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Patience above! I haven’t written in a while. Despite my goal to write something daily Love, Life, and Work get in the way of more important things like writing. Meanwhile, I happened to take a photo of myself that turned out nice; I updated my blog profile with it. As my Australian patient told me: “there’s nothing like a new frock to brighten up your day.”

For some time I’ve been longing to write an entry of great worth of profound content and Attic wit. Unfortunately this isn’t it. The Muses (or someone like them) haven’t visited in a while, perhaps as they and their colleagues are away busy doing roles in the “Sandman” series, leaving me with nothing, worse luck. Small wonder the stats are down and comments few. The Board of Directors Here at Spo-reflections is a little peeved at this and suggested if no theophany is coming I could at least make something up. Once upon a time having an active imagination was considered something good. Nowadays writing nonsense and inconsistencies is immediately pounced upon. Oh the embarrassment. Writing nonsense – or facts with one or two small equivocations – remains jolly good fun.

Spo-fans curious about my goings-on will be sorely disappointed to know nothing major is happening. I lead a dull life. I managed to muddle through another week without contracting covid-19 or monkey pox or any other germ du jour that may be mucking about, the Elantra with its engine light on hasn’t exploded (yet), and TBDHSR didn’t hang me by thumbs as they promised to do if I didn’t put out. All in all a sure sign of success really.

Someone is working all weekend so this gives me plenty of time to tidy up La Casa de Spo and make snickerdoodles or something and tend to The Harper Girl. I may even write an entry on dreams if this would be of interest. Reading blogs is paramount; I want to know how others are faring. Perhaps Wes has been ate by triffids or Moose and Dido (oh those crazy cats!) have been doing shennagins. Several blogger-buddies in Canada are/were up to no good that’s certain and need tending to.

Patience above! Another item has broken down here at La Casa de Spo. This time it is the dishwasher. I am not too surprised as it has been acting queer-peculiar for some time. Someone needs to call the repairman or somebody like him pronto to once again come out and kick the thing. This is not the first time it’s gone out on us. I am ready for a new one. Meanwhile I am doing the dishes by hand which is a tedium and a nuisance as it take a very long time for the hot water to appear. I’ve learned to heat water in the tea kettle as this works faster and wastes less water. Also, I get a cuppa tea out the endeavor.

I had my first glass of iced tea.* It’s warm enough again to prefer tea over ice to hot. It isn’t hot enough yet to make solar tea so I am using the remnants of various hot pots I pour into a pitcher for the fridge. Sometimes I reheat this to recreate a hot cuppa but it doesn’t taste the same the second time around.

Somehow we’ve managed to accumulate more than the usual amount of laundry – and paperwork. It’s going to be another fun-filled weekend of dictating charts while the dirty duds are done. I hope the lady who said she would take away the fabric scraps shows on Saturday as promised. It would be a disappointment if she doesn’t. On the other hand having a strange woman enter the establishment and see all the laundry that wants ironing and folding could make her turn tale and run off. Oh the embarrassment.

Speaking of ice, I have a ice cube collection. Besides the usual types that come out of the door of the fridge, there a few plastic and rubber trays that make large squares of such. These are good for cocktails. I also have a Sharper Image mold that makes globes the size of a racquet ball. These are good for supper invite. The green rubber tray makes ice in the shape of palm trees, which I use to freeze lemon juice for drinks and cooking needs. Among these lovelies are two containers with chopped lemons and lime. Frozen slices of citrus serve as ice cubes and provide juice as they thaw in the gin and tonics or in the soft drinks. Clever! I forgot who taught me this hack but it is quite useful.

A final Saturday mornin tidbit: my dictation headphone are broken. Oh the horror. I will have to type out my notes until I can obtain a replacement. I can tell which notes were written and which ones were dictated by the elegance of the prose and by the brevity of detail.

There are no firearms at home. He partakes regular exercise 3x a week. For a support network, he has friends, family – some in state. He also reports having one close male friend. There are no financial strains at home; he reports no issues of gambling or impulse shopping.

vs.

No gun at home; takes regular exercise; has support network; finances OK/no issues shopping.

*King Cole tea from New Brunswick. It is a strong cup and doesn’t make great iced tea until the ice has melted some.

I’ve neglected my blog-reads. I’ve been up to my oxters with work and such. I plan this weekend to get caught up with such.

My favorite professor from shrink school once said whenever his patients were taking life, the world, or themselves too seriously, he told them to go watch a Marx Brothers movie. ‘Monkey Business’ or ‘Horse Feathers’ would do, but in more serious down moods, ‘Duck Soup’ was prescribed, which is arguably one of the funniest movies every made.* Being in touch with the absurdity of Life is one of the best ways to deal with its sorrows and short comings. There are other means but this way seems the most satisfying.

Today as I write this I am not feeling bad off as from third-floor office I see the morning sunrise. It shines forth on my face illuminating my neurons to send happy transmitters inward that invariably cheer things up. A brilliant sunrise seems to say despite everything you have been given another day, more Life. May it be a good one. And if it is not, well, at least do your duty and do the right thing. It also helps to play the prelude to “Dad Rheingold” as Helios ascends the sky in his fiery chariot, rosy-fingered Dawn at his side.**

This weekend looks to be mundane typical. Someone will work all day both days, leaving me home alone to tend the house and finish my charts. I wouldn’t mind shampooing all the rugs but he takes the Elantra and I cannot drive the stick-shift A.K.A The Precious. I may go out Saturday morning to Uncle Albertsons to buy the ingredients for something scrumptious to make.

