Blue-Footed Musings

I mentioned an article about ticks recently. The article had an interesting (to me) line about how deer stay close to people’s houses during the day, then move in at night to munch on the hydrangeas. Ain’t that the truth. The deer here have chewed one of our hydrangeas down to a nub. I hadn’t realized how much the deer love hydrangeas. It would have been a good thing to know before we planted hydrangeas in front of the house, don’t you think?

But the deer only seem to love that one particular hydrangea plant. They’ve left the others, which are a different variety, mostly alone and it’s too bad, because now we have one overeaten and the rest overgrown. The deer also razed most of our hostas and all the pretty red plants we bought last year, among other things. I guess they’ve been extra hungry. But judging by the giant thistle and the shrub-sized mint growing in the same vicinity, they don’t care for those types of plants. So from now on we will do all our landscaping with thistle and mint!

Just kidding. Thistle is mean plant. There’s not a part of it that won’t give you a vicious needling. I’d hoped to see our giant thistle bloom, because I think the flowers are pretty, but it had gotten downright dangerous, and we removed it when we weeded the flowerbed last Sunday.

As for the mint, it’s blooming now, and I love the minty smell of the flowers. But I should probably remove them before they go to seed. Otherwise the plant will take over the landscape, and then the joke will be on me!

My hair had become so dry, brittle, and unruly that I bought a satin-lined cap to wear at night while sleeping. I’ve worn it every night for a couple of weeks now. It makes me feel silly, but it’s definitely helping my hair. I used to wake up looking like one of those wild-haired troll dolls from the ’60s, which is sort of ironic, because I used to have a troll-themed nightshirt with the words “Crazy hair? I don’t care!” and now I do care about crazy hair. Since I started wearing the cap, I wake up with my hair so smooth and neat that I hardly need brush it. Fantastic.

I was flossing one night last week when I felt the crown (on one of my lower left molars) shift.

Dammit!

I have always tried to be extra careful when flossing around the crown, because my dentist warned me against putting any upward pressure on it. The old version of Glide floss was so forgiving–hardly ever catching on my teeth–that my occasional carelessness never caused any trouble. But the new Glide sucks, and every other floss I’ve tried as a replacement has equally sucked. And on this particular evening, using a sucky floss, the string caught on the crown and loosened it.

When I went to the dentist a few days later, he said that the post had snapped off and I’d need a whole new crown. As a temporary fix, he glued the old one down, but warned that it might not stay in place. Sadly, he was right. Just a couple of nights later, as I was having a little snack, suddenly I felt as if I had a marble in my mouth. Bye-bye crown.

The dentist won’t be able to fix it until mid-August, meaning I’ll have to live with this big, ugly, rough gap in my teeth for over a month. Two visits to the dentist will be required for fixing it, and it’s certain to cost a pretty penny.

I didn’t need this extra nuisance (or expense) in my life. I am not happy. But there are a few positives. For one thing, I got 25 years, give or take, out of the old crown. Not bad. When it came loose, I didn’t swallow it (I’d been a little worried about that possibility). The gap may be hideous, but at least it’s in the back, where other people aren’t very likely to notice it. My daughter insisted that I show it to her, and when I did, she said, “That makes me want to brush and floss more.” Yes!

While cleaning in my office last week, I found my long-lost Kindle buried in a stack of art supplies. That was an odd place for it, but hooray! Then I discovered, to my dismay, that Amazon had “bricked it,” as they say in tech parlance. That is, Amazon has stopped supporting older Kindles such as mine, and now I can’t download anything new onto it, even though it still works perfectly well. Had I known in advance, I could have filled it to the gills with free classics. But I didn’t, and now it’s pretty much worthless.

Fortunately, I have my mother’s old Kindle, which is technically better than mine (it has a touchscreen and backlighting). It claims to have 27 GB of storage available, and if I don’t jam it full of free books before Amazon bricks it, too, then I’m an idiot who doesn’t learn from the past.

I will miss my old Kindle, though. Its beauty was in its simplicity. It was lightweight and easy to use, and it had many more years left in it, I’m sure. Such a shame.

