Tools

I didn’t need one last week. See, it’s simply a tool…kind of a “jack of all trades” tool…like a Crescent Wrench…used for a lot of things it can “competently” do…but there’s better tools for the specific job. Now, it’s a GOOD tool…the actual “Crescent” brand so to speak…but there are better quality and more suitable tools for my specific endeavors that I might purpose it for. It’s a cool looking tool though…so lots of folks “toss one in the box”.

See, I have far better tools…in quantity, higher quality, and in configurations more specifically suited to particular purposes, than this tool could hope to be. Some of them look even cooler.

So, yeah, I don’t need one of these tools.

But then…tragically…sadly…predictably, the tool became the focus…and only focus…of a tragedy and deliberate misuse. People with no historical concept of just how important those tools are, calling for the removal of the tool…and categorizing all owners of the tool as “evil”…or worse, blaming them for the misuse.

It’s easy, ya see…mindless reaction and demanding others do something rather than look at the actual problem. The actual problem is pretty tough…and a scary thing to contemplate. Screaming is easier.

So, yeah. Last week I didn’t need one of these tools…

And the hand-wringing screamers are correct. THIS week I don’t need one of these tools either.

I need *three*.

Because I know history…and it’s my fucking right.

I’ll see you on the road.

CUAgain,
Daniel Meyer

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Making the world a weirder place

Tailhook

“What’s the hook do?” says the young boy of perhaps 8 years.

I *like* curious kids. First, simply because I readily identify with them…but more so because their curiosity will cause them no end of problems throughout childhood and teenage-hood…but if they make it through the mire with that one thing intact…they will go far in the world.

So…I always make time to reply.

“That’s in case I need to hook on a chain or cable…”

The kid looks at it for a moment…his face screwed up in concentration, then, “No…it would be on the top for that.”

I almost laughed. He’d managed to work out that nothing would stay in the hook with it on the bottom…but not that the hitch could be easily turned over.

I decided that he *liked* thinking and I would help him do a little more.

“Well, the cables I’m talking about are like on the aircraft carriers. Ever see ’em land a plane? That hook on the tail that stops ’em fast? That’s…” I indicated the hook, “So I can stop REALLY fast if I have to.”

His eyes were wide as he mouthed, “Ohhhh…coool!” and started away with his parents. I could tell he was still working out the implications of my statement so just stood and watched him departing.

He got it. It was visibly evident as he brought so much of his processing power on-line that his feet quit working quite right and he ground to a halt.

He turned laughing, “No it’s not!” Pretty certain he’d worked out that the logistics of TXDOT deploying stop cables at my command were at best, *improbable*.

He trotted over and looked closer. “You can turn that upside down.”

I smiled, “Yep!” as he trotted back to his parents.

Mission accomplished. Brain operating. Logic beginning to function. Humor and skepticism engaged. Critical thinking skill developing.

I hope all those survive his future education.

…and why yes, yes I DO strive to be the magnificently weird uncle all kids should have.

I’ll see you on the road.

CUAgain,
Daniel Meyer

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Diminishing…

Not often that I’ll show my “wares” on the inter-tubes…but the red…size “this time last year”…the black, “size now”.

Gotta clean out my durn closet/dresser again.

I’ll see you on the road.

CUAgain,
Daniel Meyer

You can read more about my fitness journey here.

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The struggle is real…

Outside my office window this morning…

1 worker, 5 supervisors.

There’s a reason for many stereotypes 🙂

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On neglecting your mistress…

Dragon Piss

Y’all might recall I’m recovering from shoulder surgery…this means my arm’s in a sling…and my doc says “don’t ride.”

Now, I’m often given to ignoring doctors advice, but in this case, what he means is, “If the tendons don’t get a chance to heal back to the bone you’re gonna permanently lose function in that arm…” so I’m highly motivated to get this right.

Translation: The universe is topsy-turvey and I can’t ride.

Ya know what a Dragon does when you’ve been riding her nearly daily for over 17 years and you suddenly ignore her for several weeks?

She pisses all over the garage floor. That’s what she does.

Fickle little minx…

I’ll see you on the road.

CUAgain,
Daniel Meyer

ps: The issue is the Shifter Shaft Seal, which is not a big deal…if you have two arms at your disposal anyway…

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The tough part of tough.

