When it’s too hot to do anything.

14 Friday Aug 2026

Posted by in Family, Fishing, Kayaking, Life, Nature, Uncategorized, Weather

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I have lived here all my life, and you would think by now I would have become accustomed to this heat. Apparently, my body never got the memo. Even with my anemia, it has gotten too warm for me.

Every day this week, I’ve either had a doctor’s appointment, a physical therapy appointment, or I’ve had to drive my wife to one of hers. That means I’ve had to be outside at least twice a day, every day this week, and it has been brutal.

Yesterday, after taking my wife to the doctor, I volunteered my services to help a friend with his two air-conditioning units. I had planned on changing into a lighter shirt before going, but, of course, I forgot. Within just a few minutes, that shirt was soaked with sweat.

There’s nothing quite like standing outside in 100-degree weather wearing a shirt that has decided to become a second skin.

It’s too hot for me to do any yard work, and it’s even too hot for me to work in my garage. There are plenty of things I need to do out there, but when the temperature in the garage feels like it could double as an oven, suddenly those projects don’t seem quite as important.

I’ll get to them eventually.

Or maybe in November.

It’s even too hot to go fishing.

And that’s saying something.

I was reading yesterday about a lady who was giving instructions on how to make bread in your mailbox. In this heat, I can actually see someone trying it. You could probably put the dough in the mailbox in the morning and have a loaf of bread by lunchtime.

I also saw where a meteorologist had taken his cast-iron pan and left it sitting in the sun for about thirty minutes. He was able to fry a couple of eggs in it.

At this point, I’m beginning to wonder why we’re still using stoves.

Just put your skillet on the driveway.

The ambient air temperature at my house this afternoon was 100 degrees, with a heat index of 115 degrees. When you walk outside, the humidity is so thick that it feels as though you’re walking into a brick wall.

They say it’s not the heat, it’s the humidity that will get to you.

I believe it.

At 115 degrees, I don’t think the heat and humidity are working independently anymore. They’ve formed a partnership.

We’re supposed to get a break in this heatwave sometime in the middle of next week. Along with the cooler temperatures will come a few much-welcomed thunderstorms.

I’m looking forward to both.

Maybe I’ll even get back out in the garage.

Then again, if it’s still too hot, there’s always November.

The Never-Ending Battle of the Yard

09 Sunday Aug 2026

Posted by in Life, Nature, Photography, Uncategorized

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I have a love/hate relationship with yardwork.

When we first bought this house back in 1991, we had one of the prettiest yards on the block. The house was brand new—no one had ever lived in it—and the front yard had fresh Bermuda sod. I did my best to keep it looking good. Back then, I actually enjoyed working in the yard.

Then life happened.

After my son was born, I found it increasingly difficult to keep the yard maintained the way it needed to be. Between work, family, and everything else that comes with having kids, the yard slowly moved down the priority list.

So, I hired a lawn care company to come out every other month and spray the yard.

We used that company for several years. During that time, they went through a few changes. They changed their name a couple of times, and unfortunately, the service seemed to change right along with the name.

After about the third name change, I started noticing a strange weed growing right in the middle of my front yard.

Every time they came out, I would point it out.

Spurge

“Can you do something about that?”

Every time, I got essentially the same response.

“We’ll take care of it.”

Well…

They never did.

After about a year of watching this weed continue to grow while the lawn care company continued to promise they would “take care of it,” I finally gave them the boot.

Unfortunately, by then, that little patch of weeds had tripled in size.

A couple of years ago, I finally realized something rather disturbing.

I didn’t have a lawn anymore.

I had a weed yard.

Apparently, the weed had won.

I finally took a picture of it, Googled it, and discovered exactly what kind of weed I was dealing with and, more importantly, how to get rid of it. I found the chemical I needed on Amazon and ordered a bottle.

Last year, I started my campaign to reclaim my yard.

I sprayed.

And sprayed.

And sprayed some more.

I managed to make a pretty good dent in the weed population, but it still had a firm grip on a large portion of my front yard.

This year, I was determined to finish the job.

After several more treatments, I finally managed to put the weeds to rest.

I thought I had finally reached step two in restoring my lawn.

Then I discovered my next enemy.

Moss.

Apparently, the weeds had called in reinforcements.

