Sa’day’s Wandering Thoughts
When I was a child, I asked Mom, “Why are some streets named streets, and some are boulevards, avenues, drives, and roads. What’s the difference?” Mom replied with some vexation, “I don’t know.” Wasn’t my first disappointment with the realization that Mom didn’t know everything.
Needless to say, I was pretty excited when I heard Steven Wright ask, “Why do we drive on parkways and park on driveways?”
Yes! Finally, someone is going to explain. He didn’t answer it, though. Bummer.
I’m always hungry to learn something new. I’m fortunate that my wife has a like spirit, athough hers vectors toward learning about women’s rights, social justice, and sex and dating trends. So she keeps me covered in that area. We share responsibility and coverage on politics, literature, and pop culture. I’m on my own regarding STEM and history.
Over the years, I’ve gleaned insights into streets and all the variations. An e-letter I received, Word Smarts, shed more light on the differences between Interstate, freeway, expressway, parkway, highway, turnpike, and frontage road. It’s a start. Meanwhile, here’s some classic deadpan Wright one-liners.
The Swimming Dream
Awoke from a dream where I was swimming. Underwater with my eyes open, I Iooked up at the water’s surface from below and thought, that’s really scummy water. It was some sort of swimming hole and crowded with people. I broke the water’s surface.
I was young, in my teens, with others also in their teens. A girl my age was watching as I broke the water. She wore a red bathing suit. Grinning at her, I said something but she turned and moved away. I was with four or five other guys but none are memorable. We were talking about naming something. I had an idea about naming something and suggested it to them. They wanted more conversation about it. I told them, let’s get over in shallow water and talk about it, because we were all treading water and talking was difficult.
I tried swimming away then but dropped into the water. I thought I’d hit the bottom but the water was deeper than expected. I let myself drop and settle until my foot hit the bottom, and then kicked off hard.
I awoke groaning. I had surgery on my ankle a month ago and am still in recovery. It was now telegraphing pain and discomfort. I believe that while I was dreaming, I moved my legs and foot in real life, and kicked out, hitting something hard with my injured appendage.
Wednesday’s Wandering Thoughts
It’s first world blues time again.
Emails slide into my inbox. Netflix, Amazon — sorry, Prime — Hulu, et al urge me to watch shows I’ve already seen. ‘Based on my history’, they recommend shows nothing at all like the ones that I’ve watched. In fact, looking at their recommendations, they’re throwing everything against the wall to see what clings to my mind. Netflix urges, ‘We think you’ll love these” and shows me “Paul vs. Tyson”. I have never watched boxing, wrestling, or fighting anywhere, so WTF?
They’re so bogus. Little of what any of them from Apple to Amazon offer reflect my watching patterns. If they did, they’d be zeroing in on darkly comedic/quirky British, Australian, and Scandinavian shows. Encountering these weak, pathetic recommendations jars my brain. They’re pretending to be caring and involved with me and my viewing habits when they clearly lack all insights. In fact, when they do this, a deep glower spreads across my mien. They’re wasting my time and mocking my intelligence. A vow to not watch anything they offer begins to burn deep inside my brain.
Not just streaming services doing this to me but they’re the worse. Amazon recommends ‘Picks just for you’. Sounds so sweet. Like they went about picking flowers and arranging them. “Here, a bouquet pour tu.” They show me pots and pans collections. Frying pans. Kate Spade purses. Like, WTF? I’ve never shopped those on Amazon or anywhere online.
They all must have me confused with another Michael.
Tuesday’s Wandering Thoughts
It’s a complex world out there. You got to be vigilant. Take care of yourself.
This isn’t about me. This is about women and vaginal infections.
My wife related a Reddit story. A woman had a vaginal infection. She went to the doctor numerous times. Antibiotics were always prescribed. They always failed.
She suspected her underwear and shifted. New materials and styles were tried. Nothing. So she went commando. Nothing.
Sugar was removed from her diet, along with other foods. Nothing.
Her boyfriend didn’t have a rash. The two abstained from sex, in case it was something from him. No change.
Finally, she stumbled onto a Reddit post where thousands of women had reported the same struggle. The answer: toilet paper. She changed brands and the problem disappeared.
Sometimes it’s the most mundane and overlooked aspect of life. The edgier lesson was that in all of these thousands of stories from women, no doctor ever suggested, “Change your toilet paper.”
They just prescribed pills.
The end.
The Snow Pellets Dream
This was a weird and short dream.
