The other evening, I was untying my shoes and I noticed I was doing it with my left hand.  Not just my left shoe, but both shoes.  That caused me to pause, because I am right-handed.  I switched around to use my right hand.  Clearly, I could do it, but it wasn’t as comfortable.  At that moment I realized that I don’t have enough important things to keep me busy.

While that was probably true, this left-hand, right-hand thing caused me to reflect.  What else do I routinely do with my left hand?  Not much.  Of course, from time to time, we all itch.  Sometimes you can only get to it with your non-dominant hand.  No thought process here, you scratch!

When I am combing my hair, I pick up the comb with my right hand and comb away.  I comb my hair to the right.  If I don’t have a comb, I swipe my hair with my left hand.  Isn’t this fascinating?  Clearly, the right hand doesn’t work, swiping to the right.  When I am watching a sporting event on TV and the game gets to a critical moment, I find myself swiping at about 80 swipes per minute.  I hope nobody is watching.

When I’m getting ready to shave, I shake up the shaving gel in my right hand and squirt it into my left hand.  Then, using my left hand, I apply the cream to my face.  It feels very natural and I’m pretty good at covering my face.  We are never graded on this, but I would give myself a B plus (in college, I was happy with a B minus).

About twenty years ago, my wife, Carole, was big into Korean Yoga.  There was a location close by and she would practice two to three times a week.  The practices were tough, but she hung in there.  She brought a book home about Dahn Yoga and encouraged me to read it.  I read it and there was a lot about balance and wholeness.  The book encouraged using your opposite hand.  I was doing OK with the little things, but then I tried to shave with my left hand.  I put the band-aids on with my right hand.

I look things up on Google all the time.  I very seldom follow their advice.  I had a scratch on my glasses, and they recommended scrubbing the glass with toothpaste.  Fortunately, before I did anything, I found another article screaming “don’t use toothpaste.”  I looked up parents trying to change their child’s dominant hand.  Some articles said, no problem.  Other articles said the child would probably have psychological problems and be scarred for life.

Then I found out there is a “Handedness Research Institute.”  Good old HRI. What a crazy world.  I also found out that my son, Paul, who is right-handed, unties his shoes with his left hand.  Now, I believe it might be hereditary!

Thinking about getting a new car can be like a sickness or compulsion.  Once you start thinking about it, it’s like a dog with a bone.  I was very happy with my nine-year old Lexus RX 350 (SUV).  Then some friends picked me up in their new car.  I asked what it was, and they said it was a Lexus RX 350!  What a difference nine years had made.  So, the bug had bit me.

If I leased for three years, it would cost less.  And in three years, I could see if I were still driving.  I checked the value of my low milage Lexus with Kelley Blue Book and came up with $18,000 to $20,000.  CarMax would give me $18,000.  Take that off of a three-year lease and boom, I’m golden.  My Lexus salesman from nine years ago was still there and we set up a meeting. Compulsive, who’s compulsive?

I drove the car and it was great.  I was hooked.  We picked out the color and the interior.  I told him I wanted to trade in my Lexus.  He took the keys and had someone check it over.  Later, he came rushing up to me, all excited, and said, “Write this down, $15,000!”  Well, that was that.  We who are elderly are always concerned about someone taking advantage of us and I felt an attempt had just been made.  As I told him later on the phone, when the clock strikes 13, you begin to wonder about the first 12.

Well, Lexus was no longer an option, but the fever was still there.  I got the name of a salesperson at BMW and started the process over.  I drove an X 3 (SUV) and liked it a lot.  The salesman said he had other X3s with more powerful engines.  I asked him if the car I was driving had more power than my Lexus.  He said, “Oh, sure.”  I told him that was all I needed.  We picked out the color and interior and he advised that he had the exact car I wanted in a reserve lot somewhere close.  The issue of trading in my Lexus had disappeared as I was shipping it to my daughter, Becky, in Arizona.  We decided I would pick up the car the next week. I arrived early for my 1:00 appointment, but there was no car and no salesman.  At 1:30, someone came up and advised me that my salesman was retrieving my car and would be there shortly.  Now, don’t get ahead of me.  At 2:00, my salesman showed up in a car that had three months of dirt and pollen on it.  He said the crew had cleaned and detailed the wrong car (now, I wonder if that was true).

