Countdown to Cali

So! 

 I’ve got the laundry done but the bags aren’t packed.

I’ve one more workout and a half a half night’s sleep after tonight.

We’re leaving early Tuesday morning and it ought to be great.

And it will be.

It’s just that I always spend the last couple of days before a trip feeling like I’m completely out of control (though, I’m not at all); wondering to myself:

What do I pack? How much should I take? Will it all fit in the bag I’m taking? Will they allow the bag on the plane? 

I don’t want to check luggage. 

Should I be taking vials of cologne? Will they be deemed ‘suspect’ and be removed? 

Must I endure yet another ‘frisking’ after I’ve told them a million times I have an artificial hip on the left side? 

Why do they treat me (and so many others) as criminals; guilty until proven innocent? 

I understand the need for security but when you actually have some sort of impediment to travel, like an artificial hip - or any other bionic element, why must they drag you out of the line to endure, at times, the most humiliating treatment. 

And, hey! 

Before you go all crazy on me - I’m not that sensitive when it comes to these things. It’s just that, there is reasonable and then - there is unreasonable. 

And the way many of these guys behave makes one just a little bit testy - but you can’t be. 

Because they have the ability to completely ruin your trip by either making you miss your plane or detain you for some sort of insubordination. 

It’s crazy. 

So, those of us with artificial limbs, etc, must keep our silence; allow ourselves to be prodded and poked, searched repeatedly by greedy little hands and not say a word - in other words, we must resign ourselves to the state of the state. 

But I digress…

I’m going to a family reunion.

I’m excited about seeing people I haven’t seen in years.

I know it will be strange.

But I am up for the strangeness.

And my partner is coming too - and will participate - at least for one night.

This is a huge, huge thing.

It’s going to be great.

And I can’t wait.

Though I could do without the hands in my waistband and in my crotch - that’s just icky.

Try not to imagine it now.

Thank you.

And.

Good night.

Two Pounds!? Where'd They Come From!?

Perhaps I’m being slightly dramatic - but over the last few days, I’ve gained a couple of pounds - unintentionally.

I’d like to believe it to be muscle - but that ‘rubbery-ring’ around my middle tells me it’s not.

And yet - I’m working out quite hard; lifting more weight than I ever have in my entire life; my diet remains the same so - how could that be?

I have no easy answer. Is it stress? But from what?

I think I’m just ‘transitioning’.

And perhaps I’m not noticing that there is actually muscle developing - somewhere - below that - rubbery ring.

I know, I know - I exaggerate.

I’ve never been fitter or looked finer; I’ve nothing to complain about.

But I don’t see how striving to be one’s best should ever be construed as being negative - working towards a goal requires discipline and a critical eye - simply observing the fluctuations along the way does not constitute a desire to fail but rather, the ability to see clearly what further needs to be done.

Or something like that…

This is what I know: Unless it’s muscle - the two pounds are going…

And with that -

Good night!

Let the Games Begin!

Okay, so I’m not a huge sports fan (or maybe I’m lying to myself) but I do love the pageantry of the Olympics and other such grand gatherings. I mean - how could you not?

Their youthful exuberance and the desire to strive for excellence on the international stage is contagious.

Not that I have any desire to compete, mind you - but the sense of potential brought forth through the gathering of such power and energy in these youthful athletes, inspires one, no matter what age, to strive to be the best that you can be - no matter how corny that sounds.

And I must say - London, or rather, the United Kingdom, has done it right; combining the solemnity of the historic aspects of the games and the country, with a certain amount of ‘English humour’, that made the entire event quite entertaining for a change.

Usually, you get these ‘symbolic’ large group numbers that you can’t really tell what the heck is going on - but somehow - they made it work.

Perhaps the trick was to get a movie director (Danny Boyle) to create the opening ceremonies, for directors, such as himself, are the ones who can truly visualize a ‘new’ take on what had become routine and expected.

I mean, having Mr. Bean become a part of the ceremony was priceless and added a bit of levity to the usual three hour extravaganza(which the opening ceremony has become) from which you are likely to being to drift away - brilliant, truly!

