Starting with an okay, I'll try to write - - it's call "dash off" - - a quick blogpost before heading to the bathroom for my first shower since last Saturday morning. Imagine: I haven't had a shower since back when I was ninety years old.  Problem this morning is that here in 7H the water pressure is minimal at the moment. Mind, the water pressure here at seventh level does not flow up here gravitationally as our water in the Apalachicola rectory did before a 1985 hurricane destroyed the water tower in Gorrie Square next to us: water is pumped up here electrically, so there's an issue this morning.  My first returning home treat yesterday morning was a magic mug of my Club hot & black. Another mug in this morning's early darkness when I like to get up. This morning a new record was set: my breakfast. Until this morning, my lifeTime all-best-ever breakfasts were the self-service buffet breakfasts on the top deck stern of the Disney Wonder on our two cru...

  This +Time blogpost has been sitting here published but not shared on Facebook because I'm tired of it, tired of my seeming obsession with the topic, tired of stirring up its dust, tired of ... , just plain tired. And being in hospital these days, waiting, wondering, being stuck in arms, hands and stomach, spending a night in Hell (which my first overnight here was), turning 91, watching my hand turn purple from the needles, a bed I can't get comfortable in, a huge pillow that doesn't suit my head, all nights half dozing and half participating in the lasix fluid reduction program, hasn't helped the mental exhaustion.  Too displaced and tired to enjoy being tired and lying down for a nap, which is a joy of life at 7H in my own bed.  At least I have the bed with the window. It looks south onto the hospital's enormous back parking lot, which is jam crowded now that the weekend is over. All night it shines brilliant lights, one blinding white and one dazzling yellow, ...

Today I chalked up living through ninety-one years and start into my ninety-second year. It's a great ride so far and nothing but gratitude - - shehecheyanu - - blessed are you Lord our God, king of the universe, who gives life, and sustains us, and has brought us to this Time. We ordered the extraordinary coconut cake at the velvet bakery in Lynn Haven, picked it up Friday, and,  like my mother used to make for me,  it's way beyond delicious, heavy, dense, moist yellow cake and white coconut icing, OMG!! Friday afternoon we had cake and ice cream with Malinda at Pruitt. The ice cream was weird, but somebody (not me, I'm a vanilla person) wanted cinnamon, so I bought Jeni's cinnamon bun roll ice cream, not to my taste. I'll stick with our basic Southern style Blue Bell Homemade Vanilla as long as it keeps that essense of sweetened condensed milk that marked the ice cream we churned at home when I was a boy. Eagle Brand or Dime Brand. The birthday plan was to have st...

  The Peace of the Lord be always with you. And also with you. ++++++++++++ Jesus, Lamb of God, have mercy on us. Jesus, bearer of our sins, have mercy on us.' Jesus, redeemer, redeemer of the world, Grant us your peace. Grant us your peace. ++++++++++++ His Peace William Alexander Percy, 1924 I love to think of them at dawn Beneath the frail pink sky, Casting their nets in Galilee And fish-hawks circling by. Casting their nets in Galilee Just off the hills of brown, Such happy, simple fisherfolk, Before the Lord walked down. Contented, peaceful fishermen, Before they ever knew The peace of God that filled their hearts Brim-full, and broke them too. Young John who trimmed the flapping sail, Homeless, in Patmos died. Peter, who hauled the teeming net, Head-down, was crucified. The peace of God, it is no peace, But strife closed in the sod. Yet let us pray for but one thing, The marvelous peace of God. ++++++++++++++ The Peace of God that passes all understanding keep your hearts and...

  The Lake Isle of Innisfree BY  WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made; Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee, And live alone in the bee-loud glade. And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings; There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet’s wings. I will arise and go now, for always night and day I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore; While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey, I hear it in the deep heart’s core.

  2:48 AM, Monday morning, Labor Day 2026, and I'm outside here on 7H porch, sitting at the little round table watching the lightning display as a thunderstorm passes west to east far to the south of me over the Gulf of Mexico. Blinding flashes cover the entire width of the horizon, and wind is building, but little thunder, almost silent, it's that distant.  Dreams, a dream, one of those repeating dreams that won't stop, and when I wake up momentarily and fall back to sleep it resumes and torments me. It's sheer nonsense, an absurdity: no violence, not a nightmare, I'm parked at Culver's with a carload of strangers, and managing my crispy chicken sandwich order carefully, two sandwiches (one free with my coupon) with lettuce, tomato, cheese and mayo, no sides, while they try to load their orders onto mine at my expense. Who the heck are these people, and why is this a dream? Repetitive, it ruined my sleep until I got up, made the walk, then out on the porch to w...