“This coffee tastes like piss.”

I wonder, as many probably do, how my piss tastes. I also pondered whether I’d ever eaten my boogers as a child. Mom has never mentioned it, but many children do, and I was a child who did a lot of things because I was curious.

I’m not sure how I feel about eating baby feces.

This isn’t a gross-out post. Honestly. Perhaps it is, from your point of view. That’s why I bring it up, not to gross you out, but to bring the subjects into the light.

The three subjects, tasting urine, eating boogers, and eating baby poop, are part of a larger subject, the human body, and trends. Thinking about them came from conversations and reading. I finished reading An Instance of the Fingerpost this week. Book One is about a doctor. He mentions tasting people’s urine as part of the examination process in the sixteen hundreds. Yes, I remember from other reading, doctors tasted urine when they were examining patients long before the sixteen hundreds.

I don’t think many doctors do that these days. Most people are probably horrified about it, but I dipped my finger into my stream this morning and gave it a lick. I thought, why not? I’ve tasted my blood, sweat, and tears before, because I wanted to know how they tasted, so why not my pee?

I have ideas about how urine should taste, based on statements like, “This coffee tastes like piss.” I’ve read a few things about it, and we’d discussed it once while talking about survival training. Today’s piss reminded me of a bitters beer. I don’t know if that’s normal. An ongoing cold and head congestion are sabotaging my taste experience this week.

That done, I turned to the question of eating boogers. A friend, talking about his grand-daughter, mentioned that she often picked her nose and not infrequently ingested her boogers. Another friend present, a retired doctor, talked about that and said that some booger eating can be beneficial.

That second person is also the one that talked about eating baby feces. He and I had read about probiotics in infants’ fecal matter, and he’d read other periodicals about how a small amount of baby poop could be therapeutic restoring digestive systems. I pondered what kind of beer or wine would go with baby poop.

Well, I didn’t eat a booger, and I haven’t sampled baby feces yet, that I know. Tasting my piss was my step forward today.

 

Another Complaint

I’m one of those people who look into the hankie or tissue after I blow my nose.

Apparently, this offends or horrifies some people. The very idea of blowing their nose seems terrible, terrible, to them.

I’m surprised. That stuff coming out of my nose offers clues about what’s going on inside my body. As often as my body frustrates me with its secrets, I need to do everything I can to find clues about what it’s up to.

It’s the same thing about having a bowel movement and checking out what’s in the can afterward, but I won’t go there. I can already imagine the horror spreading across the net. Then there’s menstruation, which I’m sure has many crying, “Enough!” I don’t menstruate but I’ve learned from my wife that menstruating can offer a lot of clues to what’s going on inside.

Admittedly, I had a hard time considering it when she was menstruating. Yes, it was blood, and that was part of it, and it’s coming out of her was another part of it, and from that body part contributed to my initial discomfort and revulsion. Then I started thinking, why did I react like that?

We really need to re-think how we socialize ourselves about our bodies and its processes. Some steps have been made. Everybody Poops has been out for years. Period. End of Sentence., a film about menstruation, won an Oscar this year. So, yes, progress is evident, but we’ve got a long way to go.

Next: “Let’s Talk About Farting”

 

Friday’s Theme Music

Was singing to my cats yesterday, “I got the rockin’ pneumonia, and the kitty-cat blues,” a flex on the lyrics to “Rockin’ Pneumonia and the Boogie-Woogie Flu”.

I don’t have the flu, but some respiratory issues associated with stagnant air, according to my self-diagnosis. It happened to strike when my energy was low, and I was slippin’ into my monthly trough of darkness and depression. Two days of rest was taken. My energy is better today. The stagnant air remains so I’ll probably be limited in my outside movement, unless I don a mask to filter the air.

Movin’ on, here’s Johnny Rivers’ cover of the song from 1972. It’s the one I know best.

BTW, love that little piece on the forty-five record label on display: “Use the Power. Register and Vote.” Sweet. Wish more people would use the power. That they don’t is not so sweet.

Cheers

Fitbit Progress

Reviewing my Fitbit YTD, I found that I’ve walked over twenty-eight hundred miles, averaging 7.85 miles a day.

I was wondering about it today because as I went to walk, part of me whined, “Do we haft to?” in its best three year old voice. “Can’t we take the day off?”

