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The day I knew would arrive happened last night. I came home to find Harper wasn’t able to raise herself from the back legs. She had been in decline for some time, including failure to keep her back side up without having her hind legs go out from under her. I knew in a flash this was it. Someone and I called the vet but was told their ER service was overwhelmed. We found a local vet ER which couldn’t have been better. The nurse, technician, and doctor were sensational. We agree it was time. It was done quickly. She was sixteen years old.
I often encounter patients who have lost their cat or dog; there is no anguish/sorrow like it I tell them. I tell the tale how sixteen years ago when I brought Harper home, she and I were so excited as we drive away from the rescue shelter. In the joy I thought to myself someday this dog will grow old and die on me and when that day happens it will be one of the worse days of my life, and there is nothing I can do about it. But this is the price we pay for loving someone; it hurts so when they go.
Last night as a means of closure and to prevent me from going into blubbering hysterics in the ER, I read some quotes. One was the opening line from one of my favorite poems, ‘The lost hotels of Paris’:
The Lord gives everything and charges by taking it back. What a bargain.
When Father died, Brother #4 said it was ‘20% grief and 80% relief” for his quality of life had been poor for some time; we were all waiting for his passing with mixed feelings. It was the same with Harper. For some time, she’s been incontinent causing daily messes and she had to be helped up on the bed. When she died it was 80% grief/20% relief. Last night I could finally sleep with the bedroom door closed and I didn’t wake to see if the dog had died in the night.
I feel so sad; as I type this, generous tears fill my eyes. I will probably feel this way for some time. Nothing can be done about it, and that’s OK too. At times it is OK not to be OK.
You will lose someone you can’t live without,and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But there is also good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly—that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp. Anne Lamott.
55. Tell me about your first X (i.e., date, car, home, book you remember reading).
This is a meme, is it not? Here is my spin on the matter.
First date: Ginger V. I was a nervous thing, despite knowing her from church group. We both remember at the end of the date we didn’t kiss. We have kept in touch and she laughs about it and she knows now why.
First car: a red one, I think it was a Ford something, which I bought at a used car lot. I remember it stalled overheated while driving it home.
First home: my childhood place on Faircourt in Grosse Pointe Woods. Such fond memories! of which I have often written.
First book: I don’t remember the literal first book but I remember the first book that jolted me into and prompted me to become a lifelong reader was ‘The Phantom Tollbooth’.
First favorite album: The New Seekers ‘I’d like to teach the world to sing’. Groovy.
First major accomplishment: having read the most books in my grade school class, which was marked by the number of gold stars on the chart. I passed others by a country mile, many who despise me to this day.
First major sorrow (that I can remember): I did a horrid thing to another boy, and my mother knew about it and kept it to herself until an appropriate moment. She had known of my cruelty for some time but had kept it to herself. I remember going to the basement and weeping for my actions. not only for what I had done but how I had let down my mother.
First realization my parents were human not just parents: When Father was laid up with sciatica. I had never seen him sick before. It was scary to think he was vulnerable, not invincible.
First realization I was different. I was six years old. I was drawing pictures. I started drawing cartoons with nekkid boys in them. As I did, I realized something was not ‘right’, something different was happening. I couldn’t articulate what it was or what was happening, but there was a sense the world has suddenly crashed and nothing was to be the same. It was not a happy feeling at all. How was I to live with this? I get angry when I am told it is a choice.
First birthday party. I remember having a Peanuts-themed party for the boys and girls in my neighborhood. I can still see the place settings. I remember too being mad-jealous of a boy in the neighborhood named Mark – I don’t remember why. I remember was making sure his cup, plate, and placement were all ‘Lucy’. That would show him.! What a bitchy queen move – and at six years old!
First alcoholic drink. Would you believe me when I told you this wasn’t until I was a junior at college? My microbiology partner, who was from England, made his own ale, a dark type to rival Guinness. I still going to his fraternity to try some. Needless to say I was a pantywaist and after only a few were I was terribly temulant. He played albums by Tomita, which I still associate with drinking. Thanks to him I prefer my beer dark, bitter, and complicated – like my men.
First airplane flight. Our family flew to Philadelphia for a weekend excursion to see the sights. I was so excited to be on a plane. United Airlines it was and the stewardess (for that is what they were called) gave me a pack of United Airlines cards. The captain announced my name as it was my first time on an airplane. The joy of flying has slowly gone downhill ever since.
