• About

Grayfeathersblog

~ Diabetes, Cancer Fighter, Father of Twins, Kayak Fishing, Woodcrafter, Lover of Life

Grayfeathersblog

Category Archives: Retirement

Two Days, Three Thousand People, and One Slight Inventory Problem

23 Monday Mar 2026

Posted by Tim Hughes Living with CML in Family, Fishing, Kayaking, Life, Nature, Retirement, Uncategorized, University of Alabama, Weather, Woodworking

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Bass, Craft Fair, Family, Fishing, fly-fishing, kayak, lure, Nature, Performance, Trade showes, Travel, Weather, Wind, writing, yard sale

I’ve been a little MIA the last few days, and I’d like to say it’s because I was off on some relaxing retreat.

It was not.

I’ve been at Trade Days.

For two straight days, I stood on my feet greeting people, answering questions, and handing out business cards like I was running for public office. By the end of it, I’m pretty sure I introduced myself more times than a guy on the first night of a reality dating show.

The good news? I met a lot of great people and sold a solid chunk of my inventory.

The bad news? I also proved—beyond a shadow of a doubt—that I did not bring nearly enough stuff.

The Land of “Everything You Never Knew You Needed”

Setting up for Trade Days

Trade Days is an experience.

Imagine a place where you can buy a handcrafted porch swing, a fishing rod, homemade jelly, a birdhouse nicer than your first apartment, and a box of random items that may or may not have come from someone’s attic… all within 50 feet.

That’s Trade Days.

And the crowd? Huge.

I heard multiple people say it took them nearly two hours just to get from the entrance to the field after paying. At that point, you’re not attending an event—you’re on a pilgrimage.

I’d estimate at least 3,000 people came through our section, which explains why I talked so much my voice started negotiating a resignation.

My Two Tables of Confidence

I was fortunate enough to set up with another vendor who sells 3D printed items.

This guy came prepared.

He had six tables. Six. Full. Tables.

Not “we’ll spread things out and make it look nice” full. I mean, packed.

Meanwhile, I rolled in with enough product to confidently fill… two tables.

And just to make things more interesting, those two tables?

They were his.

So not only did he bring enough inventory to run a small retail operation, but I also managed to squat on part of his setup like an uninvited houseguest.

To his credit, he was incredibly gracious. To my credit… I now know I need to make a lot more stuff.

Doing the Math (and Slightly Panicking)

His spot—a 15-foot by 120-foot space with water and electricity—cost $90.

Honestly, after seeing the crowd, that might be one of the better deals out there.

I had several people ask if I’d be back next month, which felt great… until I remembered I already have another show booked that same day.

Also, a small detail—I’d need more inventory, another tent, and a couple more tables.

So yeah, minor logistics.

Mom and daughter having fun in the water

Pre-Show Fishing (a.k.a. Humbling Myself in Nature)

Before all this, I took a day off and went kayaking with my wife and one of my daughters, who was on spring break.

Now, I’d love to say this was purely about family time.

But I also brought my fishing gear.

Because I have priorities.

While they paddled around enjoying the peaceful scenery, I was off to the side doing what I would describe as “aggressively attempting to catch fish.”

I had several bites… or what I think were bites… or possibly just fish laughing at me underwater.

I did hook one decent fish—briefly—until it wrapped my line around some branches and escaped like it had somewhere important to be.

I managed to land one fish, weighing in at a solid ¾ of a pound.

Naturally, this did not impress my audience.

Mission Accomplished Anyway

The real goal of the trip was to get my daughter out kayaking for the first time.

Later that day, she showed me her sunburned legs like a badge of honor and said she had a great time and wants to go again.

So despite my fishing performance, I’m calling that a win.

The Waiting Game

Now I’ve got the fishing bug again.

Unfortunately, my truck is currently in the shop, which means my fishing plans are on hold for about a week. Probably for the best—it gives the fish time to regroup and rebuild their confidence.

Once I’m back on the road, I’m hoping to fish at least once a week… assuming the weather cooperates.

Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this:

There is nothing quite like making the perfect cast…

…only to have the wind pick it up and deposit your lure directly into a tree like it was the plan all along.

Mother Nature has a sense of humor.

And apparently, I’m part of the joke.

In the meantime, it’s back to the shop—cranking out more inventory and trying to make sure next time I show up with more than “two tables of optimism.”

Fifteen Vendors Signed Up… Four of Us Got the Memo

15 Sunday Mar 2026

Posted by Tim Hughes Living with CML in Retirement, Uncategorized, Woodworking

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

3D, books, CNC, CO2, conventions, Craft, Craft Fair, Food Truck, Friendship, Hobby, Laser, Life, Product, Trade Days, Travel, Vendor, Woodworking, writing

Patriotic Black Slate Coaster

I can’t really say the craft fair/food truck extravaganza was a total bust… mainly because technically it did happen.

