Category: Uncategorized Page 8 of 153

I broke my glasses.

I had been due for an eye exam before the pandemic, but put it off until a week ago – when I broke one of the nose pieces off.  I always thought they were flimsy, but they lasted me quite a while as it turned out.

Anyway, I made an appointment, took some time off, and headed to the eye doctor. And resigned myself to the fact that I would likely have to get bifocals.   Over the past few years I’ve found myself having to take my glasses off to see up close.  Eh, it happens.

During the eye appointment it turned out that my vision in my right eye was much worse than I thought.  Upon closer exam, using a light source that was brighter than the damn sun, the doctor found…something.  Corneal deposits was her best guess and instead of new glasses I was sent on my way to use over-the-counter gel “tears” for a week to see if that would wash them away.

They also couldn’t fix my existing glasses.  Of course…

So, I did the drops three times a day for a week and went back in yesterday.  And there was no change – which I had guessed even on my own just by looking at things with one eye and then the other.

I’ve got another appointment, with another doctor in another office, on Wednesday to get the deposits addressed.  I’m hoping it’s just another kind of slightly stronger eye drop, but no way to know until I get it checked. 

Once that is done, then it’s back to the primary eye doctor to get a prescription and then new glasses.   

Oh, and my first copay was $10 since it was an eye exam – but the second was $45 since it was a “medical appointment” .  They did the exact same thing at both appointments, naturally.   Could have been much worse, I guess.

I’m vaguely worried about this whole thing. I’ve worn glasses since I was a kid and while I wasn’t looking forward to bifocals it wasn’t a huge deal.  But this unknown, like so many unknowns, has me a little disconcerted. 

Nothing to do until I get it checked so it does no good to dwell on it.  The one-nose-piece glasses aren’t as uncomfortable as you’d think and I’ll get by. 

For now, I’m going to go stare intently at some sandpaper and see if that helps smooth things out.

On Sunday morning, I woke up to see two safety alerts from UA about a shooting that had occured off campus.  We’re required to send out these alerts by email within a certain amount of time and it seemed more serious than some, but not enough details to really get a sense of it   I let it go – though I felt bad for a coworker that I knew had to have gotten up in the middle of the night to send them.

Later that day, Jim and I were in a store and I randomly decided to check my email.  There was a message from UA’s President – one of the victims had been an 18 year old UA student.

I literally stopped in my tracks and read the message again.   We didn’t stay much longer and on the drive home I kept thinking about her – this nameless and faceless young woman that had lost her life.

Over the next few days, more details emerged.  There had been a big off-campus party after the football game with many non-students there.  There was a fight, then someone pulled a gun.  Of the shots fired, two young men were injured and taken to the hospital.  The young woman was pronounced dead at the scene with a gunshot to the chest. None of them were the real targets – all innocent bystanders.

Amidst the calls for better security and safety measures – and justified anger and sorrow on social media – one more fact emerged.

Her name was Maya.

There was a press conference today – more sorrow, more anger, more calls for action.  And a reward for information.   The short term plans are aggressive and even with the expected amount of finger-pointing, everyone seems largely on board with “making things better” – though nothing I heard will really address the root problems.

She was one of ours and nothing will bring her back.

I might never have crossed paths with Maya during her time at UA even if she had gotten her full allotment – it’s a big campus and there are so many people.  But, like many of us who work at universities, there is a feeling of trying to protect and nurture all the students there.  They pass into our lives and then just as quickly slip away – most going on to do great things.  And some, like Maya, have their dreams cut short.

In the middle of all of this directionless grief, there was a bright moment for me.

Many years ago, the UA webteam hired a smart and engaging young woman to work with us.  She was from Romania and was one of the best student assistants we ever had.  One Friday afternoon she mentioned that she was feeling a little homesick – this was the time of year that her family had a tradition of exchanging snowbells, little white flowers, and she was a long way from home.

