So much happening I did not have time to post about my usual nothing much

OMG, my last blog was in early January. First my life got busier because a friend had surgery and I had an excuse to be of some service. Which I must admit consisted mainly of visiting her and sharing the hilarity of being us and the perfidy of a local RV dealer who failed Spectacularly to deliver as promised. This threw her long term plan to move to her lot in Greentrees and live a "tiny" life where nearby nature and quiet press in all around. The failure of that anticipated transition shredded plans, set them on fire, and then hid them under her bed. As a benefit to me, I was able to experience the Covid frustrations, delays, shortages and price gouging my simple (lazy) life had not placed in my path, admittedly as I was not trying to go anywhere. 

As she AGAIN researched how to acquire a tiny home that could be (1) delivered to Florence, (2) work with the utility hookups and slab already installed on her lot and yet (3) still not apparently ready for THIS housing solution. She has been meeting life's sling and arrows while I employ my wit, snark, and zaniness to support her efforts. Whew! I am exhausted!

I will spare you the several dead ends, cruel turns of fate, and the ever shifting footing of WHAT EXACTLY a given home will require that her lot doesn't but could provide (for a butt load of more money).

But the sunshine of our lives has peaked out from the clouds in this endeavor. As you may recall, or will shortly know, I have flirted with having an escape plan to get away from the worst of Eugene's summer and the socked in winter (if it isn't going to rain and snow don't imagine that we will be happy with persistent inversions). As a minimalist and Gaia loving person, I try to live as simply as my excessive desire for comfort, beauty, and convenience will allow. Hence, I did not want to replicate the experience of having a full time bolt hole as well as my Eugene home. 

My friend's long nightmare was ended when an ACTUAL tiny home, fully outfitted with decking, abundant covered parking, fenced and landscaped yard in a gated community even quieter and more treed than her lot. Her purchase is on schedule to close this week too!. Of course, she now has her Eugene home to sell, but the best buying season is upon us, and folks still really want to live in Oregon. As she and I discussed her options, and I looked at what might work, a shallowly buried desire broke the pavement of my resolve and shot up a green shoot of possibility. This week I will close on the purchase of my friend's Greentrees lot upon which I will have a 28 foot trailer delivered on March 4th. As has been my experience, I can usually acquire what I want if what I want is available, meets my needs and can be "rationalized" (according to my flexible standards).

Small audience (podcast, blog, whatever) greatly appreciated.

To a poet, silence is an acceptable response, even a flattering one. -Colette, author (28 Jan 1873-1954)

Intermittently I fancy myself a poet, of sorts. Most of my "creations" have been crafted using the Haiku form for structure and forced brevity! But clearly I am neither a confident blogger nor an actual poet. I vividly recall a bit in the hilarious book: "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" about an alien forcing his poetry on anyone available which is universally received as torture. I can take silence (though praise is preferred) but I fear discovering that my products are TORTURE.

I put some of my very amateurish Haiku in my earliest blogs. Be kind to yourself and do not seek them out. I am listening to a book by Laurie King which is in the series about Mary Russell and her husband Sherlock Holmes based on her discovered diaries. (You do know that sentence is mostly fictitious, right?) In the current one she is being introduced to a master Japanese Haiku poet. She is read it in Japanese (which she does not speak) and then in English translation. These do not meter as a three line 5/7/5 syllable poem. Wikipedia has an interesting article on this art form.

This ends the disclaimer portion of this blog.

Here is one inspired by a freeway drive by:

One of my poetry critics.

A frozen pileup 

Glides quietly by my lane

Oh, cars to junk yard!

One about my choice of pet:

I would have a dog

But for handful of warm poop

On forced daily walks.  

And why that is a cat:

Choose your friends wisely

Based on shared delights and needs

Cats want oft-prone maid

 

 

the Holidays cramped my muse

And as my trainer can attest: NOBODY cramps as frequently, aggressively, inappropriately and dangerously to nearby living beings as moi. But the definitive passing of MLK day heralded a capacious horizon of no Federally and/or Oregonlly recognized holidays demanding increased social interactions, shopping and large meal ingestion.

There are a few things I need to share with the world (soon to be known as the Metaverse*). I have recently become informed on the possible meaning and hazy outline of this coming "reality" via my favorite low effort news source: a podcast. And now is the time to share as widely as I am willing to - in other words likely only those who have not YET requested removal from "My little blog" email alerts. So rest assured that when you visit the M-V* you do not risk encountering passionate Luddites such as myself. And if this is the sole "up side" to being dead, at least there will be sweet release from the accelerating degradation of life as I knew it.

