My 3 or 4 semi-regular readers are probably NOT wondering nor worrying about my increasing diminishment of frequency of writing, and posts. Just another bit of good news in the over-loaded mind-numbing never-ending tsunami of banter on the ‘net and in the media – that I’m not a large part of that.
Regardless, stuff happens, and to a “good” writer, she/he merely (?) has to have their hyper-active borderline-MENSA imagination working, and nothing else. She/he doesn’t have to “do” anything. Whereas, it often takes some unexpected (or worse yet, expected) occurrence for me to have something to write about. (e.g. The Perils of Feline Arboreal Extraction, or The Possibility of Spirit Mediumship on The Witness Stand, and many others)
The kittens had never seen nor experienced a fire before ~
I lay half-awake in bed before dawn, and mentally composed a couple, nay, three pages of very entertaining brilliant stuff. All the while knowing that by the time I dragged my lazy posterior out of the cocoon (¿emerging, resplendently butterfly-like from my former sluggish caterpillar incarnation?) I would forget most if-not-all of everything before I could put (as they used to say) “pen to paper.”
Perhaps I’ll get in the habit of doing that soon …. (eh, naaahhh! Phatt chants)
I had a dream wherein Betty and I played a set (as we had axually done two nights prior) of music at the club we frequent, and several other groups and individuals played their three or so songs. My brother played a solo set. (This, in so-called ‘real life’ is/was unusual in that he, the consummate real musician, is unlikely to play at the same venue we’re at). It was like not so much as a “who’s who” of the Valley’s established musicians, but more like a “huh?what?who?” of the Valley’s wanna-be-established musicians. Pleasant time, I don’t remember much from the dream of the concert, so no fights nor extreme nefariousness there … then I was in our house, looking at the floor. There were shiny nuts (which had fallen/un-screwed off of bolts holding a chair together) on the carpet. As I picked them up I noticed holes in the carpet. Through some of these holes the sub-floor had also worn away, and I could see down further into the crawl space. (Now, in Reality, the room I was in IS our bottom floor, cement, nothing below.) “I haven’t been down in the crawl space or basement for quite some time” I thought. “The cats would love to explore that.” It’s like I beamed through the floor into that area, and it was more an unfinished basement than a crawl space. I walked around a corner towards where the stairs would be and stopped to, again, pick up objects off the floor. I quickly realized that the half-assembled apparatus (mostly metal, like some sort of folding handle or clamp) was a project my father had been working on. Even though (in “reality”) he’s been dead for more than ten years now, I left the objects and associated washers, bolts, nuts lying where they were – as though dad might be by eventually to finish his project. And there were frequent interludes of borderline out-of-control motor vehicular driving near-mishaps, and, yes, mishaps.
On New Year’s Day we hiked/ran along the Gunnison River at Bridgeport. Bucolic, tranquil, peaceful, even.
I decided a few weeks ago to finally, irrevocably? retire from my job, effective May 1. Betty is mostly worried, and depressed, about health insurance. If “worry” is warranted and somehow necessary, shouldn’t we, instead, worry more about our actual health? Our priorities probably never were ‘straight’ … People ask ‘what are you going to do?’ and the first thing is: I’m going to turn off the alarm function on my bedside clock: and Sleep more.
Okay, after establishing that MORE SLEEP is high on the list, in an attempt to go through the motions of a STATEMENT TO THE EFFECT THAT I WON’T BE TOTALLY LAZY, I’ll try to run and/or ride (bike) more frequently. All my life I’ve used the running and related exercise as a defense against arguments posed by those who point out that I drink too much beer, smoke, and eat things which are not good for my health. So, yes, I will try to up the running, riding bikes, and similar forms of torture episodes to maybe 5 times a week. (Well? Of course, then I will feel entitled to more beer and cigars than at present. Wouldn’t you?)
Indulge in cannabis maybe twice a week (upping my present frequency of less than once per week). On second thought, maybe not. Reality, at least my perception of it, is tenuous most the time, anyway. Take for example, about a month ago I played hockey under the influence. (This is not exactly ‘detailed’ but briefly summarized in a recent post. The post with “UUuaaauuu” in the title.) Every time I (or anyone?) play goalie in an ice-hockey game, it’s an adventure and (at least for me) “weird”. Weird adventure(s)? There has to be some element of the unusual to call something an “adventure,” n’est-ce-pas? And that experience (where I was “ka-zanga-ed”) was stranger, weirder, and (of coarse) “more adventurous” than any hockey game I’ve been in – even those two times I ended up being goalie on the team my regular team was playing against. (Ferret out the “In the Belly of the Beast” post).
Speekinuv hockey: maybe get back on a regular hockey team (not as a goalie – unless, of course, a team is somewhat desperate and “winning games” wasn’t a big priority. That last element contributed greatly to my NOT being goalie on a team in the past).
Okay, you might ask – but I play goalie weekly now. Well, the ‘league’ is NOT ‘regular’ – no score is kept, no referees, it’s just a somewhat casual pick-up. And I’m goalie because for two years now I can be counted on to show up three times a month (on the average) and although there are usually 15 – 25 players who show up, quite often there are just one or two goalies. And the players prefer a person standing in front of the net (no matter how un-skilled) over the leather thing (“shooter-tutor”) strapped over the net. Besides, I hate the leather thing. It has far better stats than I have.
Our whole family! (minus me and son-in-law) out sledding just after Christmas off Little Park Road
What else should/could I/we expect from retirement? I will start (resurrecting what we did the last retirement 8 years ago) selling things on Ebay – or whatever has taken its place. I suspect Ebay is still there. Probably also set up on Craig’s List or equivalent, as selling large things (e.g. horse saddles and chairs) is more convenient to sell to a more-local market.
We will also start going through cabinets, closets, sheds, the attic in the garage, and GET RID OF STUFF – which hopefully means not so much throwing things away as recycling, more Ebay treasures, and if it (whatever it is) is made of wood, fireplace material!
It appears that The Mesa has a shroud, a winter blanket, also a veil …