Balmy

The weather is beautiful, warm and breezy, the perfect spring day. It's peaceful essence reminds me of so many similar days when just being in the sunshine and air was enough. The television had to go off. I need no talking heads to spoil the mood. The doors and windows had to be opened to bring all that goodness inside. Days like today are what I think Heaven must surely be like.

Just Say Something

Cheese is still with us, but barely. He is bone thin and shrinking by the day. His fur falls off in tufts and leaves bare spots on his skin. He is mostly lame, but manages to drag the back part of his body enough to eventually get where he wants to be. We carry him quite a bit when we can understand where it is he wants to go. One of the other cats is always nearby to defend him if need be. I am surprised at how loyal they are too each other. 

John from Going Gently said that his amazing success for blogging everyday is to just say something. Makes sense. This year, almost any subject I begin on quickly leads me to things that I cannot change. I'm not sure that his advise would be a good idea for me. 

I suppose I could write about my daily walks. Maybe the obligation would ensure that I actually take a daily walk. It is easy to talk myself into procrastinating that one. I did take one today, though I did not take many pictures. Even with beautiful weather and a perfect day, I was not feeling it. I did manage it. 

When I'm deciding on walks my inner teen wants to place the daily walk into the column of unnecessary societal obligations, when it actually belongs with the daily activities of healthy living, like eating something reasonably nutritious and brushing your teeth. 

I think I've rambled enough today to call this "Just saying something". Maybe someday I will have something worth saying.

Laundry Day

Washday on the Maine Coast
N. C. Weyth

I did laundry today after putting it off since Monday. I often put off doing laundry on Mondays. Sometimes I put it off all month long. Not today, I only have two loads because I washed them a couple of weeks ago. 

We are going to see the tulips on Saturday and all three of the blouses I considered wearing were in the baskets. If I wanted to feel comfortable with how I looked, the clothes must be washed. 

It's a lovely day for it. It is sunny and on the warm side, with a good breeze. If I had a clothesline I would hang them out to dry. I would really like to have one but it is problematic. If I ask my brother to put one up, he will feel the need to make it perfect and that will put a lot of stress on him. Reversely, if I just decided to put one up myself he would consider it a slight and it will hurt his pride. Maybe I will just get one of the folding portable ones. I could plan my laundry for days such as this. Maybe I will... 

Absence

 

It's been a difficult winter. I had to quit writing so that I could deal with all that has happened. I am still not over it. The thing that happened put me into a IBD episode that led to a gut bleed. The accompanying diarrhea caused considerable dehydration and my kidneys took a hit. Time and care, and I'm doing better. 

I won't really talk about what happened. But I have lost Clifton, probably forever.  My spirit grieves. I have to place him in God's hands and hope for mercy.

And it's Monday

 

I used to hate Monday. I would be so happy at 5:30 on Friday, but wake up Sunday morning with  the dread that Monday was coming and I could do nothing  to change it. 

You are supposed to say that you loved whatever job you were doing, but I suspect that I was not the only person who didn't. It was mostly tolerable, but I would always want to be doing something else. I think in that way I wasted many years of my life. But simply telling someone that life is too short to spend it doing something unfulfilling is pointless. Most jobs aren't anyone's passion, and many people find it hard to make a living doing what they really are passionate about.

Now I sit and watch the world striving to get back to work. I wonder how many people are going to have the reset they need to understand what they are passionate about and how they can make a living at it. If I was an optimist, I would hope that it was most. But I really think that for almost everyone, they will find a job that provides a paycheck.

Crazy Dreams

 

Karen and I were out and about. We decided to pick up some Chinese to take home for dinner. We walked into one of the strip mall restaurants. The kind that has only a few small tables and rickety chairs in dining room. A large counter filled with specialty cakes and pies separated the dining room from the kitchen. A cow bell tied to the door alerted the cook that we had entered. The cook ignored us and continued to cook something in the wok on the stove top. Karen and I studied the menu for a few minutes. In reality we already knew what we'd order; beef and broccoli for me, Kung Pao chicken for Ken and vegetable stir-fry for Karen. They, like all Chinese restaurants had the items we wanted, but there were no prices listed. 

A few minutes elapsed before the small grandfatherly man came to the counter. He smiled a large smile to show off his ill fitting dentures and asked "Whadoyahave?" Karen  and I looked at each other with a surprised smile. The request reminded us of ordering greasy hot dogs and fries at the Varsity in Atlanta. Karen smiled her warmest smile gave him the order and asked about the price. At that the elderly man shouted "It's a dolla! Everything's a dolla!" Karen looked at me confused. I shrugged my shoulders up, raised my hands in the air and slightly shook my head to let her know I was confused too. Then I reached into my coat pocket and handed her two twenties. I said "Just give him this and tell him to keep the change."