But back to me. I turned 70 in December which is a reasonably decent achievement. Of course I have lost some "ground" through the aging process which is how one reaches every birthday. But I am not (yet) one to give an organ recital. Today I only wish to celebrate in blog form the fact that my girls are not yet visibly (I was going to write: falling down on the job, but of course they are) diseased! Also at my annual Medicare covered WELLNESS visit (where a pulse, some blood pressure, any temp above 80℉, and proof of continued coverage is performed) which keeps the SS checks coming. Here I also learned that I am at LOW RISK of osteoporosis. I find that surprising as I was said to be on the cusp for decades. Apparently it is a calculation based on several factors. I guess the fact that none of my prior broken bones (feet and hands) are of great concern, nor it my predilection to "kissing the earth". I did a quick check on line and could find no cause and effect connection between having an excellent sense of humor and protection against osteoporosis.

So! Doing great by Medicare standards. (Note to self: do not share this blog with physicians or Medicare lest they begin to examine my wellness more globally.)

Cribbing from a much funnier writer

Dave Barry has submitted his annual review and roast of the year Barry's 2021 now coming to an exhausted close. I know I am exhausted mentally, emotionally, and clearly imaginatively. Hence my suggestion to get some inspiration from a much funnier source. I have embedded two excerpts because I have vowed that "no post of mine will be misconstrued as pithy".

2020 Olympic Games 

In Tokyo, the pandemic-delayed 2020 Olympic Games (motto: “Later, Smaller, Sadder”) finally get underway with the majestic Nasal Swab of Nations. This is followed by the ceremonial lighting of the Olympic Torch, which for safety reasons is a small vanilla-scented bath candle that is immediately extinguished to prevent it from attracting crowds. Let the Games begin!

Milk crate challenge  (which I previously was innocent of, eschewing social media)

Dave's excerpt From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia (shortened a bit by me)

The milk crate challenge is a video challenge that became viral online in August 2021. The challenge involves stacking milk crates into a structure that resembles a podium, with both sides of the structure functioning as stairs.

Due to the instability of the stacked crates, participants often fall while ascending or descending the podium, risking serious injury. Falling during the challenge has led to a variety of injuries, including dislocated shoulders and rotator cuff tears, ACL tears, meniscus tears, broken wrists and even spinal cord injuries. 

Not on topic, but silly.

Back to your favorite blogger now.

As ever, I had no plans to attend the Olympic Games in any year and during any or no pandemic. Also, now that I am aware of another Darwin Awards qualifying effort (which can lead to injuries I can easily sustain while tending to my bird bath) I am going to skip that too. Exhaustion and a desire to drink a second cup of coffee while observing the result of a much hyped snowmageddon for the Willamette Valley, (currently approximately at the depth of scant) but still coming! Cabin fever here I come!

 

 

Do I see light at the end of the tunnel?

At a recently concluded conference of seriously concerned and concerning Republicans (in and out of office and their minds) gathered to hear from the most enlightened of their ilk... Lauren Boebert pranced while bloviating (taking Trump's podium skills to a new level) and pronounced:

I am tired of having Godless people who hate America run this country! You and I are going to take this country back!

So am I!  And so should we!

But perhaps she did not mean godless in the way I define it: Being a practicing follower of a belief in the value of others irrespective of faith, nationality, gun inventory, and support of Unbounded Capitalism.

Also, I think she may hold the opposite view of what demonstrates real love of America: Believing in the founding principals of our republic, while acknowledge we are still working toward that ideal while employing the Constitution and Bill of Rights as the means to this goal.

Clownfish risk "virginal"pregnancy.

So I must conclude that either our sides live in different realities (like matter and anti-matter, which cannot successfully be allowed in the same "corner" of the universe). See note below.

OR we now use a language in which antonyms and synonyms carry the same meaning. This seems like a hermaphroditic quality. Consider one of nature's practicing hermaphrodites: the Clownfish. Do we wish to give birth to all our young (or in this case, all our ideas) without any contribution from others of our species? Where is the fun in that? 

Note: as a "journalist" I occasionally do a slap dash check of a fact deployed in my irreverent take on the larger world (everything outside my head). I employed a simplified idea of matter/antimatter. As it turns out not merely simplified but entirely wrong. Here is the one place I checked Matter - Antimatter, and decided, WTF, I have as much credibility as nearly everything readily available online. So, I persist.

My conclusion: we ARE living with matter and antimatter now. That explains quite a bit.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

biological progress for humans? Hmmmmm

Also, note that we see this creature as clownish. Is that really where we want to go with our god created bodies?

 

 

Aging is a process of loss and aggravation

I likely do not need to state an obvious side effect of piling on the years. I have just "celebrated" putting 70 of them, one after another (with neither gaps, nor transpositions) into a pile - which is me.