Over the weekend, I found a diagram on how to make origami snowbells and by Monday I had crafted a whole spray of these tiny flowers.  I left them on her desk to find when she next came in – and she thanked me with tears in her eyes at the gesture.

Her name is Ana.

Ana switched to another department after a while, earned her degree, and returned home after graduation – I made it a point to go to the ceremony.  We connected on Facebook and I saw her continue to excel, travel throughout Europe, and get married.

And then, out of the blue, she showed up in my inbox with a question about her email.  She had sent it to the webmaster@uakron.edu as a general question, not realizing I was behind that account. 

I responded back with an excited message and answered her question – and hoped she was doing well.  She replied back that she was delighted to hear from me, congratulated me on my house, and told me she had just bought a home with her husband as well. 

We’ve had a nice exchange back and forth – and her kindness and warmth continue to shine through even an email.

Fate is a funny thing.  Two young women came to our campus and our city.   Both with dreams and excitement for their futures. 

I miss Ana.  And I never got to know Maya.

So we mourn those that are lost and celebrate those that thrive –  and hope for the future of our campus and our city. 

This year, the call went out again for LGBTQ members of the UA community to participate in the 2021 Zips of Pride poster.   I was on the fence about that again this year, but only because I had been slightly disappointed in the number of actual LGBTQ members vs. allies on the poster.  

But, I realized that if I didn’t participate, I would be further skewing the ratio.  So, I signed up for a date/time to get my photo taken next week. 

On Friday, I was on a video call with a colleague and we were going through some reporting and website updates – the usual.

As we were wrapping up, they asked if we could talk about something not work related.  I said sure and they told me that they had seen the email about the call for the poster and had seen last year’s and noted that I was on that poster.  They then told me that at the last two jobs they had been at, they would have been fired for coming out.

And then they asked me my thoughts on being on the poster.

I thought about it for a moment and then told them I had been on the fence last year – that it’s one thing to be out to close co-workers and another thing to be out to the “old white guys”.  I said that I felt comfortable with my colleagues and decided that since this was the first thing that had really been really supportive of the LGBTQ community at UA in a while, that I felt like I should participate since it might help other people too.

I then told them I was going to be in this year’s poster – and mentioned that having more of “us” on the poster sends a stronger message than just the allies.  (The allies are great, but, really, everyone at UA should be an ally.)

They were really relieved and thanked me for my insight. I don’t know if they are going to be in this year’s poster – but I think I helped them at least be more comfortable being themself at UA.

Two pride parades, getting married to my fella, and now – gay role model?

Did not see that coming.

I’m going to blame the lifeguard.

Way back in the day, when I first started swimming, I asked the lifeguard on duty how many laps to the mile.  They told me 36 and since the olympic sized pool was configured for lanes across the pool – instead of the length – I figured that was the number to shoot for.  

I worked my way up to that and eventually could do it without too much trouble.  From there, I used 36 as the basis for my mile and could do another 18 (½ mile) if I was feeling my oats.  (Literally, oatmeal 30 minutes before swimming is the way to go.) 

Even, occasionally, doing 72 laps – 2 miles – if I had enough time and had eaten properly.  And each lap was recorded in a spreadsheet with a formula to calculate the number of miles I’d done in a year.

A couple of weeks ago, I overheard two guys talking in the locker-room – one confirming that the other had done 36 laps and then congratulating him on the half mile. 

Uh-oh.

I looked it up when I got home and sure enough, 36 of the “long” laps in an olympic pool is a mile.  Instead of doing all those miles – and then bragging about it – I was only going half as far.

I’m literally half as good of a swimmer as I thought I was. 

Disheartened, I took a week off from swimming.  Tomorrow, I’ll start again and though I’ll still do 36 laps and still record them – I’ve gotten rid of the formula to turn those laps into miles.

The important bit is that swimming has made me stronger and improved my stamina.  And these shoulders?  Epic – at least for me.

And for everyone that knew better when I talked about my laps and didn’t tell me – thank you.  For a while there, I was feeling pretty amazing.