If you fancy a follow through, please copy and paste these items in the comments and tell me your answers.
I went on a 5K walk this morning; The Boss Lady and some others at work organized for some of us to attend wearing our work T-shirts. It turns out the walk/run was a local gay pride charity event. It wasn’t clear if thems going from work are ‘that way’ and I wasn’t asked either. I figured 5K would be a shoe-in after the 10K I did a fortnight ago. I walked with The Boss Lady, who is well over four feet. At first it was a bit awkward, the type that happens when you interact with someone in a different circumstance than usual. How to act and speak with The Boss Lady at work is one thing, but how does one interact on a fun run, surrounded by half-naked men and drag queens? Not to be worrying! It was a fun time and we got to know each other. I learned more about what she does at work (besides responding to my whiny needs) and what she does when not at work. She mentioned her children but didn’t mention a spouse past or present. Walking with others made the time go by in a breeze. It was fun and I met the new therapist who I only knew by name – and I got some brownie points for showing on a cloudyrainy morning in November or at work matter. I didn’t come in last either, a nice thing.
Last night I finished ‘War and peace’; it took nearly a year to read. My main goal was to say at cocktail parties I have read it, the bibliophile’s equivalent to the mountaineer’s desire to someday climb Mount Everest: because it it there.* To my surprise, I enjoyed it actually. The characters were interesting and I liked the well-described battle scenes. I am glad to have read it. However, for the rest of the year my reading will be light, easy-to-read rubbish, quick to get through – like my men.
Major shame! I have given up on making a Spo-shirt for my Uncle. It’s a bust; I’ve bungled too many steps along the way to go on with it. It’s my first time having ruined a shirt that I won’t finish it. I have to explain and apologize to Uncle and perhaps try again. Oh the embarrassment. I know what went wrong so I don’t think I will bungle again. Let us hope so, anyway.
I thought this week is Thanksgiving but I see I am wrong. Usually it is Someone who brings up the topic viz. are we having one and he hadn’t mentioned it. One other hand, I went to Total Wine today to get the 2025 nouveau Beaujolais, but they didn’t have any. I was too early. ‘Third Thursday’ I was told to remember. I figured while there I would get a bottle of Gewurtztraminer (no rubbish) as Someone is found of this varietal on Thanksgiving. I also got me a few bottles of ready-to-drink Aviation cocktail – always good to have on hand. I figure I can make most cocktails myself, but The Aviation is more work and pop-and-pour works fine. Speaking of booze, some expert on The Tube of Yous suggests using a cooking thermometer to find the sweet spot of 25F while stirring (not shaking) martinis or Manhattans. To soon the alcohol makes the drink harsh; too later makes the drink too dilute. Worth trying.
As I don’t have a shirt to work on I might do something zany like take a nap or iron shirts or both. Sunday night seems to be Blog night viz. when I read them so I will see what everyone else is up to anon.
*Other books thems who love reading try to tackle: The Bible: Pepys Diary, That Proust thing/whatever is it called nowadays; James Joyce Ulysses.
I took down The Dungeons and Dragons Monster Manual the other day, for a sort of late night bed time story. For thems unfamiliar with Dungeons and Dragons, it is a game of fantasy mostly in the minds of the players. One person is Dungeon Master, responsible to make a world and a quest for the other the players. There is a goal to find a treasure or destroy the villain etc.. No quest is done without adversity. Rather than people, the D&D antagonists are monsters – and there is no lack to choose from. They have heaps. Indeed! My copy of The Monster Manual is MM-III, which boosts on its back cover ‘500 fearsome foes!” Jolly good fun! When a group encounters a monster, the Dungeon Master announces what type, how many. You are trying to pick the lock of door when coming up behind you/your party are six owlbears and a shambling mold. That ain’t good. Everybody starts rolling dice to see how much damage they give and receive. A ‘saving throw’ tells you if you missed whatever was tried against you and vice versa.
As Anna Russell famously said “I’m not making this up you know!”
It is one thing to whack away at a group of zombies, trolls, or stirges (my favorite) but what about the monsters in one’s mind? Indeed, the header of my blog reads now and forever:
To live is to battle with trolls in the vaults of heart and brain. To write; this is to sit in judgment over one’s Self.
