Getting rid of attic junk was much worse than I thought. Bruises on my forearms have healed, from sliding heavy boxes down the folding attic stairs.
This picture was taken before. Found things not seen since we moved in fifteen years ago. Some things given away, some recycled, sadly, some discarded.
Shedding excess electronics, gadgets, began shortly after the Holidays. It will end this coming Tuesday, when the movers are here. There will be two closings this week–one for the house we are leaving on Tuesday, one for the new house on Friday.
There will be no more postings from this location. It was kind to me, in that, it was a non-stop source of material. I’ve learned to appreciate the kindness of neighbors during these difficult times. See everyone on the other side, from a new location in a different part of the country.
An unexpected trip to the doctor for sutures. That was on the day before my wife was scheduled for cataract surgery.
She’s fine, a little sore. It could have been worse. This happened as she was leaving the YMCA after working out. Plenty of people came to her aid.
Thank goodness our family doctor’s office did the suturing instead of the emergency room. We would have waited there for hours, and probably caught the flu from some of the sickies.
The next couple of weeks will be busy with doctor visits and follow-ups. The first cataract surgery went well today, the next one scheduled in two weeks.
My wife is on light duty–not allowed to drive. For the next month, I’ll have to pick up the slack around here.
Have you ever had a day when good intentions went bad in spite of your best efforts?
This has been one of those days. To prevent victimization by negativity, I’m taking the rest of the day off.
Even news coming from my workshop radio sucked. Another errant motorist plowed into a local Mardi Gras parade this morning. Thoughts go to the victims. Sorry to think it–but, what the heck is going on with this stuff?
Like dirty snow
On every sandlot
Stadium and alley
Grass has gone green
The equinox vernal
They stand stick-straight
Stay within yourself
Try hard as you can
With clever phraseology
That will knock their socks off
Sprains, pains disappear
“All those with bruised egos
Report to the training room!”
It was 97, a few days ago. Finally, some cool autumn mornings are on the way. Max, the wonder dog will be happy. Mosquitos and gnats will be gone somewhere else.
This morning, illuminated by flashlight, was a black plastic fork in the road. “When you come to a fork in the road–take it.” Thanks Yogi for the suggestion, but I’ll politely decline. It appeared to have crusted food on it.
Speaking of Yogi Berra, there’s a family connection. My first cousin, once removed, attended high school with Yogi. She grew up in the same neighborhood as Yogi, Joe Garagiola, and Harry Caray.
When it comes to some tech–I’m mentally challenged. My goal as I age is to simplify my life. Are there Cliff’s Notes or Tech for Dummies books out there? There’s an answer for everything on the internet–whether it’s right or not.
Just in time for Thanksgiving; canned pumpkin isn’t really pumpkin. What? Apparently, it is mostly butternut squash, because of the smoother texture. What’s wrong with texture in food? That’s why I like pears-because of their grainy texture.
I’ve uncluttered my mind for another day. It’s OK, I’ll just clutter it up again.
His reign was over
Everybody else knew
Poor whippoorwill would do
What nobody else would do
What others thought
Whippoorwill said out loud
Whippoorwill was a good boy
Made his mama real proud
Whippoorwill fell, got back up
Scoffed–it was just bad luck
If there wasn’t a God
Why was whippoorwill still here?
Master of soliloquies
Dwelling in the past
A little too convenient
The present more comfortable
What was expected to fail–lasted
What was supposed to last–failed
Journeys from the known
To the unknown, and back again