Thursday Thoughts

Hail to the Broncos
Well, the Super Bowl is over and my Broncos were the victors. I was seriously EXHAUSTED Monday. You would think that I played the game instead of Von Miller. It was fun to listen the next day to all the sports talking heads trying to back pedal and make it sound as though they knew ALL ALONG that the Broncos were going to win rather than admitting that they all thought the Panthers would leave the Broncos in their dust. Bill took down our Bronco flag, but this was our tribute to the team – Broncos in the desert….

Bronco flag in the desert

It’s Just Another Machine
Just so you don’t think making fancy cakes is Bill’s only specialty, here is a photo of him sewing the apron that we gave my sister Bec for her birthday….

Bill sewing Bec apron

Yes Doctor, I’m Afraid It’s Terminal
Speaking of Bec, she will begin her new volunteer career as a docent at the Desert Botanical Garden in Phoenix next week. Now, if I had read that sentence a few months ago, I would have been thinking, “what in the hell is a docent.” But, thanks to my sister, I now know that docent is another name for someone who spent an extraordinary amount of time learning everything about a museum or art gallery or zoo so that they can be a guide. She literally has spent hours and hours over the past months learning about desert plants, and it’s fun to hear her talk about them. One day she came over for dinner, and the first words out of her mouth were, “Your neighbor’s agave plant has a terminal bloom.” What? That sounds extremely serious. Should we alert the authorities? But no. What I learned is that agave plants work really hard for a whole lot of years until voila, one year they shoot up a stalk that eventually blooms. Nature takes its course, and then the bloom dies. But so does the agave plant. That was its only job. Well, that, and providing us with tequila. Here is the plant…..

terminal bloom

 

Little does it know that it’s now a goner.

Road Rally
I have mentioned before in this blog that one of the many things I like about this area is that because of all the snowbirds, er, winter visitors, there are a lot of really cool old cars. Apparently refurbishing cars is a thing with a lot of Midwestern fellows. One day Bill and I decided to have lunch at our nearby pizza place, Papa Kelsies. As we parked our car, Bill said, “There must be a gathering of historical car guys at Papa Kelsies today.” I asked him why, and he pointed to an area of the parking lot that featured a whole bunch of really cool-looking old cars. And, sure enough, there was a table of guys eating pizza and talking about their cars. Take a look at these….

cars at papa kelsies

Ciao!

Football Hangover

If you had told me at the beginning of the football season (or really before or after any game during the entire season, because, you see, it’s me we’re talking about) that the Broncos would be in the Super Bowl, I would have called you C-R-A-Z-Y. No way. I’m pretty sure the only game we played this season that we didn’t have to wait until the final whistle to take a breath was against Green Bay. Meanwhile, the New England Patriots were winning handily, game after game after game.

Until they met the Denver Bronco defense the first time during the regular schedule, which presented them with their first loss of the season. And then again on Sunday afternoon when the Bronco defense sent them back to Boston to shovel snow. I’m no expert on football, but I’m telling you that Tom Brady got up Monday morning feeling out of sorts.

tom-bradyWhile I was in the hospital, my niece Maggie brought me my secret vice – entertainment magazines. I’m not sure why I enjoy them so because I probably don’t know 95 percent of the people they talk about. Still, I secretly read them in only a few places — grocery store lines, doctors’ offices, and the hospital. In one such magazine, there was a small blurb about Tom Brady and his gorgeous wife Gisele from which I learned that 80% of Tom and Gisele’s diet consists of vegetables. The perfectly splendid couple eats no white flour, no white sugar, no nightshade vegetables (??????), and no dairy. Brady proudly states that the ice cream he eats is made from avocados. Seriously. Avocados.

So he couldn’t even drown his sorrows Sunday night by eating a big bowl of Bunny Tracks ice cream drenched in hot fudge. Poor Tom. Instead of waving towels in the end zone, Bronco fans should have been waving signs depicting Big Macs.

I certainly didn’t count on a Bronco trip to the Super Bowl, but if it was to happen, I searchdreamed the opponent would be the Arizona Cardinals. I’m a Bronco supporter through and through, but Cardinals have become a team of which I’m fond. And I’m pretty sure Cardinals Coach Bruce Arian eats white flour, white sugar, and ice cream made from real cream. But alas, it was not to be. Instead, the Bronco’s opponent in a couple of weeks will be the ever-smiling Cam Newton.