Come on into my mind and see what D&D monsters lurk in the recesses of my pumpkin.
The Past Intruder. This devious creature lurks in rafters or just out of sight and makes a jump to insert its snout into my brain to inject a painful or embarrassing memory, usually some awful stupid thing from my youth, something I have no need to remember. The Past Intruder isn’t difficult to fight off but it’s hard to kill off and likes to keep coming back.
The Mind Flogger. This is a cousin creature to The D&D Mind Flayer, a very nasty entity indeed, that sends out psychic energy to fry your brains into docility. The Mind Flogger isn’t so lethal. When encountered, it zaps my brain into immediate short term memory loss, making me incapable of remembering what I was doing or why did I come into this room or what was it that Someone was saying. The Mind Flogger seldom kills but if I fail to make my savings throw, I will be stupid for some time.
Refrigerator Sirens. I’m not talking about The Sirens who tried to lure Mr. Odysseus to his doom, but a later version who live in the kitchen, usually on middle shelf of the Frigidaire. At night they sing their sonorous song for me to follow it into the kitchen come look for them. They and their song quickly disappear upon opening the fridge door but while I am in there, might as well eat something at eye level.
The Car Key Gnomes. Urs Truly has written frequently on these types. They are little folk who take items and place them in areas no one would think to look to find them. They are most fond of keys, but are content with moving wallets, headphones, cellphones, and pencils. The Cup Fairies are similar but limit their shenanigans to half-consumed tea cups and glasses of water. I am better at battling these two as my wizardry spell has improved to keep put-down items to stay where I place them.
Cerebral Will-o-the-wisp. The usual ones live in swamps and forestland while these lurk just outside my immediate vision. I will be doing something, minding my own business, when I am distracted by something across the room causing me to loose track of what I am doing and focus on the distraction or worse get up to see. As soon as I try to approach it, it moves away. I go chasing after it, my project abandoned and maybe never returned to. Rationalists in the house suggest using a strong focus spell or ingestion a magic potion like methylphenidate to assist with these pesky monster types.
Spo-fans may recall Henrik The Ghost and ask if he is a D&D monster. No he is not. Henrik isn’t a monster but a nuisance. For awhile I thought he was the one responsible for generating as if by magic piles of laundry to use to smother me ,but I think this may be a new monster to itself. I will see if MM IV has anything to say about such.
Once upon a time (if memory serves me right) sleeping was simple thing. You went to bed when you were tired or you went to bed when you thought you should. Sometimes you read a little, something not too lofty, to assist with falling asleep. Thems that couldn’t sleep shrugged their shoulders and went out into the living room to do something until they felt sleepy. The next day they dragged a bit, but if asked they told co-workers they didn’t sleep well last night and where’s the coffee?
“I can’t sleep!” is one of the most frequent presenting factors of a new patient. This is usually said with a high level of anxiety, a sensation if they don’t get enough sleep at the time they feel they ought to, they will go to pieces and life will be ruined. Mind! Not getting enough sleep is a serious problem and nothing to be dismissed. However so many do things that thwart a good night’s sleep and many have poor solutions what to do about it.
Getting enough sleep is sacrificed for other things. We stay up late: we take the TV/the phone/the laptop to bed with us. Ironically many of these technie toys have apps and to monitor their sleep, which often paradoxically worsen sleep: people wake up to look at these things to see if they are getting enough.
Alas, Babylon! Despite our 21st century lives our brains are still wired for the 19th century, when daylight (or lack thereof) guided our circadian rhythms to go to sleep and when to wake. Modern folks think the brain is like a computer: when done for the day you press the ‘off’ button. The brain is more like a plane that needs to descend slowly to arrive at The Land of Nod airport.
The main treatment for insomnia doing all you can to accommodate its needs and not the other way around. These matters are lumped into what is called sleep hygiene. Common sense things (common to our grandparents anyway) is to slowly turn down the activities and lights in the evening, get off the techie toys, avoid caffeine and alcohol (and curried snacks), and make the bedroom as sleeping-friendly as possible: cool, dark, and devoid of distractions – like my men.