Of the fifteen vendors who signed up, four of us actually showed up.

Four.

Now, no one really seems to know why the other eleven didn’t make it. Maybe they overslept. Maybe they checked the weather and decided it looked suspicious. Maybe they looked at their alarm clock that morning and said, “You know what? I’m good.”

Whatever the reason, part of me is honestly glad they didn’t show up.

In fact, being one of only four vendors worked out pretty well for me. I didn’t make a lot of money, but I did make enough to get my registration fee back. When you’re doing craft fairs, sometimes breaking even is considered a small victory.

There were at least five food trucks set up at the event, and I suspect that’s what most people came for. The smell of barbecue, fried food, and whatever magical seasoning food trucks use tends to pull a crowd much faster than a table full of handcrafted items. People were definitely walking around with plates of food in their hands.

But every once in a while, someone would wander over to the vendor tables between bites.

One of the great things that often comes from doing these shows is meeting other craft vendors. I still remember the first show I did a couple of years ago. I was extremely nervous. I had no idea what to expect.

I kept asking myself questions like:

Am I charging too much?
Am I charging too little?
What if someone is selling the exact same thing I’m selling, but for half the price?

After that first show, though, I slowly started learning the ins and outs of how these things work. The more shows I did, the more comfortable I became with what I was selling and how everything operated.

Around here, there’s a local state park that hosts a monthly craft fair that brings in over a hundred vendors each month. These shows have been around for a long time. I remember going there as a teenager just to walk around and see what people were selling.

Things have definitely changed over the years.

Back then, it seemed like most people were selling handmade crafts. These days, a lot of booths are filled with boutique items people bought in bulk somewhere and are reselling at a markup. Others are selling what I would politely call “yard sale items”—things that were probably sitting in their garage a week earlier, and they finally decided it was time to part with.

Several people stopped by my table on Saturday, asking if I set up at those big trade days events.

The short answer is no.

The longer answer is that those events require a lot of product because of the amount of traffic they get. I simply don’t have that kind of surplus inventory.

What I sold Saturday was pretty much everything I had made over the past few weeks. With the equipment I use, each project takes time to complete. It can take close to an hour just to cut one item.

Then you have to sand it.

After sanding, it needs to be painted or stained.

Then, in most cases, the pieces have to be assembled together.

On average, I’d estimate it takes at least three hours to complete a single item.

Now I do try to stay organized. While something is being cut, I’m often sanding another piece or painting something else. Sometimes I’m assembling one project while another one is drying. My little garage workshop tends to look like a carefully managed mess most days.

One of the things I really enjoy about doing these shows is meeting people who are doing something similar. The vendor set up to my left on Saturday was a young guy selling 3D-printed items. His stuff looked really good.

I’m not sure what he was charging for his pieces, but as we were packing up, he told me he hadn’t even sold enough to cover his vendor fee.

That’s the risk you take with these events.

Since there were only four vendors there and the crowd wasn’t exactly overwhelming, we had plenty of time to get to know each other. Turns out he’s in his late twenties and has two kids—one five years old and the other just five months old. His wife came by toward the end of the day, and I had the chance to meet her as well. They seemed like wonderful people.

At one point, he mentioned that he owns fifteen CNC machines—everything from diode lasers to CO₂ laser systems.

“Hobby?” I asked.

Because that sounded more like a small manufacturing facility than a hobby.

He laughed and explained that he also has a full-time job installing granite countertops for new home construction. He showed me some photos of his work, and it was actually pretty impressive. From the looks of his product table, his 3D printing work was pretty impressive as well.

He told me he regularly sells at the trade days event I mentioned earlier and has been doing it for several years. Most of the time, there’s a waiting list just to get a spot at those events. I’ve actually looked into selling there myself, but as I’ve already said, I just don’t have the inventory to support a show that size.

But then something interesting happened.

This coming Saturday and Sunday is the next trade-days event, and he has invited me to set up a table beside him. His idea was simple: bring some of my products and see what it’s like to sell there.

I haven’t given him an official answer yet.

But the more I think about it, the more it sounds like it might be a good idea. I think I’d probably have a lot of fun just experiencing the event from the vendor side.

Truth be told, I suspect he might just want the company I’d bring to the table—so to speak. He certainly kept my ear busy most of Saturday, and honestly I didn’t mind the conversation myself.

The downside to all of this is simple math.

