Tag Archives: Coffee

From Handy Man to Recliner Champion

05 Sunday Apr 2026

Posted by in Family, Life, Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

The beginning of my Easter weekend started out simple enough—help my son check on a leak in his slab.

Now, when someone says “just come take a look,” you picture a quick in-and-out job. Maybe a loose-fitting, maybe something obvious. Ten minutes, tops. You feel confident. Capable. Like a man who knows where his flashlight is.

What you don’t expect… is a full-blown plumbing adventure.

Since I was only supposed to be looking for a leak, I made the brilliant decision to leave all my tools at home. Normally, they live in my truck, but since I recently had some body work done, everything got unloaded—and apparently, my motivation to reload it went with it.

That decision came back to haunt me almost immediately.

Before heading to my son’s house, I had already been given my “honey-do” list for the day. My wife wanted a new overhead kitchen light installed and the handrails painted before our Easter guests arrived. So, naturally, I thought, “Let me just swing by, find this leak real quick, and get back home.”

Famous last words.

I picked up the light and paint, called my son, and headed over. When I got there, I grabbed the one and only tool I thought I’d need… my flashlight.

That flashlight and I were about to be very disappointed.

When I walked in, I found my son wrestling with a toilet. Not just any toilet—this was one of those “engineered by someone who hates plumbers” models. You know the kind. The connections are hidden, your hands don’t fit, and nothing is where it should be.

He was trying to replace the flush valve, and what should have been a simple job turned into a puzzle designed by a madman. You couldn’t even get your hand behind the tank to reach the nut. At one point, I ended up breaking the old valve just to get it out… which is always a confidence booster.

Eventually, he told me he had it under control, so I went back to my original mission: finding the world’s most elusive water leak.

About 15 minutes in, I heard some… colorful language coming from the bathroom.

That’s never a good sign.

Turns out, he was now fighting the same battle we just had—getting the new valve tight enough without being able to reach the nut. And since all my tools were sitting comfortably in my garage at home, we were working with whatever he had lying around… which wasn’t much.

After some struggling, twisting, and me contorting my body into shapes it was never designed to make, we admitted defeat and made a trip to the hardware store for some “special” wrenches.

Spoiler alert: they helped… but not much.

Eventually, through persistence, determination, and probably a little bit of stubbornness, we got the valve installed without leaks. Victory was ours… and so was the back pain.

Once I finally made it back home, it was time to tackle my original assignment. With my wife’s help, I replaced the kitchen light, then moved on to painting the handrails… along with a good portion of my shirt. Apparently, I believe in fully committing to a project—whether I mean to or not.

After finishing up, I rewarded myself the only way I know how: parked in my recliner, heating pad in place, enjoying the first of several cups of coffee like I had just completed a home improvement marathon—which, in my mind, I had.

Later that night, I took my meds as usual and noticed something looked a little off. Turns out, in the chaos of cleaning and rearranging, my medications got mixed up—and instead of taking my sodium bicarbonate, I doubled up on my muscle relaxers.

Now, if you’ve never done that before, let me tell you… It turns your entire next day into a slow-motion documentary.

I spent most of Easter in a fog.

Thankfully, it was a good kind of day. We had family over—my son and his girlfriend, my daughter and future son-in-law, and even her sister. There was food, laughter, and the added bonus of some first-time introductions.

It was one of those moments where everything just feels right.

Even if you’re slightly sedated.

After everyone left, I curled up in my recliner and took a much-needed nap.

Because sometimes the best way to end a long weekend of fixing everything for everyone else…
is to finally sit still long enough to not break anything else.

Good Friday… but the Pipes Didn’t Get the Memo

03 Friday Apr 2026

Posted by in Family, Life, Retirement, Uncategorized, Woodworking

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Good Friday is a solemn day. A day set aside to remember the sacrifice of Jesus Christ—His crucifixion, His death, and ultimately the hope, redemption, and victory that came from it. It’s called “Good” not because of what happened, but because of what it means for all of us.

For many people, though, it also means something a little more… practical.
A day off work. A three-day weekend. Time with family. Maybe planting flowers, knocking out some yard work, or finally getting around to those projects that have been giving you the side-eye for weeks.

For me? It was a “catch up on everything I’ve been putting off” kind of day.

After breakfast, I headed out to the garage and got to work. I moved equipment outside, cut material for some crafts I’ve got going, and spent a good chunk of the day sanding everything down so it’ll be ready for paint tomorrow. I’ve got a craft show next Saturday, and let’s just say… I’m not exactly ahead of schedule.

Somewhere around 4 PM, my back decided it had officially had enough of my ambition.

But of course, I still had to haul everything back into the garage. Because nothing says “you’re done for the day” like one last round of lifting stuff you probably shouldn’t be lifting.

All I could think about at that point was one thing:
A hot cup of coffee, my heating pad, and a recliner.

I finally got everything put up, made a thermos of coffee, and just as I was about to sit down and enjoy that first sip…

My phone rang.

It was my son.