There is a need to get the insomniac patient to stop thinking or freaking out over not falling asleep at the time they feel is right. In cognitive behavioral therapy for insomnia patients are sometimes asked to not force sleep at their ‘should time’ but let the brain fall asleep when it will, combined with a set wake up time every day including weekends. These non-pharmaceutical interventions take time to practice and work – and they go over like a lead balloon. Patients (the ones I see) want ‘something for sleep’ meaning a sleeping pill to go and stay asleep. Sleeping pills sort of work like hitting a large hammer on the head in a Bugs Bunny cartoon. They work OK for a while but often stop working. Some patients become psychologically and physiologically dependent on sleeping pills “I can’t sleep without my Ambien!” They show as evidence they have to have them if they skip a dose they have anxious insomnia, when this is mostly withdrawal or anxiety about not sleeping without medication.*
Sleeping ought to a good thing, not something to fight or struggle with.
On the whole we work too much, worry more, ruin our nights and it all leads to lousy sleep.
Do you have troubles with sleep?
*A very hard sell is convincing long-time users of hypnotics Rx they may not need them anymore. It is like convincing Dumbo he can fly without his magic feather. Yes, they won’t sleep well for a while in the process, but in time the vast majority start sleeping OK/enough, as if they were never on sleeping pills. It’s a rare patient willing to try this.
What’s top of my mind: Work matters. It seems every day The Medical Assistant comes to my office with ‘news from The Shire” as she puts it. The latest is I am not closing charts properly. When The Boss sends me a roster of patients and I see names not seen been in in a while, I send out a personal portal message stating ‘I haven’t heard from you lately, please make an appointment or tell me to close the chart’. This has a fair success rate. Folks either answer they have moved away/changed insurance/found someone else or they are contrite and promise to make an appointment right away. Works for me. Alas, Babylon! This doesn’t work for The Overlords, who sent a terse memo note, worthy of The Board of Directors Here at Spo-reflections, stating I was to use the protocol of sending out a ‘first warning letter’, wait thirty days, send out the ‘second/final warning letter’, wait seven days, and only then deactivate the patient saying so in a third letter. Patience above! The other news is we are supposed to do vitals on patients – even the ones seen on video.
Where I’ve been: The Nephrologist. I’ve had borderline low kidney functions for as long as I can remember; they’ve stayed constant, so I don’t fret about them. However, The Good Doctor felt it recently necessary for a consultation with The Good Kidney Doctor on this matter. TGKD ordered an ultra-sound of the kidneys, something they tried once but it didn’t work given all the intra-abdominal fat hiding the guttywuts. To my amazement this time it worked – and there was nothing wrong. The aorta, the renal arteries etc. were all WNL. There were no signs of lumps, bumps, or inner demons either. There was one curious finding: I have big kidneys, not worrisome large but apparently bigger than most men my age. I knew I have a bladder capacity the size of an elephant so apparently my big organs are all inside types, worse luck. This must be because I am a Cancer, a water sign. As The Good Kidney Doctor couldn’t find any explanation for the borderline-low kidney functions (much to his disappointment) he wants to … wait for it…. do more tests! Bless him! Doctors can’t admit they don’t just know what’s going on. All docs are quacks.
Where I’m going: another walk. Some of the co-workers are going on a 5K run/walk next Sunday and I was asked me to join. A 5K walk will feel a breeze after last week’s 10K. We will wear T-shirts with our work logo, apparently so people needing mental health assistance can walk with us and tell us their woes.
What I’m watching: The floors. Poor Harper. She’s regularly peeing and pooping in the house and if one isn’t careful, one is apt to step in it. One doesn’t go walking about barefoot anyway, given the risk of stepping on a scorpion. This reminds me: also watch on the Pine sol supply. We use a lot.
What I’m reading: The new warning label for female hormones. Some of you may remember there once was a clinical trial whose results suggested women taking hormone replacement therapy (HRT) were at risk for cancer. After this hit the news, patients freaked out and doctors did too, resulting in patients having a sudden cessation of medication. Over time the findings of that study have been shown to be wrong – I won’t go into the details here – and it was OK to use HRT. However, the warning labels for such things continued to carry ‘this product could cause cancer’ warnings, despite the evidence otherwise. * The FDA finally caught up to the data viz. these products to not cause cancer per se and dropped the warning. It is hoped doctors and patients will feel more at ease to consider using such.
