WARNING: OLD FOLKS AT LARGE

Yes, once again the ol' Rock Springs Cafe has beckoned to some long-time-ago Channel 12-ers for a reunion lunch.

Seems like each time a get-together is held the crowd varies by one or another of the faces.

Today's gathering included two photographers and two producers.

The organizer of today's fête was the youngest and most recently retired of the group, Steve Torbeck, known to the Gentle Readers of this blog as Baseball Steve; known to others as a hard-working videographer.

On the other end of the age spectrum was a cowboy, rodeo performer, actor, golfer and television producer, the illustrious Karl Kindberg.

A newcomer to this group was another hard-working videographer (I know, we used to call them photographers), as well as holder of a number of other television jobs, Wally Athey.

And then, with apologies for the work behind the camera today, a producer who certainly will not be known as a photographer, your very own Catalyst.

(So enthralled with his companions that he forgot to take his own picture and thus had to snap one once he got home.)

All of us worked at KPNX in Phoenix, at times all at the same time.

All retired now.

All older, grayer, heavier, more wrinkled.

There were many stories of many others we worked with and a number of whom are no longer with us.

Good times.

Good guys.

Good lunch.

Let's do her again.

PROGRESS

We had a plumber here yesterday to fix the last of a handful of problems (that should have been taken care of before we moved in) and Judy finally got the dining table cleared off.

I got my bedroom/den a little more organized.

We have started an area in the garage to place items that will eventually be sold.

Judy has re-arranged the bookcases in the living room, repaired a broken hand that one of our Aztec gods suffered in the move and emptied yet another big box.

The pile of empty boxes and bags of bubble wrap and piles of foam padding is mounting in the garage.

Someone will reap one of these days.

Finally, last night as the Tony broadcast was on the t.v. we enjoyed our first real made-from-scratch meal in our new home.

Tangerine-topped pork chops.

French-cut green beans.

Sauteed apple slices.

All of that and some mashed potatoes and gravy made a meal to bring a smile to the face of a German.

I couldn't eat it all . . . for the first time in memory!

THE FUTURE

I was watching an interview with Bette Midler yesterday and she said she never, never, never looks back because it prevents her from looking to the future.

I agree with that philosophy though I cannot stop myself from looking back to happier times in the past and wondering what gloom my future will hold.

Bad Catalyst!

So if we can ever get our boxes unpacked or sorted out and the excess sold or donated or junked, maybe I can get on to the present and then the future.

In the meantime, we were sitting out on our patio last night, enjoying a cocktail, when we noticed this sky overhead.

As Judy and I and Hoagy Carmichael have always called it . . .

FRIDAY FUNNIES

Golly-gee, Red Ryder, these weeks roll around so fast.

Here it is Friday again and my obligation as FunMaster has once again risen to the top of the Jobs List.

To add to my problems, last night I had an overnight test at a Sleep Lab.

And I couldn't sleep!

Who can't sleep at a Sleep Lab?

Sheesh!

Came home at 5:30, climbed into my own bed and slept for 3 hours!

Old age and old habits, I guess.

Speaking of old age . . .

And we're off and runnin'!

I used to think the "Whale of a Sale" yard sale signs of our friend Lori (formerly) Down the Street were the best ever.

But this week she's got some competition.

All right, I'd better quit before I get into (any more) trouble.

Have a pleasantly quixotic weekend, Gentle Readers, eat well, sleep well and always keep laughing.

Here, kitty-kitty . . .

(Darn, he was just around here somewhere . . . . .)

OUR FAKE LIFE

We had a plumber here today to take care of several problems with our new abode.

He was professional, young and said he loved his work.

We liked him and certainly were pleased with his work.

SWMBO finally got to do a load of laundry, the toilet no longer runs all the time, nothing drips and the kitchen faucet is brand new and works like a champ.

Small things but it means a lot.

So our life is settling down.

These beautiful white peonies beautify our living room.

In case you can't tell, they're silk.

In other words, fake.

But they're gorgeous just the same.

I think this earlier picture, taken without a flash, looks even more like an oil painting.

My newly-hooked-up indoor/outdoor thermometer says the temperature outside is 93 degrees Fahrenheit.

But it didn't feel that hot when I was out on a breezy afternoon looking for a place to put it.

Anyway, the temperature inside is a very comfortable 77.

SWMBO is taking a nap and I think I'm gonna have a little lie-down too.

We watched much of the Comey hearing on the television this morning.

As one of my friends said afterward his impression is that the Russians interfered in our election and Trump doesn't care.

And, at least, Senator John McCain of my state should have his car keys taken away.

So it goes.

MOVING BRUISES

So we hired professional movers.

And they were pretty darned good.

But it turned out that I moved a lot of stuff on my own.

And at my age (middle late 70's) it turns out that my body doesn't react the way it did 40 years ago.

As I said to Judy (the vaunted SWMBO), I don't remember getting bruises like this when we moved in the past.

She said something rude like "you ain't the young guy I married, lo, those many years ago."

And I'm not.

Because of atrial fibrillation, and a pacemaker/defibrillator, and cholesterol and whatever problems my heart has decided to have (through ABSOLUTELY no fault of my own), I'm on blood thinners, as well as a number of other drugs.

And the blood thinners alone result in splotches like this from the nearest touch.

There's not any real pain, other than the pain of not being the movie-idol leading man of my youth.

But they sure leave their mark.

But don't cry for me, Argentina.

This, too, shall pass.

And maybe I can someday get back to taking photos of visitors to our birdbath once again.

AGONIZING FRIDAY FUNNIES

Gentle Readers, I have returned, just like Dougie McArthur.

And you thought the Friday Funnies had faded into torpor.

Ye of little faith.

So we have moved to a much smaller site.  Our garage is full of boxes and other stuff, some of which will be sold in the future.

We have downsized.

Our bodies are wracked with pain even though we had professional (VERY professional) movers.

So we, like you, I suspect, deserve a few good laughs.

And, with that, I wish you all a moving (heh) weekend full of fun and frivolity.

And always, whatever the pain and strain, remember to keep laughing.

Here, kitty-kitty . . .

(Oh, no)