I already have two confirmed shows coming up. If I add this trade-day event to the list, that means I’ll be spending a lot more hours out in the garage making things to sell.

On the bright side, it will keep me out of my wife’s hair and out of trouble.

And historically speaking, staying out of trouble has always been a pretty good life strategy.

A Car Accident, Too Many Phone Calls, and a Future Son-in-Law

04 Wednesday Mar 2026

Posted by Tim Hughes Living with CML in bariatric-surgery, Boy Scouts, diet, Family, Fishing, Kayaking, Life, Retirement, Twins, Uncategorized, Weight Loss, Woodworking

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

accident, Alarm, Appointment, Bible Study, Boy Scouts, Breakfast, Car, Coffee, Daughter, Doctor, Engraver, Family, fault, Fishing, health, Interruption, Kayaking, Laser, Life, Marriage, mental-health, Phone, Police, Woodworking, writing

Tomorrow is Thursday, and this week has gone from bad to worse.

My 4 a.m. alarm didn’t go off Tuesday morning, which meant I missed my Tuesday Bible study. That may not sound like a big deal to most people, but it is to me. I haven’t missed one since I started going nearly six months ago.

I woke up around 5 a.m. and immediately realized it was too late to rush around and try to make it on time. The real sign that I wasn’t rushing anywhere was that I didn’t even make coffee first thing. Anyone who knows me knows that’s a sure sign something is off.

After getting cleaned up and eating breakfast, I headed out to the shop and started working on some crafts with my laser. I’ve got a craft fair coming up, and every spare minute seems to be dedicated to getting items ready for it. My breakfast appointment wasn’t until 8 a.m., so I had some time to kill.

I met my friend Rick for breakfast, and of course, the first thing he asked was when we were going fishing. I told him “Soon,” but explained that I had some projects I needed to finish before the craft show. I could tell he wasn’t thrilled with that answer.

During breakfast, my phone kept ringing. No fewer than four people called wanting to talk about Scout-related matters. Even though I consider myself no longer involved in Scouts, apparently, the news hasn’t fully spread yet.

Once I got back home, I went right back to working on my crafts. Before long, the phone started ringing again. More Scout calls.

Running a laser in the shop requires attention. It’s essentially a controlled fire, and if you’re not careful, things can go wrong in a hurry. After trying to juggle phone calls and watch the laser at the same time, I finally decided it wasn’t worth the risk. I shut the laser down.

At 1 p.m., I had a dentist’s appointment.

I have a love-hate relationship with my dentist. I’ve been seeing him for over 30 years, and I trust him completely. But that doesn’t mean I enjoy what he does. I absolutely cannot stand the sound of a dental drill.

Thankfully, I haven’t had a cavity in years, but every now and then, he has to replace a filling that he put in decades ago. Yesterday was one of those days.

After leaving the dentist, things took a turn for the worse.

While merging into another lane, I was hit by a car. The driver had been turning left onto the roadway and collided with me. Before the police arrived, he admitted to me that it was his fault. But when the officers got there, his story had changed. Suddenly, he was telling them that I ran into him because I wasn’t paying attention.

There had been a witness who told me he saw the young man hit me. Unfortunately, by the time I tried to get his information, he had already left. Now I’ll have to wait five to seven business days to pick up the police report and see what it says.

Today was my bariatric appointment.

At one point, my lowest weight was 165 pounds. To be honest, I didn’t look very healthy at that weight. I had gotten too thin. People were quietly asking others if I had some sort of serious illness and wasn’t telling anyone.

My scale at home said 185 pounds this morning. I knew the doctor’s office scale would be a little heavier because of shoes and clothes. Sure enough, it read 191. Still, that’s lower than my last reading at the doctor’s office a year ago.

My doctor would like me to get down to about 175 pounds. He thinks that’s my ideal weight. Personally, I’m pretty comfortable where I am now, but I wouldn’t mind getting down to 175. I just don’t want to go much lower than that.

The next couple of days will be catch-up days.

I have projects cut out that still need sanding. Items that are sanded but need painting. And pieces that are painted but still need to be glued together and assembled.

But even with all the chaos this week, there has been a bright moment.

My wife and I had dinner with one of my daughter’s boyfriends. During dinner, he asked us for permission to ask my daughter to marry him.

It felt strange even writing that sentence.

I can hardly believe that soon I may have a married daughter and gain a son-in-law. He’s a good young man, and I truly believe he cares deeply about her. I know she feels the same way about him.

She had been worried that I might not give my permission. But I would never stand in the way of my daughter’s happiness.

That moment was a candle in what had otherwise been a pretty dark and stressful week.

Now I’m hoping the rest of the week goes by quietly and uneventfully.