What I’m listening to: The Wreck of Edmund Fitzgerald. It was 25 years ago, 11/10/1975, when ‘The Fitz’ sank. I remember that storm. It was quite a wind even in Detroit area and the next morning the bird feeder I made in Boy Scouts had blown down in the storm. I can still see the smashed thing. Then I heard on the news of the sinking. Father was a freight freak and secretary at The Maritime Dossin Institute on Belle Isle Michigan. The sinking was big news. I also remember the morning Father woke Brother #2 and I up to see if we wanted to go downtown to the memorial service. B#2 said yes and I sad no, for I wanted to watch cartoons . When I hear the song’s lyrics ‘in a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed” I remember Father and B#2 were there but I missed the opportunity.
What I’m eating: Squash. We use meal-kits, Hello Fresh and Blue Apron, which we alternate every other week. Both have provided a lot of squash lately. They are not easy to work with. They don’t peel easily, nor do they succumb readily to chopping and cutting. They have seeds to extract which don’t leave willingly. However, when finally diced and tossed in oil with seasonings and then roasted on a pan, they are rawther tasty – much better than the bland nasty mashed rubbish squash I received at Thanksgiving time in ‘no thank you’ helpings.
Do you cook squash? What are your favorites?
Who needs a good slap: You know who. I should chang this entry to ‘what did he do this week to earn another slap’ but damned if I am going to let him be part of my blog. I suspect The Felon gets off on people angry at him, so long as they are paying him attention. Instead I will slap Someone’s bosses who are on the whole a bunch of knaves and ne’er-to-wells that make his job stressful and difficult.
On my 1-5 scale, I give bosses who don’t do their jobs four slaps.
Who gets a fist bump: The Overlords Benefit website. I give credit where credit is due. It is time to renew benefits. Oh the pain. The Overlords sent out a series of reminders and links so I wouldn’t forget. The website was relatively straightforward on how to proceed and choose the options – much easier than when I worked in a private company whose benefits was handled by an awful website. It’s done; I can check it off the to-do list.
What I’m planning: A pinboard. I’ve collected a series of pins, the types you insert onto your sports jacket to accessorize it a bit. It would be nice to put them on some sort of board to see them all at once to make the decision which one to pin to my label. Right now they are in a small box on the dresser and I have to rummage around looking for the one I want.
I am not sure what this pinboard will be or look like; if Spo-fans have suggestions I would be blithe to hear them.
What’s making me smile: Two legal matters:
The Supreme Court’s decision to not reconsider marriage – mine. I have been in an anxious sadness ever since The Felon was reinstated in office, knowing someone will want The Supreme Court A.K.A The Felon’s Minions to ban gay marriage again. As you know recently someone did try, a hypocrite not worth mentioning by name. This week the court said no thank you. What a relief. I feel a terrible threat has been diverted.
and
A matter at work: Earlier this year a patient filed a complaint against me on the grounds I was senile and didn’t know what I was doing. I had to keep mum about it here. The matter has hanged over my head all this year. Recently I got word from the attorney the matter was dismissed, although the plaintiff can appeal. I am told that seldom happens, or works. This is another relief. I sleep with a lighter heart.
*In contrast, when it was found testosterone replacement doesn’t worsen a man’s chance of developing prostate cancer, the warning was removed.
The Board of Directors Here at Spo-reflections tell me I have nearly a dozen of drafts and I should finish them. It is true I start one and I get stuck or my mind wanders away, attracted by shiny objects. The Board suggest I take Adderall (or something like it) and tidy up. Very well. One of the half-baked essays is actually about chasing after shiny objects, so I will start with that one. No drugs were involved. Spo
I’ve been long fascinated with a ghost-like character called the Will-o-the-wisp. Sometimes they are called the ignis fatuus, which is ‘foolish fire”. For thems unfamiliar with this ancient cryptid, the Will-o-the-wisp is a creature (or set of creatures) that appear as glowing lights in the distance, always off the proper path and usually located in a forest or a swamp. They have archetypal energy that nearly all cultures have some sort of wisp-like entity, just out of sight. They have in common luring folks off the trial into a pursuit of the light. The light moves away and about until the person becomes lost and dies, either from sinking into the swamp or the Will-o-the-wisp takes you. Rationalists have hypothesized these lights the result of swamp gas spontaneously igniting to produce a glow. In Dungeons and Dragons the Will-o-the-wisp is a formidable foe who lures folks to their doom to suck off their energy. You better have a high saving throw for this one.
