I completely exhausted myself trying to get as much cardio in as my watch demanded. Why were 1–9 points fine yesterday, but today it insisted on 23–27? I got 31. Yay, me.
Exhausted or not, I still got my normal Sunday orchid watering and fertilizing done. And the third wreath is almost finished.
Started culling and cataloging the Alaska photos. Culling becomes much more important if I keep shooting at 50MP resolution.
In keeping with yesterday’s American Civil War 2.0 theme, I recommend that everyone download The Simple Sabotage Field Manual from Project Gutenberg.
It’s dated, but you’ll get some excellent ideas.
Got a meme in email: All in all, if we’re going to have a former heroin addict in charge of the nation’s public health policy, I’d rather it be Keith Richards.
Following the first Battle of Manassas, George McClellan staged a massive troop review to boost morale. On November 20, 1861, the parade route stretched along Leesburg Pike from Bailey’s Crossroads to Munson Hill. Hundreds of soldiers bivouacked at Camp Bailey’s Crossroads. Lincoln and his entire cabinet came out from Washington to review 60,000 troops with their horses, carts, wagons, and cannons — the show went on all day and into the evening.
Among the 20,000 visitors was a young poet, Julia Ward Howe. Riding back to the Willard Hotel that night, with soldiers marching alongside singing “John Brown’s body lies a-moldering in the grave…” a traveling companion, Boston Unitarian minister James Freeman Clarke, suggested she write new words to the tune. Back in her room, she penned The Battle Hymn of the Republic.
This happened right here in Bailey’s Crossroads. Where today we have The Asylum.
Looking east out my window, I may yet witness the start of The American Civil War 2.0.
General McClellan was better at theatrics than at fighting to win. One can only hope the same is true of 47.
This is it. The last time my neighbor and I make origami to sell. That’s why we’re treating this year’s sale like a going-out-of-business sale — an Origami Garage Bankruptcy Sale. Everything must go.
Ray the Rosemary and Sage.
Doom-scrolling past some senior clickbait today. The bait was: “Rosemary and Sage, New Treatment for Alzheimer’s.” My garden box is stuffed with both.
I would say that it’s approaching Last Rose of Summer Time. But the weather is moving from cool to toasty.
I bought the ticket. And the second flight on to Tokyo — the plane that leaves Guam at 7:05 PM. All on one ticket, which becomes very important when (not if) I miss the connection.
No sane person would do this trip. But then again, no one has ever accused me of excessive sanity. Or any sanity, for that matter.
Meanwhile, while I was at dinner, United changed the Guam–Tokyo flight’s departure from 7:05 to 7:20. Every little bit helps.
Just another fine early fall day. And another dull day in the life of this dull old woman. Actually, at my age, dull isn’t necessarily a bad thing.
So, I amused myself thinking about the Island Hopper.
With another leg onward to Tokyo. There’s 40 minutes to make the connection to the Tokyo flight. No way, no how will I make that flight. But really — what’s not to love about the price? How often is business class way cheaper than economy?
For sure, I’ll end up spending the night at the Guam airport. But there are hotels nearby. And the way I figure it: it’s United’s problem, not mine. It will not be dull.
I’ve got a ticket on hold. Three more days to ponder. Unless I’m suddenly struck rational, most likely it’s a go.
Notice the Washington Monument. It is gray because it is in the shade of one of those fine, puffy white clouds. This happens, especially at this time of year, and I am always amused.
I am very easily entertained. So was Carlton. Life is easier that way.
Spent the day doing grownup stuff. Answering emails. Finding enough money to pay my estimated taxes. Trying to get all my ducks lined up. Why is lining up ducks a good thing? Aren’t you just going to shoot the buggers?
Had a great fun dinner with my Asylum Sisters. Outside. Free wine (and beer) tonight. Lots and lots of laughs. It’s not about the food. It’s about the friends. And the free booze doesn’t hurt.
Labor Unions? Where are they now that we need them?
Back in the ’60s and early ’70s, I was a card-carrying member of the Longshoremen’s Union, ILWU Local 142. We didn’t cross picket lines. We looked for the union label. And we never ate California table grapes. We did drink California table jug wine, though.
Sunset Yesterday. It’s all about the light.
This is the beginning of “nice sunset season.” When your only windows face east, you make do with reflected sunsets. That’s a Southwest Airlines plane coming in to land at National Airport.
One almost finished.
