T89+1&c and I was thinking to do an occasional blogging series called something like "Geriatrics: the ugly details" or "Geriatrics: a participant" or some such and such and thus and so. My recollection, in "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn," Mark Twain calls it something like "The Royal Nonsense." Remember that episode, where the King and the Duke tricked the town where Huck and Jim stopped the raft with them on their journey downriver? "Royal Nonsense" was billed as adult fare for men only, and I vaguely remember the final night, when Huck said the theater smelled of rotten eggs and spoiled fruit & vegetables as the audience gathered.  So IDK, maybe, "Geriatrics: X" Linda already edited everything out of the first installment as "disgusting." So, maybe not. +++++++++ Feeling strangely woozy this morning, but BP and heart rate are normal. Slept past 5:30, unusual for a Sunday morning in 7H, and the magic

First thing Wednesday morning was my six-monthly dermatology visit and coming home with a little round hole cut above my forehead, and two chunks cut out of my right ear. The skull cut I rubbed too hard after shampoo this morning, and last night I slept on my right side such that the discomfort (which I will not call Pain) woke me up in the middle of the night, this morning noticing red spots on my pillowcase. The ear also dripped on the shirt I wore for lunch out with friends yesterday, es tut mir leid, I mean it, I had no idea it was still that raw or I'd have worn a bandaid. Deluxe dining this week, leg of lamb, fried green tomatoes, &c and feud cake Thursday evening. Birthday Eve lunch at a new to me cafe Friday, fried mullet &c, the mullet done superior to my usual local place for fried mullet, and I'll go back for sure even though, my host was right, afterward my clothes, hair and face revealed where I'd been for lunch. Haven't had that experience since wh

Lightning in distant clouds off to the southeast of 7H, and the porch is wet with rain, this early morning of Friday the Thirteenth.  Not everyone gets to celebrate their last day of being eighty-eight years of age. I know, it's unique for me, my first and Only Time; so with my magic mug of coffee club hot & black I'm having a slice of feud cake, laid down flat, with a tiny pour of heavy whipping cream on top of it and soaks through.  Birthdays are for celebrating with favorite foods and loved ones. ++++++++++ What sort of consciousness to expect after this earthly life? That's easy: what sort of consciousness did I have before this earthly life, on Friday the Thirteenth of September, 1935 and before, back to Yeh-hi, the Big Bang? What sort of consciousness billions or trillions of years hence when our Sun has long since swallowed Earth and all planets, and when the Universe itself has spent its energy, cooled and dried out to the nothingness of absolute zero?  If there

  This morning the FedEx text came saying the package, congratulatory birthday gift from me to myself, the lobster purchase from Maine, was "out for delivery." It left the lobster house last evening at 5:57 PM and was delivered to 7H door at 11:52 this morning. If your order is $X or more, shipping is free. I'd added a couple pounds of fresh haddock so as to push the order over the free shipping threshold. Maine to Florida, eighteen hours door to door. And I'd ordered it cooked, so we had lobster rolls for noon dinner. Won't wonders never cease! Breakfast: 12 oz mug of piping hot, made lovingly from scratch, fresh tomato vegetable soup.  Extraordinary. Hearty. Elegant. Warms the soul of me. Couple of things from the lectionary's Propers for the upcoming Sunday: Isaiah 50:4-9a The Lord God has given me  the tongue of a teacher,  that I may know how to sustain  the weary with a word. Morning by morning he wakens --  wakens my ear  to listen as those who are taug

  Same as yesterday: no moon, no stars, thick, dark, wall to wall clouds sitting barely an inch above the horizon all the way around. 75°F and 95% humidity. Looking across St Andrews Bay, an early fall day on the Florida Gulf Coast. Above, I am no photographer, but that is what I see from here on 7H porch. And here's what the National Hurricane Center sees for our week: Scroll down is Mark 8:27-38, our gospel reading for the upcoming Sunday. I'm not, but i f I were doing a group Bible study or adult Sunday school class, I would look at a couple of things about the passage.  First, Mark's version as the first of the three synoptics, with both Matthew and Luke copying from Mark, and Matthew substantially embellishing what is usually called "Peter's Confession": The Gospel:  Mark 8:27-38 Jesus went on with his disciples to the villages of Caesarea Philippi; and on the way he asked his disciples, “Who do people say that I am?” And they answered him, “John the Bapt

  Writing to me recently, a long-term dear friend realized, "I never really knew you." We indeed do not know each other, you (plural) are more, different, and other than I can ever see, know, or imagine; and the same is true of me: no one knows me, no other person knows me, I am behind a blind beyond which you (plural) will never see or know. "Almighty God, unto whom all hearts are open, all desires known, and from whom no secrets are hid," but not now nor ever will another person really fully know me. There is no Pensieve as in Harry Potter. And there are likely facets of myself that even I do not know, of which I myself am unaware.  Said here many Times in the, next month it will be, fourteen years  that I've been writing this almost daily blogpost, you (plural) and I are not on the same page, you (plural) and I do not believe the same things, I do not vote as you (plural)  vote, we do not see and experience life, death, rights, responsibilities, obligations,

  We basically have an understanding that neither of us drives anywhere alone anymore; not that it takes two half-wits to make one wit (which would still be two half-wits), but that being two people in our late eighties, two brains, four eyes, and four ears makes for a marginally safer driving unit for avoiding causing an accident.  And when we're grocery shopping, one of us goes off one way and one another way, IDK where she goes, but me usually first in the direction of the sushi counter, so I try to remember to wear my bright yellow hat so Linda can spot me across the store. The hat is new this year, bought first as better than a baseball hat for keeping the sun off my neck and ears, and second for the color so I can be spotted/identified from afar.  All leading to this morning's unusual snack with my mug of hot & black: four little Captain's Wafers, each smeared with a touch of butter. They were introduced to the market years ago, I remember when, they were a featur

On 7H porch, outside dark early, what do I see? About halfway up in the east, a geostationary satellite; because of the "streetlight" right on the shoreline of Oaks by the Bay Park next door, that's daylighted my night ever since soon after Hurricane Michael, no stars from here anymore.  Back inside, with my eyes and ears on and a magic mug of hot & black from my coffee club, what do I taste? Thinking I'd never do it because the grape jelly is too perfect, I did it anyway: succumbed to a taste for a PBJ on extra thin white bread. With the hot & black, the PBJ sits well at this dark hour. With a sermon draft to supply at HNEC on Shell Island Sunday 22 September, and my Revelation lesson plan about firmed up for this coming Sunday, what's on my mind, what else is new?  From ENS, Episcopal News Service, the Episcopal Diocese of Florida moves toward diocesan convention that will seek to proceed with another election to choose their diocesan bishop. When I was