Half as amazing now, but I still rock that speedo.

I do some of my deepest thinking in the pool. My mind doesn’t have a lot to do other than count laps so i guess it’s no surprise that the introspection bubbles up. Deep thinking…bubbles… in the pool. Yeah, just roll with it.

I had stopped at the side of the pool to catch my breath for a moment and glanced at my watch just in time to see the seconds tick over into the next minute. Well, it’s a digital watch so there’s no actual “tick”, but you get what I mean.

It occurred to me as that second passed, it was gone forever. We’ll never see that moment again in time. It is utterly and irretrievably lost.

And one second in the future is just as far out of reach. Bursting with potential, but unknowable. We can no more skip ahead to future than we can reach back to the past.

But that one second in the middle? Everything, the entire universe, shares that same instant of time. Every person, every tree, every planet, every atom in all of existence is synced up in that moment.

And then, having caught my breath, I went back to my laps.

Today was the day for my second Covid-19 vaccine and I had a plan all laid out.  Jim and I have joined a wellness center not far from our house and this is also where I was scheduled to get my shot.

So, instead of swimming after work – when I normally do – I decided to get up early and swim before my shot.

The swim went…okay.  I had eaten too close to the time I needed to swim to make it work and I was full – but also hungry.  I had fuel, but I hadn’t converted it to energy.  I ended up not going quite as far as I wanted to, but still put in some laps.

I got out, got dressed and from the first floor waiting area, I did the health pre-screen and check-in.   Easy.

I had the “I’m ready” screen up on my phone and got stopped this time to show proof – guess too many folks tried to skip the lines.

But, in a few moments I was in the main room and confirming my birthdate.

As the tech was getting set up for me, I told her that she “might have to get a ‘running start’ with the injection” since I’d been working out.  She laughed and thanked me for the heads up.

The injection went smoothly and she commented, “that wasn’t so bad,”

I replied, quicker than I normally would be, that “well, I wasn’t flexing,”

She laughed again and I think I made her day.

With my card updated I was off to the waiting room for my 15 minutes of observation. 

And then I was done and on my way.

Over the course of the day my arm hurt just a little bit and I was a little tired.  I’ll keep an eye on things tomorrow as well, but this whole thing was pretty simple and easy.

And that’s what gets me when I hear about folks that don’t want to get the vaccine – or worse, somehow – are not following through on the second dose.  I mean…just get the vaccine, people.  Sheesh.  The science is amazing and complicated, but the decision shouldn’t be. 

I’m glad I did this and that, in a small way, I can help the people around me too.

And now – barring a booster shot later – I’m fully vaccinated against the pandemic.

Gooooooo…SCIENCE!

A man’s home is his castle and ours really is – with a turret and everything. Technically, a Normandy Tudor with old trees and vines climbing the bricks.

Those vines, though, were a problem. They had grown up past the second floor and had reached the roof – digging into the wood at the peak and into the shingles.

Neither Jim nor I like heights and though we had a pretty tall extension ladder, neither of us really wanted to climb up there.

When I was a kid, I was terrified of heights. Like death-grip-on-a-railing/hyper-ventilate scared. As I got a little older I realized that there might be times when I might have to be an adult and look out for other people – ugh, sigh – and that I couldn’t very well do that if I couldn’t climb a ladder.

So, I tried to work on it – to get the fear under control. I climbed things and looked out over edges and hated every moment of it. I would loudly declare that I was six foot tall and that was all the further I wanted to be off the ground.

But, I got a little better. To the point where I wouldn’t freeze if someone needed me. I still wouldn’t venture far off the ground on a whim, but I could do it if I had to. Like, life or death.

This past winter – our first Christmas in the house – Jim wanted to put a wreath on the outside of the chimney. It was the last thing to do to decorate the outside of the house and it was cold and starting to snow – and getting late. We couldn’t get the brick hook to stick and both of us were getting frustrated and tired. After adjusting the hook for the bazillionth time, I marched right up the slick and unstable ladder to hang the wreath. It stayed, looked good, and I was done.