After all the doctor’s appointments, the phone calls, and a car accident, I think I’ve earned a couple of calm days.

Insurance Knows Best… Supposedly

25 Wednesday Feb 2026

Posted by Tim Hughes Living with CML in Cancer, Diabetic, Disability, Family, Leukemia, Life, Photography, Retirement, Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

co-pay, cost, Diagnoses, Doctors, Drugs, health, health-insurance, healthcare, Insurance, Medicare, Medication, Pharmacy, prescriptions, rejection, research

Doctor Says Yes… Insurance Says “We’ll Think About It”

Photo by Anna Shvets on Pexels.com

Doctors, diagnoses, prescriptions, Medicare, insurance, and denial — those are words that seem to follow me around these days. Sometimes I think dealing with the medical system is almost a full-time job. If they paid by the appointment, I’d be drawing a salary by now.

One thing I’ve never quite understood is how a doctor can go to school for years, train for years more, examine you personally, and decide what medication you need — only for the insurance company to step in and say, “Nope, we don’t think so.”

Apparently, somewhere a person is sitting behind a desk who knows more about my condition than the doctor who actually saw me.

I worked for a health insurance company for 32 years before I retired. I was in the maintenance department, which meant I fixed things like doors and lights — not insurance claims. Still, people who knew where I worked would often ask me why their medication was denied even though their doctor prescribed it.

I always had to explain that just because I worked there didn’t mean I knew anything about insurance decisions.

Truth be told, I still don’t.

A good example is what happened recently with my son. He was prescribed medication for severe sleep deprivation. His previous insurance covered it, and he was happy because they had finally found something that actually worked.

Then he changed jobs.

His new insurance company now says the medication is “not medically necessary.” I guess sleeping is optional now.

The doctors now think he might have sleep apnea and ordered a sleep study. Before he even got scheduled, he got a phone call saying the test would cost over $2,000 because his insurance wouldn’t cover it.

He’s a young man with a mortgage, a car payment, and utility bills. In other words, he’s living in the real world — the one where people don’t just have $2,000 laying around for a test that might help them sleep at night.

Meanwhile, I realize I’m one of the fortunate ones. Because of my disabilities, I qualify for Medicare, and because I worked for an insurance company, I retired with a good supplemental plan. That combination gives me coverage that many people would love to have.

I don’t pay co-pays for doctor visits. I don’t pay for emergency room visits. Every time I leave the hospital, the bill says I owe exactly zero dollars, which is my favorite number.

I do pay for some medications, but not a lot.

One medication I take costs about $20,000 for a 30-day supply.

Yes, twenty thousand dollars.

For that price, I feel like it ought to come with a steak dinner and a weekend vacation.

Fortunately, the drug company offers a $0 co-pay card because they know insurance only pays part of the cost. Thanks to that program, I don’t pay a penny for a medication that costs more than some cars.

I consider myself blessed, because there are people who need this same drug and simply can’t get it because they don’t have the right insurance. That part isn’t funny at all.

When I ask why the drug costs so much, I’m told it’s because of all the research that went into developing it. I understand that research costs money, but sometimes I wonder if the scientists also built a few vacation homes along the way.

After being on this medication for a while, I feel like I’ve personally contributed a pretty fair share toward paying for that research — and I know some folks have been on it a lot longer than I have.

I don’t know what the answer is. Doctors are trying to help people. Insurance companies are trying to control costs. Drug companies are trying to recover research money.

And patients are just trying to stay alive without going broke in the process.

Maybe one day there will be a system where if your doctor says you need something, you can actually get it without filling out forms, making phone calls, and saying a small prayer first.

Until then, I guess we’ll just keep taking our prescriptions — and a healthy dose of patience right along with them.

Dutch Ovens, Daughters, and the Coming of Spring

22 Sunday Feb 2026

Posted by Tim Hughes Living with CML in Boy Scouts, Cancer, diet, Family, Fishing, Kayaking, Life, Nature, Photography, Retirement

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

anemia, BBQ, Boy Scouts, camping, Cooking, Daughter, Dinner, Dutch Oven, Engagement, Family, Fishing, Food, Marriage, recipe, Recipes, Seasons, Spring, Summer, Weather, Yard Work

In just a few hours, spring will arrive… in 25 days. That may sound like I failed math, but when you’ve spent the winter cold to your bones, you start announcing spring like it’s breaking news.

I cannot wait for consistent 70-degree days. Since being diagnosed with anemia, anything under 75 degrees feels personal. I walk around my house in a zip-up hoodie while the thermostat is set at 72, which apparently is “comfortable” for everyone else. For me, 72 feels like I’m storing meat in a deep freezer. I’m convinced the power company, and I have a mutual understanding: I keep the heat reasonable, and they don’t require a second mortgage.

