I got out of bed like someone who runs every morning and likes it. I accomplished a task list that would stun a professional. Not bragging you understand, but I cleaned the bathroom, swept the kitchen, washed the dishes, changed the linens on the bed, and showered all before 9 a.m. Not bad.
I had a hot date with my friend to pay bills, buy groceries and, oh yes, eat. She picked me up about 10:30. After a couple of trips to a couple of places and several other stops, she helped me carry groceries and cat litter into the apartment about 4:30.
A pinched nerve causes her much pain right now, so I did the legwork today. I went into the various businesses to pay her bills.
I cannot say with certainty I will be able to get out of bed tomorrow, but at least I do not have plans if that proves the case.
Mexico and Brasil play for the Olympics gold medal in soccer tomorrow. Watching soccer should count for some exercise, right? After all, I have to get out of the bed and walk to the living room. The guys play so hard for 90 minutes, I am sure watching them will count toward exercise, right?
The new EPL season begins a week from tomorrow. Would you consider dumping Lamps? I will not.
Laters, Dude.
Friday, August 10, 2012
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Hello there
Day before yesterday when I had no interwebs, I wanted to write. I had all sorts of ideas. Today not so much.
Pogo invented a new cover-up method: air scratch, something like air guitar.
Something I learned about the internet: it fuels isolation but also opens the door to another world.
Pulling weeds fulfills an urge to dig in the dirt plus offers token exercise.
Missing you all the more Dude.
Pogo invented a new cover-up method: air scratch, something like air guitar.
Something I learned about the internet: it fuels isolation but also opens the door to another world.
Pulling weeds fulfills an urge to dig in the dirt plus offers token exercise.
Missing you all the more Dude.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
While I remember
I am addicted to roasted almonds. The nut's profile reads like a who's who of nutrition. If that were not reason enough, the flavor and crispness make them a good substitute for chips.
My addictions do not end with almonds. I could gorge on Rainier cherries, red grapes and fresh salmon.
Just like a smart child, Pogo knows where I hid the treats. Now, every time I walk into the kitchen Pogo breaks his neck trying to beat me to the cabinet. And just like a child, if I do not bring out the treat bag, he cries and all but throws himself on the floor in a fit. Like many parents I give in so I can have peace. Call me Pavlov.
The drought drove a bumper crop of insects into the cooler homes. I charted water bugs, roaches, sugar ants and some funky bug that reminds me of Dale Earnhardt Jr. The war wages on. I made a deal with the spiders: I will not squash you flat if you will not bite me. So far the accord holds.
My rescue rose hangs on by its thorns. Of course a week without water did nothing to help its health.
Yesterday I pulled weeds, the day before I cruised the aisles of Wallyworld. Today I do not want to do anything and most likely will not.
Laters, Dude.
My addictions do not end with almonds. I could gorge on Rainier cherries, red grapes and fresh salmon.
Just like a smart child, Pogo knows where I hid the treats. Now, every time I walk into the kitchen Pogo breaks his neck trying to beat me to the cabinet. And just like a child, if I do not bring out the treat bag, he cries and all but throws himself on the floor in a fit. Like many parents I give in so I can have peace. Call me Pavlov.
The drought drove a bumper crop of insects into the cooler homes. I charted water bugs, roaches, sugar ants and some funky bug that reminds me of Dale Earnhardt Jr. The war wages on. I made a deal with the spiders: I will not squash you flat if you will not bite me. So far the accord holds.
My rescue rose hangs on by its thorns. Of course a week without water did nothing to help its health.
Yesterday I pulled weeds, the day before I cruised the aisles of Wallyworld. Today I do not want to do anything and most likely will not.
Laters, Dude.
Saturday, July 28, 2012
I had a dream
House gremlins did their dirty work while I slept. The party in the kitchen spilled over into the living room and bathroom. Looks like my boys did nothing to stop the fun and actually participated themselves. Now they sleep and I face a day's worth of chores.
Morpheus' gift clung to me after I woke. Former colleagues, the newspaper and the Tea Room, and some guilt. A former boss looks for evidence of a chicken in our purses. Much anxiety as the boss presses for "the truth." I pass the test but lose my purse. C comes to the rescue.