Whatever it takes
‘Cause I love the adrenaline in my veins
I do whatever it takes
‘Cause I love how it feels when I break the chains

-Imagine Dragons, “Whatever It Takes”

Y’all may recall that I’m recovering from shoulder surgery…when I was getting diagnosed my (future) surgeon took a look at the MRI and said, “Holy crap dude! You didn’t do all this at once!”

Nope…a lifetime of dangerous things…hard work, women, and motorcycles. Also more than a few of those events where I as a man (as opposed to just “male”), had to step up and do what I had to do at all costs.

Some of that bill is becoming due.

The right shoulder operation has been done and I’m in bit of enforced convalescence to let the tendons graft back to the bone. It’s an all or nothing kind of thing…if I tear ’em again before completely healed there won’t be enough left of ’em for another attempt.

So…what’s the difficulty? The pain? The money?

Nope. Pain I can handle. Money…well I can make more. The tough part is the “role.”

Here’s the deal…literally all my teenage and adult life, my role as a man was simply this: “Push past the pain and get the gawddamn job done.”

It was a lesson learned hard and early. Want to eat? Don’t want to freeze? Then work…and hard.

Crime wasn’t ever my thing. I *like* people too much. And I was the wrong sex, and/or color…and from the wrong background, for there to be any outside help. It came down to work.

It always has.

It was a simple equation. Work or die.

That was it. In work, home life, education, protecting me and mine, whatever…the “job” was mine and the only acceptable place for me was in toiling at it. There were no days off. No excuses. No allowances for exhaustion, pain, or weakness.

There’s still, outside of me and mine, really no place for me in society if I’m not doing that. I came from “a long way down” where this is both obvious and unavoidable.

The world is absolutely ruthless in this regard. Platitudes and wishful thinking do not alter the reality one iota. Examples litter the streets of every city in this nation.

So…the shoulders…first surgery done. Pain, yep, I can handle it…but here’s the thing…this damage is simply because I spent so much time pushing past my physical limitations in the past. Trading pain and health…the one currency life ALWAYS accepts…for my present and future.

If I do that now. push past the pain, the disability will become permanent. If I take the time to let this heal as instructed…well…I stand a good chance at 100% recovery.

So…let’s just say I’m HIGHLY motivated to do this right.

…but the drives are intense…near overwhelming really…and the world keeps on moving with or without me. My required role in it has not changed. The things I need to attend are still piling up. If I fall far enough behind…well…I’m of an age where I may never catch back up.

My skill-sets have changed to a degree, allowing some leeway…but only some.

Between a second surgery and a LOT of PT, this year is a bust. It remains to be seen what the final cost will be (and I’m not talking about the money).

“Work or die”. It’s ingrained in my soul. It’s part of my id.

…and there’s work to be done, and at the moment, all I can do is sit there and stare at it.


Wanders off singing, “Paying anything to roll the dice just one more time…”

I’ll see you on the road.

CUAgain,
Daniel Meyer

Above lyric from:

You can read more about my fitness journey here.

Posted in Blog, Mood, Weight Management | 1 Comment

What a difference a year can make…

Posted Feb 8, 2017:

I do believe…that I’ve signed myself up for a whole bunch of pain…

Well…a bunch *more* pain anyway.

What a difference a year makes

A year ago today I signed up for a 6-week fitness challenge at Rowlett Transformation Center…would be a couple days yet before I started…(Feb 9th was my first workout) but it’s been a life-changing thing.

Six weeks went by and I just kept going.

Learned a lot. Done a lot. Got new habits. Worked my ass off (literally and figuratively). Lost 95 pounds. Made some friends.

I’m having a bit of an enforced setback due to the shoulder surgeries, but I’m not anywhere near done yet.

Blaine Callaway and Travis Merritt…thank you.

I’ll see you on the road.

CUAgain,
Daniel Meyer

You can read more about my fitness journey here.

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A large?

…annnd today I put on a size Large button-down shirt…and it fit…not squeezed in…it actually fits.

This is remarkable to me simply because as an adult, I’ve never worn a size Large shirt…ever…and as recently as a couple years ago 6X was a “squeeze in” size…

I *still* see the fat guy in the mirror…but I am able to see the fit guy in the photographs anyway.

