Tuesday: not what it seems
My +Time blogposts are linked here on Facebook for a day or two then the link is moved to archive. But for anyone who wants to read later, the blogposts themselves are still on my +Time blogpost all the way back to Cleveland Clinic fifteen years ago when Jeremy created the blogpost for me to log my progress through the heart adventure.
It's named +Time mindful of soccer rules that seem indefinite about how long a game will go, referee discretion like Life Itself, providing for adding Stoppage Time after regulation time to make up for various delays. +Time is my Stoppage Time added for divine discretion after my Time at Cleveland Clinic.
What I set out to say before typically wandering off into some netherworld is that if anyone wants to read a blogpost they missed, or re-read, it's still and always online at plusmoretime.blogspot.com but it's no longer "in your face" on my Facebook page.
Why would I move the links to archive? For one, because in years of vocation and study I've uncovered enough about the history of religion to decline ancient councils of flat-earthers telling me what to believe. For two, because I never mean to offend anyone's religious sensibilities and sensitivities. So now and then I'm moved to speak my mind and fade back into my shell, but after posting my obnoxiousness I take it off Facebook but leave it on Blogpost.
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A week or so ago Linda and I made a trip to Walmart, a store I avoid at all costs unless it's a last resort for something like zero-degree windshield washer fluid or a medicine or toiletry item, or cheap oysters for my upcoming Thanksgiving feast oyster dressing. In the past, Sam's has had those oysters, someTimes west coast, someTimes Chesapeake Bay, typically half the price of local fish market oysters; but Sam's has let me down for oysters this year even while offering them at Walmart. Anyway, while pushing my walker cart around Walmart I passed the juice shelf, picked up a couple bottles of anything-but-Ocean-Spray cranberry juice, and noticed enormous bottles of Clamato juice on sale - - so bought one. I've always liked it - - just as I used to love buying and sipping the clam juice that was sold at a booth by the ferry gate down on the waterfront in Seattle. Clamato is overdo for salt, so I only bought one bottle; and now it's gone, my last few ounces this morning. It's undoubtedly why my right foot is a size larger than usual, fluid retained.
Which again comes to my original thought this morning, that my nonagenarian life seems to have become a pairing of furosemide pills and trips to the dermatology clinic.
This current dermatology event is the most obnoxious to date, but the calendar has eyelid surgery for December 8th, which could be even worse.
Enough for today's whine, nomesane?
Life is Good. shehecheyanu
RSF&PTL
T90