Sights of the Will-o-the-wisp used to be quite common but over time there are fewer reports of such. This may be because there is less swamp and forestland for them to live in. It is hard to imagine the Will-o-the -wisp existing in a sub-division. Maybe the archetypal energy of the Will-o-the-wisp transferred into more popular cryptids like Mothman. These nowadays entities do not lure you away but attack you, which is more suitable for today’s fears of the dark.
I have a different approach towards The will-o-the-wisp. It lives on but not in the swamp and woods. That’s so 19th century. It survives online, at social media sites and in our cellphones. Like our ancestors, we know better not to go chasing after alluring promises, enticing headlines, and click-bait matters. Messages promising great earning opportunities and quick-rich schemes abound in the swamp that is the unregulated world of texting. We are regularly sucked into the swamp of the internet. Facebook and YouTube are full with Will-o-the-wisps, the latter site having many posts on the subject itself – to get you to watch the advertisements.
At home there is the glow from the kitchen at night; I wonder what that light in the kitchen leads to? The refrigerator that’s what.
Life’s Journey has countless Will-o-the-wisps just off the trail tempting us to something that is nothing.
54. Which age (or life stage) was your favorite?
I am sixty-three years old. If I go by decades I have six to choose from. In order to figure out my favorite, I will eliminate them by starting with my least favorite and moving upwards.*
6] Decade #6: my 60s. I rank this one last only because it is too early to determine its rank.
5] Decade #3: my 30s. I graduated school (finally!); I turned thirty; I started my first proper job. Life had begun! – only to find out a month later I was HIV positive. Back then the diagnosis was the death knell. I spent the first half of my thirties trying to stay alive and the second half with an anxious hope to see forty. Good things happened in my 30s though, like buying my house in Chicago, which is still my favorite residence of all time. However, it always felt waiting for the end.
4] Decade #2: my teen years. I was a closet case, fearful of being found out. This combined with the pangs of adolescence: a growing disappointment and disenchantment of life and the angst of making it college. Most of my ‘oh the pain’ memories are from my adolescence; they still pop into my mind from time to time to remind me how awful I was.
3] Decade #5: my 50s. All in all not a bad decade really. Lots of good things happened in it. Someone and I settled into Arizona. Our health and our jobs were good. It was a relatively quiet decade. I have a hard time remembering what happened. It ranks third only because the remaining two decades rank higher.
2] Decade #1: my childhood years. Life was magical and full of wonder then. School and home and holidays were vibrant with joy. Food and trips were palpable with energy. I was quite fortunate to have such loving parents, family, and friends. I felt anything could happen.
This leads me to the best decade:
1] Decade #4: my 40s. Everything was good. Health was good; home life was good. Work went well. It seemed then we traveled more and had more free time and money too. We lived in Ann Arbor, which was an excellent town for theatre and food. Family and friends were nearby. I was involved in my parish. There were proper seasons to make time. I had gardens loaded with flowers and vegetables. The house had a working fireplace and Christmases were always white.
The best time of my life was between 1997 and 2005. It seemed I was not going to die and I had a lovely house in Chicago. I then met Someone on a vacation trip, and after Y2K I moved to Michigan where we had a nice Midwestern life. In 2025 we moved to Arizona and while this hasn’t been a bad chapter it is one long blur without noteworthy signposts to mark time passing other than graying hair and sorer backs and a sense of there is nothing to look forward to mark a new chapter.
Tell me which age or stage of life was your favorite.
*I sometimes see this in people’s opinion which Dr. Who. They start with the least favorite and work upwards. Interesting most people agree which doctors rank lowest but disagree which one ranks best. In their defense the same three or four seem to always be on top.
First: I sent out the tarot readings; if you didn’t get yours, please contact me at urspo@yahoo.com.
NOTE: There were FOUR ANONYMOUS Spo-fans who requested readings and I do not have your email addresses to tell you! If you are one of these four – please contact me!
This also goes for: SUZANNE; D IN TEXAS; J; JENNIFER. Email me please!
