Nobody is Promised Tomorrow. . .
Walked all around Sydney this morning. Over 5.5 miles. Incredible gratitude that I am still able to get out and enjoy the world. I feel like the St Michaelmas daisy — surviving. My body is looking forward to two sea days for recovery.
Halifax is an awesome fine city.
Walked about 6 miles today.
And had a wonderful lobster roll and beer.
My travel companion joined me for the lobster roll quest.
Tomorrow Sydney
According to Google maps one could drive from St John to Halifax in 4 hours. It’s going to take us 37 hours to get there. At 10 MPH.
We even had fantastic whales. Breeches, blows, tails and sounds. Best whales I have seen on the East Coast.
It was raining at breakfast. By the time the ship was all tied up, the rain stopped. So, out I go. I consult with ChatGPT. It didn’t realize that stuff is closed on Sundays. Made my own plan.
I am heading for the Sunday Market.
It was a wonderful market. I bought a scone for lunch.
After checking out the market I wandered around.
Picked up a Tim Hortons coffee and eat my scone. Wandered back to the ship. 11,886 steps. Glad tomorrow is a sea day.
My travel companion decided that she would trust me. Silly woman. So we headed out into wildest Boston in quest of clam chowder.
St.John New Brunswick tomorrow.
Leisure do nothing day today.
Little walk.
Nice brekkie with Christie. Alvocado Toast!
Sat on deck 5 and read.
Another litte walk.
Got a miniature tomato and mozzarella sandwich for lunch.
Read. Doomscrolled. Considering a nap.
Returned to the cabin.
Japanese tonight after cocktails. Tomorrow, Boston. Maybe round up some clam chowder?
Everything has gone off with out a hitch. We had a nice lunch of roast beef and good bread.
I am tired and hoping for a good sleep tonight.
When you drive to the cruise ship, packing light isn’t really required. At first, I was stuffing everything into my backpack, then I realized I didn’t need to. So out came the “big” suitcase with wheels. If we head north—and if I manage not to spill my drink down my shirt—I might not even have to wash clothes out in the shower.
I’m leaving the computer behind this time. I need a little downtime. Books will be read, bats will be folded, and naps will be taken.
Now I wonder—if we do make it to Canada, will they even let us in? Especially after yesterday’s embarrassing show at the UN. He is a sick, old, demented man. It’s only a matter of time. Nobody is promised tomorrow. Not even presidents.
Looked up from my computer and there was a rainbow. Earlier, on my morning walk, I saw an eagle overhead. No picture. But a rainbow and an eagle in the same day? That more than makes up for missing the Rapture—again. Last time I remember missing it was May 21, 2011.
Still feeling underpowered. Never been old before, so how the hell am I supposed to know how it feels? Am I over-exercised? Under-exercised? How would I even know?
And, no surprise, I’ve done almost nothing to get ready for the trip. Dug out my passport, backpack, credit card, and some Canadian cash. I’ll probably fill the backpack tomorrow. Thursday morning, I’m out the door.
Unless, of course, the Rapture shows up tomorrow. Could just be a celestial timezone problem.
That’s six big wreaths and two little ones. Done. Finis. Pau.
I still owe a flower-arranging friend some bats. I made her a flock about four years ago, and she needs reinforcements for Asylum Halloween flower arrangements. No problem. I’ll take some “bat paper” and a cutter on the boat and fold a few along the way.
The Origami Dojo is also back in order. When I return from (hopefully) Canada, all that will be left is deciding how to price our Origami Garage Sale stash. More “going-out-of-business” than “craft show,” but that’s fine. I’ll crank out some signage on the computer, and we’ll call it done. After five summers of big origami projects, we’re officially retiring.
Time now for a little trip planning. But honestly, what’s to plan?
Decided to water the orchids and declare a day of rest. But…
About three hours ago, I sprang into action and did some origami. Now I’ve got six twelve-inch wreaths ready to price and sell. Even made a tiny wreath out of scraps — and I’ve got enough scraps for another if the spirit moves me. All of this between now and Thursday, when I leave for my cruise.
I must do something about this mess. My coffee table has become a wreath storage depot. Serious putting-away is required before bedtime tonight
Feeling absolutely antique today. No amount of coffee has perked me up.
Being old is uncharted territory — for me, for everyone. You only get one chance to get old, and I don’t want to screw it up. And not everyone gets to be old. So, there’s that gratitude thing.
About a month ago, I wasn’t getting anything done. So I had a talk with myself: Do the basics every day. Get up, clean up, make the bed, walk one mile. Period. Beyond that, I have to do three things. Either finish them or give them a set amount of time. They don’t need to be big or important, but something has to be done. Doomscrolling doesn’t count.
Today’s three things: laundry, getting the bat wreath 90% finished, and dinner at the Asylum’s “fancy” venue. None of these would be a big deal at sixty-something. But today, for me, they were enough. More than enough.
I can feel myself slowing down. It would be easy to just surrender to the inevitable. But I’m still determined to wear out, not rust out.
Oops — time to get ready for #3 on the list: dinner.