CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY THREE: GOING TO THE DOGS

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY THREE: GOING TO THE DOGS

In case I haven’t mentioned it before, I have a new prosthesis – a sleeker model than the one I’ve been wearing since May. My right leg has been shrinking at the end – a natural phenomenon for all amputees. That’s why I started out with a temporary prosthesis and I added sock layers as the shrinking began. By the time I was ready for the narrower prosthesis, I had progressed to wearing three 3-ply cotton socks between the sheath and the socket. That was both bulky and hot. And I held this wide socket on with suction, using an overall rubber and cloth tube which I pulled up over the socket until it “attached” to my thigh. With my new streamlined prosthesis, a screw or ratchet holds it on. The metal screw is at the end of the sheath, which I pull up over my knee. Once the sheath is on, I put my leg into the socket, and the screw ratchets down – click, click, click, click – into a receiving narrow vertical tube with turns that match the turns on the screw. Okay, I’m not great with a tools vocabulary, but I hope you get the mental picture. That click, click, click sound is music to my ears. Now if only, if only I could put my full weight on my right leg and prosthesis. I dream about it. I visualize it. I really want to do it. I want to walk without a rollator, dammit!

Did I tell you I walked on to our boat, Slow Motion? That was last week – a quiet moment of triumph. Little did I know that my personal drama was being watched by a couple on the top balcony of the Courtyard Marriott. They gave me a round of applause when I stood solidly on the steps into the cockpit at the stern of Slow Motion. Next week I hope to be back living on Slow Motion. The noise in the apartment has become intolerable, since the workers placed the extremely loud gas engine for their pressure washer just one floor below my apartment. There is no way you can get used to that racket. I asked today if they could move the engine to the parking lot next to the road – away from the guests’ rooms, Michael the Maintenance Man said he would talk with “management” about that. Michael has talked with “management” before – trying to get a working telephone in my apartment – without any success. So I’m just looking forward to getting away from this crazy place. If it’s not the gas engine, it’s the cacophonous Cuban kids from Miami. Their parents set the example, shouting at each other from two feet away. The Admiral says it’s “the culture”. I think it’s just rude people raising rude kids. And on weekends they bring their loud voices and even louder kids to Marina del Mar to turn it into an urban apartment house. Oh, for the quiet nights in Harper Canyon. Or even the silence we get in any Hilton or Sheraton room when we are on the road.

The Admiral’s daughter, Sonja, used her Sheraton points to treat us to a very quiet night at the Sheraton Suites in Key West this week. We had a spectacular ocean view, plus we were right across from the shaved ice truck. We were in Key West maybe five minutes when we both had our favorite flavors of shaved ice in our hands – banana and raspberry – both heavenly. This week Fantasyfest permeates Key West. The Admiral had shown me photos of past fests, which mirror Mardi Gras pretty closely, beads and all – except…except many of the revelers are naked but for the intricate designs painted directly onto all parts of their bodies. We did not go for the naked people; we went for the costumed animals – the Pet Masquerade – who are dressed to match or complement their owners with such popular themes as Little Bopeep and her “sheep” (a terrier), the Devil and his angel ( a beagle), and the spotted firefighter, her fire wagon (KWFD #69 – of course), and her fire dog (Dalmatian). The Pet Masquerade was held on the beach at the Casa Marina Resort – perfect weather. The most creative pet owners had a bunch of Jack Russell terriers, which they put inside a roomy box on wheels and they labelled it “Jack Pot”. There was a rainbow above the pot of Jacks and both owners were dressed as leprechauns. These were hard core contestants. It was all for a good cause – the animal shelter of Key West. True, we missed out on the painted bodies, but just driving around Key West in the afternoon on Wednesday and the morning on Thursday, we saw enough saggy bare butts to last a good while. Those butts should definitely have been painted. Apparently the G string is the underwear of choice during Fantasyfest, for women and men. Not a good look for most body types. The Admiral and I were fully clothed at all times in public, and contrary to his representations, I did not get my body painted this year. Maybe next year.