There should be sufficient downtime this weekend to write something witty or profound to get The You-Know-Who off my back. They’ve been breathing down my back wanting a proper post, whatever that is. The Muses seem out of service this week, possibly snow-bound in Michigan. If The Muses are missing, I will try the Marxes. I haven’t seen “Night at the Opera” in a while. That’ll do.

*Do not dare to question this. If you haven’t seen it, give it a try. ‘The lemonade stand’ and ‘the mirror scene’ are worth the price of the rental.

**Besides cheering me, the dawn makes me a bit lofty in my prose. Apologies.

 Writer’s block may not be an anxiety but a blessing to keep one’s mouth shut when there is nothing to say. Three times I’ve tried to compose an entry; thrice I’ve crumbled the draft and tossed it into the figurative wastepaper basket. Sometimes the juice just doesn’t flow; The Muses et. al. are out to lunch.

The first draft was about loneliness and how inimical it is for goodness sake go get a network and do it now but it sounded a nag.  The second was an update on the grim grinning ghosts about La Casa de Spo but there aren’t any  updates other than that loud boom! the other day which I suspect was just a box falling in or flying about the garage hardly worth a blog entry.  The third – worse one of all – was a treatise on the topic of the decline and fall of practically everybody. I could copy/paste something for “Going Gently” or (better yet) ‘Fearsome Beard’ but there is a sizable set of Spo-fans who read both of these fine fellows’ blogs who would quickly smell a rat. Oh the embarrassment. I guess it’s best to admit defeat, wave the white flag, swallow my wormwood, and retire. 

Someone is miles away engrossed in TV and Harper is asleep in the deep on the bed. I think I will join her although it’s only 8PM as I can’t think of anything to do anyway. When in doubt get horizontal. I took an Allegra tablet an hour ago; I should be cold as a mackerel by ten. Perhaps I will sleep deep and dream the sorts dreams only antihistamines can create. I just hope there are no more boom-explosions emanating from the garage or anywhere else for that matter to disturb my slumber.

Sweet dreams succulent Spo-fans.

May tomorrow bring us food and good cheer over hoarded gold.   

Let us hope so. 

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Note: this is one of those entries slowly written over a long period of time, done in piecemeal whenever there is a few minutes repose from what I ought to be doing. These patchwork posts tend to be a bit incoherent. I don’t edit them much, as the tangents have their charms I suppose.  – Spo

My brain seems to have snapped a tether as it is inoperable at the moment. Normally it flits about like a hummingbird but not this week. Perhaps it is the heat. We are having record highs (again) and this makes any actions foolish – best to just sit around in ones boxers and not move nor think. I looked up the average age of a hummingbird: it is 3-5 years*.  It’s a miracle mine has lasted this long.

aybs

There’s been more turnover of staff at work. Currently the two incarnations of The Wonder Receptionist are two men. This is a new situation for Urs Truly. Usually I have young ladies handmaidens but they have been exchanged for a couple of male minions. The fellows are polite and obsequious; they address me as “Sir’ or “Dr. Spo”.  I address them with the title ‘Mister’ for I despise first name basis relationships especially in an iniquitous arrangement.. As a consequence we sound like  “Are you being served?”. They are Mr. Humphries and Mr. Lucas to my Captain Peacock. Both of them are well over four feet but also well under thirty years old and would not have a clue to this reference (hopefully older Spo-fans get the gist).  I mentioned this situation to Someone who shrugged and said perhaps they can get me a glass of water when I am vexed.

soros

It has only taken two years but I think I am finally having the Helen Keller “wah-wah” metanoia in my Spanish lessons. I am reading at a sixth grade level; I hear a basic conversation in Spanish and get its points. Unfortunately I haven’t had much if any chance to actually speak Spanish. What comes out of my mouth could be labeled as comically painful.  It’s funny how small talk is quite easy to do in ones native tongue but when you try to do it in a new language I can’t think of anything to say other than how is your dog and what color is your hat – hardly worth asking.

Spo-fans will be happy to know I am nearly done sorting my recipe collection into taxonomies and editing out the redundancies and the now-sounding-not-so-good recipes.**  They cover the dining room table I think much to the chagrin of Someone. We’ve not used our dining room table in years so I don’t see why it can’t be put to use as a very large desk.  I hope soon to put them all in tidy well-organized brown accordion files and that concludes that stage in the process.  Then – make them?

I had a sudden revelation last week it’s not that I can’t manage time well it’s I want to do too much.

I have such a desire to knock heads together – I can’t remember now what that’s about but I daresay it is a discreet reference to FB statements or patience up to no good or something on CNN. Come to think of it just about everything on CNN makes me want to knock heads together or move to New Zealand.

It’s noon on Tuesday and I would give any thing for a bag of nasty chips with a big bowl of dip (rubbishy is OK) but I can’t because I am trying not to eat trash so I will have a lean cuisine page 71 indeed.

*I also looked up the average velocity of an unladen swallow. It is about 24 miles per hour or 11 meters per second.

**I see I tore out several versions of Coq au vin only to realize now it doesn’t sound worth it. Living in the Southwest with all its spicy chilies has made French cuisine dull and tasteless.

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