Category: The DayBook

What’s happening?
Other than the slow destruction of the world as I understood it.

A billion of my tax dollars are being sent to France to stop wind farming. Didn’t we once pay American farmers not to grow soybeans?

I hope to live long enough to see the end of this nightmare.

If not, at least I will not have remained silent.
See you in the streets on March 28.

If I don’t talk about it. Maybe it will not exist. I knew it was coming back. I could feel it. It has been zapping a bit for the last week or so.

Today, it attacked me with a real shock attack. I would say it lasted 3 minutes. But I am sure it was less than 30 seconds. When I got myself under control, I heated a gel pack and hopped into bed with it on my face.

If this is the normal flare-up, I can expect another week of this. Then, hopefully, it will go back into remission for another year.

Trigeminal neuralgia. Tic douloureux. Doesn’t kill you. But it is known as the Suicide Disease. 

I don’t like to think about this. I don’t like to talk about it. Denial is how I deal with it.

Fortunately, since I am an old woman, I don’t have to attempt to carry on a normal life. I feel sorry for people who have responsibilities and TN. 

Nevertheless, spring is still happening.

I am trying to start my days earlier. Why wake up at 5 AM if all you are going to do is doom-scroll until breakfast at 8 AM?

So I am pretending I have a job.
My job is being an old woman.
That is why I was watering orchids before breakfast.

It seemed like a good day for an outing. I took the bus to Georgetown and added some walking. I chose Georgetown specifically because it is not easy to get to from the Asylum by bus, therefore I rarely go. Which is an excellent reason to go.

Walked four miles.
Did not get run over by a bike or a scooter.
Had a very nice lunch.

A most satisfactory way to spend a sunny spring day.

Job performance review:
Old woman functioning within normal parameters.

And a second fine springy day. Great day for a walk. 

Meanwhile, I continue to be awed by the utter stupidity of the current administration.

Do they not understand that actions have consequences?
Do they have no concept of cause and effect?

I reached for a note pad to record the need for coffee, and came up with one Carlton’s favorite pads. (Everyone my age is awash in note pads).

These were used in the Park Service 25 years ago. Inside the front cover were “The Ten Standard Firefighting Orders”.

As the years go by, I am increasingly convinced that these rules apply to almost every situation — not just wildfires.

The Standard Orders were developed by the Forest Service in 1957 and are still used today, with only minor changes.

Keep informed.
Know what is happening.
Plan for what might happen next.
Identify escape routes.
Post lookouts.
Be alert. Act decisively.
Stay connected.
Communicate clearly.
Maintain control.
Put safety first.

Simple.
Practical.

Apparently not transferable to leadership.

I suppose Ten Standard Government Leadership Orders are out of the question.

There is enough misery in the world. Let’s have happy things today.

I experimented with five hours of No Tech Time today.

An interesting exercise.

Fortunately, I had an old-school, solid-state grocery list so I could shop. However, I did allow myself to pay for the groceries with my watch. Wouldn’t want to take this offline nonsense too far.

I made an excellent lunch for myself. Completely self-serving.

Dinner plans are simpler: bread pudding and wine, after Cosmos for Women’s History Month.

And no, I did not invent Cosmos for Women’s History Month. That initiative came from Dining Services. I may have reservations about their cooking skills, but one must admire their commitment to cocktails and historical awareness.

Stylish. Impractical. Probably not compatible with smartwatches.

Still cold. So I am remembering a warmer time.
Just three months and five thousand miles ago.

I am always unhappy with March. I am a year older. Winter is supposed to be over, but it isn’t. And it is time to sort out my taxes.

Why am I paying taxes? Some days it feels like I am simply filling the pockets of criminals.

Oliver Wendell Holmes famously said, “Taxes are the price we pay for a civilized society.”

Well. I am not getting my money’s worth.

Today I made my required annual visit to the nurse’s office to prove that I am still alive.