Spring means I can finally venture outside without dressing in layers like I’m summiting Mount Everest.

It means yard work — and believe me, there’s no shortage of it around here. I actually enjoy yard work. There’s something satisfying about looking at a freshly mowed lawn or trimmed bushes and thinking, “Yes, I did that.” Of course, by next week, it looks like I never touched it, but for those few hours, it’s glorious.

Spring also means camping. I love camping, especially in early spring and fall when the nights are cool enough to sleep well but not so cold that you question every life decision that led you to sleeping on the ground. There’s just something peaceful about waking up to cool air and the smell of coffee brewing outside.

But this summer will feel different.

With my scouting days behind me, camping won’t be automatic anymore. For 25 years, Scouts were built into my calendar. Camping trips, summer camps, weekend outings — it was just part of life. There’s been talk of some of us former leaders getting together for a trip, but so far it’s been more nostalgia than reservations. This will be the first summer in a quarter of a century without Scouts in it. That’s going to take some getting used to.

Of course, there’s always fishing.

I can’t go fishing enough. If I could, I’d go every day of the week. One of my favorite memories happened last year when I took one of my daughters out fishing. We had tried a couple of years before, but that trip ended with a fishing hook buried in my finger and a quick trip to the hospital. The wind shifted, the kayak jerked, and suddenly I was the one being reeled in.

My daughter still blames herself, but it wasn’t her fault. Sometimes the wind just has other plans.

Last year’s trip was redemption. She caught several bass — the first she had ever caught. I was so thankful I was there for it. There’s something special about being present for those moments. You don’t realize at the time how much they’ll mean later.

And speaking of later, she recently announced that she and her boyfriend will be getting engaged. That’s supposed to be a secret, so if you’re reading this, you didn’t hear it from me.

Life changes. Seasons change. Kids grow up. And apparently, future sons-in-law don’t fish. I’m hoping she and I will still carve out a day or two to hit the water together. Some traditions are worth holding onto.

Spring also means outdoor cooking — and that may be what I’m most excited about. Grilling on the BBQ, cooking in my Dutch ovens — I love it. My love for cooking really started when I got involved in Scouts with my son. One of the dads in the troop took the time to teach me the art of Dutch oven cooking. And yes, I call it an art. There’s something about managing coals, timing, and recipes that feels almost sacred.

I always made sure at least one meal a day on a camping trip was cooked in a Dutch oven. If someone said, “I don’t know what to cook,” I’d hand them my trusty Dutch oven cookbook and say, “Well, you’re about to find out.” Most of the time, they did just fine.

Now it’s just my wife and me at home. The only problem is that most Dutch oven recipes feed ten or more people. So unless we’re planning to eat the same meal the next two weeks, I’ve had to make some adjustments. Turns out, retirement requires learning how to cook for two instead of twenty.

But maybe that’s what this season is about — adjusting. Letting go of some routines while holding onto the things that matter. Finding new rhythms. Creating new traditions.

And counting down the days until it’s warm enough for me to take this hoodie off inside my own house.

Twenty-five days and counting.

The Number in the Corner

19 Thursday Feb 2026

Posted by Tim Hughes Living with CML in Disability, Family, Leukemia, Life, Retirement, Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

countdown, Employment, Family, first steps, friendships, HVAC, Job, Life, mental-health, Numbers, Retirement, School, Social Security, writing

Photo by Jan van der Wolf on Pexels.com

In 2018, at age 55, I retired after 32 years with the same company.

Five years before that, the company decided to raise the retirement age from 55 to 65 with 25 years of service. Thankfully, I had already met the age requirement. I was “grandfathered in.”

That phrase never sounded so beautiful. I’d never been so proud to qualify for something simply because I was already old enough.

Ordinarily, I would’ve stayed until 65, so I wouldn’t mess with my Social Security. That was the responsible plan. But my body started holding meetings without my permission. Knees voting “no.” Back filing complaints. Balance requesting reassignment.

You can’t very well do HVAC work if climbing a ladder feels like you’re auditioning for a slow-motion fall.

I turned 55 on August 15, 2018. When I realized I had 42 months until I could retire, I started a quiet countdown.

Every morning, I took readings on the plant’s main HVAC equipment. On the wall was a massive 6 x 4 dry-erase board where I logged the numbers. Up in the far-left corner, I wrote one simple number:

42

On every 15th of the month, I erased it and lowered it by one.

Forty-two.
Forty-one.
Forty.

For three and a half years, that number sat there. No one ever asked what it meant. Not one person.