Later on it occurred to me what an odd thing that was that I’d done – I was way higher up than I wanted to be and I’d been fine. Though, the crankiness had likely over-ridden that.

So, today, I was outside mowing the front yard and thinking about the vines. I decided to treat this not as an impossible fear, but as a problem to be solved. And I can solve problems.

The problem is the fear of falling, so I needed to not fall. And to think that I would not fall. If the ladder is steady, it won’t just tip over. And if I pay attention to my balance, near the top of the ladder is pretty much the same as the bottom of the ladder.

When I was done with mowing, I shared my plan with Jim – that I would just do this and see how I did. We got the ladder set up and he held it while I went up . I stayed focused and calm and with clippers in hand I went right up to the top. I worked on clipping and pulling the vines away and got as much as I could reach.

I took a break and Jim went up to work on a few as well. He went up a step higher than I would go and had to hang onto the shutter. I held the ladder and didn’t watch.

There was one vine still stuck in the eave of the house and no way to reach it. I gave this some thought, then got the saw-on-a-pole and took that back up the ladder. It took a bit but I managed to pry the last vine loose and came back down.

And I was okay. I had replaced scared with focused and fear with a plan.

It started to rain and we didn’t get done with the project, but the rest of the vines we want to clean up aren’t as high. I’m almost looking forward to going back up the ladder and finishing it up tomorrow.

I still have a ways to go before I’m climbing trees or fiddling on the roof, but I think I made some real progress today.

And briefly, I kinda touched the sky.

I found out early this week that my boss’s father had unexpectedly passed away.  I didn’t know the deceased, but I consider my boss my friend and it turns out that I know his…half-sister-in-law?  I think – the obituary wasn’t quite clear on how the relationships were organized.  Used to work with her many years ago.  Anyway, I got the details on where/when the visitation was being held and decided that I would go and show my support. 

The visitation was yesterday  and I got there slightly early as I always do.  They were just about done setting up and my boss hadn’t yet gone into the viewing room.  I walked up to him and he was surprised to see me – and smiled behind his mask.  I told him how sorry I was and asked how he was holding up.  He said the first few days were toughest, but he was looking forward to getting back to work next week and the ordinary problems there.  He then introduced me to his wife – and she said she’d heard of me on campus (she works at UA too) and knew me as “the web guy”.

There are worse things, I’d wager.

I saw and recognized my former co-worker and went over to say hello.  She didn’t know me at first until I said my name, then asked me to drop my mask to confirm.  She laughed, delighted to see me,  then asked me what had happened to my hair – I guess it had been a while since we’d seen each other. She introduced me to her husband and mother-in-law and we chatted for a few minutes, then I went to sit down.

I wasn’t quite sure what to do.  I couldn’t stay long – it was a work day and I had a meeting – but it felt weird to just leave.  So I sat there for a few minutes, waiting for things to officially start so I could officially get in line  – and then officially make my leave.  

Jim said later that this is “compound grief” – that when we grieve it brings back all the times we had grieved before.  Like muscle memory, perhaps.

I wasn’t grieving, exactly.  I felt bad for my friends and what they had gone through, but it was a bit disconnected.  But, as I sat there and looked down at the floor, every funeral I’d ever been to came creeping back. 

The carpet was a pale, sea-foam green.  As tasteful and utterly neutral as possible while still hiding wear and traffic.  The same carpet you could find in any funeral home – intended to be unnoticed and serve a function.  I looked up at the walls and saw the same prints I’m sure I’d  seen before if only I could remember.  So utterly bland that you could study them for hours and have every detail slip away if your gaze wavered.  I’d never been to this funeral home before, but it was still completely familiar.

And in all the sameness, I remembered all the funerals I’d been to and all the chairs I’d sat in while I’d said goodbye – or helped someone else say goodbye.