I was sitting in sunshine at a picnic table in a grassy area. Alone, but relaxed, I vaguely awaited someone’s arrival. As thoughts wandered in the dream, I turned and saw a white substance. My dream reaction mirrored how my real-life self would have reacted, and I though, WTF?
Examining the white stuff, I found it to be shaped like small snow pellets. Unlike snow pellets, these were not cold.
I didn’t understand where they were coming from for several seconds. It piled up fast but wasn’t falling from the sky. Then it hit: oh, shit, this is coming from me. I leaped to a conclusion: these white pellets were my substance.
Then it got weird.
Needing to save my essence, I started piling it together, careful to ensure none slipped away. While I did this, I thought, I need to get this back into me; how do I do that?
Fortunately, my head zipped open across my skull’s crown. Thankful for the opening, I gleefully began shoveling handfuls of the white pellets back into me.
Dream end.
F-I-F
One of several favorable impression I have about WordPress is, they respond fast. Once something broken is uncovered, it’s been my experience that they fix it fast. I really do appreciate that about them.
In this case, it’s about the ability to add tags. Just a few days ago, the bug appeared in my blogging attempts. It was still there this morning. Bang, gone now.
Hurrah for WordPress. Wish more companies were as prompt and responsive.
Monday’s Wandering Thoughts
Ah, I feel so much better.
Just took my first shower since October 30th. Don’t know if others are as binary as me on this, but I’m a firmly committed shower guy. Baths in a tub will only do if a shower is out of the question.That felt so good. Washed my hair and everything. Had been doing that in a sink, with help from a measuring cup to pour water over all of my head. It worked but it wasn’t satisfying.
Well, when I was booted up, showers were out of the question. Had to keep that sucker completely dry. Which meant it was bagged in plastic and resting outside of the tub. That forced for into additional contortions and requirements. My wife had to be my hands while I held myself up with my foot out of the tub. My remaining bandage and wound could be damp but not wet, and I was to keep soap off it. So I showered with the affected foot thrust out like I was a posing dancer. Then I had to pat dry the affected area.
Let me say this: we have a standard tub. Just one out of the two baths. The other bath has a shower stall. That tub isn’t large enough for mature adults. I mentioned this to my wife. She replied, “I’ve already decided that my tub in our next house is going to be bigger and deeper.”
Agreed.
Saturday’s Theme Music
Mood: cloudark
Bit of a darkly mood today. Overdid it with my ankle, pressing to get better. It told me in manners aligned with surgery and lack of use over a few weeks that it didn’t appreciate what I was doing. So now, resigned to slowing down, taking my time. This is one of those situations where a strength becomes a weakness. My strength is a high tolerance to pain and discomfort, and an ability to ignore or overcome them without meds. Doing so with this ankle is clearly screwing up my recovery. With my wife’s *ahem* coaxing, I’m cooling it.
It’s a bleak day out there. Leaves have abandoned the trees and are drunkenly sprawled over the land. Dipped to 30 F for an overnight low. Sluggish sunshine is barely overcoming the cloud wall sealing in the valley in gray and black. Showers and a high of 42 F is on the charts. We’ve been having days of rain. Some has been solid and heavy. Okay, cuz we need rain to refill everything and soothe the earth. More important is snow. Necessary to bank on for the dry, hot months, snow is beginning to gather on the higher mountains.
Hmmm: interesting book title: “The Gathering of Snow”. All kinds of inherent possibilities.
The cats are slowly coming to claws with recognition that the season has shifted into a colder and wetter period. Less demands to let ’em out are noted. Both prefer cozying up at a warm indoor spot over darting back outside. That pleases me; rather have them in. Nurse Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) still hovers over me, sleeping alongside me as I nurse myself back to full functioning.
With convalescence going and a lot of time to think, The Neurons took trips into memories of other injuries, illnesses, sicknesses, and being laid up. Has happened a lot. Started as a child and hasn’t let up. That slowly opened the door for “Time After Time” by Cyndi Lauper to pop into the morning mental music stream (Trademark repeating). Other than my thoughts about being in recovery time after time, nothing in the 1983 song relates to my situation. Doesn’t stop Der Neurons! It’s an enjoyable song in my estimate about romance, missing a loved one, waiting while enduring their absence.
Let’s get positive, and hold fast. Here we go, another day in the life of. Coffee has been procured and is being consumed. I am at the laptop, foot propped up on a chair, black and white cat snoozing on the floor beside me.
Here’s the music. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 