We decided on a change in plans.  I would next meet with the BMW “genius” and she would explain all the bells and whistles.  When she arrived, she took my cell phone and linked it to the car.  Then, she got a call and disappeared.  Thirty minutes later, the salesman came back and ask how it was going.  I told him I had lost her.  He checked and told me that she had just found out that her dog had died, and she was in the back crying. There are certain things you cannot complain about, and this was definitely one.

So, the new plan was that the car would disappear to be cleaned and I would do the paperwork.  Then, they would find another BMW “genius” to help me.  While waiting around, I saw the young lady and told her I was sorry about her dog.  She smiled and thanked me.

The rest of the afternoon went slow but steady.  Because of the delays, they were going to give me a free Cilajet coating for my car.  Don’t feel badly if you don’t know what that is, I didn’t either.  The second  BMW “genius” set up everything I requested.  But since she did everything and I just watched, I wasn’t sure what I was learning.  This was confirmed on the way home when I couldn’t figure out how to turn off the radio!

We set up an appointment for the Cilajet treatment the next week.  When I arrived, I had no appointment, but 30 minutes later, my salesman showed up, grabbed my key fob and made it happen.  While there I saw the young lady who had lost her dog.  She recognized me and said hello.  I asked how she was doing.  She smiled and said, “Great, and the vet did a wonderful job of fixing up my dog.”

Sometime back, one of my “mentors” told me to keep in mind that when talking to career management, only one person was interested in my career.  And that was me.  I have concluded that it is the same with medical care.  Don’t get me wrong.  I am delighted with the medical care provided to me, but it is up to me to make sure I get what I need.

The chief of gastroenterology at Walter Reed examined me and decided I was too healthy to receive a colonoscopy.  I may be one of the few people you will ever know who fought to get a colonoscopy.  I won, if you can call that winning.

When one of my young friends had a massive heart attack on the 8th fairway at Fort Belvoir, I decided to get my heart checked out.  I figured out I needed a nuclear stress test.  Again, another stone wall.  My primary care physician concluded that there was no medical justification to give me the test.  I am convinced that the Fort Belvoir Hospital gives a prize to the Doc who saves them the most money and I believe my Doc is in the running.  Well, I finally found a friendly cardiologist who let me walk on her treadmill.  I passed.  Me, me, me. Over ten years ago, I had a basal cell problem on my nose.  I got to keep my nose, but every six months, I check in with a dermatologist.  One of the problems with military medicine is you are constantly losing your doctor and getting a new one.  So last June, I had my six-month checkup.   The doctor was pleasant and thorough.  She froze a few spots on my face, but thought I should have something called “blue light” therapy for the area around my jaw. We decided to wait until golf season was over.  After the treatment you have to avoid the sun and even bright lights.  

I got my blue light appointment in October.  My doctor was out on maternity leave and the new doctor looked younger that my grandson.  The technician asked what area to treat.  The Doc said, “Oh, let’s do his whole face.”  I know, I know, I should have spoken up.  The technician painted my whole face with the medication stick.  Then he put metal goggles over my eyes.

The blue light machine looked something like a beauty-shop hair dryer.  I had to sit in it for an hour.  Remember, I had on goggles and couldn’t see a thing.  It was really a long hour.  I tried meditation.  I tried yoga deep breathing.  But most of the time I spent trying to figure out where I went wrong.  Me, me, me had backfired.

By that evening, my face looked like a lobster just pulled out of the boiling water.  And it hurt.  It took me about two days to realize that my face was burnt.  After three days, most of my facial skin was on my pillow.  By the time my face peeled for the third time, I was not a happy camper.  The only thing that pleased me was all the tales I was making up about what happened to me, me, me (skiing in the Himalayas)!