I woke up a little hungry and decided to warm up the beef and broccoli and wondered if we'd ordered any wonton soup to go with it. I went to the refrigerator to find the left over meatloaf and assorted yogurts, protein drinks and condiments that normally inhabit our fridge. There was no Chinese food to be found. I looked around confused for a minute. Karen came into the kitchen and asked what I was looking for. It was then that I realized that my trip to the restaurant was a dream. There would be no beef and broccoli to find. In my disappointment I poured some of the hot water from the kettle on a package of ramen and sulked over my breakfast.

You Catch More Flies with Honey

 

I went to the grocery store this evening. I usually try to avoid markets on Fridays because of Covid. But there was a scattering of things that we were absolutely out of and I needed to go. I could have them delivered or call my niece to shop for me. But I am picky about certain things and I didn't want to have to argue over it. I went to the store my own self.

King County is back in stage one of lock down. Mask are required whenever you are out and about. The area is largely Democratic and is the origin of the pandemic in our country. We don't balk at wearing masks. But what some people consider wearing masks is of great question. 

While I walked through the store I encountered an elderly gentleman whose scruffy appearance shouted that he had no one to care for him. He was walking though the store with an overly used paper mask that hung well below his nose. I needed things in the area he'd been standing and breathing whatever germs he had into the areospace around him. I could have just waited until he left, but then I'd be exposed to whatever he has. Instead, I pushed my grocery cart by him and teased him saying "You know it doesn't work unless you put it over your nose." and winked as I passed him by. I would come back for the spaghetti sauce I needed. I passed him later in the frozen food section. His mask was still taking up space away from his nose. I gave him a reproving glance and said in a sing song voice, "Still not working." He huffed indignantly as he pulled his inadequate mask over his nose. 

We have a whole lot of work to do still.

Exuberant!

 

We are on our way back!

Afternoon Walk

 

I walked down I Street this afternoon. I don't think that I have walked down it before. I've driven down it and ridden my bike. When I do I have to pay attention to the road. It is extremely broken asphalt that is hard to navigate on a bike. The road is narrow and people park on the street, taking the road down to one lane. 

Walking gave me a different perspective from driving. I was able to view the neighborhood in a much more detailed way. I had never noticed before what a sad little street it is. A majority of the houses along it are in the same state of disrepair the street is. Many of the porches and yards had litter, old windows, buckets and furniture scattered about. Many of the houses needed to be sandblasted and painted. We are on lockdown again. A lot of people are back at home. I passed by them the whole time I was out. But not on I Street. No one was in their yards or enjoying the afternoon on the porch. 

I did find one corner of a yard that caught my eye. A table sat beside a cast-off window and some old yard ornaments. It looked artistic to me. I could imagine some Victorian housewife ordering it from a catalog and being so happy when it arrived. Now it sits, painted white in a corner by the fence. 

Raw

 

I feel like something inside has been scraped raw. It's the feeling like after 9/11 when the constant strand of news flow reveals one more horrifying fact after another. I don't care that it's only speculation. It is pretty clear that this coup had it's planning in the highest offices in this country. It was clear from Jim Jordan's arrogant chuckle after he said that Rump would remain the president that something sinister was up. It was clearer in the fall when Rump started replacing all the department heads in the military and intelligence agencies. Representatives of the House and Senate were in on it. The capitol police were in on it. The newly placed military people responsible for sending in the National Guard were in on it. 

Spoiled, privileged American that I am, I think wars shouldn't happen here. Wars happen in other countries but not here. Any logical reasoning quickly pulls that argument apart, but it is what my inner child still clings to. I don't want war here. Again, logic points out my deep seated privilege. Do I somehow imagine that people anywhere want war on their soil?

I talk of war like I know anything. These terrorist who are fighting this coup aren't paid mercenaries. Are they? These traitors are cops and firefighters; nurses? They are the mechanic that fixes your car, the CEO of a Multimedia company. They attempted a coup to overthrow the government, hang the Vice President and kill the Speaker of the House, and they thought that once it was over they should catch a plane home and go back to work the next day. God help us if they had succeeded. What did they plan to have happen if they had? Did  they think they'd call it done and go back home?

And the insurrectionist are still out there because this thing was planned in the highest offices. They were told to let them leave uninhibited. They have other plans. What if they don't plan to call it a day yet?

If you made it this far, this is mostly a speculative anxiety filled rant. I have made claims that I have no proof or personal knowledge of. It is just what I think from what I've seen in the news. It seems like every day in the last thirteen months have been a long stream of "This can't be true, this can't be happening." only it is true and it is happening. And it has gotten crazier with every passing day.