Either they didn’t notice… or they were silently rooting for it to hit zero.

I started that job on January 26, 1986. It was 19 degrees that morning. I know because my previous job was washing freshly painted utility trucks — outside — in January.

Whoever was lowest on the totem pole got that job.

I wasn’t just on the totem pole.

I was holding it up.

So when I walked into a heated building that morning, I felt like I’d been promoted to royalty.

I even took a two-dollar-an-hour pay cut to take the job. Two dollars an hour back then was real money. But I believed long-term it would pay off.

When I first started, I didn’t have any college education. Just a high school diploma and a willingness to work. But I kept getting passed over for promotions. One supervisor finally told me straight: “You’ll keep getting passed over unless you go back to school.”

That was hard to hear — but it was true.

An HVAC supervisor came to me and said that if I went back to school and learned the trade, he’d help me every step of the way. And he did.

So I worked full-time and went to school at night.

Those were long years.

I missed some things.

My son’s first baby steps were taken one night while I was sitting in a classroom trying to understand airflow calculations. I didn’t see them in person. I heard about them when I got home.

That part still stings a little.

You tell yourself you’re doing it for your family — and you are — but sometimes providing for them means missing moments you can’t ever get back.

I learned HVAC systems.

I just wish I’d learned how to be in two places at once.

For 32 years, I gave that place blood, sweat, and a few tears they probably didn’t log on the dry-erase board. I worked alongside some of the smartest people I’ve ever known. We solved problems together. Ate lunch together. Complained quietly together.

I went to their kids’ birthday parties. Camped with some of them. Attended funerals for their family members.

We weren’t just coworkers.

We were everyday life.

And then one day, I walked out.

Retirement is strange.

One day, you’re the guy everybody calls when something breaks.

The next day… nothing breaks that requires your number.

At first, I kept my phone close. Surely someone would need advice. Surely they’d call and say, “We can’t find this,” or “What did you do about that?”

Turns out, they figured it out.

Rude.

Before COVID, I’d stop in and have lunch with some of them. Now I mostly see them on Facebook. I still hear from a couple of guys, but it’s rare.

You work beside someone for 15 years and assume that bond is permanent. But when the daily routine disappears, you realize proximity and permanence aren’t the same thing.

I suppose I could call them. But they’re working. And when they’re home, they need family time.

And I’m retired.

Which means I now have plenty of time to think about things like dry-erase boards, 19-degree mornings, and baby steps I heard about instead of saw.

That number in the corner wasn’t just a countdown to retirement.

It was a countdown to a new season.

For 32 years, I was “the HVAC guy.” The steady one. The one who knew where everything was and how everything worked.

Now I’m the guy who drinks coffee in the morning without a time clock waiting on me.

And you know what?

That’s not a bad promotion.

I’m grateful.

Grateful for heated buildings on cold mornings.
Grateful for supervisors who pushed me.
Grateful I got to leave on my terms.

And grateful that even though I missed a few first steps…

I didn’t miss the rest of the journey.

When that number finally reached zero—

I erased it.

And walked out the door.

On my own two slightly creaky, but still standing, legs.

The Day Febreze Became a Household MVP

17 Tuesday Feb 2026

Posted by Tim Hughes Living with CML in Fishing, Kayaking, Life, Nature, Retirement, Uncategorized, Weather

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

aeromatic, Bible Study, Breakfast, Coffee, convenenience, evotion, Fishing, fly-fishing, Kayaking, mud, Nature, Outdoors, outhouse, pipes, Plumbing, pressure, restroom, Retirement, Smell, Travel, Water

Four a.m. came early this morning… but who am I kidding? Four a.m. always comes early. I’m convinced 4 a.m. wakes up feeling productive and personally offended that I don’t.

The only reason I willingly get up at that hour is Bible study. Otherwise, if you see me awake at 4 a.m., something has gone terribly wrong — like I heard a strange noise, or I fell asleep at 7 p.m. and woke up confused and slightly offended.

Like usual, I sat there drinking my coffee while reading my morning devotion. There’s something peaceful about that quiet time… mostly because nobody else is awake to ask me where anything is.

After that, I went over the material for Bible study so I wouldn’t show up sounding like I just crawled out of a cave. Which, honestly, is exactly what my brain feels like at 4 a.m.

Since retirement, there are only two things that get me out of bed early.
Number one: Bible study.
Number two: Fishing.

Fishing and I haven’t spent much time together this year. I’ve only been once since New Year’s. The weather has been acting like it has a personal problem with me. Too cold. Too rainy. Too windy.