Well, it’s all history now.  And I don’t think the precancerous cells on my face faired any better that I did.  I’m no longer furious with the child doctor.  I’m also letting people touch my face for a quarter!

Isn’t satellite radio great?  You never have to change your radio station.  You can listen to “Willie’s Roadhouse” all the way from here to El Paso.  Satellite radio also gives you a chance to listen to old-time radio shows.  They have a station (maybe now it’s called a channel) Radio classics where you can listen to Gunsmoke, Bob Hope, Jack Benny and even the Shadow.  “Who knows what evil lurks . . .”  You know the rest.

The other day I flipped over to Radio Classics and guess what was on?  Duffy’s Tavern, “where the elite meet to eat.”  That got me thinking – where  have all the taverns gone?  When I was growing up there were taverns everywhere.  The corner tavern.

In high school, we were too young to go to a tavern.  There were drive-in diners and our favorite place, the “Parkway.”   You could go into the Parkway and for a reasonable price get a barbecue pork sandwich and a Coke.  And when no one was looking, you could carve your initials on the table.  You didn’t want to put your hand under the table.

I have fond memories of McDonald’s back in the 60’s.  You could get a burger, fries and a Coke for 35 cents.  Now that’s nostalgia.  In fact, as we were struggling to get me through law school, that was a big night out.

Now, there are all kinds of specialized burger places.  I’ve only been to 5 Guys a couple of times.  It seems like they only had about three tables, so I guess it’s mostly a carry-out place.  The burgers and fries aren’t too expensive and the grease is free.  Take a bunch of napkins.  BGR, The Burger Joint is a little more expensive, but the burgers are bigger.  BGR has on its menu “The 9 Pounder.”  It cost $80.00 and feeds 10-15 hungry people. It comes with a “river of Mojo sauce.”   I could devote a whole column to the 9 Pounder, but I’m going to stop right here.

The Springfield Mall is now the Springfield Town Center.  It went through a major renovation and is a vast improvement over the Mall.  You no longer have to fear being mugged in the parking lot.  They have a BGR and a Zinburger’s.  Zinburger is sort of an upscale burger joint.  I knew it was upscale, because when they gave me the menu listing burgers, they also gave me the wine list!  The Kobe Burger was $15.25.  No fries, they are extra.  But you can get double truffle fries for only six bucks.  Maybe a cabernet sauvignon is in order.  However, if you are ordering the Seared Ahi Sandwich, then, by all means, go with a white wine.

Written by PJ Rice at www.ricequips.com

Copyright 2017

I need a fix.  No I’m not talking about drugs.  I’m talking about Chinese food.  About once every two weeks (sometimes sooner), Carole and I need a fix.

While living in Springfield, we had a number of choices, some of them really bad.  We usually judge the restaurant by its hot and sour soup.  If the soup is really good, the rest of the food will probably please us.

A number of years ago, we found a Chinese buffet in Kingstowne.  It was called, appropriately, King’s Buffet.  Yes, the hot and sour soup was really good.  The lunch was inexpensive and they usually had a big crowd.  The place had no atmosphere and the guy at the next table may be wearing an undershirt.  But if you need a fix, you are willing to make certain compensations.  We went to King’s Buffet for years.

Then a few years back, Carole was spending a few days at the Fort Belvoir Hospital and I needed a fix.  So I slipped over to the King’s Buffet.  The was a sign on the door that said, “Closed until further notice.”  I was shocked.  Uncertainty is so unsettling.

Well, we found out later that the King’s Buffet was owned and run by a Chinese family (surprise) and the members of the family got into a furious fight.  The police were called and all the help shot out the back door.   I think the politically correct term is “undocumented immigrants.”  “Further notice” never came and the location is now some kind of a wireless phone store.  I felt like I lost a friend.