And don’t get me started on the Queen and James Bond.

You see, only the English could have pulled this off - because they own them. And Peter Pan too - and a whole slew of other characters that we may forget had British origins.

No, we owe a great deal to these people and it was a gentle reminder for them to include what ‘they’ are about and who ‘they’ are, to awaken, at least in me, a slumbering appreciation for what the United Kingdom has given the world - we can so easily forget…

But back to the Olympics!

We’re definitely getting a PVR because we missed much of what happened in the opening ceremonies because we had people for dinner and could not watch.

Besides - how can you live without a PVR these days!?

I don’t know - but we’ve been doing it. I know - hard to believe, huh!?

I’m getting one tomorrow…

We're Back to the 'Briefs'!

I was thinking about doing this later but then realized that I’d probably be too tired.

I was in the gym for about 2 1/2 hours this afternoon and for some reason, it just knocked it out of me;

Could it have been the length of time, I wonder…

Anyway, I figured I’d better do this now - but I’m so tired I have nothing to say!

Except this:

I’m quite looking forward to the trip to California and it’s coming soon - like, next Tuesday.

I’m going to hit the gym every day till then - but I won’t overdo it - at least - not too much.

I was rather stunned to note the weight I read on the scale this morning - it wasn’t right.

But it will be.

That’s it! That’s all I’ve got!

Pip-pip!

Cheerio!

And all that rot!

;-)

And Down Came Thor's Mighty Hammer!

I won’t mention gaits tonight - except to say that I’ve seen quite a few ‘interesting’ ones - but that will be made clear after tonight’s ‘story’…

I hadn’t intended it - but after dinner when it came time to decide what we would do this evening, it occurred to me to suggest the movie I saw last night, as I thought I wouldn’t mind seeing it again.

The movie? Thor. That’ right - like the God.

My partner is not into this ‘sort of thing’ at all but I convinced him that it might be well worth it since he’d recently become interested in (by way of the opera) the Gotterdammerung, and I thought it might hold some small interest - and in this case, very small - and perhaps a bit of information about the Norse mythology - okay, so I was pretty much wrong on that front - but I wanted to see it again.

About three quarters of the way through the movie when the action was really heating up (not that it was dull before that point) and Thor was in pursuit of his hammer (don’t ask), the skies outside began to flash and rumble - no kidding.

The clash and din of the movie ended - but outside, the storm was just beginning.

We both thought it an interesting coincidence that, here we are, watching a movie about Thor, and suddenly outside out windows, the entire sky is lit by great bolts of lightning.

As we turned our attention outside and gazed down upon the street below, it was clear that this was not just thunder but a rainstorm (dearly needed in these dry times) of epic proportions with all the necessary accoutrements; lightning, thunder, etc.

What made it seem even more diluvial were the people walking, uber-quickly, or running like mad things down the street - it truly seemed as if some great mythic beast had been loosed upon the world.

All of this ‘atmosphere’ caused me to notice, yet again, the gait of my fellow creatures and how said gait is affected by circumstance - in this case, a huge, soaking rain.

Some seemed resigned to the fact that they were going to be wet and plodded on, shoulders hunched against the inevitable soaking, while others darted about on the balls of their feet, hoping for some gravity-defying force to prevent their shoes, feet, or both from getting wet - but alas, in such a downpour, a certain outcome was inevitable; drenched, drenched, drenched! (In glancing out the window yet again, I just now caught sight of a man on a unicycle pedalling furiously up the street! Now, that’s unusual!)

Anyway, the evening has been quite entertaining - did I mention I need to lose about 5 pounds!?

Ha-ha!

Good-night!

How Do I Love Thee? Let Me Count the Gaits (Or Let Me See That Limb Swing!)...

Don’t ask me why; I cannot explain it - but I’ve been thinking about ‘gait’ a great deal, these days.

Perhaps it has to do with our proximity to the streetscape - a wall of windows overlooking our main avenue and a park across the way, give one leisure (if time is not an issue) to observe the human animal as it moves within its ‘natural’ environment.

