I'm Fine

 On the eve of election day, all I can say is, fingers crossed. 

I don't need the stress. A little over a month ago, I had what I guess one would call a mild heart attack. I only say mild because most people envision doing the Red Foxx thing, yelling "this is the big one!" and falling to the floor. I had severe chest pain and my S.O. drove me to the ER. Time for another stent. Then, a week later, another crisis involving an infection in a lung. Another ER visit and a brief stay in hospital. 

I'm fine, even though the side-effects from two new medications are kicking my ass. However, I still feel better than I did during the infarction. (Sorry to giggle every time I say that.) I'm hopeful I can get some different meds that will allow me to walk that fine line between avoiding "shortness of breath, dizziness, fatigue, and confusion" and, on the other side, probable death. 

Getting old sucks, and not near as fun as the alternative, which is getting younger. Or something like that. Weird saying. In closing, floss, take the Pravastatin, and go do something you want to do. 

Talk about fine lines, I hate it when I wax maudlin. Sorry. 

It is Because the Chicken is Leaving Town

 

OK. Two questions:

1.    How does this thing suck the fried eggs up into the machine?

2.    How does it then reverse entropy and reconfigure the molecules back into their original configuration, shell and all?

Can Noise Cancelling Headphones be Surgically Implanted?

 I hear that the Pope is weak on nuclear weapons. This elevates the level of political rhetoric to a circus-like suspension of disbelief that surpasses even the talk of the Holy Chalice being hidden in the Vatican basement. If both were true, I concede, it’s understandable that the Pope would go with divine wrath over nukes any day. #fuckwiththepopeandfindout. 

I would further submit that Trump is weak on divine wrath.

San Jose Pictures

 

Gratuitous Miscellany

 I really should. It's been . . . months? Nothing so compelling to write about than The Politics, but I wouldn't know where to start. Here we go anyway--not with The Politics but the writing. Partially because I sat down yesterday and tried to write something, anything, and the ADHD took over and I'm nothing if not creative and possessed of lots of shiny thoughts, though not long lived. No matter. I gave up.

The big thing to me is the move to California. I'm still feeling the novelty of it, in one way, and the stronger sense of it being normal, like, I'm back, and it feels like I've always been here. I hate it when I wax philosophical and, even more, whimsically magical, but it's sort of like waking up from a dream. Like, oh, I'm home now and all my friends are here--except of course that's what you say when you're in Kansas, and have friends. 

I don't have any friends here, per se, yet, but the sense of familiarity helps, and, weirdly, the bridging of memories. That last is kind of confusing and difficult to describe. It has to do with recalling more old California memories that I hadn't considered for years, now, once I am physically back here. Ha. Maybe it's just me, but it's almost like having two or three lives, like different continents of experience, if you segment memories according the geographic location. OK well after a few brief moments of thought the metaphor breaks down, so I'll move on to the next paragraph. I'm doing good, though. I'm writing, 

Photography, music (guitar playing,) and writing are my "outlets," and photography is losing its appeal for me. I blame the Internet with all the perfect, phony pictures out there, and what with my mediocre talent (which at least isn't phony.) I still take the occasional pretty good picture with my cell phone. They say the best camera is the one you have with you.  Or, the one that fits in your pocket so you don't walk around perpetually looking like a tourist, or worse, get called out when you accidentally wander too close to an elementary school. Just kidding.  It's just a cigar, Sigmund. 

I'll close by saying I'm very much enjoying the non-Midwest culture. Here on the edge of the bay and Silicon Valley, it's almost like being in another country. I'm enjoying walking around downtown and hearing multi-lingual conversation snippets from passers-by. The traffic is absolutely terrible but, by the way, there is a universal sign language, and the same universal reasons for using it--just more often. 

State of the Union. COME ON DO-OOOWWWNNNN

Well, there's 107 minutes and 47 seconds I'll never get back. 

Long, boring, childish, frenetic teleprompter reading, followed by slow, off-script, bloody, gratuitously gory descriptions of heroic acts, some schoolyard name-calling, a smattering of vaguely defined policy, sorry I just can't I mean a hockey goalie got the biggest applause in which Trump basked like a kitten in a sunbeam, gameshowesque recognitions of a whole bunch of white people, half an audience hooting and whistling to signal their allegiance. It was the state of our union. 

 OK.  And now it's Wednesday. 

Banjo, knee

Well, it might be that time again to write a blog post. There’s the whole New Years Resolution thing, not to mention the climax of the Big Move mentioned in the more recent past posts. 

So, we did move. We’re here, on the west coast, enjoying not so much the fun in the sun, since this is California winter, but the lack of face-stinging cold weather. I forgot, and it’s amusing, how a little rain is a big deal to at least the local TV meteorologists, when Missouri weather does this several times a year--only in the summer. This is not to minimize the genuine issues around the latest atmospheric river weather pattern that seemed to be streaming into a near-record-breaking King Tide. This is the same scenario, but not quite as bad, as the cause of the 1998 flood in the  Bay Area. Also I seem to recall hearing about a flood in the early 50s that I believe occurred for the same reasons. 

On December 12th our movers had come, packed, loaded, and departed, and we followed them westward.  Not directly, but the idea was we would theoretically get to our new place before they did. We took our time and got there on the 16th. We beat’em by three days.

It was fun to be on the road with no particular timetable, really, and be truly homeless and “free,” albeit in a very safe and secure manner. The weather was very nice the entire way, and as a bonus we got to go to a Buc-ee’s  that was replete with 100 gas pumps (count’em) once we reached Amarillo, Texas. Definitely the apex of any Texas adventure. 

Luckily the panhandle of said Texas isn’t that wide and we reached New Mexico handily. 

So here we are, doing a little exploring during breaks in setting up the new household. Really an apartment, only slightly smaller than our last apartment and, believe it or not, still big enough to stash almost everything away. There are some big differences though--for one, we are on the ground floor and our last apartment was on the 28th floor. This is good and bad, but it’s much less stressful not having to worry about the mechanical integrity of 20-year-old elevators. Especially ones that creak and groan like a WWII submarine taken down below its designed maximum depth limit. (We’ve all seen that movie.) 

Christmas was a non-event (well, they all are, nowadays) but I’m here to wish all a happy, healthy, prosperous by certain criteria, new year. 

My resolution is to return to writing, this being the first baby step. 

Note: I keep hearing that it's difficult to leave comments here. If this is the case for you, it's not because I set it to somehow block comments. Everything I see in the setup makes me think anyone, anonymous included, could theoretically leave a comment.