I had to answer all manner of challenging questions: my name, the date, my address, and whether I hold the rail when using the stairs.

Apparently, I am cleared to remain in the Old Bat’s Cave for another year. Provided I continue to pay the rent.

A fairly boring day.
There are many worse things than a boring day.

And tonight’s culinary adventure awaits:
Falafel-Filled Mushroom Caps.
Hard pass.

Looks pleasant enough — but still too cold for mid-March.

Yoga today via Zoom. Too chilly to take the bus. Too cheap to Uber. So Zoom it was.

Some time ago I resolved to stop complaining publicly about the food here at the Asylum. It is unlikely to improve.

However…

This week’s “Plant Forward” offering appeared.

I am not complaining.
I am documenting.

This is not a complaint.
It is a memory aid.

So that in future weeks, when I am feeling forgetful, I will remember exactly what I chose not to eat.

The weather forecasters seriously oversold today’s storm. We were promised wind, torrential rain, thunder, lightning, hail, and possibly tornadoes. Schools were closed in advance.

So far we’ve had… sprinkles.

Maybe the excitement will arrive later.
Who knows what to believe anymore about weather or anything else?

One hundred years ago today, Robert Goddard successfully launched the first liquid-fuel rocket. He recorded in his diary:

March 16. Went to Auburn with S[achs] in am. E[sther] and Mr. Roope came out at 1 p.m. Tried rocket at 2.30. It rose 41 feet & went 184 feet, in 2.5 secs., after the lower half of the nozzle burned off. Brought materials to lab. …

I am sure there is a lesson in this somewhere. But I haven’t a clue what it is.

In the summer of 2019, I took myself on a trip around the world. By plane. I wanted to be in charge of my journey and not just a passenger. I stopped in Dubai, where you can find almost anything if you look hard enough.

At the time it all felt adventurous. Possible.

I’m not entirely sure I would feel safe in that same hotel today.
Truth be told, I’m not sure I feel entirely safe anywhere right now.

Breakfast table conversations have not been especially cheerful lately.

Nope. I don’t think so.

I decided to settle into my comfy chair and continue culling and cataloging last year’s photos. Maybe even start assembling the 2025 Photo Book.

There is absolutely no real reason to keep making these books. I started making them for Carlton. He liked his pictures on paper, not on screens.

Every year I say, “Maybe this will be the last one.”

And one year, of course, it will be.

No one is promised tomorrow. Much less next year.

Note to the Clean-Up Crew:
Just toss the books in the dumpster. I am not Ansel Adams.

Note to Peg:
Be completely finished with 2025 photos by April Fools’ Day.
Book done. Photos archived. Space reclaimed on the MacBook.
Finished.

While digging around, I discovered I never downloaded the images from my 21 hours in exciting downtown Agana, Guam.

Even brief adventures leave digital evidence.

Thank you, Sun. I needed you today.

A fairly dull, old-woman kind of day. Nothing wrong with that.

Number of things destroyed: zero.
Number of things accomplished: zero.

A perfect balance.

Did get some good cardio on my walk.

Tonight is Free Wine and Beer Night.
And there is steak on the menu.

So.

I have no complaints about anything I can actually control.
Which is more than can be said for most of the world.

Some days I just feel… old.
Or maybe I feel old every day. My denial mechanism simply works better most days.

Today’s big accomplishment was turning in my garden box.

I got it in May 2016. The bush behind it was maybe two feet tall back then. Now it has staged a full hostile takeover and completely blocks the sun.

There is a waiting list for garden boxes. And I no longer really want mine.

So it was time.

What about Ray the Rosemary?

He was doing great until the vicious cold snap in late January. I’m fairly sure he can recover with pruning and TLC.

But that is entirely up to the next box-holder.

I had six or seven good summers with that box before it was conquered by shade. (Also, three or four summers wondering why plants were not thriving. )

Shade isn’t a bad thing. Just not my thing.