The drive to and from Key West reminds us that we are surrounded by water – the ocean and the bay. The water colors are aqua, turquoise, teal, sky blue, navy blue, pea green, moss green, sandy white (when it’s windy) – you do not tire from looking at the ocean and bay on the way to Key West. One of our favorite places during the drive is the Key Deer Refuge area. The Key Deer are their own special breed – not quite pygmy deer, but very slight compared to the white tails in Pennsylvania. We spotted one right along the road eating parts of a grassy yard. Unfortunately, it was so accustomed to humans that it looked up at us, then put its head back down to finish lunch. These deer are protected, not like the bears in Florida which were hunted down last week until more than 300 were killed. Yes, there were demonstrations, but that didn’t stop the blood sport from going ahead as scheduled. According to the State, the bear population had increased to the point where a hunting season was necessary – the first one in years. The bears were getting a bad rap because some of us human types were putting out garbage, unsecured, which was too appealing for any bear to pass up. And so bears became dispensable pests, who deserved to be killed. I would think that in a State the size of Florida, there might be a better solution that would have allowed the bears to coexist with the humans – a bear preserve perhaps? But then again, a preserve did not protect Cecil the black-maned lion from the dentist in Africa. Elect me President, and I’ll take care of it. I’ll create the best bear preserve the world has ever seen. (I know, I know, too much Trump exposure.)

We’re watching the World Series and rooting for the KC Royals. If the Giants can’t be in it this year, their worthy 2014 opponents (remember those 7 games?) deserve to win. They are great contact hitters and base runners. Their defense is pretty good, sometimes great. And their closers don’t let them down, usually. Their starters are a little shaky, but it turns out that the Mets’ ace, Mr. DeGrom, who shuts down the most fearsome lineups, was the shaky one in Game Two. Cueto was a great mid-season pickup from the Cincinnati Reds. I had no idea he had a complete game in him, especially after he was lit up early by the Toronto Blue Jays in his last postseason outing. Of course, I miss MadBum, but it’s an odd year – the Giants win in the even years. Go Royals! 

I would write about the most recent Republican “debate”, but I didn’t see it. Baseball was clearly the better choice. I heard about it, and the media – newspapers, TV, radio, keep saying what a great job Marco Rubio did. Yecch! They cite his calling Hillary a liar as just one of his great moments. I suppose if you don’t mind someone regurgitating what the Fox News commentators have been saying since the marathon called the Benghazi hearing ended – then you could find this stale comment “scintillating”. What a honeymoon this crook is having with the media! He used his campaign credit card to pay for all kinds of personal expenses – grand theft anyone? He went into serious debt and walked away from it with the help of a billionaire, who gave his wife a featherbedding job. He opposes a woman’s right to choose – absolutely – no exceptions for rape, incest, the life of the woman. He proposes a “tax plan” which would create 6 trillion dollars in new debt. What’s to like about this guy? And the media mavens keep saying how smooth he is. Have they forgotten his cotton-mouthed response to the President, where he stopped mid-sentence and desperately grabbed for a water bottle off camera, so that he could go on? Really smooth. Oh yeah, he doesn’t like being a Senator, so he stopped being one in order to campaign – only problem is that he’s stealing the nearly $200,000 salary for doing nothing. Nothing. In this instance, he invokes the ghost of Obama, who missed more votes in the Senate while campaigning than Rubio has to date. Marco, we know Obama, and you are no Obama. Stop blaming the media for the fact that you mishandled a lot of money – that’s a nice way of saying that you committed grand theft. That’s a glib answer that gets you simpering applause from a Republican audience, but eventually the voters will understand that you are a thief and cannot be trusted with handling your own money properly, let alone the taxpayers’ hard earned money. And the fact that your mother was a maid and your father was a bartender – both honorable occupations – does not have anything to do with the fact that you are a thief.

Oh yeah, game on!