Stress?

    Sesame Street is brought to me today by the letters B and T, and the number 9 

    dubiously coincidental, my birth month and nicknames. 

    A perceptive and singularly trusted life colleague has inquired whether my stress is finally over. It hadn't occurred to me in that light, so I'm contemplating it, having myself as my own object, which may be uniquely human. In life's tragicomedy of family crisis, hurricane devastation, pandemic threat and election anxiety, it would be ingenuous and dangerous to underestimate the potential of ongoing stress. So, I'm assessing it, 

    and my substantial tools for relief & peace, in no particular order,

        remember

        blog

        read

        preach

        Sunday School

        7H

        planets, ships, galaxies, universe/creation

        imagination

        Time

        stroll, walk, meander

        mullet*

        oysters, pepper vinegar, coffee

        think 

        whatever's in my cheese drawer

        StAndrewsBay

    Imagination is two-edged though, isn't it, imagining bad, worse, worst, what could yet happen, ὁ ἀναγινώσκων νοείτω.

    Years ago, seeing me worrying about one or the other of my children, my mother told me that she never worries until there's reason to worry. I've tried it, it doesn't work for me. Someone else said always anticipate the Worst and then if Better happens it's a nice surprise; which I find an appalling way of life. 

    But stress, calendar, turkey aroma wafting into my study/office/den, oyster dressing that I'm going to have for breakfast, today's planned drive-by-and-wave visit with loved ones at PCB. In this Time of countdown, stress relief and Thanksgiving are brought to me by the letters B and L, and the number 55.

     W

* thanks, Bud!!