Take, for instance, this afternoon. As I sat, briefly (40 minutes?), observing the passersby in all their various shapes and sizes, what stood out more than the variety of body types, was the way in which they moved through space; that each one of them had a unique pattern of movement, in part, determined by time and the proximity of their next commitment, or lack thereof.

Of course, much of it falls to nature’s design of the collection of bones that lie beneath each person’s flesh - but still, there are common denominators that allow us to apply general terms to describe the ‘type’ of gait one sees when observing someone who is in a hurry, or feeling low, or that which reflects determination; all these attributes can be applied to the gait one has.

When one ‘marches’ straight for us - we understand, in our minds, what that action looks like.

Or if one ‘strides’ through a crowd - we can picture, perhaps, the arrogance that may accompany such a gait.

When one is ‘motoring’, it presents another image altogether.

And are there certain gaits that we find more attractive than others?

Has anyone ever asked that question?

I know that many questions have been asked about the gait in general and the study of such movement has become a science in itself.

You don’t believe me?

Well, let me just say that the observation of ‘gait’ has been around for ages but was only brought to the fore by such renowned individuals as Eadweard Muybridge and Etienne-Jules Marey who photographed or 'took' what basically amounted to movies, of various gaits, thus shining a spotlight into a dark corner, regarding movement.

But it was a fellow named Milton Hildebrand who really got the whole ball rolling(or walking...) for he began to classify gaits and recorded the patterns of how they were made, truly creating a science around it.

It seems rather complicated but it really isn’t - we’re all human, we all move, and we all have a certain way of moving - and some of that may very well be hereditary.

What I definitely know at this present moment - is that I must sprint to bed!

Imagine, if you will (if you must) - and then forget it.

Just gallop off at your own pace to see what awaits you.

The 'Yikes!' Are Gonna Getcha, If Ya Don't Watch Out!

Yikes!

What are ‘Yikes!’?, I ask you?

For me, they are about the sudden, unforeseen occurrences in life that, left un-acted upon, can turn into major tragedies - but these tragedies are averted within a hair’s breadth - and that’s what makes them a ‘Yikes!’ moment.

I had one tonight.

In fact - not more than 7 minutes ago (it could have been 6, or even 5; heck! Maybe even 4 - but 7 has such a magical ring about it that I figured that by using it, it might protect me from any cascading effects from the ‘Yikes!’ moment itself.

“What”, you are probably asking, “exactly happened!?”.

Good question.

Well, I’d just poured myself a huge glass of water over ice, and brought it back here, as per usual, to drink as I wrote my blog.

Now, because it’s been so hot out, I’ve taken to covering the coaster on my desk with a paper towel to absorb all the excess moisture, the condensation that forms on the glass in this extraordinary heat, thereby avoiding the possible puddling and the inevitable suction caused by said condensation between glass and coaster, which results in the coaster coming up with the glass, when raised, and dropping dramatically back down on to the glass desktop with a frightening clatter.

Speaking of the desktop, I should also mention that the glass top of my desk is raised about 3 inches above the actual surface by metal ‘pillar-ettes’; this, in turn, leaves a space under the glass on which objects, such as external hard drives (I have 2 there), floppy drives (I have 1 there), and various other technical equipment can be placed without it intruding on the surface of the desk - it’s quite nice, really.

But it’s ‘niceness’ is beside the point.

So, I’ve just come in to write and, having got a full glass of water and ice, I proceed to set it down on the coaster (covered by a paper towel…).

Of course, the paper towel is bigger than the coaster and the result is that I set the glass down on the edge of the hidden coaster.

I’m usually good about judging ‘where things lie beneath’ - but this time - I wasn’t.

I set it far enough off on the side that the glass tipped over immediately and water and ice poured across the glass top of the desk and spread toward the back.

I might not have mentioned that the 2 hard drives were accompanied by about A MILLION other electrical items, all of whose plugs, were directly below the fan of water that was spreading out across the top of my beautiful glass-topped desk.

Of course, I righted the glass immediately, but it was a second or two before I could fully appreciate what was taking place here; that the possibility of water and ice running directly into my power sources and causing everything to short out (including my iMac!) was soon to become a reality, and the repercussions of such a thing, became quite striking. Not to mention the lamp, whose base was now covered with ice and water and the cord, of which, seemed a snake in a shallow lake (the phone too!).

