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fire???

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The emergency alarm and speaker went off while I was in the shower, for no apparent reason as usual, and when we left 7H for church a few minutes later, the elevators were inoperative. At 90 years of age, we are not walking down seven levels and back up seven levels, so instead of church this morning I had pickled artichoke hearts and a martini.  First and only martini in months, have not forgotten my usual mix: ice cubes in my shaker, an ounce jigger of English gin and one of Polish vodka, a pour of dry vermouth from France, a couple of anchovy-stuffed olives from GKWhere, a pour of olive brine, and shake shake shake. This one on ice, so instead of a martini glass, which makes it classic and proper and somehow taste more right, pour into a glass mug. Maybe a bit of pickled herring to go with, eh?  A blessing or stroke of good fortune this morning is that we did not go to eight o'clock church and return to Harbour Village only to be confronted by no elevator service to level s...
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and fish hawks circling by

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Saturday's most interesting thing that happened to me at 7H was watching two of Boulder County Fairgrounds' three osprey chicks wait for, and then fight over, a fish that their father bird delivered to the nest. They waited, Dad arrived, the male chick (pure white chest feathers) fought with one of his sisters (dark feathered chest feathers), and this Time the brother bird won and commenced to tear bites from the fish. Dad brought a headless fish, which means he'd helped himself to a few bites before bringing it to the nest for the chicks to fight over. I captured some of the action in the screenshots below, some of them I dragged onto the blogpost out of order and I'll not try to correct it for fear of creating general chaos. Anyway, that's the extent of this blogpost. For creation as it is RSF&PTL T90 The title line is from the first stanza of William Alexander Percy's poem "His Peace" - -  "I love to think of them at dawn, beneath the pale,...
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Saturday:

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Tired of fooling with them - - these eyeglasses are clean enough, I'll just ignore the smudges.  Late to bed, up early, at least it was still dark. The magic picture show on Linda's desk in our living room turns itself on at five o'clock, this morning it was just as I started pedaling the exercise walker and lifted my magic mug for my first sip of hot & black.  Breakfast: I like a challenge of some sort. SomeTimes raw oysters, someTimes pickled herring, now and then a sandwich, but not these last few days before my weigh-in at my PCP's clinic Tuesday morning. So, today's breakfast: soba noodles with a piece of baked salmon that I minced to go under the noodles, noodle water, and some Japanese umami powder.  As I may've reported earlier, Tuesday's is a special appointment to discuss the results of the sonogram, catscan, and lab work investigating possible causes for the syncope, an ailment that strikes now and then. At first I thought it was CHF or circul...
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lazy bones, sleeping in the sun

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For me, an effective weight control device is coleslaw, which fools the stomach into thinking it's had a good meal: fools the stomach but not the tastebuds. Breakfast this morning was a magic mug of hot & black club coffee and a brisk half-hour pace on the walking machine, followed by heart pills, a mug of tap water, and a cup of coleslaw dressed with RAO's tomato-based garlic pasta sauce instead of my usual mayonnaise. Reminds me of something said to me in Australia nearly fifty years ago. A client asked me what I'd had for breakfast, and I told him that my motel restaurant offered a free buffet breakfast so I'd had coffee and lamb chops. I asked, "What do you have?" He said, "I always just have a dingo's breakfast." I asked, "A dingo's breakfast, what's that?" He said, "A pee and a good look round."  As a measure against the CHF-caused edema in legs/ankles/feet, the doctor told me to eat less salt and limit my wa...
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Tuesday after Friday

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Tuesday it is, Tue Aug 11 8:35 AM by my computer clock. It's discouraging to write when the Facebook link to them has stopped taking the pictures, but I'll try this morning.  Last week was a Time of deep humility in feeling so honored,  the ceremony dedicating the new HNES building to us,  our name on it as the Linda and Tom Weller STREAM Building;   so many people gathering for the ribbon cutting event; and loved ones coming to PC from PC, Tallahassee, and Louisville, Kentucky to embellish the honor.  The building is beautiful inside with the hallway and four fully equipped modern classrooms, and the outside that so precisely matches the original 1937 building (as beautifully refurbished after Category 5 Hurricane Michael ravished it).  My keys still work, I reckon, but I've retired from my "ownership" role on the Holy Nativity School Foundation board, so I'll make sure to clear with the Head of School before I take the liberty of going inside after hours ...
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endings

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Yesterday's annual visit with my PCP went well enough, lab work all normal, he renewed all my meds, and we discussed my Being. He was concerned about the edema in my legs, but said taking too much furosemide to control it would threaten the kidneys. I asked him about my CHF-related syncope episodes, and he scheduled me for a neck ultrasound for next Monday morning. We'll see the results and recommendations of that, eh? Meantime, I've bought a kippah to wear covering last week's unsightly dermatology sutures on my shaved head. The rumors are coming true about doctors' appointments in one's ancient aging.  ++++++ What can I do competently anymore? Read a bible passage and comment on it stretches my limit, so here's one for the upcoming Sunday: Romans 10:5-15 Moses writes concerning the righteousness that comes from the law, that “the person who does these things will live by them.” But the righteousness that comes from faith says, “Do not say in your heart, ‘W...
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Peter Oligopiste

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Monday, August 3, 2026 and, buttressed by heart pills and FuroForty, I have nothing to do but use the walking machine for a little exercise, and cut up a coleslaw of raw cabbage, shredded and ranch dressing added to make it palatable for my meals today, as I drop another pound or two in final prep for tomorrow morning's weigh-in at the doctor's office. I'll show up wearing light clothes with no extra layers, shoes that slip off; then, laying my wallet, keys, and phone on the side table and expelling heavy air from my lungs, I'll  step on the scale and all should be well.  All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well. In which case, the doctor will  agree that I don't need to come back until August 2027, a year instead of every six months.  No hospital visits, renew my meds and I'm outahere. Maybe another echo before next visit.  I'll give an update after. That's the physical side of a day in the life of a progressively...
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