Wednesday, August 2, 2023


When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that's amore. 

The harvest moon did a number for us last evening, sitting out on 7H porch watching the moonrise, staying on an hour as it climbed up over E. Beach Drive and Tyndall Bridge. Nice. Really nice. It's not real, it's all perspective, but there are not many moon shows like the last two evenings - - reportedly another one later this month, and then, as I understand it, nothing like this again until 2030-something. 

Can't wait. No, really.

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Yesterday: successful visit for my annual checkup with my doctor. Annual because that's fine with him as my labs are always perfect or nearly perfect, my weight is consistently what it was thirty-five years ago because I eat only leaves and twigs the final fortnight or so beforehand to fine-tune the bathroom scale reading because I can't stand being chastised about my weight. This doctor only did it once and I learned my lesson; plus, he said I'm his only patient this age who never has pain. Knock wood, right? 

This morning an unaccustomed breakfast - - with second mug of hot & black, two tiny blueberry muffins Linda made for last Sunday's reception at church but decided they weren't fittn' for church, then a long thin strip of something that passed for pepperoni pizza (it wasn't) overlaid with tomato, bacon, some kind of European cheese, then broiled in the little oven until melted; mayonnaise on each bite, and delicious. It now has my postprandial hypotension so deep BP 76/38 that I must stop and go lie down. Mr Wobbly.

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Return and reopen two hours on. A small craft with two people who are working on our Wreck, the burned-out shrimp boat just offshore from 7H. IDK, maybe they are contracted to remove it? I'll miss it when it goes, it makes us different! 

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Death of a longtime dear friend’s mother this morning resets my mind to July 17, 2011, the rainy Sunday morning when my mother died. Memories and mind pictures that will never go away. I was 75 years old and found out that it’s okay to cry, Mike; so peace, crushing sadness, jumbles of thoughts, some regrets, some should haves, some what ifs, a lot of Thank Gods, many memories, lots of love, realizations about who made a son what he is. One's mind doesn't know when to stop its tumbling.

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RSF&PTL

Tom