I felt that compound grief start to well up and the muscle memory start to flex – and I tamped it all down.  This was not about me.

So, I pulled myself back from my memories and gauged the flow of people traffic.  When there was the right kind of lull, I stood and got in line.  My boss, his wife, and my former co-worker  were all standing together and I talked to them for a few minutes – trying to say the right things and mostly succeeding, I guess –  before heading out.  

And then I got on with my day.   It wasn’t much and I didn’t stay long, but it was the right thing to do.  Sometimes all it takes is just showing up and being present for people.

I’ve stood in those receiving lines before and it is exhausting and terrible.  But I know that each person that stops by with a kind word can, in a small way, make things ever so slightly better.

I hope that my presence was a pleasant surprise on a terrible day.  And I hope that all of us brief visitors made it a little less terrible for them. 

There was no question that I was going to get vaccinated for COVID-19 as soon as it was available for my age group, but when it came down to it I did this in the most “anthony” way possible. High tech, well organized, and planned down to the minute with no surprises. 

First, I got the app.  Or, rather, the app for my medical insurance provider.  Once I got the password sorted out, I was in and got an alert when I could sign up.

I picked the first date available and an early morning time – then signed up online.  You really can get anything from the internet.   I took the day off of work in case I had a reaction  – but mostly just so I could have a day off.

Earlier this week I scoped out the location – 8 minutes from my house – and figured out the best parking options. I also planned a back-up route in case traffic was bad.

Today, I was up early and did the pre-check-in screening, then headed out – wearing a sleeveless shirt, of course.  (I will reluctantly admit to doing some dumbbell curls before I left the house.)   I got there early and checked in from the parking lot so that when I went in I was skipped ahead past two of the stations. Efficiency. 

I got the flyer at the door with notes and a QR code, got directed to the first open seat, then verified my name and birthdate. And then, needle stick – so easy and painless that I thought there was something wrong.  Like “can you stick it back in there and wiggle it around or something?”  or “Are you sure you pushed down the plunger?”

I didn’t say either of those things.

I got a timer and went to the observation area.  The nurse in that area took her responsibilities very seriously – she went from person to person, staring at them wide-eyed as though we might burst into flames or mutate into lizard people.    (I WISH.)  It was…a little disconcerting.

When my timer went off I immediately thought my pasta was done – I have the same timer at home – then turned it in and headed home.  

And that was it.  My arm got a little tingling/pinching/burning sensation a couple times later in the day, but it only lasted a few minutes.  It’s a little sore to the touch, but not a big deal.  I might have been a little fatigued today as well, but I was so dang lazy I couldn’t really tell.

I signed up for the post vaccine health check service  (QR Code!) and reported my very mild symptoms later in the day when they called for it.

My next appointment is in three weeks and I’ll likely take the day off again – or at least plan on the next day off since I’ve heard the second one is rougher.

I’ve heard some of the arguments for not getting the vaccine and they all just seem…dumb.  Here’s a thing, essentially free, that will prevent you from getting an illness that kills some people.  I mean, sign me up.  I’ll take a double (literally).  Easy.

And doing this, in a strange way, felt a little like voting.  Like what I was doing wasn’t just for me, but for my community.  Civic pride, and all that.  

So, vaccine shot number one is complete – can’t wait for the second.

If there’s anyone reading this that might be on the fence about getting vaccinated, please remember that I am very VERY smart.  And I think it’s a good idea.  🙂  So, there you go.

[editors note: this was written a few seeks ago, but there were website issues preventing timely posting.]

I hate doing my taxes.  Not paying taxes – that I don’t really mind.  I recognize the need to contribute to a functioning society.   But doing the taxes, filling out the paperwork and submitting it? 

Fills. me. with. dread.

I’m always certain that, if the sheer frustration of the nonsensical forms don’t kill me, I’ll screw it up and inadvertently commit tax fraud. And go directly to federal prison for life. Though I hear the food isn’t that bad. 

