think of how arrogant I was.  I outgrew it (I think) and so will the majority of today's younger people.

Studies have actually shown notable millennial strengths:

• They are compassionate - probably because they weren't taught in little league that winning is all that matters. 
• They are less likely to be racist and homophobic than their elders. Most, when asked about gay marriage, don't understand what all the fuss is about.
• They are less materialistic. It is known that this generation is less interested in car ownership, for example, than any in modern history.
• They are closer to their parents than we were. I think that's nice. When I was in college, I talked to my parents on the phone maybe once a week. Long distance was expensive in those days. Now, thanks to improvements in technology, college students regularly talk to their parents daily or more.
• Technology is the key to the millennial generation. These kids eat, sleep, and breathe technology. It's no joke that when handed a new device, they figure out how to use it before I can get the instruction book open. And because of social media, they are connected to the rest of the world in ways we couldn't fathom in our day. 

Like everyone from every generation, I like to fret and worry about the up and coming younger folk and how they simply don't measure up. In fairness, I have to remember what it was like for  boomers when we were young.

• The Viet Nam war, Watergate, and later AIDS, led to disillusionment and a life-long mistrust of government and authority in general. 
• As a result, boomers rebelled against many sacred institutions, from industry to the military, from universities to religion. According to our elders, we simply had no respect. 
• As boys, we grew our hair long. It was a visible way to separate ourselves from adults.
• Girls wore their skirts short. I don't know what they were thinking.
• Our music was a loud expression of our emotions and sometimes our politics - just a lot of noise according to our elders.
• We didn't get along with our parents. We moved in different worlds and didn't understand each other. It was called the generation gap. As we matured, we were determined to have a different kind of relationship with our kids, and broadly speaking, we succeeded.

Now boomers are portrayed aging rapidly, set to soak up all of what's left of Social Security. We complain about government but can't wait to get our hands on medicaid. We bumble around technology, mystified by social media, and surrounded by vinyl and VHS which we can't enjoy because the machines which played them broke down long ago.

If I'm right, millennials will complain about the generations that come after them. I hope I last long enough to savor the irony.

Watch Out! Here Come the Holidays!

They're here. Again.

Would it be possible to celebrate the holidays every other year? I've only just recovered from last year and it's time to again get on that merry-go-round of Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years. Halloween has passed for this year. We got exactly 0 (zero) trick-or-treaters.

Halloween doesn't do a lot for me. Ever since I was sick a few years back, I don't see the humor in fake cemeteries, depictions of dead (or undead) bodies, or blood everywhere. Plus those fake spider webs are just annoying.

I don't celebrate all holidays. Kwanzaa and Hanukkah are not on my list. I might give a passing nod to the winter solstice, but I don't go out of my way to celebrate. I happen to have a birthday in December, which I mark as a national holiday by taking the day off.

Thanksgiving is the one I hate the least. We host dinner for family and a few friends. It's a lot of work, but it's just food. No presents and very little pretense of religious tradition or ritual. We don't have to decorate the house, just set the table and make sure there is enough silverware. Without presents and caroling, there is plenty of time to just hang out and visit with loved ones. At our house, if you want to watch a football game, you can go into a special room designated for that activity.

Christmas, of course, is the most hyped. Pressure to participate pushes in from every side. You have to attend a friend's music concert or a child's pageant. You must decide whether to visit family or offend them by staying home. And the  the hassle of shopping is enough to make one crazy (or in my case, crazier). And there is, hands down, nothing worse than the forced gaiety of holiday office activities. Don't even get me started on secret Santas - as if we needed yet another person to worry about making happy.

New Years sucks. By December 31, you are fat and hung over from the other holidays, and ready for regular life to return. Instead, you have to go to "the biggest party of the year" and stay up later than you normally would. After that, there's nothing to look forward to but the long, dark winter ahead.  No days off until Memorial Day.

I've been called a Grinch before, so don't bother. Look, it's not like I hate every minute of the holidays. There are moments I really enjoy. It is good to get together with family you don't see very often. The seasonal food can be really wonderful. And there is nothing nicer than the colorful lights that pierce the night during the darkest time of the year.

Suggestions for coping:

• Lower your expectations. If you don't expect a perfect Christmas, you won't be disappointed when you don't have one.
• Enjoy what you can and ignore the rest. You don't really have to go to every concert and party. But it's ok to appreciate the lights that go up in your neighborhood. You don't have to make Grandma's traditional fruitcake that takes 16 hours. Go to your local upscale supermarket and buy one.
• Years ago, I  stopped buying individual gifts for my family members. Instead, I made one big donation in everyone's name to a favorite non-profit organization. The family appreciates it as much as they would a wrapped gift, and they don't have to drag home a bunch of stuff they don't need.