I had moss growing underneath one of my trees, so once again, I turned to Google. I found out how to get rid of it, treated it a couple of times, and eventually managed to eliminate the moss.

Victory!

Except there was one small problem.

After killing off the weeds and the moss, I was left with several large, dark patches of bare ground in my front yard.

At this point, I was beginning to wonder if I was actually improving the yard or just finding new ways to destroy it.

Fortunately, I have a daughter who is dating the owner of a landscaping company. I talked to him about the proper way to get grass growing in those bare spots.

His solution?

Topsoil.

Simple enough.

So last week, I went to the hardware store and bought four bags of topsoil. Each bag contained one cubic foot.

I knew four bags weren’t going to be enough, but I figured it would at least make a dent.

I was wrong.

Not even close.

A few days later, I went back to the hardware store to get at least six more bags.

They only had four.

So I bought four.

Again, not even close.

By Saturday, I decided I needed to get serious.

I loaded up my trailer and, after Bible study, headed back to the hardware store. This time, I bought twelve bags.

As I was loading them, I remember thinking, “What am I going to do with all this leftover topsoil?”

Apparently, I had nothing to worry about.

After putting down six bags, I realized I was going to need a whole lot more than twelve bags.

At this point, I’ve put down twenty bags—or twenty cubic feet—of topsoil.

And I’m not finished.

I have absolutely no idea how much more I’m going to need.

All I know is that tomorrow morning I’m hooking the trailer back up and heading back to the hardware store for at least twelve more bags.

Because I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow afternoon, I may not have enough time to get all of it spread. But I’m going to give it a shot.

At this point, my front yard has become less of a lawn project and more of a construction project.

I’ve gone from fighting weeds to fighting moss, to moving what feels like an entire truckload of dirt one bag at a time.

And the funny thing is, I started this whole project because I wanted to make my yard look better.

So far, I’ve managed to turn it into a giant dirt patch.

I’m hoping that once I get all this topsoil down and get some grass growing, it will finally start looking like the yard I remember from 1991.

Of course, by the time that happens, I may be too old to care what it looks like.

But at least the weeds will be gone.

Progress Isn’t Always a Straight Line (Especially with My Back)

06 Thursday Aug 2026

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Twice a week for the past five weeks, I’ve been going to physical therapy for my back. I’ll admit that when I first started, I didn’t think therapy would do much good for fused vertebrae and a bulging disc. I figured it was something I would just have to live with. Much to my surprise, though, therapy has been more beneficial than I ever expected.

That doesn’t mean there haven’t been a few setbacks.

This week alone, my back decided to remind me that it’s still in charge of this relationship. Apparently, I only get voting rights.

After church on Sunday, my kids and I went out to eat. The restaurant seated us in a booth with one of the strangest backrests I’ve ever encountered. Whoever designed it must have based it on someone who had never actually sat down before.

Within a few minutes, I knew it wasn’t going to work. My back was getting more uncomfortable by the second, so I finally excused myself and headed out to my truck to do some stretching.

Apparently, seeing a grown man bent, twisted, and stretched out in a restaurant parking lot gets people’s attention. Several patrons stopped to ask if I needed medical assistance. I appreciated their concern, but thankfully, all I needed was for my back to quit throwing its little temper tantrum.

The very next day, I went fishing with my friend Rick. Before we launched, I warned him that I probably wouldn’t make it through a full day on the water. My plan was to fish until about 11:30 a.m., giving us roughly five hours before heading home.

Well…my back had already looked at my schedule and crossed that out.

By 10:30, it was screaming, “We’re done!” Loud enough that I didn’t feel the need to argue. I paddled back to the launch, unloaded my gear, and before loading my kayak into the truck, I stretched out flat on my back across the tailgate for about ten minutes.

If anyone drove by, they probably thought I was either taking a nap or waiting for the coroner. Thankfully, neither was true.

That little break settled my back down enough for me to finish loading everything. Rick finally made it back around noon. He was fortunate I’d taken those few minutes to recover because otherwise he would have been loading all of his gear by himself. As much as I enjoy fishing with him, I was ready to get home and put some heat on my back.