The plan is to have the crane wreaths finished by September 20. I think I’m on schedule for four of them. Not sure if the process will speed up. Keen eyes will notice I’m using lots of hat pins to hold things together until the glue dries. A glue gun would be faster, but my one and only glue-gun experience ended with me gluing my hair to the stove.
Old folks’ homes are strange places. The company that owns The Asylum wants to build a new one about a mile from here. Growth, I get. But it’s funny to look at the plans and hear the sales spiel. They’re promising a mixologist on staff. Meanwhile, my breakfast group talked about how we could get better doctors here this morning.
The architectural “focal point” of the new building will be a grand staircase. The actual focal point of The Asylum? Rollator traffic jams. The thing is, old folks’ homes are designed by people 40 years younger than the residents, to attract people 25 years younger than the residents.
I’ll be dead before the new joint is finished. Not my problem. Or, as the young folks say: IDNC.
End of the month, and I still had a pile of use-or-lose funny money on my Asylum Food Service account. So I “went shopping” in the lunch buffet line today.
I see steak, potatoes, and eggs here. Maybe a steak salad. Or a filet-and-brie sandwich? The carrots will probably end up in the next batch of garbage soup. It cost me nothing — the funny money disappears tomorrow anyway.
I am not all that excited about the Crane Wreath.
Got serious about the crane wreaths today. My neighbor and I have abandoned any grand plans for October’s craft sale for the Foundation. At this point, it’s just “origami death cleaning.”
After the sale, whatever’s left will head for recycling or the dump. Then I’ll get my Origami Dojo under control. It looks under control — but open almost any drawer or box, and origami is lurking.
0547am. Another lovely day. Weatherwise. Not Otherwise.One hour later. Contrails. Sun. Saturday.
The WiFi came back on around 9 AM. I was relieved — it’s stressful having to turn one’s own lights on and off. Not to mention remembering to turn the coffee pot off.
The weather has been so unseasonably cool that I pulled some of my “not summer” clothes out of the storage box and swapped in some “not winter” things. I even culled a few pieces and took them to the thrift shop.
The next 3 weeks will be devoted to getting origami ready for our “Origami Garage Sale” on October 8.
Mostly, I pondered how to attach cranes so they’ll make a reasonably sturdy wreath. I glued some today with the same glue I used a couple of years ago. We’ll see tomorrow how well they stick.
Hat pins would be much easier. But I don’t love the idea — fifty pins in one wreath feels like asking for trouble. Not to mention expense. Hat pins aren’t cheap. But I am.
Carlton and I had just moved into a brand-new apartment at the corner of Glebe and Fairfax. We were in our early 60s and 70s. Almost all of our parts still functioned. Life was good.
Speaking of functioning — the WiFi is down here at The Asylum. This could get ugly. I may have to turn on my own lights. Alexa can operate the ZigBee mesh net if the WiFi is completely down. But right now the WiFi is technically “working,” just not connecting to the internet. That seems like an ISP problem.
Since the WiFi itself isn’t down, it will be interesting to see if I can turn my lights on or off. The trick is remembering the lights’ official names — not the friendly aliases I use.
Still, I had a very productive day for an old woman. Working on staying focused. Staying offline helps with focus. And no connectivity helps with staying offline! It’s all good.
Our much-loved breakfast cook is hopefully on vacation. I say hopefully, because with ICE, who knows? She might go home and not be able to get back into the country. Or she might just decide it’s too dangerous to return.
In the meantime, we’ve got a substitute brekkie cook. Poor man. I’m not sure he’d ever poached an egg before this morning. And poached eggs are very popular among my age group. We are also very fussy about our eggs — poached or otherwise. I hope he returns tomorrow. Then again, he might race back to his old job after this morning’s adventure.
And I hope our regular cook returns after a much-deserved vacation.
Ever wonder what happens to funeral flowers?
At The Asylum, funeral flowers end up in the “Art Center” with a sign: Free to a Good Home. A $300 standing funeral display gets picked apart like a Christmas goose by the inmates.
This is the proposed Halloween-to-Christmas trip route. The only things bought and paid for are lodging in Kona (Halloween to December 18) and a Tokyo hotel (December 19–25). I’m also thinking about spending a few days in San Diego before Halloween.
That December trek to Tokyo — plus 12 hours of “going east” jet lag — might actually kill me. But if that’s so, you can always say: “Well, she died doing what she loved.”
I always wondered why people didn’t say that about someone who OD’d on heroin.
