life in the old lane

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.

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.

The weather is absolutely perfect. The country. Not so good.

Today’s accomplishment was making it to in-person yoga class — and surviving. Bonus: I learned a new word. 

trumpery | ˈtrəmp(ə)rē | archaic
noun (plural trumperies)

1. 1. Attractive articles of little value or use: None of your woolen drapery, nor linen drapery, nor any of your frippery or trumpery. I hate ostentation.

   2. Practices or beliefs that are superficially or visually appealing but have little real value or worth: he exposed their ideals as trumpery.
      adjective
      – Showy but worthless: trumpery jewelry.
      – Delusive or shallow: that trumpery hope which lets us dupe ourselves.

Now isn’t that a wonderful word? And no, I didn’t make it up. It’s real. I’m pretty sure we’ll all find more opportunities to use it than we’d like.

All about the crystal. And the garnet.

Still enjoying this stretch of lovely weather. It’s not supposed to be this nice until after Labor Day — but I’m not complaining.

I think I’ve developed my phone/camera insect-shooting skills about as far as they’ll go. I’ll never capture a compound eye, but I can get enough detail — considering I’m using my telephone to take photographs.

Today’s good deed: I went to the liquor store for a friend. Such an easy mitzvah. And no, I didn’t buy myself a treat while I was in the ABC store. That was about all I accomplished today. Well, that and the fact that I didn’t kill anyone. Yet.

The older I get, the less I seem to get done. Wonder if that’s “normal.”

Never mind the autumnal equinox. In my head, summer ends on August 31. Then there’s an interregnum until Labor Day. Fall begins the Tuesday after Labor Day and lasts until November 30. Winter starts on December 1. Spring on March 1. And summer, of course, on June 1. That’s my personal take on the seasons.

More fun with the phone/camera this morning while doing my miles.

Now, of course, I am waiting to see how this year’s Pixel phone/camera performs in real life. Do love my toys.

A little before eleven this morning, I decided to go into DC and check on Democracy. She isn’t well.

I did not see tanks rolling about. I only saw this small knot of troops. But I did not go where I thought I would find them. I just went to The Mall. Our nation’s front yard.

In case you have forgotten, in early March, The Orange Leech wanted The Declaration of Independence moved to his office. I head off to inspect the White House. But first, check out the Archive’s Gift Shop.

Most of Lafayette Park was fenced off. There were very few people around.

There wasn’t any overwhelming police/military presence. But there was something “off” about the Mall/White House area. There were nowhere near as many people as should have been out and about on the glorious late summer day. 

By 3pm, I was back in the Old Bat Cave. 

Still, I’m rather fond of lens flare. Whatever happens is exactly what I planned.

I’m still puttering around with my phone/camera. And last evening, the light was just right for the Shrine in Northeast DC.

I’m still mulling over whether to go ahead with the crazy Tokyo trip the week before Christmas. I’ve reserved a room at my second-favorite Tokyo hotel. My first favorite is too outrageously expensive — especially when the second-favorite is literally across the street.

Most likely, as long as I’m physically able, I’ll make the trip. Because looking back, I have far more regrets of omission than regrets of commission.

A lot of looking back happens when you are somewhere between 80 and dead.

Ten years ago today, I was preparing for the scariest move of my life. The move into The Asylum. An old folks’ home. And, I had to give them $171,516.00 for the privilege. I moved in late in September 2015. 

But, it was the right thing to do. Never mind that I get annoyed with the place. I dislike the food. The list goes on. But. This is where I belong. 

The Old Bat Cave is where the orchids live. The Asylum is where my friends live. It is home.

Little hints of blue sky today. Strange weather for August. Of course, everything feels strange these days.

Near the toad-truck, I picked up a dime. Which, of course, reminded me of Carlton. I’m glad he missed the end of life on the planet as we knew it.

