Livingroom Bird

I learned a valuable lesson today. The lesson being to close your fireplace flu after the cold season is over. I had, until today never thought of closing my fireplace flu after the cold season as closing the soot covered metal trap door seemed like an act just to keep the warm air in; and since the ambient temperature did not call for it, I just simply left it open. Until today when I was given a new house guest.

Upon returning from the gym I entered my house to find a bird desperately attempting to operate the patio door lock in the living room.  It was a smallish grey bird that seemed judgmental of my choice of glass in my windowpanes. And yet, pretty chill as it did not panic as I reached in close to open the siding patio door. It hung out for a bit before finally hopping out the door and onto my lanai. I then franticly searched for how the little feathered dude entered my house. I found all entry points sealed. Upon texting my cleaver boyfriend he quickly suggested the entry point must of been the fireplace. As he tested this, I glanced over at my white painted brick to see grey ash and bird poop covering the area. My battery operated LED candles (placed perfectly at a casual angles upon the fireplace Mantel) strewn about without regard. The clear point of entry for the bird-intruder.

So upon cleaning of bird poop from many surfaces and vacuuming a solid layer of wood ash my living room was free from evidence of the bird-bugler. Closing the fireplace flu as precaution.  

New Gym

What I thought would happen has happened. The chain that is 24hour Fitness entered bankruptcy protection. This means they are not re-opening my favorite location. They did; however, open the large central located facility, which happens to be the one I hate.  I could go to that location and return to my workouts. The reason why that location is so bad is because its filled with douchebags and also the gays. 

Yes, I will acknowledge that I am generalizing and stereotyping. But in my years attempting to workout there, I have had run-ins with both. There were the "bench bros" who place every weight they could possible use on a bench to commandeer it for the day, or the conversation pits.... were a rack turns into a social gathering spot. I really like a gym experience with lots of open benches and no conversation. I am a "preferred member" of 24hour, meaning about a million years ago I dumped a truck full of money on their reception desk and don't have dues until the space year of 3000 -- or until they go out of business. Which may happen any time. 

So..... I am searching for a new gym. 

Until then, I joined Planet Fitness. the "non-judgmental" gym. And ya, know what? It's kinda okay. They have all the free weights I need, they only have full racks for bench, which since I never have a spotter is probably for the best. So, until my dream gym comes along I be on the planet of fitness. 

Gym Time

My gym opened today. Not my real gym; there are no signs of life there. No-sir-ye-Bob. The 24Hour gym's website still only lists Texas gyms being re-opened. And based upon that states upward trend in COVID infections I have no doubt that 24Hour fitness is having one hell of a time keeping those Texans gym rats out of the gym or at least six feet apart. With their tank tops all hot and steamy with just enough fabric to barely cover their perky bosoms....oh..sorry.  I can't imagine how the corporate gyms in Denver are planning to open. But, as of yet; there are no updates.

When I toured my local clubhouse and its gym facilities during my first visit to the place, I was impressed how it was actually a real gym with real weights. Not just the typical hotel or apartment building gyms with outdated cable machines and belt-driven equipment. No, not mine clubhouse, real iron. I mean, there are no heavy plates to press, but hey dumbbells going one 65lbs. That is unheard. As of today, the gym opened. Being closed since March. The safety plan for reopening this oasis in the drought of gym time is apparently one hand sanitizer dispenser plonked down in the middle of the free weights. Hanging on the side is one bottle of "possibly" disinfectant and one roll of paper towels. The "possible disinfectant" did not, obviously list its dwell time (the time it needs to sit, wet on a surface to disinfect it) so I just went with two minutes and prayed down the equipment before and after. But, hey! It's a gym.

I have never been so weak in my life. I have not struggled with 50lbs dumbbells for arm curls since high school. I felt like an old man attempting to do arm curls. I had to force myself to just stop and check in with my mental state. My eagerness was going to get myself hurt. I had to wipe away all expectations or demands on reps and weights. I now have to work my body back into a routine and build my strength. I have never had to do this in my adult life.

On the other hand, it is kind of exciting. Getting back into a rhythm and seeing the development in my body. It's all new again. 

And So It Goes...

In the last couple of days, I have been reformatting my blog layout and all the links. I had to delete my "Pictures of StevieB" because the link was broken, and honestly I have no idea where it was even linked. The list entitled "Stuff StevieB Reads" Mostly consisted of blogs that went dark at the end of Obama's first term. The blogs listed for the most part had not posted anything in four or five years.

I am not passing judgment on these bloggers; they hopefully found other outlets to communicate their stories. Just that the era of the personal blog seems to have passed. I also had stopped posting for quite a while. And there were two reasons for this. The first reason I would state is that I had no story to tell. No life-tale needing to be told into my online diary. As we know one main reason people did blog was because they wanted an electronic diary to record their memories. I simply went through a phase were I felt I did not need a written catharsis. The second reason was that people became more and more entitled to read this platform. The examination of my work was not the issue, it was not even the feeling privacy lost.... maybe judgement of grammar and tone of voice.