Rousing myself from the too-slow assessment of the situation, I dashed off into the bathroom and grabbed a towel to begin mopping everything up before it ran off the back of the desk and directly into the electrical outlets.

Lifting phone, lamp, speakers, etc., I frantically mopped things up, thinking all the while that I could just as easily be electrocuted by picking up these ‘live’ items soaked in water - and were that to happen, and I ended up knocked unconscious, it would be just my luck that an electrical fire would then break out and the whole place be burned to a cinder.

That’s a ‘Yikes!’ moment.

Now, you know.

Luckily, the water did not run off the back of the glass-topped desk (as far as I know…) and I was not electrocuted by picking up the sopping wet lamp (as far as I know…); sometimes it takes awhile to assess these things.

Is there a lesson here?

A bullet dodged?

Yes.

Don’t cover your itty-bitty coaster with a HUGE paper towel because you cannot see the edges of the coaster!

Oh.

And perhaps it’s best not to place a full glass of any sort of liquid on the desk top at all but, rather, put it somewhere off to the side - on another surface - where it will be safe…

Such a Lovely Sunday

And it has been - a lovely Sunday, that is.

I hadn’t really planned anything for the day - other then the usual laundry (or finishing up of that which was left), watering of plants, etc.

But then, I decided to go to the…. Wait for it - the gym!

How did you know!?

Yes, I’m obsessed.

Okay, the surprise here, is that I hadn’t really intended on going to the gym today.  After all, it was Sunday, my day of rest.

Then, I remembered that tomorrow, I have a doctor’s appointment (the wait takes for-effing-ever!) and by the time I will have finished, I won’t have time to go to the gym - - what with the ballet and all…. Okay, okay!

I missed a ballet class last week - but this is the final one for the season and I really must go. I’ll feel horrible if I don’t.

The whole thing is - I decided to go to the gym today because I knew that tomorrow I wouldn’t be able to go; that I would be too busy.

And that’s too bad.

Because Monday is the day on which the ‘routine’ starts.

However, having done weights on both Saturday and Sunday - I feel slightly less obsessed about missing Monday. (I’m sure something will end up being done - stay tuned…)

But, but, but!

Today has been perfectly splendid; perfect morning, perfect, workout, perfect literary time*, perfect, supper, perfect television program (Political Animals), perfect everything, really.

And as the day draws to a close, I say, “What a perfect day it has been!”.

*literary time; We are now reading the journals of Harry Clement Ulrich Kessler, entitled: Journey to the Abyss: The Diaries of Count Harry Kessler 1880-1918.

(I must say, that I feel totally inadequate with my mere scribblings when confronted with such an earnest keeper of diaries.

It makes me want to ‘step up my game’ a few notches. It also makes me feel like what I write is foolish and in need of a serious, guiding mind - I rely too much on the ease with which I write and never challenge myself to record what is actually happening in the world but rather, spend all my time discussing the mundane - and not that there isn’t room for that, God knows! But reading Count Kessler today, made it clear that there is so much more to explore than simply recording whether or not you got a good haircut! And I’m sure, I’ve discussed that as well!)

;-)

Yawn, Yawn. Tired, So Tired.

Though I’d love to chat - look at the time! It’s just too late for me to begin this.

But I’m here - if for no other reason than to say, ‘good night’.

So, that is what I will do.

Good night.

(Still valid! I wrote!)

Sleep!

Sharron - Solid Gold!

O-M-G-!

Sharron was fabulous tonight.

This in no exaggeration - she was fabulous.

Earlier in the day, before the extraordinary performance (by Sharron Matthews) in the evening, I worked quite hard myself - but nothing that required singing - just weight-lifting.

We love everything about her; the fact that she made a decision to ‘move on’ on her own and create the reality/future that she needed - and it’s happening. Talk about a living example of the proof of positive thinking - she’s the poster child, by far.

All I did today is eclipsed by what I saw tonight; and what I saw tonight!?