Wildly irrational, I know.  But, still, dread.

So, I’m of the mind that paying someone who doesn’t despise this down to the very core of their bones to do the taxes on my behalf is a worthwhile investment of my money.

I made the appointment and gathered up all my forms. And arrange to take a little time off of work so that I could arrive early – no stress, right?

On the day of, I’m a few minutes early and have my folder neatly ready to go with all the forms.  The Tax Guy comes out and I find out that they aren’t doing in-person appointments anymore – COVID – so my appointment was “drop off and go”.

Now, I had planned on being done with this mess that day.  Even had stamps with me to mail in my city taxes on the way home – and my checkbook for the direct deposit.    I was ready.

Instead, I scrambled to give the guy my info and the big events – bought a house, sold a house, got married (but filing separately).  He jotted down some notes, took my paperwork, told me they would have this done in a few days so I could pick things up and pay…

…And then sent me on my way.

Instead of being done, I had to wait.  And, you know,  dread. 

A few nerve wracking days later, I got a call and set up another appointment to pick things up.

I get there slightly early, but there’s clearly a problem.  There’s only the one Tax Guy there and no receptionist – or anyone else  He’s running late as a result.

50 minutes after my appointment was to have started, he comes back to the lobby to bring me back to his cubicle. 

And we proceed to go over most of the information that was already entered into the computer. Not sure how this was the wrap-up but whatever – he offered to give me a discount since I had to wait so long.  And hey, this is the guy keeping me out of federal prison. I figured I could cut him some slack.

But there’s another problem – I’m missing a form.  A 1099-S form for the Sale of Property.  I should have gotten that from my bank that held the mortgage on my house that I sold and paid off in 2020.  I have the Interest Paid form (1098, I believe), but no 1099-S.  He tells me that it “shouldn’t” make a difference since I won’t owe taxes if I had lived there more than two years, but I still should have it and can drop it off later if I find it to file an amended return. 

The rest goes normally, I pay the slightly reduced fee and head home to dig through all the paperwork again – and drop off the city forms in the mail.  At least I got to use that stamp.

I tear my files apart when I get home, but no 1099-S form is to be found.  So, I go online and make an appointment with my bank for the following Monday at lunch time to see if they can print one out. 

On Monday, I get a call to confirm the appointment and they ask what I needed.  When I tell them about the form they immediately reply that they don’t do anything with the mortgage stuff – and we cancel the appointment.

I did get a number from them to call the mortgage wing of the bank and called them next.  After wading through the menus, I finally get to a person.  I explain what I’m looking for and they have to put me on hold.

10 minutes later they are back – but no help.  I need to get the form from the IRS website and then I can fill it out based on the interest form the bank did send me.

Fine.

Next stop, IRS website where I find the form – with a note that says if I actually print this out and send it in it won’t be scannable. THERE WILL BE A PENALTY.    Instead, I have to order it and they’ll send it in the mail – in 10 business days.

So, I order the form and the instructions sheet and wait.

10 days later, I get the envelope from the IRS.  The instructions and the form itself are horrible – the least clear thing I’ve ever read. They also included another form that has to be sent in with the 1099-S for some reason.  It ‘suggests’ that whomever handled the transaction should complete the form on behalf of the seller.     Okaaay.

With the bank and the Tax Guy really no help and me not having a clue how to proceed, I take another desperate stab in the dark.  The title company had a ton of paperwork and seemed like they knew what they were doing – and might count as the ones who did the transaction.  I find the email of the Title Guy and drop him a note.  And wait.

The Title Guy gets back to me to clarify.  He recognizes the form name, but indicates that I don’t have to file it since this was my primary residence.   Quite clear and quite helpful.

This matches up mostly with what the Tax Guy said, what I read on a not-official tax site, with the confusion from the bank (sort of), and mostly with what little I gleaned from the forms.

With the refunds already in my account, I package all the notes and paperwork back up and resolve to stop worrying about it. 

 For another year, at least.