My parents made it to VT just in time to catch the fireworks there. They say that this is their last summer in that house and that they will sell it before the season is over. I think that’s a wise decision, but I won’t believe it until I see it. (Mom and Dad, if you’re reading this, don’t let my skepticism merely annoy you. Let it goad you to action.)

I had been thinking of taking the kids to the Cape for July 4th. Wouldn’t it be so nice to watch the fireworks over a harbor, say? But I dawdled, and while I was dawdling an article about ticks came my way. I read the article, and it was terrifying.

The article wasn’t specifically about the Cape, but I know that the Cape has a tick problem. Even so, I said to myself, “Well, we could just stay away from grass while we’re there.” But the article talked about ticks that hunt their victims down and about the prevalence of alpha-gal syndrome. Eek! And then I read a hotel review claiming that a room had been full of ticks. That was too much for me. I decided we should simply go to the local fireworks and enjoy our Del’s lemonade, same as usual. So that’s our plan for tonight.

Happy July 4th to all, and may the ticks stay far, far away.

• I got my first iPad. Getting signed up with Apple was a nightmare, but I got through it. Now, after tinkering with my new toy for a few days, I think I’m starting to get the hang of it. I might even like it.
• Marshall recently finished his 17th journey around the sun. (Congrats, kid. It might not seem like much, the mere fact of existing, but it’s a marvelous feat. Planet Earth and its residents provide daily challenges, not every one terribly hard, necessarily, but cumulatively sometimes quite difficult. So celebrate your survival and remember that every day you’re alive is another chance to experience the good things in life. Or to play Minecraft. Whatever floats your boat.)
• Work was so depressing that I took a couple of days off last week. Fortunately I have a lot of PTO time available because I haven’t been using it much. Were I wise I’d keep saving it (unused PTO = more pay in the event of a layoff), but I think I might start recklessly spending it instead. I need a break.
• Yesterday I cleaned off my desk and organized it. It looks great. Inviting, even. The only problem is that I cheated. I took all the mess off and didn’t deal with the mess. So have several stacks of paper still to go through and a whole bag of stuff from the drawers (which were overflowing), too. But I promise I will manage the mess soon. Today, if all goes as planned.

As a young twenty-something I was convinced that a traditional 9-to-5 job would kill me. Perhaps I was being a bit dramatic, but I do believe I’ve managed to tolerate my job for so long only because it’s been fun and flexible. Two weeks at the new version of my job, which is dull and provides no creative outlet, has only reinforced that belief. This new work is making me profoundly unhappy.

There was one thing I hadn’t anticipated, though: that I would come to not merely tolerate my job, but to depend on it, and not just for paychecks. A large part of my identity is tied up in it. If I am not the person who does that job, then who am I? I have always taken pride in my work, but if it’s no longer rewarding in that way, then what even is the point of it? Or of me? Without work that requires skill and creativity, what is my purpose? And without it to ground me, how will I avoid spinning out of control when other life changes threaten to throw me for a loop?

Several people have already suggested that I start looking for a new job, not because I’m unhappy and facing an existential crisis, but to avoid the possibility of being laid off. They have a point, but looking for a new job would be super stressful. Plus, maybe being laid-off wouldn’t be all bad. After 30+ years of work, I’m due a decent severance package, which would allow me to take some paid time off. That would actually be pretty nice.

All things considered, I’d rather stay put for now. Recent comments from my boss suggest that my job is safe for at least six months. So I guess I’m going to test the theory of my twenty-something self and see if the dull work kills me.

Just kidding, I hope. If the work becomes absolutely intolerable, I’ll quit. In fact, I can already feel myself starting down the path of quiet quitting. “F@#$ that!” and “Not my problem!” have become my new mantras. I’m simply too old to put up with a lot of shit.

Sometimes when I’m improvising on the piano I manage to play something that resonates with me emotionally, and in that moment I feel deep in my bones that composition is something I was meant to do. The feeling is ephemeral, but I hold the idea close and repeat it to myself often, like a mantra. I only wish the revelation had come sooner, before the arthritis and shoulder pains, the tinnitus, the vision problems, and the brain fog. Everything is harder now. But we cherish most that which we have to work hardest for, or so they say.