It has been a whole week since I fell and broke my leg. This is the longest time I have gone without a pair of boots — or even one boot for that matter — on my feet. It also is the longest period of time I have gone without wearing a pair of leather jeans. I’m livin’ in sweats and comfy flannel shirts.

I am still resting with my right leg elevated. My partner puts ice on it every few hours. I have not had to take prescription pain medication except when I first go to bed for the night — that’s when the pain is worst. Otherwise, the pain is manageable with regular aspirin.

My partner has been heating the casseroles that were prepared for us, and preparing other meals. My appetite is good, but I am being careful about not eating too much because I am not getting any exercise (except if you call hopping to the bathroom on crutches exercise!) I have been drinking my milk, too! The doctor recommended making sure I get lots of calcium in my diet. Since I can’t eat leafy green vegetables, I have been drinking milk and taking a calcium supplement.

Yesterday morning, as my partner and I were waking, snuggling closer together, and watching the sun begin to rise and make the trees glow a bright orange, we heard this strange sound. It sounded like scraping. It was not a snow plow, but the noise persisted.

My partner got up, put a robe on, and looked out the front window. He saw four friends of mine — all cops — who were shoveling the remaining snow and ice from our drive and walks. I have participated in helping these guys with some motorcycle training, and rent a house to one of them. It was so nice of them to come over and do the rest of the snow cleanup for us. While they were there, the county snowplow came. They cleaned up the snow and ice that the plow pushed across the front of our drive.

By then, I had hopped into the kitchen and brewed a big pot of coffee. My partner heated up some sweet rolls that one of my elder pals made for us. I invited my friends inside to warm up. They graciously accepted, though my partner wasn’t all that happy to have visitors when the house was such a mess.

Overall, I think my partner truly appreciated the “hunky help” — as did I! My partner was awfully sore from the work on Saturday afternoon with the manual shoveling that he did. And don’t let me mislead you — my friends were not in motor boots and uniforms. They were off duty, and came over to help us out of the kindness of their hearts.

Sunday afternoon, the doorbell rang. My partner exclaimed, “now what?” One of my friends had gone around to see some of my older pals for whom I do “that time of year” volunteer work. Yep, it’s tax-time! My friend brought me ten envelopes with information that I need to begin to prepare income tax returns for my senior pals. That sure kept me busy the remainder of the afternoon and evening! I even filed my own personal income tax returns and anticipate enough of a refund to get a certain pair of boots that I’ve been thinking about. (Even though my leg is broken, I am still a Bootman at heart!)

As I was writing this post on Sunday night, the doorbell rang again. It was our next-door neighbor, who baked me some brownies. My partner is growing more and more irritated with that doorbell and visitors, but he just has to accept that my life is closely intertwined with so many others. After all, my community is my life, and our home.

I go tomorrow (Tuesday) to get a cast on the leg… and a prognosis for how I will be able to be more mobile and how long I’ll have to reorganize my life in order to fully recover. Wish me well!

Life is short: remember to smile. I have lots to smile about, as my heart is warmed with each email I receive, each telephone call, each visit, … sniffle, sniffle. And thank you, loyal blog readers, for your caring concern, comments, and emails. I appreciate it very much.

My friend who felt guilty because she thought that she caused my fall which resulted in a broken bone in my leg near my ankle came over this morning to fuss over me, but she had to leave at 11:00am. My next caretaker was due at 11:30. No problem; I can be by myself for a half-hour.

No sooner did she leave, then the man in Brown (UPS Delivery) pulled up. I hobble over to the door and he put a box inside, which I can’t bend down and pick up, because I can’t bend down with crutches! I looked like someone who would have appeared in an I Love Lucy show, with all the gyrations I was going through to try to lift up that box.

I began kicking the box down the hall, when the doorbell rang again. This time, it was FedEx. He didn’t wait; he left a big envelope that contained pain pads for my partner on the front stoop. Pain pads? My partner requires these for his disability. I thought it was oddly juxtaposed that here I am in such pain, and I have to retrieve a box from the front porch with pain pads in it!

I began trying to pick up that package up when I dropped not one, but both of my crutches and then lost my balance and settled down to my left knee (fortunately, I didn’t fall). There I am in PJs out on my front porch, cold, and in pain! I betcha the nebby neighbor across the street was watching on his private video system and laughing his head off.

TG my next helper arrived early. Imagine, an 80-year-old woman trying to help a 52-year-old bearish guy up off the ground. Somehow through the use of leverage and ingenuity, with a dab of patience, we made it. I got resettled into my comfy chair and got ice back on the ankle. But for a while there, I was afraid my partner would come home to find me frozen out on the lawn!

Sheesh… no more doorbells for me!