So Carole and I went on a quest to find the best Chinese buffet in the area.   Don Quixote did better than we did.  If we went on Wednesday, the place was closed on Wednesday.  Unfortunately, we found a place in the Rolling Valley area that was open.  When Carole went back to the buffet line, she saw a roach fall into the General Tso’s chicken.  The fellow standing next to her notified the help and the tray was taken to the back.  I don’t want to speculate on what happened in the back, but more General Tso’s chicken soon appeared in the buffet line.  Bon Appetit!

Then there’s the Blue Pearl Buffet in Springfield.  The fellow in the undershirt is still sitting at the next table, but the food isn’t very good.  You guessed it, the hot and sour soup is bad.  We have been to the Blue Pearl a few times when we were desperate.  The Blue Pearl is the kind of place that will make you kick the habit.

We found a great Chinese buffet called the East Garden.  The only problem is it’s in Charlottesville (that’s 120 miles south).  Of course, there are some excellent Chinese restaurants in the area. There’s the House of Dynasty and, our favorite, the Asian Grill in Springfield.  Darren Ho, the owner of the Asian Grill, has told us why we should never go to a Chinese buffet.  What he told us were things we already knew (food may have been prepared days earlier).  But at a buffet, you can get a little of this and a little of that.

My favorite treat at a Chinese buffet is steamed rice smothered in General Tso’s sauce.  I avoid the three-day-old chicken, the red-hot peppers and especially, foreign objects.

Written by PJ Rice at www.ricequips.com

Copyright 2017

Some time back, I had a buddy tell me that pills weren’t necessary.  They were just a crutch.  If you eat right, exercise and remain composed, you won’t need medication.  It sounded good to me.

Then my blood pressure shot up. Whoa.  I’ll tell you, when your blood pressure shoots up, it’s hard to remain composed.  I solved my blood pressure problem with a little pill and decided my buddy was a doofus.  Eating right and exercise are great, but sometimes we need help.

As the number of pills increases, so does the complexity of life.  I suspect that most people around my age spend some time each week organizing their medications for the next week.  Those of us retired from the military can’t complain about the cost.  I don’t mind spending an hour at the Fort Belvoir Hospital Pharmacy for free stuff.  Of course, I am so cheap that I refuse to drive on the toll lanes around DC.

Then the pill I had been taking for years changes its size, shape and color!  It had something to do with some new generic drug that is supposed to be as good as the original.  That’s what the FDA says.  I have no idea.  Hey, I’m just trying to keep them off the floor so the dog doesn’t get them.

Now for the $64 question.  Is it OK to take your pills out of their original containers and put them in your weekly pill dispenser?  We all do it, but is it legal?  I guess the correct answer is it depends.  It depends on the type of drugs you are taking.  Certain drugs are called scheduled drugs and are controlled by the Drug Enforcement Agency (DEA).  If you have a prescription for Oxycodone or Xanax, I’d keep it in its original container with your name on it.  One fellow who was carrying his Oxycodone in a little plastic bag didn’t fair too well (Duh).

My son, Paul, used to be the Deputy Warden at the Fluvanna County Correction Center for Women (FCCCW).  Every once in a while, on visiting day, they would cordon off the parking lot and search the vehicles.  They would find long knives, sawed-off shotguns and lots of pills.  They would confiscate everything.  So, if your daughter or granddaughter is at FCCCW and you are going to visit her, don’t take all your pills in your weekly dispenser (or your sawed-off shotgun).

Now, what about flying?  You can’t go on a trip and not take your pills.  We aren’t frequent flyers, but when we fly, we keep our pills close by.  I have searched through the Transportation Safety Administration (TSA) list of prohibited items, and I didn’t find anything prohibiting medications.  They do recommend that medications be clearly labeled (but they don’t require it).  Believe me, the TSA has bigger problems to worry about than whether pills are properly labeled.  If I were traveling overseas, I’d be more cautious and try to find out what the rules are in the countries I was visiting.

Finally, if some strange looking dude at the airport asks you to hold his medications while he looks for a friend, don’t do it!

Written by PJ Rice at www.ricequips.com

Copyright, 2016

Images are so important.  And a retirement community wants to have an image of being  young and vibrant.  I’m not sure why, but it seems to be the case.  It must be for new prospects.  Being warm, comfortable and well fed is enough for me.