The best Sharron Matthews show ever!

Run, don’t walk, to see it.

Exhaustion Sets In

I don’t think I mentioned how very long the day was yesterday - I’ll do it now; it was long.

And so was today.

I had no energy for anything, not even the gym (pity, that) - and yet I managed to do a great deal within the household.

There have been lingering, niggling little things that have been the cause of some consternation but - act upon them?

I never did.

That is, until now.

I don’t know what possessed me, really - but suddenly, even being as tired as I was, I couldn’t take it another moment and slowly, little by little, I began a bit of a ‘clean up’.

Now, it seems my partner was affected by the same malady and through a bit of deduction, we’ve come to the conclusion that our desire to ‘get things organized’, stems from a visit to some new arrivals to our building.

The gutted their condo and started over from the bare bones.

They also left things minimal, once done.

Our condo is a little bit ‘Curiosity Shop’ cum ‘Little Shop of Horrors’ - I exaggerate, of course…

Winnowing.

This is going to be our watch word from now on.

Surfaces.

This is what we’re searching for - that, and cabinet/storage space.

How can two people have so many things!?

In due time it will all be winnowed.

Today was a start.

And as they say -

‘Slow and Steady Wins the Race’.

Boa Noite.

Full-On, Reverse!

It’s late - I’m tired - and cannot write.

BUT!

I take back everything - well, almost everything - I’ve said over the last couple of days.

The dinner party was such a success as to completely astound me - the guests were euphoric over everything - but especially the food.

I was more than a little pleased.

But it’s late.

I linger.

I should sleep.

And.

Goodnight.

Can You Say, 'Rant'?

Okay, okay, okay - so I went a little overboard yesterday with the whole ‘dinner party’ thing - it happens.

I think I was just reaching the peak of my anxiety over entertaining - even though the event has not yet happened, I’ve now,  well-passed the peak.

So what’s up?

I’m exhausted, as usual.

The preparations for the event have actually caused me to reach a point of saturation such that, I am no longer ‘fearful’ of anything - I am beyond that.

I now know that all things can be handled and there is no need for panic - certainly no need for unnecessary panic (is it ever necessary when it comes to entertaining?).

I am in the driver’s seat and this is where I should be, being the chef de soiree (is that even ‘real’ French!?), I will take control.

Of course, it helps that I’ve actually prepared a few things, like the dessert, beforehand - and this allows me more of a sense of calm.

The dessert did not come out exactly as I’d planned but being a prepared sort of fellow, I’ve got a backup; should the lemon tart with the chocolate crust (which I made tonight) not solidify, as planned, then I have sorbet with raspberries and whipped cream - it’s Summer - things should be light anyway.

Speaking of ‘anyway’ - it is way past my bedtime and I really need to get there now - it’s going to be a big day tomorrow.

Wish me luck (again)…

The Dichotomy of Entertaining

‘Now’ seems never the time to be discussing these things - but here I am.

We’ve got this ‘event’ pending and, as usual, I am of two (or is it three - or four) minds about it; I want it to happen - and I dread its happening.

Don’t ask why - I don’t know myself.

All I know is that it presents a problem.

Why do I think it ‘presents a problem’?

Because I become obsessed about its success, how said success will be accomplished, and the (imaginary) fact that I am not up to the task.

Doesn’t that say “PROBLEM!”, to you?

Of course, the world is constantly telescoping in and out, micro/macro-wise and things that may appear minor and insignificant to one, may be quite the opposite and impossible to handle to the other - and to complicate things - ‘one’ and the ‘other’ may reside within the confines of one, singular, bones & flesh individual.

All of this ridiculousness is to say that I am of two minds about this rapidly approaching fete.

On the one hand, I am overjoyed to be entertaining for, who doesn’t enjoy a dinner party with fabulous friends?

On the other hand - these things drive me to a state of utter distraction when it comes to menu planning - not to mention the follow-through of such plans.

I think the real problem lies not so much in the entertaining or menu planning but rather in the state of disarray our collective sense of etiquette, or lack thereof, on the part of the guest has created a culinary monster; one that demands political correctness on every front - making the task of simply preparing a meal for a gathering of friends a challenge that could be rivalled only by the Potsdam Conference, so stressful can these things become.

