40 years ago today

George Moscone and Harvey Milk were assassinated.

I remember learning the news. I was working at the Eugene Register-Guard in the mail room (which was a polite name for the grunt labor room where mindless drones got the newspaper off the printing press and out to the distributors). The newspapers ran along a conveyor belt above our heads.  I could read the headlines from the mail room floor. It wasn't until the papers were all out the door that I could finally read the story.

It was a difficult day for me.

I felt great this morning.

Woke up and finished my breathing about 7:30. Toddled around the house and did this and that, and finally decided it was cold in the house. I think is was 28° outside. I made three trips out for firewood, three logs each time. Came back and lit the fire. I tended it for a few minutes, then went at sat at my desk.

When it came time to tend the fire again, my groin screamed as I stood, “What the fuck have you done, you dimwitted fool?”

I was stunned. My groin had never talked to me like that before.

Maybe a fire was a bad idea. My groin seems to think so!

I’m living in the Twi-Light Zone.

Okay, the reality is I’m living in the Pacific Time Zone, but oddly I sleep in the Mountain Time Zone.

I woke this morning and noted that the clock in the bedroom said 6:23. I was pleased that I got a good night’s sleep and felt well rested! I got up, went to the bathroom, made coffee, ya-da-ya-da-ya. When I finally sat down to my computer and turned it on, it was 5:51. I am moving a little quicker than I have for the last 10 days, but not that quick!

Okay, we went off daylight savings time almost two weeks ago. I am sure I changed the clock in the bedroom. I am just so, so, so sure of it. (At the same time: please note that I am also so, so, so sure that cats can be second-cousins-once-removed of the devil himself.)

And you think I might have noticed before the difference before now. I do look at the clock in the bedroom often, and not only in the middle of the night.

So, my official story is that due to a time/space warp in the continuum, my bedroom got thrown into a different time zone due to a random Zebulon ray. That is the only logical explanation that could possibly explain this phenomenon!

By the way, what day of the week is it?

And I am 62 years old!

My day was nothing special. Just toddled around and did things in hours that should have taken me minutes. Still definitely hobbled on this side of the screen!

100 years ago today, a treaty was signed in Versailles, ending World War I. The great war.  The war to end all wars. That sure worked out well.

But all the same, Hurray for Peace!

Imagine Peace! It can be a fact!

Change of plans

Well, I didn’t make it to Mississippi & Alabama.

So, in my mind I am sipping pastis dans le sud de France.  Mon pieds sont dans le mer Méditeranée.

Fuck reality, give me one good fantasy!

The best laid plans of mice and men!

I had this amazing vacation planned. I was going to spend my birthday exploring the many civil rights museums/memorials/etc…  in Mississippi and Alabama. Trust me, I had an agenda that could have filled two weeks. But I was going to play in by ear and make omissions as needed on the road.

Well, instead  of playing it by ear, I’m playing by groin. That takes some explanation. I twisted just right while doing a very common middle of the night bathroom run Sunday night. I sprained my groin muscle. I dropped to the floor and had to crawl the rest of the way to the john on my hands and knees. I am still quite sore.  I did go upstairs today to water the plants. Going up wasn’t bad. Coming down was; I had to sit on my ass and slide down!

So, instead of marching across the Edmund Pettus Bridge, I will be hobbling around the house using a cane. My movement will be abbreviated for a while!

All Saints Day!

Remembering Claude and Hazel.

and Ralph and Trixie.

Good dogs, good friends!