Carole and I took a few days off last month and went to Ocean City.  We walked on the boardwalk, but also spent our fair share of the time sitting on the boardwalk benches.  As I sat there watching people pass by, I noticed a lot of them had tattoos.  That’s when it hit me.  The Fairfax retirement community needs a tattoo parlor!

I’ll bet we would be the only retirement community in the country with our own tattoo parlor.  Take that Greensprings.  Talk about young and vibrant.  One of the problems with tattoos is when you get old, they fade and your skin sags.  But since we are already old and our skin already sags, we won’t have to worry about our tattoos changing shape.

I know we are limited for space in the Community Center, but I think I have a fix for that.  We could put the tattoo parlor in the back of the beauty salon.  One of the benefits would be that a woman could get a tattoo while she was getting her hair done.  I’m sure if we can pull this off, we will get a lot of free press.

I know I am thinking outside the box, but here at The Fairfax we have some outstanding artists and art classes.  Wouldn’t it be great if one of our own up-and-coming artists became a tattoo artist.  Probably more free press.

Themes are also important with tattoos and we have some naturals.  We have the patriotic theme and the wildlife theme.  I’m thinking of getting an American flag on one arm and a blue heron on the other.  I can’t convince Carole that a tattoo will make her more youthful and vibrant.  I know what we could do.  The first month we could run a special on tramp stamps!

I just reread what I have written and I’m not sure everyone will agree with my approach.  Don’t you just hate doubting Thomases?

Written by PJ Rice at www.ricequips.com

Copyright 2016

To be totally honest, there aren’t many things that aren’t as good as they used to be.  That may  tell you more about me  than it does about those things.  A while back, we were on a 14-day cruise with Holland America.  We had a great time (thanks in no small part to a super calm sea), but things aren’t like they used to be.

It used to be that there was always a Captain’s Reception.  Anybody who wanted to could greet the ship’s captain.  Then that changed with the fear of spreading germs.   You could still greet the captain, but he wouldn’t shake you hand.  I guess that made sense.  Well, on our cruise, we never saw the captain.  We heard him a couple of times on the intercom, but for all I know, he was sending those messages from Amsterdam.

Then there’s the issue of what to wear to dinner.  It used to be there were formal nights, informal nights and casual nights.  On formal nights, most men wore a tuxedo.  If they didn’t have a tux, they could get by with a dark suit.  On this cruise, I looked over the dress requirements and to my surprise, there were no formal nights.  They now call them Gala Nights and you are encouraged to wear gala attire (whatever that means).  Well, I saw ten times more tuxes at The Fairfax New Years Eve party than I saw on the 2100 passenger Nieuw Amsterdam.

I was walking to our table on a Gala Night and I noticed a fellow wearing a polo shirt.  Maybe it had been autographed by a rock star and was thus gala attire.  I hate to sound like a snob,  but cruises just aren’t what they used to be.

If it wasn’t a “Gala Night,” then it was a “smart casual night.”  I have yet to figure out what isn’t smart casual.  I finally concluded that smart casual means you must wear matching sneakers.

Something else I noticed for the first time.  Once you open your cabin door with your key card, you then have to slip it into a slot by the door or your lights won’t work.  This is not a problem.  The problem is that when you decide to go somewhere and grab your key, the cabin goes dark.  If you wife is taking a shower at that moment, she will not be happy.

I always like to participate in the recreational sports activities on board.  They have competition in ping pong, putting, shuffleboard, bocce ball, and badminton.  Well, Eric, our so called “sport director,” set up the badminton tournament outside while the ship was moving and we were dealing with a 35 miles-per-hour wind.  Then when we had the putting contest, he kept talking the whole time people were putting.  Egad.  Then Eric set up the bocce ball tournament on a mostly tile floor.  Eric should have concentrated on teaching line dancing.  OK, maybe I am a snob.

Written by PJ Rice at www.ricequips.com

Copyright 2016