CUAgain,
Daniel Meyer

You can read more about my fitness journey here.

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On developing new habits…

I rolled out of bed to the 4:30am alarm. Well…”rolled” might be exaggerating just a bit…first I had to dislodge my right arm from it’s prop/pillow/support required at the moment while sleeping due to my rotator cuff surgery.

Even THAT required a preliminary step…as “Blossom” the dainty little Siamese girl cat, has determined that the “nest” for my arm also suits her just fine and she tends to curl up there. Works for me. Keeps the arm warm. It’s sort of weird that she’ll park her butt on the ice-pack…but hey, cool buns. Apparently a good thing. Cats are weird.

Oh…and Geronimo…the big orange cat…seems to have decided he’s a fully functional leg warmer so HE had to be dislodged as well.

So…”rolled” was more like, “Ack! Ugh! Ow! Alright, you…move your big orange butt, and,” *shrugs shoulder* “you little girl, move before you get squished!”

Then, since the arm won’t work that way at the moment…slowly sit up, swing my feet around…and use the OTHER arm to shut off the damn alarm.

Ugh. So. Yeah. Rolled out of bed to the 4:30am alarm. Managed to shut it off at 4:32am.

I stagger into the kitchen, mix up my workout shake (protein shake) and set it to chilling in the fridge. That stuff REALLY tastes a lot better if you give it a few minutes to “age” and chill it.

Then it’s off to the shower to do that deed.

I grab shorts and socks and watch a bit of news while “assembling” that end of myself…the news seems to indicate the world is still out there and doing its thing so…

…back to the dresser for a black t-shirt. Those that know me, know these comprise the vast majority of my wardrobe. I, in fact, tend to purchase them in a case-lot.

My dress code is something like:
Black jeans and…
White or graphic t-shirt, possibly ripped/stained — about to get dirty and/or bloody and work my ass off on some project.
Black t-shirt — workout, work (at work, my concession to corporate dress code is that they are “pocket” tees), and pretty much everything else.
Button down shirt (usually black) — Formal wear.
Suit — You should run. Somebody’s dead…or about to be.

Anyway, grabbed the t-shirt and the arm sling…since due to the surgery/recovery I am prohibited from raising the right arm at the moment beyond about 40 degrees…and I can’t step out of the house without the sling…I was standing there trying to figure out JUST HOW I was going to don the durn t-shirt.

Bluntly…it’s not possible. A button down shirt or nothing.

“But,” says I to the cats, “I can’t work out in formal wear!”

THIS is the point where I remembered/realized that I was NOT working out today…as I am prohibited (doc’s orders) from doing that until out of the sling (about 5 more weeks) as the tendons are healing to the bone and we can’t risk tearing them off again.

Not even hard cardio. Nothing that might jostle the arm. Also supposed to be favoring the OTHER shoulder as it needs surgery too and and any further damage I do to it makes the surgery more difficult/severe. Plus, I sort of need it functional at the moment.

So, yeah. No workout. Not news and not new. You’d think even in my sleepy-headed “O-stupid-thirty” in the morning state I’d have realized this sooner since I’d spent fully half my efforts this morning dealing with and being careful with the arm…

Habits. Sigh.

But wait…WHY did I set the alarm? I was at least awake then…

Oh, yeah. Gotta work early today.

“Well dammit!”

What the heck was I supposed to do with a perfectly good protein shake?

“And,” my body was screaming, “You have GOT to do SOMETHING physical!!!”

Mmmm…slow, delay, body weight squats in the kitchen…those won’t jostle the arms.

They DO amuse the cats though. They stared wide-eyed for a few minutes…but they both went back to bed before I hit 50 reps.

Wimps.

I drank the shake in the car on the way to work. That’s a neat trick…with the right arm/hand useless and jammed in a sling.

Had you told me this time last year that I would be jonesing for my morning workout, I’d have laughed in your face.

Heck of a difference a year can make…

…and I like it.

I’ll see you on the road.

CUAgain,
Daniel Meyer

You can read more about my fitness journey here.

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For the wife’s birthday…

Got my wife a canvas print for her birthday…

She likes!

Support independent art and artists!

It’s a print titled “Corgi and Fairy by Sandara on Deviant Art.

CUAgain,
Daniel Meyer

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