What happened to the simple acceptance of an invitation - and if one truly had a life-threatening allergy to a food group, one could make that known without a great deal of fuss?

Nowadays - people come with laundry lists of things they’d 'prefer' not to be served regardless of whether there may be any eminent danger or threat to life in their consumption - they have simply grown up in a world in which every whim has been indulged - and they think this carries over into social interaction - it drives me crazy.

I have had the unfortunate luck of having, at the same party, the gluten-intolerant, the pescatarian, the vegan, the carnivore, all clamouring for a ‘decent’ meal delivered from my hands.

I am not a restaurant!

I am a man!

A man who would like to entertain but who finds the constraints of the whims of the guests these days, to be quite the impediment to entertaining - it is a huge chore.

Oh, yeah.

Go on.

Laugh.

You know you want to.

You think it’s all a lot of hysterical over-reacting.

But the next time you extend a dinner invitation via the phone, and the recipient asks what the menu is to be before deciding to accept - think carefully about whether you want to have that person as a guest at your table to begin with - after all, there’s more to life than vegetable bouillon.

And the Fatigue Lingers On...

I have been exhausted all day - but I still managed to get a little something done.

I’d vowed that Sunday would be just for relaxing but it still felt a little ‘busy’ - in other words - there was ‘work’ done.

Our Brazilian neighbour just returned from his homeland and brought the most unusual of gifts back for us. Now, most people returning from a holiday might bring a t-shirt, or some craft, unique to the country - and I suppose you could consider our gifts as a craft - and certainly unique to the country.

Are you ready for it?

Shoes! He brought us beautiful shoes!

I have to say that we are extremely delighted by his generosity and (dare I use the word again?) the uniqueness of the gift.

My partner is determined to wear his tomorrow - if it doesn’t rain (their suede), and I’ll wear mine at the first opportunity I get.

Such a lovely, thoughtful gift - and unusual. (I should post a picture of them - and I will but not right now…)

On other fronts - I think I’ve got my last ballet lesson of the session tomorrow evening and though I’d like to try for a double, I doubt seriously if I’ll make it (I’ve already spoken of my exhaustion).

I’ve already signed up for the next semester beginning in September and that will keep me busy and out of trouble on Monday nights.

We’ve also begun reading a new book recently and it’s quite fascinating; it’s called ‘Journey to the Abyss: The Diaries of Count Harry Kessler, 1880-1918’, and it’s really very good.

It also makes me feel that I’m not quite living up to my potential (yes, even at my age, there is such a thing) and that I should be reading a lot more than I have been of late.

He was one of those people who knew a great deal about a great many things, particularly in the fields of art and culture.

I used to think of myself as being rather well-informed in those spheres but of late - well, let’s just say I’ve slipped.

The beautiful thing about reading such a book is the ability for it to spark interest in something that once might have been pursued but now, well may have lain dormant at the bottom of a well of half-forgotten projects for years; reading-lists long since abandoned - the desire to learn and absorb everything about a given topic until it was mastered and fit the mind like a tailored glove. (or something like that)

Anyway, it’s a good read and we’re quite enjoying it.

I’m sure there will be more on this later.

But for now it’s -

Au revoir.

Oy! This Is Tough - But Not As Tough As Seeking Diamonds In Sierra Leon...

Okay - earlier, I had ‘grievance’ (protestation) of what I thought consisted of a solid and serious nature - but the experiences of the day revealed that, were I to simply reflect on the great fortune of my situation, I would soon realize that I am not at all challenged in many ways but allow a certain amount of self-deprecation to define who I ‘appear’ to be.

This should make sense - but it doesn’t.

I am so tired, I can barely speak.

I spent 3 1/2 hours in the gym today - and I wasn’t standing around looking at the weights.

I was working.

And now, I’m pretty much dead.

Though I had an idea for this blog - it was lost in the miasma that is/was my fatigue.

Pity, that; for I think it might have been enlightening.