These reasons, in retrospect, were stooooid notions. During this time, I experienced the death of my Mother, my Father, ended a relationship, and several friendships. These were not processed in a manner that needed shared via blogging. And yet; here I am. Returning to this format as a diary to record my story. Feeling totally at ease in continuing my path.  So let us go forth and examine a life lived / and to be lived. You may notice that the "Comment" ability has also been turned off going forward on my blog. Another reformat.  This is nothing to reflect the conversation of the readers side, just to remove the expectation of response. I am finding it rather freeing. 

Meeko, the Robot Vacuum

Find yourself a man that will wave to your Roomba as he enters the room...

Now I do understand that anthropomorphizing can be unhealthy. Depending completely on the situation. I will let you decide on the level of this construct as I am deeply assigning attributes of human form or personality to a very inanimate object. But, heres the thing, the thing is not inanimate. It is very inanimate. It all starts with my very detailed understanding of my view of addiction.

I know that I can become overly attached to things. Like TV shows, foods, or that slut of an ex-boyfriend. This is why I never watch Game of Thrones or Glee. This is why when people ask if I want to smoke pot I say "no" because I know that within three days I'll be at the gas station buying my second pack of cigarettes in two days. I am in no way painting a picture of addiction. If you know me in real life you would know that I rarely drink; It's just that I know my personality. This probably is why I waited years to adopt  sorry, buy a Roomba.  The robotic vacuum cleaner.

Right out of his little kennel box I immediately started to give it a personality. I named it Meeko, from that horrific Pocahontas film. But its personality just matched the raccoon in the film. Now I catch myself at the work, I will signal him to go clean from my phones app, and then watch the security camera on my phone to see if he wanders through the camera's view. He's sooo cute when he finds dirt.

So, yeah. Anthropomorphize much? Although I have not forced the boyfriend to watch videos I have captured of Meeko in action; I did witness a troubling site yesterday. The Boyfriend entered my house and came into the living room, and upon spotting Meeko, he waved at it and said something like "aw cute, hello!" So either I am dating someone who knows how to humor a crazy person's delusions, or he also knows how to give human traits to a robotic vacuum cleaner.  Either way, he's a keeper. The boyfriend, that is.

Demi Moore Needs to Die

The boyfriend rolled over and spoke. It was early on a Saturday morning and the light was filtered through the trees already. The early morning runners were making their way up the street outside, as it is their main path from ParkHill to Cheesman Park. The kind of chats that happen when two people take their bikes and head out for an adventure were wafting into the open window. The day had begun and, it appeared soon we would begin ours.

"Where's the cat? She never came to bed last night?" He said.  I groaned as I rolled from bed. I feared we locked her out on the balcony the previous night. I pictured the long-haired floofster in full diva mode after spending a night on the patio. We would pay the price for this transgression, that's for sure.  But, as I rounded the corner into the living room I noticed a different situation. Lamps toppled, their shades knocked out of wack. Items previously on tables scattered everywhere. And, in the middle of it all, the fluffy princess, staring intensely to the ceiling. A moth staring bake in mocking tone.

The common Miller Moth has an annual migration originating on the Plains of Colorado, Kansas and Nebraska and migrating west into the Rocky Mountains for the summer. They return to the Plains in September. I guess they take their summers in the mountains, I mean who wouldn't? Although it is an annual event every ten years or so the numbers are massive due to the change in climate. This year the numbers are massive.

So if I can list them, we have a Pandemic, the Race War,  and the icing on the cake is this swarms of insects? That's really all the signs of the apocalypse, right? I mean our local IKEA is also closed so I can't buy a new sofa and this may be the fourth sign. I personally think that is the signal for Demi Moore to die, Right?

I approach the kitty and notice deep bags under her eyes, and an ashtray filled with burnt-out cat cigarettes. She's mumbling about the moths.... "I'm gonnnaaaa get eweeeee.... eat your wings..... killlllll moths." Incomprehensible really. Poor thing staying up all night to capture a moth, knowing it will never fly down from the ceiling. The boyfriend swooped up kitty and I got out the vacuum to suck up the dusty-winged intruder. The cat still declares loudly to us how "she could of got it!" as we nod our heads in agreement. All the while hoping these weird times we are living in, clears up soon. 

It's the 1300's

I am "kind of" back on Facebook. I mean not really, as I despise all that it is, with every fiber of my being. I HATE Facebook like the Tiger King hates Carol Baskins. I hate Facebook like Trump hates the truth. (How's that for timely similes?) I believe Facebook is destroying society. But, this post is not about the undermining of rational and intelligent discord. It is about me; reporting to my family that I am not dead.

I made a Facebook account just to join my large families Facebook group. Seven kids, seven grandkids, a few third generation kids, and a cast of in-laws. Their discord is ongoing. I wanted to easily report of my non-COVIDedness. Apparently pandemics make people want to see who around them have succumb.

As I checked in, I thought of the black death of the 1300's, how royal families approached the pandemic. Royal households would cloister away their servants, so they could ensure the servant would not bring in the death, and yet the family members could still be served. Whole estates would be built far from civilization in order to have the whole extended family safe together. As you may guess, I would rather spend my pandemic laying in the base of a pledge pit, than in a palatial estate amongst my gene pool. So in comparison I can deal with a Facebook account until the mid-1350's when I can walk the city streets without a plague mask stuffed with poises.