When I told my physical therapist about both incidents yesterday, she decided to extend my therapy for another couple of weeks. Her goal is to add some exercises specifically designed to help reduce the pain I experience while fishing.

Normally, I probably would have complained about having to continue therapy longer than expected. But in this case, I’ll let it slide. After all, if a few more therapy sessions help me spend a few more hours fishing, that’s a trade I’m willing to make.

She also suggested replacing the seat in my kayak with one that offers better lumbar support. I’ve already started looking at a few options, and I’m planning to show her what I’ve found during tomorrow’s appointment. Who knew shopping for kayak seats would become part of my medical treatment?

If there’s one thing this experience has taught me, it’s that progress isn’t always a straight line. There are good days and bad days, victories and setbacks. But each week I’m seeing small improvements that remind me I’m moving in the right direction.

My back may still think it’s the boss, but physical therapy is slowly teaching it that it’s about to lose some of its authority.

When the Climb Feels Steeper

01 Saturday Aug 2026

Posted by in bariatric-surgery, Cancer, Depression, Disability, Family, Fishing, Kayaking, Leukemia, Life, Uncategorized, Weight Loss

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There are days when I feel like I’m stuck in a rut. It seems like nothing I do matters anymore.

Lately, nothing really excites me. All I want to do is sit and do absolutely nothing. The television doesn’t interest me, so I turn it off. I tried reading, but after a sentence or two, I put the book back down.

I’m going through my daily routines simply because they’re expected of me, but I’m not getting much out of them.

If you’ve been following my journey for any length of time, you know I’ve dealt with some pretty serious health issues. Thankfully, since my gastric bypass surgery, my health has improved in several ways. But my CML is still there, and it’s something I’ll live with for the rest of my life.

I’ll be honest. It’s a constant battle not to end up in the frame of mind I’m in right now. I’m not at the point where I’d say I’m depressed, but I also can’t pretend it isn’t peeking around the corner.

I can’t tell you what triggers these episodes. They just seem to appear out of nowhere, and when they do, it usually takes me a couple of days to climb back out.

Is this just a “woe is me” moment? Maybe. I can’t completely rule that out. But even if it is, is it really so terrible that I have days like this every now and then?

I’ve been doing some yard work around the house—things that genuinely needed to be done—but my heart just wasn’t in it. I had the opportunity to go fishing on Friday, something I normally look forward to, but I made every excuse in the book not to go. Instead, I stayed home and worked in the yard.

This morning, I spent a few hours volunteering at church with some friends. While I was there, I genuinely enjoyed myself. We laughed, got some work done, and for a little while, everything felt normal.

On the drive home, I found myself thinking about all the things I wanted to do once I got back. That alone gave me hope. I thought maybe I was finally climbing out of this hole.

But as soon as I walked through the front door, that feeling disappeared. The heaviness came right back, and I honestly don’t know why.

Since getting home, I’ve done little more than sit in this recliner, not really wanting to do much of anything.

Maybe what I really need is a change of scenery. I need a break from doctor’s appointments every other day. I need to go somewhere where I don’t have to wonder what’s going to break next—or assume I’ll be the one expected to fix it.

On a brighter note, my wife’s car is finally back. That means I won’t have to chauffeur her to appointments anymore, and I can start making plans without first checking to see if she needs me somewhere else.

I’ll be okay. I’ve been through these seasons before. They come, and they go. Right now, the climb just feels a little steeper than usual.

Sometimes life is less about never falling into the hole and more about remembering that you’ve climbed out before. I’m trusting that, with God’s help, I’ll climb out again.

My Mouth Has Declared a Revolt

30 Thursday Jul 2026

Posted by in Amateur Radio, Cancer, Diabetic, Disability, Family, Fishing, Kayaking, Leukemia, Life

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I believe I’ve mentioned this a couple of times before, but I have a love/hate relationship with doctors. When it comes to dentists, though, it’s a little different—I absolutely despise dentistry. Don’t get me wrong, I love my dentist, but I hate everything about going to see him.

I know how important it is to take care of my teeth. I’ve also been told—although I’m not sure how much truth there is to it—that having CML can affect your dental health. Whether that’s the culprit or not, my teeth seem determined to keep my dentist in business.

