Too Impulsive

In the wee hours of the morning the toilet adjacent to the master bedroom failed to refill.  I let the leaking noise disrupt my return to sleep but then got up to try to fix it.  I assumed the flapper did not close the outlet fully but when I manually pushed the flapper closed the fill still did not occur.  I shut off the water and on arising in the morning thought about just getting a new flapper or calling the plumber.  Having a fair amount to do, I asked my wife to call the plumber who came and replaced not only that flapper but another at about $100 each.  Had I been more patient or had it occurred on a day other than my only seriously scheduled one, I could have done that myself for about $5, then called if my self-repair failed to correct the problem.  Wanting it done now just got the better of me.  And I had no other plans for allocating that $200.

SSRI Holiday

My daily pill container once had seven tablets.  Multivit not renewed after finally completing the contents of a one year supply of horse pills that took a lot more than a year to finish.  I've just never seen beriberi, scurvy or night blindness in all the years I took care of patients.  Some probably took a vitamin.  The majority did not.  The popularity of these escapes me, but also drew me in at one time.  Not expensive but not efficacious either.  Aspirin can be had at the Dollar Tree for $1 for a package of 60 tablets which is $6 a year, even less than the multivit.  The efficacy of this for people my age who do not have heart disease, which would be me if my stress test is accurate, does not seem to be there when studied in the manner of mainstream medical studies.  I've not had any adverse effects but people in the study groups have.  Just finished my weekly supply one week ago and never went back to reloading it into the weekly container on Sundays.  My need for an NSAID varies.  There are weeks when lumbago of some type makes this a scheduled medicine.  It has been my good fortune to go into remission, making this a prn medicine.  I keep a bottle between the front seats of my car but no longer put a daily dose in my case. And it delays my platelet donations which might be among the more useful things I do for people.  I could say the same about that prostate stuff the doctor prescribed a few years ago.  It alleviated symptoms which then stayed in remission after I stopped taking the medicine.  Usage has been minimal.  It is not a prn medicine so when I need it again, it will reappear in the weekly case, but hasn't for a while.  My PPI is still there.  The intent of these drugs is a two week course unsupervised medically for GERD.  And I have stopped it for brief periods only to have GERD symptoms come right back.  An EGD showed no Barrett's or other serious disorder, so the SSRI is for symptoms which have demonstrated themselves as either persistent or recurrent.  That one stays.  There is a statin.  My cholesterol level is well beyond dietary modification, as was my father's who developed symptomatic angina at an age slightly less than mine and a CABG at an age somewhat older than mine.   The medicine has been efficacious, at least by lab numbers if not by patent coronaries, when I am faithful about taking it.  The cost is not burdensome.  I had transient minor myalgia when my current high grade treatment was introduced but in recent years no adverse effects have been noted.  That one stays.  So does the ACE inhibitor.  My BP has been consistently above optimal when I have let it lapse.  There have been no side effects.  So my pill case in recent weeks has been depleted to three:  PPI, ACE, statin.

There remains one more variable, the SSRI.  I might have ADHD by childhood restlessness and inattention but I've never been treated or even tried a stimulant.  As a 60-something, I've succeeded pretty well and rarely if ever speculate to what loftier heights I might have soared had my attention span exceeded that of a Brussels sprout.  Or maybe I wouldn't have does as well.  What I seem to have, though, is compulsivity and hyperawareness.  I can be maniacal to detail, abrasive and impatient, particularly with people less astute than me.  INTJ's like me tend to be that way so it's not necessarily pathological but often not helpful either.  Maybe a dozen years ago I asked my doctor a therapeutic trial of an SSRI might improve this, remembering Peter Kramer's Listening to Prozac published a few years after the medicine became available but listened by me on audiobook quite a few years later.  While these drugs are antidepressants primarily, the have a role in tempering compulsivity.  Dr. Kramer described a patient whose personality, focus, and productivity soared on the drug with a setback on withdrawal and return of favorable results on retreatment.  That's a pretty fair prototype for me.  The pills had declared themselves safe, if not annoying at times. 

Starting with office samples of Prozac 10mg I avoided side effects.  It made me sleepy which is better than making me wired.  Paxil samples were easy to come by.  I lasted about three days.  It made me feel like I took something.  Then 20 mg Prozac by prescription for a while.  Eventually Celexa came out, better tolerated by office samples, then continued indefinitely by prescription with lapses.

