A Stone’s Throw Away

The other day I was out and about with the two Frenchies, taking advantage of some unseasonable weather. It’s the middle of October and we’re at 72 degrees with the sun beating down on you. Nothing better than some sun on old arthritic bones like mine.  

Some leaves are turning while others are just as confused as the rest of us living creatures.  Where’s the chilly winds and frost?  Global warming must be the cause.   I’m a firm believer that we have polluted the planet beyond its ability to correct the carbon emissions from 8 billion cars in constant motion.

Today we head out on our typical walk, where I simply follow along and let the two of them lead the way and set the direction we take.   Out the townhouse complex and its decision time.  Left for a block and a half walk until we’re forced to retrace our steps due to traffic.    Or right,  which takes us to the old Baptist church and the potential for walking through untold blocks of quiet residential streets.

So Blueman went left,  Lucifer went right,  and I’m stuck like a wishbone waiting to be split in two at Thanksgiving.   Blueman  won out due to his  brute strength versus his kid sister, and off we went with him in the lead.   I think he does this knowing full well going this direction results in too short of a journey to burn off some energy and we’ll go the other direction as well.  Smart little bugger.  

But as soon as we make the turn onto the sidewalk something catches my eye…

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It Doesn’t Take Much…

…to amuse or distract me. One of the simple pleasures I enjoy is planting something and seeing the fruits of my labor. No pun intended. It doesn’t sound as poetic if you say the vegetables of my labor I guess. Starting with a seed or seedling, you can see your efforts right before you eyes, and if successful you’re rewarded with an abundance of fruits or veggies, or a dazzling array of color.

I graduated from college in 1981 BC (Before Computers) from a small private university in southern Kansas. It was simply the closest place to finish off the 20 hours or credits I had remaining to get a BS in Floriculture. Flowers, greenhouse foliage plants and aquaculture.

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SLOW TRAFFIC, EVEN SLOWER PEOPLE

This post has nothing to do with depression, being queer or death and dying. 

But maybe it does?

This isn’t anything really bad, but frustrates me to no end.  I got to wondering though if my state of mind,  the constant pain and lack of sleep has me a little more edgy than I should be?  That I need to be more patient, more tolerant?

Or maybe the rest of the people on the road share the same frustration when faced with this situation. 

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The Three Appointments

Today is like most days. We head from winter to summer and the weather has turned.   Bright, sunny and 70 degrees. Great day for yard work or better yet fishing.

Of course I’m in an Uber heading to a hospital to see the eye surgeon.  I hope for the last time. The gas bubble is gone and I have about 50% of my sight restored.

Good time to write, the occasional pot hole creating typos along the way.  Will require a rewrite and edit but that’s the normal course of action,  no matter how or where written.

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Existence defined

A short story for today,  about how a stroll would give rise to defining life, and existence. What this means to be living…or not.

I was out for the morning pull this morning with the two beasts. Not so much walk, more of a pull.  Put them both in harnesses like work horses, hook on two leashes, open the door and off they go.  The pull.  

The strength of two 35 pound Frenchies can be amazing.  These two are all muscle, spending half their day asleep, the other half at 90 miles an hour, running from the front door to the back.  Chasing each other for possession of the prized toy of the moment.

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The Story

If ever a song hit home, this one does.  I’m finding we tend not to look for or listen to other people’s stories,  although we all have them.  Stories about life, resilience and moving on.  But we make judgement calls without knowing where the person has been.

The Story

Lyrics by Phil Hanseroth

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A beautiful poem

On occasion I read something that really hits home, something so well written and meaningful that I’ve kept the newspaper, or copied it from the Internet.  I’ve copied this with the breaks as printed in the Sunday New York Times Magazine, May 3, 2020.

I really felt as one with this poem, but perhaps we all do?

Zodiac by Dilruba Ahmed 

(From the book Bring Now The Angels)

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The Blues

Chronic Pain, Insomnia & Depression. I capitalize the three since they have become my enemies, and deserve a proper name. If even one of them would only ease up, go away. Since they have drained me of all energy today this post is simply an effort to say I accomplished one thing. No matter how miniscule.

Today is day 8 of feeling meh, puny, punky. Absolutely no energy to speak of, and I ache all over. Nauseated.

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The push and pull

I can feel the pull, but am resisting the slide.

I’ve been told that we all have an inner voice as we talk through our thoughts in our own mind, an on-going conversation.  Even the sanest of the sane has this voice, their own, that is human nature.

We answer ourselves if need be, at times out loud to emphasis a point, or voice despair.

The questions comes more frequently, “What’s the matter, what are you worried about?”.  A simple unvoiced question of concern, to myself and no one else.

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The Reverend  

I was out today walking the two hounds from hell around the neighborhood here as I try to do every morning. But there’s a lot of factors as to whether they will get a walk. First and foremost is if I’m able to walk, not in too much pain basically.

Then there’s several other factors involved, like is it raining, is it too hot, is it too cold and do the two hounds from hell really feel like it. Being French Bulldogs and short snouted they have difficulty breathing. 

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