About two weeks ago, I noticed what I thought was a missing filling. I already had an appointment scheduled to have my teeth cleaned, so I called the office to see if they could replace the filling during the same visit. When I got there, my dentist took one look and informed me that it wasn’t a missing filling at all—it was a broken tooth. That meant scheduling yet another appointment to get it fixed.

Then, last Friday, while I was out fishing with my daughter, I bit into a peanut butter cracker and heard that dreaded little crunch. Sure enough, I had managed to break another tooth. Because apparently my teeth have a flair for dramatic timing, this one was on the opposite side of my mouth… and my appointment to fix the first tooth was the following Tuesday.

On Monday morning, I called the dentist’s office to let them know I’d added another broken tooth to my collection. I figured if they were already going to be working in my mouth, they might as well fix both while they had me in the chair.

I’ve been going to the same dentist for more than forty years, so we’ve developed a pretty good rapport. Naturally, his first question was whether I’d been eating rocks again.

Before long, he had both sides of my jaw full of the magic juice that makes you feel like your face is sliding off your skull. He drilled both teeth and fitted them with temporary crowns.

About an hour after I got home, the numbness started to wear off. The right side of my mouth seemed perfectly fine, but the left side was a completely different story. I’m not sure why, but even two days later it’s still pretty sore.

Then this morning, while eating a bowl of Cheerios, I felt something strange. Sure enough, the temporary crown on my right side had come loose. It’s currently sitting on the table beside my recliner, patiently waiting for me to throw it in the trash.

I go back to the dentist on August 5th to have the permanent crowns installed, so I think I’m just going to wait. Knowing my luck, they’d put another temporary crown on, and I’d probably find a way to break that one too.

Have I mentioned lately just how much I despise going to the dentist?

At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if my dentist sends me a Christmas card thanking me for helping put one of his kids through college.

When Good Days Take Unexpected Turns

24 Friday Jul 2026

Posted by in Family, Fishing, Kayaking, Life, Nature, Twins, Uncategorized

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Tuesday was spent at the doctor’s office with my dad, following up on his broken nose. After examining him, the doctor decided not to do anything since he could still breathe through it without any difficulty. Dad actually broke his nose when he was a kid, so it was already a little crooked. I guess he’s had decades to get used to a nose that doesn’t point due north.

My plans to go fishing on Wednesday changed when my son called early that morning saying his air conditioner had quit working.

I haven’t had to do much HVAC work since I retired, so it took me a little longer than usual to diagnose the problem. It didn’t help that there were actually two problems. After several hours, two trips to the hardware store, a new thermostat, and a new capacitor, his air conditioner was finally back up and running. It felt good to know I hadn’t forgotten everything I learned after 32 years in the business.

My daughter told me on Sunday that she wanted to go fishing. Since she had a hair appointment on Thursday, she decided to spend the night and get an early start the next morning.

We fished for several hours before either of us had any luck. Her luck changed first when she hooked a big fish, but it got off before she could get it to the kayak. Then my luck changed when I finally landed one. Unfortunately, my good fortune lasted about five seconds.

As I was handling the fish, my phone slipped out of my pocket and disappeared into the lake, never to be seen again.

My daughter actually climbed out of her kayak and tried feeling around with her feet to find it, but it was gone. This is the second time my phone landed in the water, and you’d think after the first time I’d have learned my lesson. I have a phone tether on order now that should arrive tomorrow.

As the saying goes, a day late and a dollar short.

Needless to say, we called it a day and headed home.

After unloading the truck, I spent the next several hours at the phone store getting everything transferred to a new phone. It wasn’t exactly how I had planned to spend my afternoon, but at least I got to spend the morning on the water with my daughter.

I’d gladly trade a phone for memories like that… although I’d really prefer not to make it a habit.

Benadryl, Broken Noses, and a Busy Day

20 Monday Jul 2026

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Today started out busy, and judging by my calendar, it’s only the beginning.

I had two doctor appointments today—one at 10:00 a.m. and another at 3:00 p.m.

My first stop was my oncologist’s office for an iron infusion. They usually take about two hours, so I figured I’d have plenty of time to get home, eat lunch, and make it to my physical therapy appointment.

Well… that was the plan.

The infusion ended up lasting nearly three hours, which turned my carefully planned schedule into a race against the clock.