Check back for updates on The Horrors of the Hobbler, a new mini-series suggested by my best friend, AZ, to be written, published, and sold shorty. LOL!

So the doc says the ankle fibula bone in my leg break is clean, but severe. The swelling remains pretty bad, and the pain is awful. I don’t have much of a tolerance for pain, but I am more annoyed with my sudden lack of mobility than anything else.

My partner, bless his caring soul, has been doing so much to help me. Thank goodness we have an open floor plan, and I can rest comfortably in our family room with the computer and just rest. So yes, I am resting! It had to be something like this to get me up and off my feet and stop running around all the time.

My best friend, AZ, suggested that I put a note on the door — “I’m home, but pardon me for not answering. Come on in!” More food has arrived than we will ever be able to eat, but no complaints there. The outpouring of concern — both here at home from my senior pals and my family — and on the Internet with my Boot buds and blogger pals — has been incredible, and very much appreciated.

Meanwhile, the pain drugs are working, at least to allow me to have a good night’s sleep last night. Foot up on four pillows, turned sideways in the bed. Quite a sight!

My partner went to work today, but M will be here at 7, E at 10, F at 12, P at 2, and L from 4 ’til bedtime. They won’t let me be alone, and I have no worries about a need for a thing.

The pain drug makes me groggy and emotionally weak. I get tears in my eyes at the slightest things. Calls, email messages, visits… all so sweet and warmly appreciated. But they make me cry sometimes. A good cry; nonetheless, it confuses my partner when he sees me with tears rolling down my cheeks, because he doesn’t know if I am in pain or just being emotional.

If I don’t reply to a message you have sent right away, know that it was received and I thank you for it, from the bottom of my heart. Soon enough, I’ll be back in form, up-to-speed, and booted once again. But for now, rest… rest… rest.

Life is short: pay it forward and it comes back with love.

Sunday afternoon, I was escorting an elderly friend into her home. Sidewalks were slick with rain. She began to fall. I caught her but fell myself. I broke my right ankle lower fibula, according to x-rays at the urgent care facility.

I visited orthopedic specialist on Monday and was told that I have to wait about a week for the swelling to go down before I can get a cast. No cast, no walking! I’m stuck at home for a while.

Fortunately, my elderly friend was not hurt. My partner is taking good care of this old broken-down one-booted klutz. TG that I can telecommute.

More later.

Life is short: even for us klutzes!

Today I will be getting down to business in renovating that house I bought a couple weeks ago. It seems that the more I get into it, the more I find that requires repairs. Windows were replaced by a crew on Thursday, and they did a nice job… except the moldings around the frame on the inside of all of the windows crumbled or broke.

My mitre saw and I will be busy today crafting custom-made frames and moldings for 14 windows. I am using oak, rather than pine. Oak is a hardwood, and will be more sturdy. I will custom-cut each piece to replace each frame and molding, and my nailgun will make short order of attaching the pieces to form the frame and moldings around the frame. My partner, the painter of our duo, will paint the newly-installed wood after I install them.

I figure this process will take all day. While I am there with the saw, I will do some more carpentry work, too. Darn it, though, I don’t have power in the house (yet), as I have to do some rewiring in advance of having the furnace replaced with one that will accommodate central air conditioning. That doesn’t happen until next week. Meanwhile, I will use my generator to supply the power required to run the saw.

How am I booted? I got myself a pair of 8″ Timberland Pro Work Boots that I snatched up from Boot Barn by finding a huge discount certificate on-line. The boots are very comfortable, so I understand why all the boot guys rave about them.

So today as you enjoy whatever you’re doing, think of me, in blue jeans and work boots, doing carpentry and home renovations. Wanna help?

Life is short: get booted right for the job!

I am not one to take advantage of the misfortunes of others, but there are times when people walk away from an investment, and banks and local governments intercede to take over ownership of properties.

Such was the case recently, once again, where I was notified that a house right next to one that I already own as an investment property was coming up for auction on a tax sale. The previous owners had disappeared and the county would accept a rather token offer plus back taxes and fees to dispose of the property.

I had been reading in the local newspaper and seeing spots on TV news that such “hot properties” were becoming involved in bidding wars, and like the hyperescalation of the housing market we observed in 2007, that investors and first-time buyers were competing with one another to bid at such auctions to acquire properties.

Because this house was right next to one that I already own, I was interested in it. Especially because there was great value at a very reasonable cost. I found a way to inspect it, and it had “very good bones.” While it was built in 1946, apparently someone along the way updated some of its features, plumbing, and electrical systems. It needs to have air conditioning installed (I can’t imagine how a house of that size in this area could still not have central A/C).