I feel the presence of someone or something as it tries to convey a message. Even Momo, his eyes as big as saucers, notices and keeps staring at the living room from a perch in the bedroom. Like smoke rising in front of a fan, the feeling dissipates.
Strength, love and peace, Dude.
Laters.
Morpheus' gift clung to me after I woke. Former colleagues, the newspaper and the Tea Room, and some guilt. A former boss looks for evidence of a chicken in our purses. Much anxiety as the boss presses for "the truth." I pass the test but lose my purse. C comes to the rescue.
I feel the presence of someone or something as it tries to convey a message. Even Momo, his eyes as big as saucers, notices and keeps staring at the living room from a perch in the bedroom. Like smoke rising in front of a fan, the feeling dissipates.
Strength, love and peace, Dude.
Laters.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Tools of the trade
Denial: what a useful tool of the mind. Like rose-colored glasses, I slap denial on to shield myself from the harsh glare of reality.
Doc tells me my body fights two major enemies, either of which will win in the end. I am responsible for the COPD. I do not know the cause of the pulmonary hypertension.
Denial: I could do such and such if not for the heavy air, the heat, wind (choose appropriate word for the day).
Wanna come to my pity party? All of us use this tool at times despite its despised reputation.
I am familiar with what if as well. I paint over the worst of the scars with suppositions. What if I had not blah blah blahed? You get the picture.
Tools serve their purpose as long as I do not use them as a permanent crutch.
Later Dude.
Doc tells me my body fights two major enemies, either of which will win in the end. I am responsible for the COPD. I do not know the cause of the pulmonary hypertension.
Denial: I could do such and such if not for the heavy air, the heat, wind (choose appropriate word for the day).
Wanna come to my pity party? All of us use this tool at times despite its despised reputation.
I am familiar with what if as well. I paint over the worst of the scars with suppositions. What if I had not blah blah blahed? You get the picture.
Tools serve their purpose as long as I do not use them as a permanent crutch.
Later Dude.
Monday, July 23, 2012
On my mind
Our country offers opportunity and freedom. Applied by a sane loving person, everyone benefits. This freedom, which many of us take for granted, covers all. Even those for whatever reason decide to kill as many fellow humans as possible. Arming ourselves to the teeth will not prevent innocent people from dying anymore than taking away the guns. The lid has been off that Pandora's box for too long.
We instead need to change our collective mindset. We control our immediate environment, so we need awareness, then action.
I wish the media would resist labeling their coverage of such events with catch phrases which cheapen the lives of the dead. Yes, learning about the killer and the hows and whys fit right in with our gossipy society. We care more about the details of a movie star's divorce than the children "in that other part of town" who grow up alone and starving.
Are our lives so miserable and mundane that murder no longer makes a dent in our collective psyche? Nowadays only the "massacres" grab the media's attention. What about the woman who died at the hands of her spouse? Why don't we care about her? What about the families that have to grieve their mother, sister, cousin? Even victims of "massacres" fall by the wayside with the next horrific occurrence.
At first, the losses sear our hearts with grief and a determination to change. Then we build memorials so we will not forget. We drag out the dead to mourn on anniversaries. The years pass and those who remember the events firsthand start to die. The younger ones remember the carnage as they do the past, with hazy pictures.
The cycle continues.
Later Dude.
We instead need to change our collective mindset. We control our immediate environment, so we need awareness, then action.
I wish the media would resist labeling their coverage of such events with catch phrases which cheapen the lives of the dead. Yes, learning about the killer and the hows and whys fit right in with our gossipy society. We care more about the details of a movie star's divorce than the children "in that other part of town" who grow up alone and starving.
Are our lives so miserable and mundane that murder no longer makes a dent in our collective psyche? Nowadays only the "massacres" grab the media's attention. What about the woman who died at the hands of her spouse? Why don't we care about her? What about the families that have to grieve their mother, sister, cousin? Even victims of "massacres" fall by the wayside with the next horrific occurrence.
At first, the losses sear our hearts with grief and a determination to change. Then we build memorials so we will not forget. We drag out the dead to mourn on anniversaries. The years pass and those who remember the events firsthand start to die. The younger ones remember the carnage as they do the past, with hazy pictures.
The cycle continues.
Later Dude.
Saturday, July 21, 2012
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