Before the infusion, they always draw blood to check my iron levels and determine if—and when—I’ll need another treatment. Then comes the fun part. They hook me up to a small IV bag of Benadryl.

They use Benadryl to offset any reaction I may have to the infusion.

I don’t know about everyone else, but Benadryl absolutely knocks me out. I’m talking “you could redecorate the room around me, and I’d never know it” kind of asleep.

I had brought my Kindle to pass the time, but after the Benadryl started flowing, I don’t remember making it past the second page.

A lady sitting next to me was receiving three bags of chemotherapy. I knew I’d been asleep for quite a while when I woke up, and she was already on her third bag.

When I finally came to, my iron infusion was almost finished. I did my best to stay awake long enough for the nurse to remove the IV. Truthfully, I could have happily curled up in that recliner and taken another nap, but I had places to be.

Downstairs, I stopped to pay for parking. An elderly lady ahead of me was having trouble with the payment machine. Her card wouldn’t work, and she didn’t have another card or any cash. I asked her to cancel the transaction, scan her ticket again, and I paid for her parking.

Four dollars wasn’t going to make me go broke.

My good deed for today.

She thanked me several times before heading on her way, and then I paid for my own parking.

My physical therapy appointment went well, although concentrating wasn’t exactly easy with all that Benadryl still floating through my system. I think my therapist took one look at me, decided I wasn’t going to set any personal records that afternoon, and let me go home about ten minutes early.

Tomorrow will be another busy day. I’ll have to miss my Tuesday morning Bible study because I’m taking my dad to the doctor to have his broken nose checked after his fall.

He’s already informed me that he has no intention of letting them reset it.

According to him, he broke it as a kid, it’s been crooked ever since, and he doesn’t see much point in making it straight now.

At 87 years old, I guess he’s decided that a crooked nose has become part of his identity. Who am I to argue with that?

When Did Getting Older Become a Banking Fee?

19 Sunday Jul 2026

Posted by in Disability, Life, Retirement, Uncategorized

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I’m 62 years old, and until now, I’ve never really felt like I’d been discriminated against because of my age.

I’ve been with the same banking institution for more than twenty years and have never had to pay a monthly service fee. The fees have always existed—I just never found myself in a situation where they applied to me.

When I started working for my last employer back in 1986, the bank was running a promotion that waived all service fees as long as I remained employed there. Over the years, the bank changed ownership several times, but they continued to honor that agreement.

One of the requirements for avoiding the fee was having at least $500 a month deposited electronically into the account. That wasn’t a problem since my entire paycheck was direct deposited every two weeks, and it was well over the minimum.

I retired in the summer of 2018, so the direct deposits stopped. Somehow, though, the fee waiver continued. I wasn’t asking questions.

About six months ago, I received a notice saying the monthly service fee was increasing from $10 to $15. Curious, I called the bank to ask why I had never been charged the original $10 fee. They searched my account, couldn’t find a reason, and simply told me not to worry about it.

So… I didn’t.

That worked out fine until Thursday of last week.

I noticed that beginning in May, I had been charged the new $15 monthly fee. Once again, I called the bank. Once again, no one could explain why it had suddenly started.

The representative did explain how I could avoid the fee. Here were my options:

  • Have at least $500 a month deposited directly into my account. I’m retired. My income comes through my financial advisor, and they don’t use direct deposit. Could I change that? Maybe. Do I want to untangle all of that? Not really.
  • Maintain a minimum balance of $1,500. I’m on a fixed income, so that’s not very realistic.
  • Be between the ages of 17 and 24. Well… I missed that window by about 38 years.
  • Be a current or former member of the military. I appreciate those who have served, but that doesn’t apply to me.

So, unless I’ve overlooked something, if you’re a retired senior citizen on a fixed income, your option is to pay the $15 every month.

Could I switch banks? Sure. But anyone who’s ever changed banks knows it’s about as much fun as a root canal. Every automatic payment, every subscription, every bill has to be updated. And if you’ve ever had your debit card hacked, you already know it can take months to get everything straightened back out.

I’ve left a message with my financial advisor, and I’m hoping they might have a solution that doesn’t involve jumping through flaming hoops.

Some people might wonder why I’m making such a big deal over $15 a month.

Here’s why.

