life in the old lane

Did stuff all day. But nothing was accomplished. Tomorrow is another day.

I folded some paper before breakfast.

The largest crane was the hard paper. If found it stashed away in a box with “good” papers. Well, damn it, it’s past time to use the good stuff. Even the “hard good” stuff. I think the three will make a nice string of 3 cranes.

Gratitude

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1. 1. Grateful for a nice warm, sunny day.
   2. Grateful that I can still get to the yoga class I have attended for over a decade.
   3. Grateful that when yoga class is over I can hoof it to the dentist that’s a mile away in less than 20 minutes.
   4. Grateful that the dentist didn’t find anything that he needed to fix.
   5. Grateful that the bus to bring me home was waiting at the stop. 
   6. Grateful that I could have taken Uber if I missed the bus.

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It has been a fine day. In my own little personal bubble. Outside the bubble. Not good. It’s past time for action.

Damn. That shit is still here. I enjoyed 24 hours with my head buried in the sand. And guess what? When I popped up, the batshit crazy man is still running the country into ruin. And my investment portfolio – AKA what I live on – continues to erode.

That wasn’t particularly refined and grandmotherly, was it? Well, I did think my granddaughters would have fewer rights than I had, either. 

Shared Easter Brunch with the Asylum Family. Lox, Bagels, Cheesecake.

Walked 4.5 miles. Took a nap. Folded Paper. Meeting up with most of the Asylum family to finish Thursday’s birthday cake soon. A fine day.

As long as I keep my head in the sand.

 

I seek refuge in imagination, pretending the concrete walk is a woodland escape and that our republic’s current nightmare isn’t real. Unfortunately, reality bites back – the path is concrete, the nightmare undeniable.

But look closely: there are sparks of resistance, small signs that ‘we the people’ are beginning to organize, even if Congress remains inert and the Courts’ judgments uncertain. This reminds me of Tolkien’s exchange between Frodo and Gandalf. Frodo wished the darkness hadn’t fallen in his time, and Gandalf agreed, adding the essential truth: “…All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”

That decision point is here. People, crucially including younger generations, are starting to decide what to do. The real weight of the coming struggle will fall on the shoulders of the 20-to-60-year-olds. While figures like Angus King and Bernie Sanders lead in their way, they are just two elderly individuals. Note well that these two old white men are neither Democrat nor Republican. But simply Americans.

It’s Friday, so it’s Happy Hour. And it’s another Birthday for one of the Asylum family members. That means cake, ice cream, and snarky cards. Old people are a lot like 6-year-olds when it comes to birthdays. We are a lot like 6-year-olds in many ways.

The oldest grand and one of her kiddos. An African porcupine.

I am terrified about the coming months. But, just for today… I am trying to be calm. 

Carlton and I never celebrated birthdays or holidays, but we had a fantastic time along the way. Every day was a gift, especially during his last year when we finally understood that nobody is promised tomorrow. 

As a widow, my spouse never ages, so Carlton is still 79. He rides his bike every day, plays singles tennis three times a week, and gently nudges me in a better direction. 

I am struggling to accept the new America. I often wonder what Carlton would say about these times. The new America is wearing me out. 

Messed around with some origami today. Still looking for something to fold to sell in the fall to make money for the Asylum Foundation. I give them more than enough money but this seems to be “important” because I have to do more than tell my Charitable Trust to send money to The Asylum Foundation.

But summer is on the way.

Goodness knows what this summer will bring. I don’t want to stay home. But, I am not too willing to go heading off across the world. I can not imagine that Americans will be very welcome anywhere except in Russia.

One of Carlton’s best friends sent this photo – to Carlton’s email address – this afternoon. I can only assume that this was Carlton’s Easter outfit since Easter was on April 16 in 2006.  

Here is the history of the outfit: Blog Entry Mar 24, 2006
The hat was mine. As I recall, it was a reproduction Civil War Era boys’ hat.

Today, I went to yoga via Zoom because our teacher was at the beach. I also made lentil and leftover soup. That’s enough. Oh, and I didn’t kill anyone. YET. The day isn’t over yet. 

Today I am tired. For no reason, I am tired. I treated myself to a nap this afternoon. Zero was accomplished today.

OK, here is a plan. There’s 35minutes before dinner. I will cull and catalog photos for 25 of those minutes.

The laundry was done. The orchids were watered. And I messed around with Gemini and ChatGPT. And I didn’t kill anyone.

 

Especially if this very elevator attempted to hijack you some months ago.

These guys seem to be miniatures. And miniature is good, because I am running out of orchid living space.

Ray the Rosemary is an orphan plant as well. I seem to have adopted Ray the Rosemary March 18, 2018.

And this, girls and boys, is the real reason for the blog. I started it 24 years ago, just to record my passage through the years and to have a platform to test drive ideas for websites  I was building for the Park Service. 

Gratitude

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Gratitude can be hard to find in these challenging times, but that only makes it more important. I’m thankful that I can go outside and take some quick laps around the compound. I appreciate having a friend who took me to the beach. I’m grateful that my taxes are completed and that I have the means to pay them. I’m also thankful that I still seem to have most of my marbles.

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Just checked The WayBack Machine. I have 68 entries since 2002. And the video I made of last weekend’s rally got 107 unique views. That’s a very modest number, but still satisfying.