Anyway,

Good Night.

That means, ‘Z’s!

Buona Notte!

Is This a 'Spooky' Day?

Well, it’s Friday - the 13th. 

 Ooh!

So scary!

But it’s not - it’s just late - again.

Tomorrow is Saturday and, though I’d like to stay and chat, I have to get up early (for me) as we are off to a rendezvous at 10:00am (as I said, that’s early for me).

I would also like to mention that, actually, this is a slightly, scary day for it marks a countdown of sorts.

I’m terrible at social things and I have a big one coming up - at least, for me.

It’s a dinner party.

There will be eight.

I worry.

It’s Wednesday.

I fret.

I find these things incredibly stressful and usually not very fun.

I spend the days before (like today) worrying about what I’ll make/cook - and day of - I spend working like a mad thing.

Then, the evening arrives and I spend all my time in the kitchen, not at the ‘party’ at all - a little like hired staff - only, I live here.

Basically, it means working and fretting for days before hand and not getting much of a ‘payoff’ because I don’t have any time to spend with the guests.

The funny thing is - when we entertain on a regular basis, the whole business becomes much easier; it’s only when we do it irregularly that it presents a challenge - and the challenge is whipping myself into shape to cope with cooking for eight and enjoying myself at the same time.

Well, I suppose there are worse things that could happen to one - like having no food, or a home in which to serve it.

Perspective counts for so much, eh?

Perhaps it’s just the fact that it’s Friday the 13th that has given me the jitters - yes, that must be it.

I’ll be fine by Wednesday…

A Blanket of Silence - Night Comes

The light of dawn has long since passed,

The ‘promise’ of the day awaited.

But promises? They never last.

The day rushed on, as I stood longing for the storm to be abated.

“What ‘storm’?”, you ask (and rightly so),

For surely skies have not been clearer.

Though this is not a strophe of Poe,

The heart, tell-tale, removes the veil; the pendulum swings ever nearer.

Whose Idea Was This!?

Perhaps it was foolish to think I could write something ‘of interest’ every day.

What I mean is, something creative.

I suppose, if I were so inclined, I could pull a topic from the headlines and offer my own take on how things are or what my opinion of said topic is - but does that mean anything?  I mean, does anyone want to read the news, reinterpreted by the guy in the shorts with the earbuds plugged into his head?

I thought not.

And I don’t want to write that.

No, what I do want to write is fiction - grounded in my own experience - but this exercise, this task I’ve set before myself, of writing every day for a year, does not fulfil that; it only puts constraints on my ability to write by insisting that something, anything be written on a daily basis - regardless of how good it is.

But that’s not really what I wanted when I started this.

I expected more.

I expected that, by making myself write daily, I could overlay some discipline and perhaps coax myself into being more creative at the same time.

I won’t say I’ve failed - but I’ve not written another ‘piece’ for a couple of months - and there’s just been this - this, yakety-yak stuff - hardly what I was after.

But I won’t let this be the end - it can’t be - I made a deal with myself.

I’ll keep at it, all the same - and perhaps - just perhaps - something will eventually fall into place.

We’ll see.

In the meanwhile - keep smiling (and writing.).

Maybe This Is Harder. Then; I Thought:

Yes!

Of course it is!

I expected this to be a daily exercise in creativity; of having the time to sit down and compose a small taste of something interesting.

Instead - it truly is turning into just a journal of uninteresting daily activities (of course, who am I to say they are not interesting…).

Time is always a factor.

The idea that there are ‘hours’ hanging about, waiting to be employed at my whim, for writing - is beyond fantasy - it laps at the feet of insanity (as does that phrase.).

Wait.

What am I saying?

I’m saying, I did not schedule enough time for this writing and so there cannot be anything that requires creativity for that requires thought.

And this?

It’s just blather.

However.

Blather it may be - but it is mine.

And I ‘own’ it.

And therefore, I must take some sense of accomplishment from it, feeble though it may be.

That which I take?

Simply that I once again managed to write anything at all in the course, or at the end of the course, of a rather, busy day.

And for this - I win!

Yes!

And -

Yes, again!