Now, from what I can tell, Cam Newton is a like-him-or-hate-him kind of guy. Not being a particular follower of the SEC college football division, I don’t have a preconceived idea of the man. And since the Broncos rarely play the Carolina Panthers, I don’t have a knee-jerk negative reaction to them like I do to the Patriots.

cam-newton-86d1093fb4187b39Having said that, if you held my feet to the fire and insisted I give you a gut reaction to Cam Newton, it would be positive in nature. Sure, he’s full of himself. Sure, he does that dance in the end zone that other quarterbacks would never do. (Can you even IMAGINE Peyton Manning doing a dance in the end zone? A fist pump and a smile that looks more like he’s relieving gas pressure is about as much joy as the almost-always-serious Peyton demonstrates.) But Cam seems to be having such FUN. And, in his own words, if opponents don’t like him dancing in the end zone, they should keep him out of the end zone. I can’t say I’m very fond of the towel he seems to always wear over his head, but he has a million dollar smile, and you can take that to the bank. And you’ve got to give credit to someone who can chew gum and become the NFL Most Valuable Player at the same time.

I may or may not be paying my respects to Cam Newton and his team in a couple of weeks, but let the media blitz begin!

And to the Arizona Cardinals, you guys had a helluva season. I can’t wait ‘til next year.

Thursday Thoughts

It’s Enough to Raise My Blood Pressure
I went to the doctor Tuesday – a follow-up appointment to a follow-up appointment. My doctors must feel quite guilty about not seeing me when I was having my neck pain issue which eventually led to me being hospitalized because man-oh-man, are they ever being diligent about following up on every little thing. This time they were following up on a concern about my blood pressure (which I realize isn’t a “little thing”). But, as invariably happens, my blood pressure, which hovers around 150/75 when I take it at home, was 110/60. Seriously? I mean, I guess that’s good news, but whose blood pressure is lower when they go to the doctor’s? Mine, I guess. Of course, when I went to the specialist yesterday about my arthritis, my neck felt fine but my blood pressure was high. Sigh.

I Weigh the Same as I Weighed in High School
Since being at my doctor’s office last, they have moved to fancy new digs. Because the move only took place a few weeks ago, they are still having a few issues – where did we put our bandages, which examining room belongs to which doctor, where on earth did I put Mrs. Beauchamp, and so forth. In their former office, they had one of those old-school scales that you stand on and move the little doohickey until it balances. It seemed to work fine. But in an effort to be enviably high-tech, they now have a scale in each examining room, and it is a fancy-dancy digital scale. Except in the room where the medical assistant took me, she couldn’t get the scale to work. It wasn’t some high-tech problem. She simply couldn’t get the AA battery to not fall out when she put the scale on the ground. She tried five or six times to no avail. She finally turned to me and said (and I promise this is true), “Do you know how much you weigh?” Well OF COURSE I do. I weigh 105 lbs! And, by the way, I’m 5’7” tall. Just kidding. I actually told her the truth. But I’m not telling you. And this situation is further proof that old-school is often still the best.

Should My Quarterback Be Able to Feel His Fingers?
I was watching the sports news the other day, and learned an unsettling fact: In a press conference, Peyton Manning told us he has no feeling in the Peyton with glovefingers of his throwing hand. He apparently hasn’t since his neck surgery a couple of years ago but never mentioned it. At least not to me. I find that troubling. Whether your quarterback is throwing from the shotgun, dropping back and tossing from the pocket, or rolling out and throwing a shovel pass, I WANT MY QUARTERBACK TO BE ABLE TO FEEL HIS FINGERS. Apparently that is why he so often wears gloves. And here I thought he was just making a fashion statement.

Half Empty
And speaking of the Broncos, Court – much to my dismay – is predicting a winning Bronco season but not a Super Bowl run. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, as they say. I go into every season assuming we aren’t going to win a single game. The truth of the matter is that I sort of wish we would have a good season with lots of really good games, but not make a run for the Super Bowl. It sort of takes the fun out of watching football, or at least it did last year. Of course, Court’s prediction could have something to do with the fact that Peyton can’t feel his fingers. I wonder if he can feel his face.

Ciao.