Hey! I did it! I walked the OK today! My lower back and lack of sleep were both shouting at 6AM not to get up and go stand in the cold (50s), but I did. The usual coarse where we’ve been training since August is flat; today’s track was literally uphill to Squaw Peak*. Good thing I practiced walking in my neighborhood that has some incline or I wouldn’t have made it. To my surprise I did this with 17 minute miles. This isn’t a good rate. Indeed! I was one of the last over the finish line. But in my defense this is better than when I started trainining in August. Then I did 20 minute miles while huffing and puffing. I should be pleased as Punch with my industry. Hopefully all this walking leads to a longer life – or at least a healthier one. I can focus now in the gym on strength and balance. It’s good not to fall over.
Last night prior to attending the symphony I stopped by our favorite watering hole for a couple of cocktails**. The bartender upon seeing me lit up like she had run into an old friend; her emotions seemed genuine. When I paid the bill I thanked her for taking good care of me as always. She told me the house manager (the dear!) told her when she was hired to take good care of those two fellows whenever they show as they are special. Well! It’s nice to be thought of that way.
I have relatively open afternoon. While the washer machine goes allegro non troppo with the bed things and the Harper poopy-towels I can catch up with blogs and do my language lessons.
Book report: I am almost done with ‘War and Peace’ which has taken as long as the 10K training and is also uphill all the way. After nearly 800 pages of Russian shenanigans I hope Mr. Tolstoy ties everything up in a nice bow. This year I’ve read Moby Dick, War and Peace, Frankenstein, and I am still slogging through “An American Tragedy”, which is as long as War and Peace minus its charms. The next reads are going to have little if any merit to them other than they should be fun.
Perhaps blogging, reading, laundry, etc. will be delayed while Urs Truly takes a much needed nap. When in doubt, get horizontal.
Tell me about your wild and precious life.
*Squaw Peak was the name of the small mountain in the middle of Phoenix. It is now called Piestewa Peak and has been for some time, but no one not even the most culture-careful call it that, as no one can remember the proper name. Squaw is definitely not nice but dammit it is memorable.
**I had a proper Manhattan (no rubbish) and a ‘Last Word’. The latter is one of the best cocktails there is. Do not dare to question this.
My lower back muscles are tense and sore and just in time for tomorrow’s 10K walk, worse luck. This probably happened because earlier this week I tried some new-fangled exercise involving stepping up laterally upon an 18 inch platform and down again several times until I fall down. Regards of etiology, it feels quite stiff . Tomorrow’s walking goal went from keeping up my newly-achieved rate of walking to making it over the finish line.
There wasn’t a practice walk this morning, so I had time to finish putting away the autumn and Halloween items. It’s nice to see no clutter again. This time-consuming process always makes me question the worth to do the Christmas items, but by December I do them anyway. Meanwhile La Casa de Spo looks relatively spartan. The old kitchen chairs are in the dining room/formal living room area, along with all the chinaware piled up on the dining room table as Someone doesn’t trust the hold of the cupboards. The area is roped off lest Harper wonder in and make messes so a sizable chunk of the house is serving as a walled-off dump. It will stay this way until Harper passes.
Yesterday had a surprise my latest pay slip had an upward bump in take-home total. I suspect the Nargles are behind it but Rationalists in the house believe I maxed out my yearly allowance contribution to my 401K. Regardless, it was nice to see the unexpected bonus, until Mr. Rationalist reminded me the property taxes are due next month and we still have to pay for the new kitchen chairs. Doesn’t that always seem to be the case? You get some surprise money but then the car breaks down and it needs major repairs. At least the funds are there.
Speaking of surprise money, I recently discovered an old credit card account I wasn’t using, so I closed it. It comes with a $240 credit, which they said would arrive by check in the post. It showed up yesterday. I should put it to good use towards a new something or other for the house, but I think I will donate to a few podcasters I enjoy who tell how they are having to choose between paying for groceries or their health care. Poor devils. There is a lot of this happening in the country, or so it seems.
For thems awaiting their tarot cards reading, not to be worrying! As soon as I finish posting this I plan on putting them all out today. If you don’t get yours by tomorrow night please contact me.
Tonight is the symphony and I don’t stand a ghost of a chance staying awake if I don’t get a nap in. The weather is pleasant enough to keep the door open so I can hear the cement pond fountain going and gurgling. Running water is a soothing sound indeed. I hope it soon soothes me into a slumber. Hector the groundskeeper is due any time to stop by to tidy up the yard and chances are he’ll do this in the middle of my nap attempt.
That’s about all; I lead a dull life. At least today. Tune in tomorrow, you never know.
Spo-Reflections 