This week, the temperature is perfect… but the wind is blowing 10–15 mph with gusts up to 25 mph. Fishing in a kayak in that wind is less “peaceful day on the water” and more “Lord, if You get me back to the boat ramp, I promise to behave better.”

After Bible study, I met my brother-in-law and one of my fishing buddies for breakfast. Naturally, we talked about fishing. Because if fishermen aren’t fishing, we’re talking about fishing… or buying fishing gear… or trying to explain to our wives why we need more fishing gear.

We talked about kayaks and my plan to buy another one once I can raise the money. I refuse to go into debt for a hobby. I like fishing… but not “eat ramen noodles for six months” fishing.

Around 10 a.m., as I was leaving the restaurant, my wife texted me:
“The water is off.”

Not just our water. About 70% of the city.

That’s not a “someone hit a pipe” situation. That’s a “somebody is having a really bad day at work” situation.

I still had errands to run, so a couple of hours later, I made it home. We had a little water pressure, but not much. I immediately filled the bathtub so we’d have water to flush toilets if this thing dragged on.

Let me just say — that was one of the smartest decisions I made all day.

I called the water company.
They said about six hours.

Six hours came and went… still no water.

I called again.
Same report.
Just a new six-hour timeline.

That’s when you know you’ve entered the “Well… this is my life now” phase.

I have to admit, I was slightly entertained reading Facebook comments. Some folks were VERY upset about not being able to flush toilets and how things were getting… aromatic.

When people start describing their house as aromatic, things have gone off the rails.

Ten hours later, the water finally came fully back on.

The whole thing reminded me of visiting my grandparents when I was younger. They didn’t have indoor plumbing. They had an outhouse. If you had to go, you grabbed your courage and made the trip outside to the little wooden shack out back.

And let me tell you… I can still remember that smell. That smell had layers. History. Personality.

Suddenly, our ten-hour water outage didn’t seem quite so bad.

When Your Brain Hits the Snooze Button

09 Monday Feb 2026

Posted by Tim Hughes Living with CML in Cancer, Disability, Leukemia, Life, Pets, Retirement, Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

argument, brain, Brain Fog, Breakfast, Chemotherapy, Devotional, Food, Forgetfulness, health, Meditation, recipe, Recipes, Sleep

Brain fog is working overtime this morning.

My cat got me up earlier than normal, so I started my day the usual way — getting my coffee going and sitting down to do my daily devotional. Afterward, I usually sit in the darkness for a bit to reflect on what I just read and mentally prepare myself for the rest of the day. That normally lasts about 15 to 20 minutes, depending on what I have planned.

Evidently, today I went into a deep sleep while doing so.
So instead of reflecting on scripture, I apparently reflected on the inside of my eyelids.

I got up, went into the kitchen, took a bowl out of the cabinet, and proceeded to pour cereal into it when my wife walked into the kitchen and asked what I was doing. I could only look at her with what I assume was a very strange look on my face — the same look Windows gives right before it crashes.

Normally, when someone is pouring cereal into a bowl, it means they’re about to eat breakfast. So I told her I was fixing breakfast.

She then informed me that I had already eaten breakfast.

A small argument began.

“No, I haven’t,” I replied, with the confidence of a man who clearly has no idea what he’s talking about.

She then pointed to the kitchen sink where an empty bowl with a spoon sat. Next to it was an empty plate with a fork — the same plate where I had apparently made myself a sausage patty earlier.

I honestly don’t remember eating breakfast this morning. But the evidence was sitting right there in the sink like a crime scene I had committed against breakfast foods.

I took the bowl of cereal, poured it back into the cereal box (because groceries are too expensive to waste), and went to sit down — feeling beaten and confused.

It made me wonder… how many times have I done something like this before and not remembered it? I think this was the first time with breakfast. Otherwise, I probably would have noticed empty dishes in the sink and wondered if we had a very polite burglar who only steals memories and leaves dishes.

What I do know is that during conversations, I can forget things right in the middle of saying them, and it’s frustrating. Sure, I know as you get older your brain starts playing games with you, but this feels different.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve done the classic “walk into a room and forget why I’m there” routine. I’ll leave one room, get halfway down the hall, and forget where I was going or what I needed. At this point, I just assume I live in the hallway now.

But lately, it feels… bigger than that.

I’ve also quit arguing with my wife about things that come up missing. I used to accuse her of moving things and not remembering where she put them — when in fact, it was me who moved them and can’t remember doing it. Turns out the call was coming from inside the house… and by house, I mean my brain.

I go back to the doctor on Tuesday, and if I can remember, this will definitely be one of the topics I bring up. I’m not sure if there’s anything they can do, but at least it will be on record.

And maybe — just maybe — tomorrow I’ll only eat breakfast once.