Now, I made the comment to my wife—only halfway joking—that the only time he calls me is when something’s wrong, and he needs help. Not a “Hey Dad, how’s your day?” or “Just checking in.”

Nope. Straight to business.

And sure enough… I was right.

He had a problem. A pretty big one.

Water was coming up through the floor between his kitchen and living room. Not exactly the kind of indoor water feature you want. He had already checked everything—ice maker, sink, water heater, dishwasher, bathrooms—and everything was dry.

So I had him check the water meter.

Still moving.

That’s never a good sign.

His house is built on a slab, which means all the plumbing runs underneath it. And to make things even more interesting, whoever built the house decided that shut-off valves inside the home were apparently optional. So if you want to turn off the water, you’ve got to go all the way out to the road.

Convenient, right?

At this point, it’s looking like a slab leak… which is about as fun as it sounds. He’s got the water shut off, fans running, and a call in to the insurance company. But until they figure things out, he can’t even stay in the house—no water, no way to function normally.

Oh, and he’s got two cats to deal with on top of it.

Because why not add a little extra complication to the mix?

Now here’s where it gets interesting.

We were all supposed to go to his house for Easter lunch.

Yeah… that’s not happening anymore.

So now, everybody’s coming to our house instead.

Which means… cleaning.

And let me tell you, when it’s just my wife living here and me, we don’t exactly keep the place in “company-ready” condition. I’ve got stuff—important stuff, mind you—everywhere.

After supper, I did what I could to clean up, but between my back and a full day of working in the garage, “deep clean” quickly turned into “good enough if you don’t look too close.” There’s always tomorrow, right?

Honestly, if I had known all this was coming, I might’ve paced myself a little better earlier in the day.

Tomorrow, after Bible study, I’m heading over to his place to see if I can spot anything he might’ve missed. I’m holding out hope it’s something simple—maybe a loose line on the dishwasher or refrigerator.

But if it’s not… then it’s in the hands of insurance, plumbers, and flooring folks. And we all know that’s not a quick process.

So no, this wasn’t exactly the Good Friday we had planned.

But I guess sometimes that’s the point.

Even on a day meant for reflection, life still happens. Problems pop up. Plans change. Coffee gets interrupted.

But through it all, we adjust, we help where we can, and we keep moving forward.

And maybe—just maybe—I’ll get to drink that cup of coffee while it’s still hot tomorrow.

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

04 Wednesday Mar 2026

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

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

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.

The Day Febreze Became a Household MVP

17 Tuesday Feb 2026

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

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

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.

Under the Microscope… Again (Apparently I’m Now 5.9% Banana)

06 Friday Feb 2026

Posted by in bariatric-surgery, Diabetic, diet, Life, Uncategorized, Weight Loss

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Lab results are in, and just like that… I’m under scrutiny again.

When I got the email with the results, the first thing that jumped out at me was my potassium. High. Again.

This isn’t new. It was high before, then magically went back to normal on the retest. Go figure. But here we are again. My doctor called yesterday and told me my potassium was elevated to an “extremely high” level. Naturally, I went digging through my past labs, and I noticed a pattern — since my weight-loss surgery last April, my potassium has been slowly climbing.

And I have absolutely no explanation why.

For those who don’t live their lives waiting on lab portals to refresh, high potassium — or hyperkalemia — means there’s too much potassium in your blood. Normal is between 3.5 and 5.0 mEq/L. Mine? 5.9 mEq/L.
Apparently, that extra .9 is where doctors start using their serious voice.

Now here’s where it gets interesting.

The only real lifestyle change I’ve made since surgery is that I’ve apparently developed a full-blown relationship with coffee. Before surgery, I had never enjoyed a single cup in my life. Not one drop. Loved the smell. Hated the taste. But after surgery? My body apparently said, “You know what we need? Coffee. All of it.”

Those pre-surgery classes warned me this might happen. Foods you hate, you’ll crave. Foods you love, you might hate. They never warned me I’d wake up one day emotionally attached to a coffee mug.

I’ve asked other doctors if coffee could be the culprit. Most said, “Probably not,” though they also gently hinted that maybe I shouldn’t be drinking coffee like it’s my full-time job. This latest doctor, however, seems less convinced.

The nurse asked how much coffee I drink in a day.

I was honest.

  • 22 oz before breakfast
  • 22 oz with breakfast
  • 22 oz sometime after supper

Apparently, this is not the answer they were hoping for.

And it doesn’t stop there.

If I go somewhere, I have a freshly made 22 oz riding with me in the truck. I also have what can only be described as a coffee emergency kit — a toolbox with all the fixings — just in case I get stranded somewhere that doesn’t have a coffee shop with my brand of coffee.

Yes. I know. It’s really sick.

Some people say caffeine keeps them awake. Not me. I can drink coffee at 9 PM and be asleep by 11 like a toddler after a long day at daycare. I’m not wired all day. I’m not bouncing off walls. I’m just… caffeinated and functional.

Her suggestion?
Limit myself to one cup per day.

Not one 22 oz cup.
One. Cup.