When the auction for this house was held, I expected to see a crowd, or throng, of investment bidders. I was very surprised that there were only two others going for this property. They didn’t know what they were doing. I only had to bid US$100 more than they did, and I won, upon presentation of a substantial cashier’s check. Of course, I had the “privilege” of going to the bank and drawing a cashier’s check for the remaining balance the same day. But it’s done, and the deed is now in my name! Oh boy! The house is in an established, livable, walkable, safe neighborhood. I will have to invest about US$50K to fix it up and bring it to current safety codes and standards, fix the landscaping, repair the driveway, have it sided (removing the crumbling clapboard) and install a new roof, but overall, it is worth it. Its assessed value is more than three times what I have and will put into it.

I have been spending some time going through it from attic to basement, from shed to under the front porch. I have been using an estimating program on my computer to determine just what needs to be done. Now I am determining what repairs I will do myself and what work I need to hire others to do. It’s a balance, but I have outgrown re-roofing houses, thanks. Or chopping out broken cement and replacing it with asphalt. I know how to do the work that is required, but my poor ol’ achin’ body isn’t that interested (or motivated) in doing such physical labor any more. Nor do I have the time to do all those things by myself.

Soon enough, the house will be properly renovated, and I will seek out a deserving servant of our community — law enforcement officer, firefighter, or teacher — and arrange a rental with them. These are the people who rent my other properties. I don’t get market rent, but I get great tenants, along with the good feeling of being able to provide affordable housing to the people who serve our community yet can’t afford to live here.

My partner thought I had lost my mind when I told him about this potential investment. However, once I got into it and we determined that the financial requirements were within our means, I “went for it.” You see, I don’t expect much from Social Security, 401K investments, retirement, or pension plans, so these houses are my “retirement fund.” Hey, if you can do it, do so! Considering the market, now is the time to invest if you can. Housing prices have, in my opinion, hit bottom. That’s why I moved quickly on this purchase.

Life is short: invest wisely!

I posted on this blog that the woman who served as my very first mentor had died on Christmas Eve. She took me under her wing when I was a 17-year-old deer-in-the-headlights, freshly-minted volunteer for a non-profit organization. She taught me more than I can relate here, or for that matter, more than you would ever want to read. This woman was 41 years older than me. In many respects, she was like another mother. But different from that. I’d say that at first she was a teacher, then she became a listener, she served as a helper, a guide, a leader … but most of all, a true friend. Together we formed a close bond of friendship that endured ’til the end of her life.

Yesterday, I had both the honor and the fear of serving as the person to give the eulogy at my dear friend’s memorial service. (Note, this is a different friend from the gentleman about whom I blogged on Friday. It is regretful that several deaths of people I have known and loved have happened recently).

One thing I want to bring up here on this blog, which I mentioned during my eulogy, was why I am smiling, why I talk about being positive, and why I look at the bright side of life. It was my dear friend who taught me that. She had setbacks and adversity to deal with. In her later years, she was in pain and medical problems were rather severe. But not once did she complain. She always, always, always had a cheery disposition and nice things to say. I try to follow the example that she left for me: look at the bright side of life, and make lemonade when life serves you lemons. What an enduring lesson that I hope beyond measure that I have adopted in my day-to-day life.

Rather than bore you with my ten minutes of eulogy content about someone you don’t know, let me affirm what comes from my faith. This is a spiritual faith, not a religious one.

I believe in the circle of life. You are born not knowing anything or anyone. You develop relationships with people, and you learn (provided the adults in your life nurture you well). You grow up, perhaps have a family, and do productive things. Hopefully, you care for others and help improve your world in some way or another. With any luck, you have taken time to have some fun along the way, too. You retire, but don’t stop working. It just changes the schedule of your work. Then you die. If things went well during your lifetime, you have taught and influenced others who will continue to make your works carry forward into the future. Thus: the circle of life. (Purely my own statement and thoughts, not “borrowed” from elsewhere on the Internet.)

Look back and ask some tough questions:

• Did I make a difference?

• Will anyone be able to say what I have done?

• Did I leave a smile on other people’s faces?

• Do those whom I loved know that I loved them?

To me, these are the questions for the ultimate final exam.

And I can say that while I am not perfect and have much to learn, that my faith — and striving that the answers to these questions be affirmative about me — is what drives me to love, to care, to extend a helping hand, to serve the community, to share smiles and joy, and overall: show those whom I love that I love them. Not just say or talk about it, but do it.

My wonderful friend did those things for me and countless others, each and every day that I knew her. That is what I said in my eulogy — how the circle of life goes around, and how my friend passed the ultimate final exam with a 1000% score.

And this is what my partner does for me, too. He helps me be positive, bright, and forward-looking. His caring love, deep concern, and strong support enables me to remain happy, positive, and keep a smile on my face. I surround myself with happy people, and smart ones, too, because they keep me strong and they will be the ones to answer those questions about me on that final exam.