When you’re living on a fixed income, $15 isn’t “just” $15. That’s $180 a year. That’s groceries. That’s medication. That’s gas in the truck. Those dollars matter.

Maybe I’m old-fashioned, but it seems like banks should reward customers who’ve remained loyal for decades instead of making them feel like they’re being penalized for getting older.

When Plans Change in an Instant

17 Friday Jul 2026

Posted by in Family, Kayaking, Life, Uncategorized

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It doesn’t matter how carefully you make your plans—one phone call from one of your parents can change everything in the blink of an eye.

I had planned on going fishing today. It had already been a challenge just getting ready. I had a meeting Thursday night, so I wasn’t able to load my kayak until I got home late. I loaded everything else beforehand, leaving only the kayak for when I returned.

We’re also down to one vehicle right now, so after my physical therapy session, I needed to take my wife grocery shopping. Then I had to drive across town to exchange my shoes before I could even think about heading to the water.

Then the phone rang.

It was my mom.

She told me my dad had fallen outside. According to her, there was blood everywhere. She had already called 911, and the paramedics were on their way to take him to the emergency room.

I left the house immediately. I got to the ER so quickly that I actually arrived before the ambulance did.

A short time later, my mom and my nephew arrived, and Dad came in around the same time. He had a pretty nasty gash on his forehead that had cut open a blood vessel. He also broke his nose and badly bruised his right arm.

My sister arrived shortly afterward, and then came the waiting. Anyone who has spent time in an emergency room knows that waiting is just part of the process.

After about two hours, I knew Dad was stable and being well cared for. Since there wasn’t much more I could do, I left to attend my meeting.

A couple of hours later, after the meeting ended, I called to check on everyone. Thankfully, they were already back home.

I called Dad again this morning, and I’m happy to report that he had a good night. He’ll see a doctor on Tuesday to have his broken nose evaluated. I offered to take him, but my nephew may be able to do it. We’ll know for sure in the next couple of days.

Days like yesterday are a reminder of how quickly life can change. One minute you’re thinking about fishing, and the next you’re sitting in an emergency room with your family.

I’m just thankful the outcome wasn’t worse. At 87 years old, a fall can be life-changing. God was watching over Dad, and for that, I’m incredibly grateful.

A Calendar Full of Red

15 Wednesday Jul 2026

Posted by in Diabetic, Disability, Family, Fishing, Kayaking, Life, Pets, Retirement, Uncategorized

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My cat Sophia must have decided I needed the extra rest because she let me sleep until 6:30 this morning—an hour later than my usual wake-up call. I don’t know what got into her, but I’m not about to question a miracle.

My wife had a physical therapy appointment today, so I didn’t get much accomplished before it was time to chauffeur her to the appointment at 11:00. While she was with her therapist, I stayed in the truck. I used the time to go over my upcoming Bible study lesson. It was a productive way to pass the time.

I had planned to take my new shoes back to the store because the longer I wear them, the more my right foot hurts. I was hoping I could simply exchange them for a 7E width, but after doing some research online, I discovered that width isn’t available in the current style. Since my wife also had another appointment later in the day, I couldn’t make it to the shoe store. That means I’ll have to make a special trip tomorrow and hope I can find a pair that actually fits.

I have physical therapy in the morning, and afterward I’ll head across town to the shoe store. Once that’s done, I’ll come back home, pick up my wife, and take her grocery shopping.

After we get back, I’ll start loading what I can for Friday’s fishing trip. Unfortunately, I have a late meeting across town, so I won’t be able to load my kayak or fishing rods until I get home around 11:00 that night. Thankfully, it only takes a few minutes to load everything, so I should still be able to get to bed early enough for my 4:00 a.m. alarm.

I looked over my calendar for the next month, and it’s covered in red. I mark all of my appointments—and all of my wife’s appointments—in red so they stand out. Right now, there’s something scheduled at least three days every week, and several days have two appointments. Retirement sure wasn’t supposed to involve this many waiting rooms.

I’ll be glad when my wife gets her car back. Sharing one vehicle has made scheduling everything a lot more complicated. I know it’s only temporary and it couldn’t really be helped, but it has definitely added a layer of inconvenience to our daily routine. Hopefully, things will get back to normal soon.