This month, I thought it time to hit the reset button.  Avoided my shul on shabbos, withheld Facebook, withheld Celexa (citalopram), bringing the pill case to its current three.  Facebook hiatus a very good thing to do with return next month in a highly scheduled way, much like I did for Sermo six months back.   My shul in its current circumstances still annoys me but I will return in a scheduled way and maybe return to tossing blogbarbs at the Rabbi and Executive Committee.  Not having the SSRI, though, took a real toll and has been resumed.

I found myself mentally a little sharper without it, sometimes hyperaware, sometimes hyperfocused.  I also found myself unusually impatient, overreacting to minor glitches like losing something which may also hint that I didn't pay attention to detail as well, too eager to move on to the next activity.  I was not as nice a person, much as Dr. Kramer described his patient in his book when on and off Prozac.  I exercised less but tolerated the effort the same.  My appetite seemed unchanged but weight might be up about a pound.  Insomnia unaffected.

Before/After assessment shows that I like myself better when toned down a little, so the pill case for the evening doses has returned to four.

EZ Pass

My commute while working was always toll free but as I retire and drive to different places, that perspective changes.  Driving downstate on a weekday has two stops each way of $1 each.  Going to Baltimore has an $8 tab though a single stop.  In the coming few weeks, I plan a much longer trip which will take my over the Jersey Turnpike, Commodore Barry Bridge, George Washington Bridge and whatever awaits me through southern New England.  That's a fair amount of money, not many stops, though with long lines expected at some of them.  Might a $15 one time investment in EZ Pass make my travels easier?  After some exploration, it depends.

One project I have handled faithfully is taking the first $5 bill received in change each day, putting it in an envelope which is then opened and counted on January 1 and July 1. The proceeds are spent on myself.  Last half-years stash reached $145 of which I have spent $7 at almost the midpoint so $15 might be an appropriated allocation of this mad money.  It would be great to have this convenience on my upcoming road trip.  But what about beyond?

So I went to the state's EZ Pass kiosk on I-95 last weekend.  They charge $35, $15 for the device, $10 for upcoming tolls, and $10 for the convenience of doing it there.  Not worth the last $10 and the GW Bridge alone costs more than $10. No go.  Went back on line.  Almost signed up:  Device $15, initial account $25, which I can augment before I go as the tolls will exceed that considerably.  The snag occurred on keeping the account active.  As it is now, I drive to Baltimore about once a quarter, downstate about every two months.  That's $12-15 a quarter.  Occasionally I will go into Pennsylvania, though rarely on a toll road, and into NJ a few times a year.  So if I have the state add $15 by credit card each time my account drops below $10, I should be good to go whenever I want pretty much wherever I am likely to travel on a whim.  The state did not give me that option.  Instead, the supplements are $25 increments as the account drops below $10/  Other than special planned trips, I probably don't spend much beyond $25 on tolls in a year.  So the only advantage of EZ Pass would be to avoid long lines near a city.  There just aren't enough stops to justify that over simpling keeping some cash in the car and in my wallet for spontaneous trips and getting some extra from the cash machine before more expensive trips.  I am rarely in a hurry.  EZ Pass at $25 per account refill seemed excessive.  Maybe if the wanderlust of my first full summer of retirement expands, I can always enroll later.

Fishing Season Initiatives

Thus far my cumulative catch totals zero.  Not that I plan to dine on anything I extract from the local waterways if my skill improves, but I have enjoyed the quiet time outdoors, advice from other fisherman nearby, and advancing skill for which there is little doubt.

While between classes at OLLI, I tied my first successful nail knot, using a straw from WaWa snipped into a small segment.  My dexterity and close vision leave a lot to be desired so I connected two shoelaces, though if I can keep track of which nylon monofilament connects to the reel and which connects to the hook, I can probably do this with real line in the very near future.

My equipment does not need replenishing.  I have an ultralight rod and standard rod, each with spinning reel, though the ultralight green one could use some minor duct tape to hold a slipping line guide.  My lines coil when casted, likely a consequence of never replacing them and storing on the reels for extended times.  I have a fly kit, even have waders, thus the desire to master the nail knot and the blood knot.  I have a standard rod with casting reel, one that backlashes with each attempted cast.  A skill worth improving.  I do not have salt water gear.  A macho looking rod and reel for this would run about $100.  And I like driving downstate to the Indian River Inlet which attracts many anglers, but some of them have mid-sized pond rods.  Ample variety of hooks, lures, weights, bobbers.  My State Park card is permanent and my age no longer requires a state license.  Ready to resume once the days warm up a bit to where I am comfortable and the fish become less selective about what looks like food.  Very soon.

