still and all
Shame not to have gotten pictures of it: what a violent electrical display we had with last evening's thunderstorm. The lightning, WOW!
Power flickered off and on back and forth several Times, then went out to stay, and by eight o'clock or eight-thirty had been out long enough, and we'd been working around with flashlights and emergency lights long enough, to know it was permanent for the evening, don't open the refrigerator, don't open the outside doors and lose the cool air, so we went to bed.
Waking early this morning and, because all the clocks were flashing, unable to tell what Time it was, but knowing the electricity was back on because I could feel the cool breeze of the air conditioner's blower fan, I got up and punched Go for my first cup of hot & black. Then saw the battery clock in my bathroom showing one-thirty. We have a busy morning ahead, and in order to be up for it, I'll need a long nap before the sun rises.
Why do I write these mind dumps? Jiminy.
Going, Going, ... Another Day in the Life Of.
One of my all Time favorite writings, Navy friend Norm first put me on to it, has been and is "Life Itself: A Memoir" by much enjoyed and highly respected film critic Roger Ebert, 1942-2013. Don't recall the timeframe, but I used to look forward to their television show "Ebert and Siskell" that aired for a while years back.
What about Ebert's memoir though? That it was so everyday and he lived such an ordinary life, many of his experiences drawing me into similar places and Times and people and memories in my own very ordinary life. Cementing our connection, he even had a love affair with a Studebaker Golden Hawk, a dream car of its era, that I remember fondly. The book, and the life he told were so Just Right.
My life has turned out, is still turning out, that way too: pretty mundane, nothing famous or extraordinary, simply Just Right. Including late into retirement, mind and faculties still working fairly satisfactorily, just the right amount of nothing to do, still loving life as it comes along day by day, long ago having lived into and learned to totally trust nothing and nobody, just the right amount of mental challenge, little or no stress except for worrying about a few loved ones, seeing myself as the most boring person in the Universe, knowing that only I am responsible for my happiness, stuck in repetitions I think I'd like to scuttle but evidently wouldn't because I don't, wondering why my curiosities are what they are, looking back on other roads I wish I'd taken instead but am thankful I didn't because here I am, still and always worrying about several loved ones all that worry being intensified by the realization that all my worries are helping nothing and nobody, still having memories surface, always caring too much what other people think, still waking up mornings; still trying to figure myself out.
Maybe mainly that last one, trying to figure myself out, and with considerable success at it. Including realizing I'm not all that different from every other person. Only my fingerprints, really. In a spit-in-a-tube and send it off for analysis and wait for the report to come back DNA inquiry some years ago, I found no surprises, that I'm legitimate, ordinary, and my only totally perfect DNA match on record is an Ashkenazi Jew somewhere in Central or Eastern Europe. Did I ever mention that, I don't think so.
Too much on calendar today, got to try for a nap in spite of the excellent mug of hot & black.
RSF&PTL
T