February Is Confused… and Honestly, So Am I

05 Thursday Feb 2026

Posted by Tim Hughes Living with CML in Fishing, Kayaking, Life, Retirement, Uncategorized, Weather

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

appointments, Bass, Fishing, Forecast, kayak, LEW's, month, temperatures, Weather, wilderness systems, Winter, Zoom baits

pxl_20251008_202145012471151304126013745

As I’ve posted before, the weather here has been anything but normal for February. Looking at next week’s forecast, it’s supposed to be in the high 60s to low 70s. That is absolutely nuts. Somewhere, winter is filing a missing person report.

Today, I got a call from one of my fishing buddies asking if I wanted to go fishing while it’s warm. Now that is the kind of phone call that usually results in me immediately looking for my tackle box, my lucky fishing hat, and trying to remember which truck door pocket I left sunflower seeds in.

Unfortunately, real life showed up and reminded me I have three appointments next week. Three. In February. During fishing weather. That just feels disrespectful.

But… if I can shuffle things around just right, there is a very real possibility of my wetting a hook or two. At minimum, I can at least drive by the water and stare at it longingly like a kid looking through a toy store window.

Honestly, if February is going to act like April, I feel like it’s my civic duty to at least attempt to catch a fish. I don’t make the rules. I just follow the weather.

And if you see me calling in “temporarily unavailable,” just know I’m conducting important seasonal research… from my kayak.

Across Oceans No Problem… But North Dakota Is Apparently Narnia

02 Monday Feb 2026

Posted by Tim Hughes Living with CML in Amateur Radio, Life, Retirement, Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Alaska, Amateur Radio, Antenna, antennas, Belgium, Contacts, HAM Radio, ham-radio, Hawaii, Italy, Life, long-distance, Map, North Dakota, over-seas, POTA, propagation, Radio, radio-waves, Retirement, time zone

After sharing the news about finally reaching the state of Hawaii, I decided to make a map showing all of my long-distance contacts thus far in 2026. I was pretty proud of it… right up until I realized I had to explain that it does not include my contacts inside the continental United States. If it did, the map would just look like I sneezed ink all over North America.

What really caught my attention, though, is something that makes absolutely no sense to me. I can sit down, turn on the radio, and talk to someone in Italy like they’re sitting across the street. No drama. No struggle. No begging the radio gods for mercy.

But North Dakota?
Alaska?
Hawaii (until recently)?

Apparently, those are protected by an invisible force field.

I’ve tried to come up with logical explanations for this, mostly so I don’t have to accept that radio waves are just messing with me personally.

First — The Antenna
My antenna slopes from East to West. That probably means something very scientific and important. I’m not an antenna expert, though. I’m more of a “put it up, see if it works, and if it doesn’t… stare at it like it betrayed me” kind of guy.

Second — Operator Population
Some states just don’t have as many HAM operators. That makes sense for Alaska and North Dakota. Hawaii is small, and I honestly don’t know how many operators there are. For all I know, there are a handful of guys rotating shifts between operating radios and living their best life on the beach. And honestly, if I lived there, I might not be inside talking on the radio either.

Third — Time Zones (The Real Culprit)
Most of my hunting happens in the morning. There’s about a four-hour difference between Hawaii and me, and about three hours between Alaska. So when I’m wrapping up radio time and moving on to things like work, errands, or pretending to be productive, they’re just waking up and figuring out where they left their coffee mug.

Meanwhile, when I’m making contacts in the East — Belgium, Italy, places like that — it’s the middle of the night over there. Apparently, those operators are either serious night owls, incredibly dedicated to the hobby, or avoiding sleep like it owes them money.

The longer I do this hobby, the more I realize HAM radio is this weird mix of science, timing, geography, luck, and occasionally sacrificing a little dignity while calling CQ for the tenth time in a row.

But that’s also what makes it fun.

Because at the end of the day, I can bounce a signal off the atmosphere, talk to someone on the other side of the planet…
…and still get ghosted by North Dakota.

And honestly, that feels personal.

← Older posts

Blog Stats

  • 12,869 hits

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 48 other subscribers
Follow Grayfeathersblog on WordPress.com

2015

March 2026
M T W T F S S
 1
2345678
9101112131415
16171819202122
23242526272829
3031  
« Feb    

Blog at WordPress.com.

  • Subscribe Subscribed
    • Grayfeathersblog
    • Join 48 other subscribers
    • Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
    • Grayfeathersblog
    • Subscribe Subscribed
    • Sign up
    • Log in
    • Report this content
    • View site in Reader
    • Manage subscriptions
    • Collapse this bar
 

Loading Comments...