Friends… that is simply not going to happen.

Today I tried. I drank only one 22-oz cup. And I spent the rest of the day thinking about coffee like it was an ex who still had my hoodie.

I go back to the doctor next Tuesday for more labs. Hopefully, I can make it until then. And maybe — just maybe — they’ll tell me it’s not the coffee doing this.

So now I wait. More labs. More monitoring. More trying to figure out what exactly my body is doing and why it suddenly decided potassium is its favorite hobby.

In the meantime, if you see me walking around slightly jittery but emotionally stable, just know I’m doing my best… and possibly negotiating with myself about a second cup.

When a Routine Becomes a Memory

03 Tuesday Feb 2026

Posted by in Boy Scouts, Cancer, Diabetic, Disability, Life, Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Tuesdays are my long days.

They start at 4:00 a.m. — rolling out of bed, grabbing a shower, getting dressed, and heading straight to the kitchen for the first of what will be four cups of coffee. Tuesday mornings mean Bible study across town at 6:00 a.m., so once my first 22-ounce cup is ready, I sit at the kitchen table and go over the material we’ll be covering later that morning. Sometimes I’ll pour a bowl of cereal while I drink my coffee and wake up enough to be conversational.

This morning, though, I lost track of time. One coffee refill turned into “oh wow, I need to leave now.”

I left the house about ten minutes later than normal, thinking I could make up the time on the drive. That thought lasted right up until I hit a blocked road. Detour ahead. The detour added about twenty minutes to my drive, which pretty much killed any hope of being early. And I’m one of those people who would rather be thirty minutes early than five minutes late. I ended up pulling in right at 6:00 a.m. — which, technically, is on time… but still feels late to me.

Normally, after Bible study, I head back toward home and stop for breakfast with one of my fishing buddies. Not today. Today was lab work day, which meant going to the doctor’s office to give blood. Ever since I lost all this weight, nurses seem to have trouble getting blood from me without sticking me multiple times. Either the blood stops flowing, or my veins decide to roll out of the way like they’re dodging responsibility.

This morning was no different. Three sticks before they found a vein that cooperated long enough to get what they needed.

After lab work, I went across the street to a diner and grabbed a breakfast sandwich to go. Once I got home, I spent most of the afternoon working on Boy Scout awards. We’ve got an awards ceremony for the young men in our troop this Saturday, and everything had to be sorted and organized. Of course, I found out I’m missing some awards, so tomorrow it’s back to the Scout office to track those down.

Tuesday nights are — or maybe I should say were — Scout nights for me.

Tonight was my last regular Tuesday night with the Boy Scouts. We have the awards ceremony on Saturday, and that will be my last official night serving as a leader. I’m not going to say much more about that until after Saturday. I’ve got something in mind that I’ll be writing about and posting here once everything is finished. All I’ll say for now is… it’s bittersweet.

After the meeting, some of the leaders stayed behind talking about old times and even tossing around ideas about future camping trips. I haven’t been home long, and it’s getting late. I’m not really sure what my Tuesday evenings will look like starting next week. Part of me is a little sad… and part of me is relieved.

I do have a training class starting next month that will fall on Tuesdays, but it’s only for eight weeks. After that? I guess we’ll see what new routine Tuesday decides to become.

Unwelcomed Alarm

10 Saturday Jan 2026

Posted by in Weather

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , ,

I wrote in my last post about how crazy our weather has been. Apparently, the weather department took that as a challenge.

Last night, it decided to toss in another curveball — a cold front pushing through, dragging thunderstorms along with it. We spent most of the day and evening under a tornado watch. By bedtime, we had already picked up nearly three inches of rain, and the storms were still rolling in. The thunder wasn’t rumbling anymore; it was auditioning for a demolition crew.

Before going to sleep, I set my phone alarm for 5:30 a.m. so I could get up and get ready for men’s Bible study at 8. Responsible. Mature. Clearly overconfident.

Sometime later, I heard an alarm and woke up. I didn’t question it. I just accepted my fate. I took a long, hot shower, shaved, got dressed, and headed to the kitchen. I started the coffee and even remember thinking, “Tracy should be getting up soon. It’s got to be around six.”

The first pod finished, and I glanced at the stove clock.

4:10 a.m.

I stared at it, waiting for it to blink and say “Just kidding.”

It didn’t.

I checked my watch. Same time. That’s when it hit me — I hadn’t been woken up by my phone alarm. I’d been summoned by the weather radio.

I sat down in my recliner with my coffee and pulled up the radar. Sure enough, the National Weather Service had issued a flash flood warning at 3:45 a.m. That alert was the “alarm” that launched me into full morning-person cosplay.

So there I was — clean, dressed, caffeinated, and absolutely betrayed — living in a time slot meant only for bakers, farmers, and people who lost a bet.

There was no going back to bed. And even if I tried, I’d probably sleep right through the real 5:30 alarm just to complete the joke.

Moral of the story: I don’t need an alarm clock. I need a personal meteorologist who knows when to mind his business.