Every morning, our routine is that Kim and I sit across from each other in the living room between 6:30 – 8:30am. The time is never exactly the same, but the venue is consistent and the activity is pretty much the same. Everybody has their morning time and this is ours. It is a very pleasant time for both of us. Kim spends her time reading the news on her iPhone and doing her full array of puzzles, starting with Wordle and whatever other mind-benders the New York Times is promoting this week. I tend to spend the time catching up on my emails, devoting some time to the act of unsubscribing from the endless array of promotional emails that keep creeping into my inbox. Those emails are like nose hairs. We know they serve a purpose and we accept them as part of life, but they are unpleasant to see every day and even more unpleasant in the removal process. After that, I click through the various news services that I prefer, New York Times, Washington Post (yes, I have sort of forgiven Bezos for the moment), the Wall Street Journal, the Financial Times, the Economist and Puck (the more exclusive digital feed with the best writers who seem to do-own the vehicle). The bread and butter is the Times, the meat and potatoes are the FT and Economist, the spice is the Journal, and Puck is the dessert. That must mean that WAPO is the napkin, in case some DC sludge should dribble down my chin. When I’m done with my news breakfast, I turn to writing whatever story enters my head. Along the way, Kim gets me and Buddy our breakfast once her puzzles stop amusing her. Buddy most often turn his nose up at his bowl and waits to herald the arrival of my English Muffin with peanut butter. Buddy loves peanut butter. He’s not so keen on English Muffin, but if I keep the piece tiny and laden it with lots of peanut butter, it seems to make his morning, even though it really is a very small repast. buddy knows breakfast is over once I put the plate on the sofa so he can lick the last bits of peanut butter that may have touched the surface. It’s a routine that everyone seems to enjoy.
Kim keeps a toy basket for Buddy under the piano. It has several dozen stuffed toys of various sizes in it. It ranges from the small stinky purple ball that Buddy can’t get enough of to a buffalo that is about the same size and color of Buddy and that allows Buddy to feel bigger than he is as he shakes it to death with finality. There is a black and white mottled floppy cow, a green hedgehog, a blue llama, and a pink piglet. Some have squeakers inside, which is pretty normal for dog toys. I’m not sure why putting a squeaker in a chew toy is so popular. Maybe its like the cat and the bell and its about informing the owner of the whereabouts of the dog. But mostly, I think its for the dog’s amusement since I’m sure in nature, captured prey makes various sounds that are somewhat squeak-like in their death throes. We find the squeaking sort of funny, but I’m sure the little lower food chain chums are less amused by it. What is interesting is when Buddy doesn’t just hit the squeaker occasionally and randomly, but when he gets it set squarely in his bite and he goes to town making it a repeated and rapid squeaking that can go on and on in an almost trance-like manner.
Just like when Buddy comes in to show me his treat when Kim gives him one of his favorite doggie cookies, I suspect the repeated squeaking is Buddy showing off and declaring himself the king of his domain. Whether we will admit it or not, we all want and need some amount of recognition in life and, unfortunately, squeaky toys are not as readily available to us as they are to Buddy. I recall in my working days a small advertisement in the Wall Stret Journal for what was called an Executive Teddy Bear. It was your basic Teddy Bear with one of those pull-string recording devices inside. The repertoire of comments is what made it so special and purposeful for the up-and-coming executive. It had phrases like. “You are an amazing and insightful manager” and “You’re smarter and more powerful than any of your peers”, among other various executive compliments. Clearly this was an ego stroking gift intended to make fun of white collar insecurity that needed a hug. But as fun as that toy was, it’s not really the same as an adult squeaky toys. A squeaky toy is really about drawing attention to yourself while striking a domineering pose. It says, look see what I’ve accomplished…ain’t I great?
While well-adjusted people should never need such ego reinforcement, it seems especially the case that by the time we retire we should be secure enough in our abilities and our accomplishments to not strive to be the center of attention, even momentarily. But is anyone ever too old or too secure to need some kudos? Kim’s squeaky toys take the form of song and dance. Mine tend towards my writing , occasionally some interesting case I’m working on, and more and more often, my hilltop projects on the property. Kim has he Encore Group performances several times a year and her Jazz ensemble gigs once a month. My stories and my cases share the common element that they are both about storytelling in one form or another. My enthusiasm for spinning a yarn has always been a serious passion from me, so I don’t feel that is a new squeaky toy for me. It’s sort of my stinky purple ball. My new squeaky toy is my garden projects and I am, indeed, very proud of my accomplishments. I don’t pretend that my capabilities are any greater than the gardening skills of others, but what does make me proud is that I’m producing something physical with my own hands (ably assisted by the likes of Handy Brad, following my directions) and this is all new for me. It seems to surprise many people that I have taken on these projects and that I have kept finding new ones to do over the past five years.
Today, we moved another step closer to completion of our new croquet pitch. Handy Brad continues to mumble to himself, but we were joined by Omar, who regularly works on the weekend with Handy Brad. Due to the communication barrier and Omar’s high level of intelligence and know-how in most projects we undertake, it’s interesting to see Handy Brad being forced to deal with Omar as I must with Handy Brad. I only listen with one ear, but I can see that as Omar gets the job done as he sees fit, Handy Brad just shrugs and mumbles about him just doing it his way (which often strikes me as a very pragmatic way indeed). That is the path of least resistance that I am now taking with Handy Brad and we are all happier for it.
As of now, the stairs are 60% complete and the railing along the length of the pitch is mostly done. I’ve started to set up the course and have the two end posts and the four metal sculptures (two cacti and two agaves) all set up. A few more stair blocks and a pair of stair rails more and we will be done and done. That will be my spring squeaky toy for a few weeks anyway.