Carlton ended every talk he gave at Harpers Ferry Park by pulling a piece of paper from his pocket and reading—always with theatrical flair:

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Charlestown, Virginia Dec 2, 1859

I, John Brown, am now quite certain that the crimes of this guilty land will never be purged away but with blood. I had, as I now think vainly, flattered myself that without very much bloodshed it might be done.

(The note John Brown handed to a guard on the morning of his execution.)

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There are small signs that real resistance is emerging. Or maybe I just want to see signs. In the spring, peaceful protests might have turned things around. But now—it feels like 1859.

Still feeling old today. I can do everything I need to do. But there’s so much I want to do and can’t. ChatGPT told me: “You cannot feel like you did in your 40s. Your body just isn’t running the same software anymore.”

And yes—it’s still gray and muggy.

Gratitude

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Very grateful for Zoom yoga. I wasn’t feeling up to making the trek to in-person class, but I was able to attend via Zoom. In fact, only one person besides the teacher showed up in person today. I felt much better after yoga. And I love that it’s the same class I’ve been taking for 10+ years.

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Thinking about that crazy Christmas trip to Tokyo. Honestly, it’s the jet lag that worries me most.

And… pass the salt!

Small blessing: After more than a month, salt and pepper returned to our tables yesterday—along with sugar packets.

Large blessing: Going out to dinner tonight.

So, today, I feel old. And why shouldn’t I feel old? That’s what I am. I am not aging gracefully. Oh well. What can I do? It will be over sooner or later. Five people have died already this month at The Asylum.

Well, enough of that morbid shit. Ain’t dead yet.

A crowd was gathering for yet another musical performance when I returned from my afternoon walk.

What have I accomplished today? I made amends for a snide remark I made yesterday.

Gratitude

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Grateful to AA for introducing me to the concept of making amends. Especially the prompt part. Thank you, Carlton.

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Made a fine lunch for myself. And watched too many YouTube videos about my potential 20-hour plane ride from Honolulu to Tokyo on December 18.

That flight should be enough to scare anyone off. United staffs four pilots and a mechanic onboard. The mechanic even carries spare parts—including spare tires. And you’re not allowed to take pictures out the plane window at one of the stops.

Now doesn’t that sound like a great way to spend a day? And you have to continue on to Tokyo to get the really great price. Otherwise it’s stunningly expensive.

I’m pretty sure the plane will miss its Tokyo connection anyway. How can it possibly make a 45-minute transfer that includes customs? And how could a plane that makes 5 stops be on time? But it’s United’s ticket, and United’s problem.

My only problem will be my 81-year-old body. (No, I haven’t decided to actually do it. I just have a 14-day fare lock.)

Blazing hot today. But…

Signs of autumn. Coming. Not soon enough.

I’m working on getting my Halloween-to-Christmas-Eve trip mostly nailed down. I have lodging from October 31 until December 18.  I’m not spending Christmas at The Asylum. I did that during COVID, and when I become frail or infirm, I may have to do it again—but not yet.

So, what to do with that extra week? And where? ChatGPT suggested Tokyo. I wasn’t taking that suggestion seriously until I found a cheap fare from Honolulu to Tokyo with six stops and one plane change. What’s not to love? You all know me: I’ll go to an island where the big attraction is dead whales and the little attraction is McKay’s Bunting. Of course I’d take that flight. You have to go all the way to Tokyo to get the cheap fare. I spent $16 for a 14-day fare lock—a sort of cooling-off period for the Old Bat.

Usually, shortly after Labor Day, I start getting antsy for fall. And, I go on a “fall quest”. Looking for red leaves and anything pumpkin spice. Pumpkin spice shows up first. But, today – red leaves. And it’s only half past August.

There is always something to fuss about here at The Asylum. My favorite is the food. Others care about the height of the toilets in the public areas.

I got a reality check about the food yesterday. There is a gentleman who lives on my floor. His wife lives in a similar (but more costly) asylum in DC. They take turns sleeping over at each other’s apartments. Last night I asked the wife, “Which place has the best food?” With no hesitation, she said, “Here.” OK. Message received. Accept and Adapt.