iPhone
Chilly on 7H porch before daylight this morning, 46F and 47% humidity. Seven o’clock we are heading to Tallahassee for the day and a concert with TJCC, thinking to return home early evening. Yesterday seemed sort of lost somehow, why do some days do that? Supper last night was a small can of Bar Harbor brand cherrystone clams while standing at the kitchen counter, chewy and not at all as I’d anticipated: like sitting out on the dock of a bayside restaurant in Maine and digging them out of the shell while the no-see-ums swarm up out of the marsh grass, buzz around and eat me up. Summer sunset in Maine.
Tomorrow? Up early, two routine doctor’s appointments, early morning and late afternoon. These dates come round with the iPhone calendar, I’ve noticed, and the reminder chimes. I long ago gave up a watch and a pocket calendar, maybe time to throw the iPhone off the balcony into the sea?
At this age take care always to clarify “routine” lest loved ones worry you. And, as I say, there are those dozen or so lovelorn toothless old men hopefully checking the obits for me every morning, whom I love disappointing. What I’m finding so far is eighty is even better than seventy-five in almost every way. Almost. 7H is a vast improvement for us, but nails need clipping more often, WTH is that all about?
Ted Pinocchio on television last night, and Senator Polo playing, as Governor Christie kept pointing out rather sharply, his memorized 45-second response regardless of the question. Three governors running, a physician and a — what? Disestablishmentarian, but I just don’t know. Maybe take a pill and wake up in four years to see if there’s anything left.
Tass is deciding a place for us to have lunch with our beloveds, always a fun adventure. Last month Kristen turned 23 and Carolyn turned 13, ten years and a week apart every January.
On the walk Friday, great photo ops on E. Beach Drive, of that dying old dock with the gate, jutting out pathetically over the muddiness of a low tide, and my iPhone wouldn’t take pictures. It has 5,132 pics on it, maybe that’s about the limit. Or, I got it in April 2011, maybe it’s time to replace? IDK. I don't like changing phones or prayerbooks.
No wisdom this morning, life, love, coffee and a bit of chocolate to stir the brain.
Thos+
Tomorrow? Up early, two routine doctor’s appointments, early morning and late afternoon. These dates come round with the iPhone calendar, I’ve noticed, and the reminder chimes. I long ago gave up a watch and a pocket calendar, maybe time to throw the iPhone off the balcony into the sea?
At this age take care always to clarify “routine” lest loved ones worry you. And, as I say, there are those dozen or so lovelorn toothless old men hopefully checking the obits for me every morning, whom I love disappointing. What I’m finding so far is eighty is even better than seventy-five in almost every way. Almost. 7H is a vast improvement for us, but nails need clipping more often, WTH is that all about?
Ted Pinocchio on television last night, and Senator Polo playing, as Governor Christie kept pointing out rather sharply, his memorized 45-second response regardless of the question. Three governors running, a physician and a — what? Disestablishmentarian, but I just don’t know. Maybe take a pill and wake up in four years to see if there’s anything left.
Tass is deciding a place for us to have lunch with our beloveds, always a fun adventure. Last month Kristen turned 23 and Carolyn turned 13, ten years and a week apart every January.
On the walk Friday, great photo ops on E. Beach Drive, of that dying old dock with the gate, jutting out pathetically over the muddiness of a low tide, and my iPhone wouldn’t take pictures. It has 5,132 pics on it, maybe that’s about the limit. Or, I got it in April 2011, maybe it’s time to replace? IDK. I don't like changing phones or prayerbooks.
No wisdom this morning, life, love, coffee and a bit of chocolate to stir the brain.
Thos+