Not Lonesome at the Lone Pine

Not Lonesome at the Lone Pine

I went to the Lone Pine on Saturday night to hear some live music. It was one fellow with a guitar and backup sound. Not very good. I sat at the bar, as I have at least five or six times since I moved up to Munds Park for the summers. No One has ever spoken to me.

This time a good looking fellow named Andrew left his seat and sat next to me. We had quite a nice talk. He mentioned that he was forty-one. I was quite flattered that a man of such a young age would chat me up.

Another fellow, drunk, came and sat on the other side of me at the bar. He was celebrating that his home had been delivered. His whole block had been decimated by the wicked snowfall last winter. He had chosen everything, including cabinets, and was overjoyed to see it materialize. He still had to get it hooked up to electricity and permits, but it was there. He invited me to the housewarming he’s planning.

I must admit my ego was booted after only two hours at the Lone Pine.

What if You Sponsored a Happy Hour and No One Came

What if You Sponsored a Happy Hour and No One Came

            Flush with success from last week’s Single Senior Happy Hour at Munds Park, Arizona, I was eagerly awaiting this week’s event. For the first one, I advertised it by mentioning it in my column in The Pinewood News and posting flyers at the three convenience stores and the post office. It was a Thursday at 5 p.m. at Pinewoody’s one of the two restaurants in Munds Park, and five people came.

            This week it was scheduled on Wednesday at 4 p.m., same place. I couldn’t get it in the newspaper as it comes out every two weeks but I did put up the flyers. No one showed up. Was the time and day of the week worse? Were the people last week too honest with each other and regretted their confidences? Did I have bad breath or body odor?

            I’ll probably try again in late July as I have to be in Phoenix for the first three weeks of July. Better luck next time.

Single Senior Happy Hour

Single Senior Happy Hour

     I sponsored the first Single Senior Happy Hour in Munds Park last week. I put the information in my article in the local paper and put up flyers at a restaurant, the three gas stations/convenience stores, and the post office. There is no local delivery here. Everyone has a post office box so the bulletin board is passed by loads of people.

     The setting was Pinewoody’s, an outdoor restaurant which features beer and wine, sandwiches and salads, and pizza. I got there early with a pack of name tags and markers. I sat reading a while, but four people did show up. One man was a year round resident while the rest of us were “heat birds,” people that fly away from the hot valley.

     It was a coming together of spirits. Each person shared the most distressing personal tragedies and received moral support. The amazing part was how upbeat and optimistic we all were. There were two women and three men. We agreed to meet next week. I’ll put up more flyers and see what happens.

Cuddling Up with Sparky During the Day

Cuddling Up with Sparky During the Day

            Last weekend it was downright hot in Munds Park, with highs around ninety and lows around fifty-five. When it was time to change the sheets on Tuesday, I took off the electric blanket and replaced it with a light, summer one. My electric blanket has dual controls, but I can’t save money by just heating my side of the bed. Sparky, my eight year-old shitzu-poodle, sleeps on the foot of the other side of the bed.

            It’s been cold the past few days, with highs in the sixties and lows in the thirties. I rued my decision to put away the electric blanket but not enough to retrieve it and remake the bed.

I know that some people sleep with their dogs cuddled up beside them. I have a friend whose malti-poo “spoons” her. That’s just not my style. Sparky knows his place is at the bottom of the bed. I may be alone and sometimes lonely, but I will not spoon with a dog. I was forced to put on the wall heater in the bedroom to keep the temperature warm enough for sleeping.

However, I do enjoy the cool weather as an excuse, as if I need one, to cuddle my dog during the day. He jumps on my lap and put his paws on my shoulders, like he’s hugging me. On these chilly afternoons it’s the right blend of warmth and comfort.

He knows not to lick. I know where his tongue has been. The first dogs I owned were a pair of golden retrievers given to me by a neighbor who was moving to New York City. They were great dogs, sweet as a Boston cream pie. They did have some liabilities. Firstly, they shed. A lot! Secondly, they hunted ducks. I lived adjacent to Encanto Park in downtown Phoenix. I have to admit I let the dogs roam free there when they woke me at five in the morning. I stopped that when they each came back with ducks in their mouths. Thirdly, they ate whatever people food was within their reach. I fed them only dry dog food, but they helped themselves to birthday cakes and thawing ground beef. And lastly, they licked me and themselves. I would wake up in the middle of the night and hear them and shout, “Stop licking!” so I could get back to sleep.