A Long and Very Strange Day

Very little occurred for me today though the day itself seemed rather long.

This is the shortest entry to date.

Is it even an entry?

You bet!

I’m here, I’m writing, and this counts.

According to me.

And -

Good Night!

It's Sunday - and Swiftly Follows Monday

I don’t know - it seems to me that the weekends pass so much more quickly than the rest of the week.

I know that there are more days to the ‘work-week’ - but even so - weekends end before they’ve even had a chance to truly begin.

I say this because I seem to be in constant search of ‘the day off’.

I know I hinted at this the other day - talking about how holidays mean very little when your ‘job’ consists of your life and your life happens daily, without rest (I couldn’t really say ‘without end’ as, we all know, some things are finite…) - there is never a ‘down time’; a time given over simply to relaxing.

There are beds to be made, dishes to be done, laundry to be washed and dried, groceries shopped for, dinner to be prepared; not to mention workouts, writing, piano, etc.

Ah, yes!

Though the last three may appear to be purely personal and not what one might consider work, they are, for they require concentration and an unwavering dedication on a daily basis - if that’s not work, I don’t know what is.

The point is - even on the day that I think I have ‘off’ - I’m still working.

I’ve discovered that the only time I am actually capable of having a holiday is when I am away from all this - only then do I get to completely relax.

Is it the same for everyone?

I suppose it is - the difference is that people think that I have all the time in the world because I don’t go into an office - but that’s just not true.

My days are often filled with fulfilling the necessities of running a household and very little of that time is actually spent on me or in leisure.

Bonbons are not being eaten.

Grapes are not being peeled.

Ostrich-feathered fans are not being waved above me to keep the heat from my delicate skin.

No, I work - all the time.

And then some.

Yes, one day does melds into the next, but I do try to demarcate the weekend - futile though it may be.

For there is no rest.

And I am not wicked.

I’m looking forward to the next holiday.

Away.

Relaxed and Gazing at a Clear Blue Sky

Although there were many things that filled the space called ‘today’ - perhaps the most memorable was also the simplest; taking the time to look upward.

For most, the weekend signifies a respite from the workaday world; the chance to kick back and relax.

For me, this is merely a continuance of days - though I try to organize them according to my own quirky schedule - in reality, one day simply follows another without the benefit of significance, such as ‘weekend’.

What I’m trying to say here is that my ‘work’ ‘happens’ every day - regardless of whether one demarcates this as ‘the weekend’ or simply as ‘another day’. And even after saying that - I understand the dichotomy of my own desire to organize things according to the days of the week, i.e., laundry being done on a specifically designated day.

I know this sounds like I’m veering wildly off the topic but there is a reason for it all.

The reason is this:

On my very busy, non-working, weekend day today, I reached a moment in which I actually felt tired enough that I thought a little ‘sit down’ would do me good.

It did.

While my partner sat, contentedly reading his kindle, I slipped into a low-lying chair behind him.

I say ‘low-lying’ because we own two chairs that have no legs and were originally meant for ‘gaming’ - video gaming, that is. They are like rocking chairs without legs - or like rounded bucket seats, without legs.

One of these is placed next to a wall of windows and, when seated in the chair, the sill of the window, which would normally be about knee-height, is at shoulder-height, allowing the most extraordinary view of city, lake, and sky.

I’d never sat here before, mind you.

It was a revelation.

I had no idea how beautiful the view from this vantage point could be and I quickly fell into a dreamy reverie.

The view and the experience pulled me back to my youth when nature was all around me and I had, what seemed, an infinite number of opportunities to look up at a sky, such as that which I saw today, and feel the cool of the fresh mountain air slowly replace the dry heat of the day, bringing with it an invigorating sense of renewal - even with evening coming on.

In short, it was the joy of being alive and feeling it in every fibre of my being.

I’d forgotten that.

Until today.

For one brief second, as I sat gazing out the window at the infinite, cerulean blue of the sky, the lake below, and the gleaming city before me, I connected with the moment.

These occurrences are so rare we must cherish them when they occur.

And I honour that moment of today, now.

I am truly blessed.

By the Universe.