And I am mostly quite OK with being ever older (who isn't except the dead?) But being OK is an individual thing. I don't long for prior periods of my life, although I admit sometimes I did not make anywhere near the best of them. And knowing that, I still routinely fall short. At a birthday celebration in my deep water aerobics class we were admonished to: Enjoy the health you have today! A gutsy admonition for a group of mostly women mostly older than me. But then the obvious occurred to me: this is likely the healthiest many of us can (or will) be. Yikes!

But enough on the aging process. Let's talk aggravation. A common symptom of menopause (irritability) which I thought I had dodged was in fact doing push ups with a clap and box jumps of 36 inches during the intervening decades. I mention these two exercises because:

A) Very fit folks can do these physical power moves and 

B) I either cannot, or suck at doing such physical moves, but 

C) I EXCEL at difficult and extreme negative mental activity. So those mid life years with few evident emotional eruptions, were actually when vast pools of molten emotions were working their way to the surface.  And here they are.

Favorite empty purse on left

Today's example: my most favorite ever purse  has a damaged strap which renders it much less useful. It's unparalleled qualities include:

1. Very light weight at 9 oz. Hence I only lug around stuff I want; not so much lugging the container.

2. Nylon fabric which is machine washable and dry-able. Obviously useful.

3. A handy open pocket in the back for easy access to my pocket calendar, shopping list on the back of a used envelope, and several expendable pens

4. All other interior areas are lined in light blue, while the exterior is a yummy brown. I prefer a dark colored purse, but for GOD"S sake use something light colored for the interior. OR, and this is now common for purses which are black holes have a very tiny hard-to-activate light bulb. Activation takes one hand and fails to illuminate much.

5. The 4 pockets from back to front are large, medium, small and smaller. The three sub pockets are arrayed from deepest to shallowest on the front. As a compulsive organizer I can go right to the desired pocket for what I know will be there. Hence, reduced pawing, swearing and ultimately dumping it all out to find something.

New fully loaded purse on right

6. And best of all, it is a tidy 9 in. tall, 7 in. wide and 3 in. wide at the bottom. This means that when loaded it can sit upright. 

And because of all these desirable features, including an original price of  $33 in 2012, it is no longer available. Because fashion! status! one for each outfit! boredom with things! and other consumer tendencies which are at the heart of our unsupportable lifestyle.

In summary, I am much much more than irritable. I am incandescent with outrage at needing a new but not improved purse.  So there!

 

Season's greetings (and a few video suggestions) from the dark side

First I must acknowledge a seasonal mindset adjustment. One of my readers informed me that last weekend was a "holiday weekend". As a many-years-now retiree with a tenuous grasp on the date (always what day, often the month, and only occasionally which decade) I was confused about WHAT holiday. As it turns out our society treats every December weekend as the annual SHOPPING Holiday. Not quite a recognized religion, but perhaps the most actively attended one nationally. No official holiday designation is required because as Americans we begin observing and participating from a very young age. As you can readily discern, this is not my chosen "acquisition faith system": I am a minimalist tree hugger*.

In spite of this well-known quirk (within my small friendship circle) I am occasionally sent a holiday related card which I receive with joy.  However, when it comes from outside this circle (real examples: Guarantee RV, other frequented vendors, and charities I support - which should better use my contribution) I get annoyed. But being lazy I exact only the penalty of trashing it, which is sadly exacted against mother earth and hence only indirectly against the resource squander-er.

This is my first seasonal card of this year which minimalist-ikly covered Xmas, New Year, and my December B-Day. And perhaps unknowingly finely attuned to one of my reading and viewing preferences: someone gets murdered** therein. This is where my VERY sublimated murderous rage is allowed to play. I used to be easily triggered by fearful scenes on TV and in books. But my hide has toughed (likely not 100% to be desired) and now I cannot manage only the very difficult depictions (eg: torture, and ever since a memorable scene in "The Lone Ranger" - quicksand). An example of the bullet-proof-ness of my hide: I laughed at "The Exorcisit".

Sent by one of my inner circle I was encouraged to view the bordering portion as if from a crime scene! It's very special when I am well known and STILL liked! Dexter was my (so far) favorite serial killer closely followed by the main character of the Amazon series: "You".

Enjoy the Holidays as YOU see fit!

 

*By this I do not mean I wish to only hug an appropriate number of trees; I embrace both minimalism and all of Mother Earth, except not so much the hot, buggy, muggy places.

**I am very opened minded about this, as I can also enjoy an absurdly unlikely accidental death when tastefully depicted (especially the one in "Six Feet Under" when an LA area jogger's run was ended by a mountain lion!)