Finished the Books

As I create 12 projects for each half-year, one that usually goes well has been a reading quota of three books.  It's not just any three books.  To make it more of an individual challenge, I set rules.  The three works must include a novel that one might find assigned in a college literature class,  a non-fiction work of substance, and a book with a Jewish theme.  Amid the three selections, one must be a traditional book, one an e-book read on a screen, and one an audio book.  Which type goes with which category is flexible but classics often become available as e-books for free.  This cycle, the Jewish book by Adam Kirsch:  The people and the books: 18 classics of Jewish literature came from the local library.  It doesn't really have 18 books in their original texts but a learned commentary on a selection of works written from Biblical times to the early 20th century that either shaped Jewish thought or revealed how Jews in different eras of history adapted Judaism to their circumstances, once their communities stopped being autonomous.  For the audio-book, my daughter had given me Krista Tippet's audio version of Becoming wise: an inquiry into the mystery and art of living.  It comes as a written work but the audio version has the advantage of listening to the actual tapes of her many interviews as a NY Times reporter with the person being interviewed doing the speaking.  I think that's a better format for this than reading the transcript on paper.  If I were still working, the 8 discs would have been run over about two weeks in my daily commute.  Since it did not seem worth the effort to listen to one or two audio bands at a time, I only played it when driving for a half hour or more, which isn't all that often anymore.  Listening in the entirety therefore expanded to two months, though I could have taken the discs from the car and listened on my home computer or other CD access.  While driving seemed the best forum.  The prose and interviews were of contemporary style, never really profound or artistic.  I had tried last year to listen to Hemingway's For Whom the Bell Tolls in the car.  He is a master of language with its subtleties and references that connect better on a page that can be stopped momentarily to ponder what was said or admire the choice of words.  For the novel, I selected Thomas Hardy's Tess of d'Ubervilles available for free.  As I do more of this, I become increasingly convinced there are advantages to having the work written in my native language rather than translated.  I never was an enthusiast of 19th century English classics.  I loathed Dickens assignments in school, kept my own with George Eliot's Silas Marner, and found the stuff I had to read by Tennyson less pretentious than the others.  I paced myself at 18 minute intervals through Tess, admired the meticulous depictions of environment and people and finished with a good understanding of why the Americans and every other colony since wanted out from these ethically bankrupt, pompous English aristocracy types whose most important attribute may have been their yichus.  Most would be better described personally as tuchus.  I would not have guessed the ending which may be why toward the end I kept reading after the timer finished its 18 minutes.  Since the estranged husband aspired to become a gentleman farmer in the colonies, I just assumed it would end as Tess of Hooterville.  It didn't.   I don't know if I would have done better or worse if this work were assigned to me.

As I transition from professional whose knowledge served as coin of the realm to retiree who could devote each waking hour to his highest level of amusement, keeping my mind sharp has shown its intrinsic value yet more of a challenge when not forced upon me.  Classes at the Osher Institute of Lifelong Learning have waiting lists, but fortunately not competitive admissions.  The dozen or so contemporaries in my writing class appreciate the value of words and the ideas that they convey.  That method of transmission has been in place forever.  College assignments make access easy.  Voluntarily seeking out the best in written expression comes less easily but may have more enduring value.

Put Together

Nobody has yet nominated me for a Stacy and Clinton makeover.  I'm skeptical about impressions but became a little less skeptical recently when I reacquainted panim el panim with a very gracious girl, now an elegant lady with an appearance well under her actual age, who I had not seen except in a Facebook picture in 50 years.  We had identical class schedules as high school sophomores, separated only by French for which she attained real proficiency and Spanish with my skill limited to letting Hispanic patients know I cared enough about them to converse briefly and read cast-off copies of El Diario from the floor of the NYC Transit trains.  I found her at the time cute, pleasant and intelligent, maybe the first time I ever really singled out one girl from among the masses.  I do not know how she found me but she seemed to go the hippie or beatnik track over the ensuing two years while I kept focused on my grades and college aspirations.  She and one other remained as prototypes which in due time approximated my wife, also cute, gracious, and intelligent with similar stature and identically colored hair.  I was anything but drawn to style, though as an early career entrant I understood from John Molloy's Dress for Success that appearance could serve as a useful tool.  Once my Brooks Brothers Credit Card was no longer needed, when my professional skill spoke for itself, it was a return to Goodwill and Boscov's for wardrobe staples.  And I never gained the graces of small talk, memorable handshakes, or the stylish haircut.