Life is short: live it fully, love it completely, and by all means, show those whom you love that you love them.

Yesterday was a typical Saturday for me. Here’s the run-down:

Stayed in bed way past our usual time to rise. While we both awoke at our usual 5-ish, I snuggled longer with my honey ’cause it was so friggin’ cold out. We just felt cold and didn’t want to get out of bed. Finally crawled out of bed at 6:30. What’s the world coming to?

Pulled on my naked leather jeans, flannel shirt, and Chippewa Firefighter boots. Got the daily paper from the drive and began scanning it. My partner pulled out the coupon sections and began cutting away. He’s a whiz when it comes to matching cents-off coupons with weekly specials so we save more on groceries we buy.

Prepared breakfast of home-made waffles, bacon, and OJ for me; added grapefruit and fruit juice for my partner. Quickly mixed a bundt cake to deliver later and got it in the oven. Signed 10 birthday cards for senior buds and two family members whose birthdays are coming up this next week. (The cards were already pre-addressed and stamped. It takes me a full day, but I prepare about 200 cards a year in advance and put them in a weekly organizer.)

By 8, I got on-line, paid some bills, caught up on email, updated a website for a political candidate who I am supporting, and reviewed some preliminary development plans for a project on which I am testifying in the coming week. My partner changed the linens and started doing laundry. Our division of labor: he does the laundry and I do the cooking.

At 10, I drove to the nearby retirement community to check on my aunt and some other senior friends. Delivered the cake to one of them. She has been feeling especially lonely since her family moved away. Paid my aunt’s bills, including her quarterly estimated taxes. Replaced a faulty light switch for one of my friends, and reset the remote on a TV for another. Got the quarterly tax payments for five others prepared and ready to mail. Visited and shared with these cherished members of my senior crew.

At noon, I went back home and picked up my partner for the joyful experience of weekly grocery shopping (smile). Had a short chat with a couple of constituents at the store. Came home, put stuff away, and then my partner and I went to a fixer-upper foreclosure house that I bought earlier this week to review what cleanup was required and start organizing our “attack plan” for required renovations.

By 3pm, we returned home. I got the mail and recycled about three trees. I began to do some batch cooking. I like to prepare tomato sauce, soups, stew, and pasta when I have some time. These things keep well refrigerated or frozen, so when I have less time during the week in the window between arriving home and rushing off to an evening meeting, we can still enjoy a home-cooked meal.

I spoke with some siblings and checked on some of my senior crew by phone throughout the pasta-making time. My partner is accustomed to my multi-tasking. You can’t see him in the photo, but he is right with me helping me make the ravioli.

At 6pm, as usual, we had dinner. TV and phone turned off. We always enjoy an uninterrupted evening meal. I prepared a light salad with crab, which we enjoyed with some bread — did I say I made that, too? Yeah, I bake a loaf of bread once or twice a week. Much healthier and less expensive that way.

After dinner, my partner and I jarred the sauce, stew, and washed the pots and pans, dried them, and put them away.

By 7:30pm, I was pooped. We retired to our basement. My partner turned on his usual blather recorded on Tivo, while I caught up more on the computer. I have to give a eulogy on Sunday for my first mentor who died on Christmas Eve, and worked quite a bit on preparing for that.

At 9pm, I printed out the eulogy I had written and read it to my partner aloud. He gave me some pointers, which I sat down and incorporated. By 9:30, we were in bed. I have a big day — an emotional one — on Sunday.

So that’s a rather typical Saturday for us. Hope you enjoyed the “tour.”

Life is short: wear boots and leather while enjoying it!

This is my aunt, for whom I care and enable her to continue to live an independent life. January 2 marked her 95th birthday. She is doing quite well. I so treasure her as such a marvelous lady. Her physical health remains stable, though her brain function is slowly deteriorating. However, with the help of a good neurologist and GP, appropriate medications, as well as a helper who spends several hours with her on weekdays while I am working, my aunt functions well.

She is so happy. It is such a joy to be around someone who is always chipper, smiling, and pleasant. I know it is a bit rare for someone of that age not to be in worse physical shape, or have developed a bad temperament. Not the case with my lovely aunt. She may repeat stories, or change languages from English to Italian to French to Spanish (and back and forth) as we talk. But continuing to communicate so well is amazing to me.

My partner and I took her out to lunch yesterday, and had a very nice time. There were only about 70 members of our family present, so it was a small crowd. But a joyous and happy one. (Glad I snuck the Xanax into my partner’s juice at breakfast!) [Just kiddin’]

I wore leather jeans and a denim shirt, and boots of course. And, as usual… no one said a thing about what I was wearing.

I feel so blessed… what a treat it is to care for someone who is so special.

Life is short: show those you love that you love them.