 After that dog owning experience, I got non-shedding puppies and trained them not to lick. But I did train them to cuddle. It’s one of the reasons to own a dog.

Eating Out Less Often

Eating Out Less Often

     Most single people I know eat out often. Now that I’m in Munds Park for the summer, the choices for nearby restaurants is severely limited.

     I do belong to the Pinewood Country Club which is open for breakfast on Sundays, lunch some days, and dinner some days.

     The full service restaurant, The Lone Pine, used to be open seven days a week for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Now it’s open sometimes, mostly Thursday through Sunday. Their bar, which offers pizza and sub sandwiches is open most nights but the service is so bad I stopped going.

     Pinewoody’s, an outdoor place across the highway, is open Wednesday to Sunday for lunch and dinner until 7 or 8. It has a limited menu: pizza, burgers, and sandwiches.

     And everything is closed on Mondays.

     In Scottsdale I usually eat out one meal a day. Up here I eat out a few times a week. I have to think ahead, as the nearest grocery store is in Flagstaff, twenty miles north. This is not to say that I’m cooking up a storm. I’ll buy fruit and a few vegetables. I’ll have eggs for any meal. I’ll get a rotisserie chicken and eat off it a few days. And a tuna fish sandwich is the default dinner. I’m not sure my nutrition is any better, but I am saving money.

I’d Like a Part Time Handyman Husband or Boyfriend

I’d Like a Part Time Handyman Husband or Boyfriend

      For the last few years I’ve paid people to whack the weeds and clear the pine needles from my property in Munds Park. The first year it was $120 and last year $180. That was my breaking point. I hadn’t raked leaves or grass for fifty years but how hard could it be?

A friend in Phoenix gave me a rake. I tried out a section by the front porch. Pine needles were much easier to take than the wet grass or autumn leaves of my childhood. I figured no problem.

Next I needed t buy a weed whacker. I checked them out in Home Depot and decided on the one with batteries. I’m afraid of small gas-powered equipment. I don’t even own a grill. And I know myself well enough to figure I would cut the cord on an electrical model. I bought the tool and went home.

Later that afternoon I unpacked the box. The fellow helping me at the store said I’d just have to screw on the handle. Wrong! I had to assemble it. I took out all the pieces and arrayed them on my living room carpet. I read the directions but they assumed some experience and mechanical ability. The diagrams were indecipherable.

I forged on. I clicked two parts together and put a screw in. Not all the way. Either my Phillips screwdriver isn’t long enough to give me torque(?)or I’m just too weak in the hands. I put this piece around an important piece after much shoving and repositioning. There were two screws left and three holes for screws. I asked my neighbor if he had any of the same screws. He checked his inventory and informed me that the screws were probably made specifically for that weed whacker.

I tried putting it all back in the package, but somehow the parts expanded after opening. I’m taking it back this morning.

This is when I want a part-time boyfriend or husband to do this for me. Then I remembered that neither of my husbands was mechanically inclined. The double income allowed us to hire people to tasks.

Update:  I took the weed whacker back to Home Depot where I exchanged it for an identical one. I asked the woman at the return desk if someone could assist me putting it together. She called a woman “from the back of the store.” When she had a hard time figuring it out, another Home Depot person, a man, came to her assistance. It eventually took all three of us, each with input,(and my screwdriver)to assemble the weed whacker. I no longer felt like a dumb cluck!

All Alone in Couplesville

All Alone in Couplesville

I’ve moved up to my summer residence in Munds Park, Arizona. I know there must be some single seniors here somewhere but the town seems entirely populated by couples. These couples are friendly but never invite me to share a meal with them or play cards or do an activity. There are two exceptions to this, both writer friends and their spouses.

Am I a threat? Although the men would probably not want to know this, I see other people’s husbands as nonsexual beings. And I’m not that great looking or charming.

I think it’s more likely that I don’t fit into the “mold.” Couples are used to interacting with a like social unit. Single people upset their natural order.

I’m going to host a single senior happy hour at a local eatery. I’ll let you know if anyone shows up.