My friend and I went our separate ways, literally coasts apart and ideologically probably still within a light-year of each other.  However, we shared a valued acquaintance.  Her elderly aunt of abundant accomplishments attended my shul where I was mostly recognized as the Yom Kippur Torah reader.  Facebook when it came out reconnected a lot of high school chums, most of whom I have become closer to now than when I attended.  Friends of this type gather largely out of curiosity.  A few annoying political posts or comments or becoming a noodge with too many C'est Moi's in the manner of Miss Piggy invites the recipient to snooze for a 30 day respite, unfollow, Unfriend, or in the most egregious situations to block.  I got Unfriended by this former classmate the day after saying there were valid reasons to vote for Reagan, something the majority of citizens agreed upon at the time but announced the unpardonable sin to others

The irreversible aging process caught up with my friend's aunt, actually everybody's surrogate aunt, expiring at age 95.  There are funerals and there are celebrations of life.  Sorrow yes, tragedy no.  About 100 people assembled at the Jewish funeral home, some traveling considerable distance to attend.  A few lines above mine in the Guest Book was my friend's hand-printed sign-in, handwriting far better than mine.  She had come with her husband and son from the West Coast.  Though I had not seen her in 50 years, there was that FB profile photo posted several years earlier and not yet overwhelming attendance in the pews, so I had little difficulty identifying the old hometown girl.

Introductions to each other's families then ensued, briefly as the ritual of funeral was to commence shortly.  While she may have gone the hippie route as a high school senior, there were no love beads, headbands, flip flops, or overdue grooming characteristic of Vietnam War protesters.  Instead I encountered a most elegant person.  Her hair had been preserved in its color of youth, or at least it was not the grey color of mine, her husband's or her late aunt's.  The style duplicated that of the FB photo, probably beyond the skill of most people to maintain on their own.  Her clothing fit properly, an inviting mixture of burgundy and black.  I did not catch the shoes nor give the earrings enough attention to remember anything about their design.  She had averted the gait alterations and osteoporotic features of her aunt, not quite thirty years her senior.  Some conversation followed, still as gracious as I remember half a century back, repeated the following night at Shiva.

Our high school popular people arranged a 50 year post-graduation gathering for later this spring.  The confirmed attendance list is posted periodically by the organizing committee.  No black alumni coming, even though well represented in the class of 1969.  AP classes, where my friend and I still intersected our last two years, woefully under-represented.  Ugly ducklings transitioned to swans not coming either.  Juvenile delinquents one step from Reform School but living as mainstream adults, at least as I remember them, not on the attendance list either.  Don't know who on the attendance list needed to secure consent from their Parole Officers.  The popular people who got invited to the parties as teenagers arrange for themselves one more.


In the Chapel, my friend and I concurred that Florida seemed an undue schlep to greet the people that you see on Facebook posts most days.  The committee deserves lashes for not going beyond Facebook or word of mouth to capture the people who you haven't seen, maybe forgot about or never missed them, the people who really had been lost to follow-up but are worth a revisit, as my friend was to me.  No doubt those who spend the $149 reception fee will dress to the nines, get hair done, mani-pedis, maybe have their lens implants just in the nick of time to avoid eyeglasses.  My friend and I will not likely exchange handshakes or hugs, as our common personal link now belongs to the Ages. I did get Refriended, though.  I will remember her as stunning and poised which has its advantages over my natural frumpy and gauche.

Making Corned Beef

Making corned beef turns out to be less tedious than expected until the final day.  I had purchased a small kosher brisket on clearance some time ago, froze it, never really planned for its use.  A nearby kitchen store had a going out of business sale where I found a package of Morton's curing salt, though no Prague #1 which is what the internet usually says to use.  I wrote to the Morton Salt company for some guidance.  They responded with a fairly easy dry rub that goes in a plastic bag, invert twice a day for five days.  The curing completed today, followed by a somewhat difficult task of removing the cure from the surface.  A wash, three 2.5 hour soakings, and now simmering for another 2.5 hours in water with an onion, carrot, peppercorns and bay leaves.  Make sure there is always water.  In the meantime some lima bean soup from a mix that should be ready about the same time.  Have pumpernickel, mustard, no pickles and some salad greens.  Should be a little off the beaten path, and a lot less expensive than premade at the Shop-Rite Kosher Deli.