With a grudging grimace, I imitated Mom and said, “Let me think about it.” That quieted the quitting part of me while I checked my numbers. I hadn’t done that in a while. Yes, I check daily to see what I did the day before. Once in a while, I look at the weekly total. I always have a general feel for how much I’ve done without getting into details, but I don’t really look at the ongoing cumulative numbers.

After checking the numbers, I felt pretty good about my average and agreed to the partial day off. We’ll see how it goes tomorrow. Maybe with an extra cup of coffee in the afternoon, I can make up today’s shortfall.

 

Rude Interruption

I was sitting and chatting with a friend the other day when my body said, “Pee.”

“Excuse me,” I told my body, “but that was very ru — ”

“Pee!”

“I was talki — ”

“PEEEE!”

“What are you saying? It sounds li — ”

“PEEEE!”

“In a minute. Let me finish this conver — ”

“PEEEEEE!!!”

Sighing, I stood. “Excuse me a minute,” I told my friend, and went off to the restroom.

Honestly, sometimes my body is like a spoiled, willful child, and it gets worse as I get older.

 

A Wishful Dream

There was a lot of action in the dream’s early acts, but I want to jump to the part that was sharpest when consciousness gained the upper hand.

Relaxing at last in the dream, free from the previous battles, I discovered that I had a healing power. By looking at someone, I could focus and heal them. When I did that, a light red beam flowed from my eyes and engulfed them.

The first beneficiary was a sick cat, but I soon started testing the envelope’s boundaries. Walking around on a warm, sunny day, I discovered my eyes’ healing powers worked on any animal, humans included, and any disease or injury. It also worked on plants, trees, broken shoe strings, broken windows, and damaged cars. I just kept walking around, healing and fixing everything. Pretty soon, I had a following and people asking me for help. I didn’t turn anyone down, healing everyone and fixing everything. Everyone was happier and happier.

Now, the two weird parts is that I was wearing a sky blue jumpsuit with a white dickey, and I looked like Gil Gerard as he looked in Buck Rogers.

It was a laugher of a dream.

Future Me

I read a recent article about how we see ourselves. The article’s essence was that a study showed that people could readily see how they’d changed, but didn’t think they would change in the future.

That’s an odd conclusion. Looking back on how and why I change, I can appreciate how the world changed, forcing me to change. Mentors, friends, and family members have died. Their influence remains, but it’s faded.

Sometimes, I think of it like dominoes. I’m in a long row that’s been set up to fall over when tapped, part of a pretty design. Matters that tap me over include my changing body. My hearing is damaged and my vision has lost its acuity. My metabolism has slowed, as has my physical energy, and my muscles are weaker. My joints are stiffer, and my athleticism and coordination have diminished. My sleeping patterns have changed. I endured illnesses and injuries which changed my trajectory. I’ve gained weight and developed gluten and dairy reactions.  I mostly bloat. Before I bloated, I didn’t understand what people meant when they said, “I feel bloated today.” Now I understand.

Our food chain has changed. What impact that has on me, I probably won’t ever know. I was introduced to new foods, and dishes from other cultures, and I was introduced to better quality food, increasing my awareness of what quality means, and how it influences me.

Technology has advanced, enabling me to hear more music, inviting me in as a witness to more amazing events and moments. I usually have a laptop or tablet nearby to keep me connected to others. I’ve never met many of the people who are in my circle of friendship. Science has advanced, giving me more to think about. Researchers, psychologists and sociologists have gained insights into how our bodies, societies, and civilizations function. Engaging TED Talks and blogs help socialize new information. Big data analytics keep expanding on what we know, or what might be going on.

Our society and government have changed. Events like 9/11 changed us. I make more effort to understand the world than I used to make. After traveling and living outside of the United States, I became more watchful about politics, equality, justice, and our environment. As our politics have changed, and groups like white supremacists and Nazis have grown, I’ve been forced to question what I know. Likewise, revelations of sexual assault, news of murders, and lies by politicians and others sharpen my desire to know the truth and understand.

I’ve read many more books since I was young. I’ve written books. Both activities encouraged thinking, and from the thinking has come change in my views, approaches, appreciation, and understanding.

My brain has changed, apparently from triggers built in at some genetic level. I’ve become more impatient. Lessons learned through betrayal, resentment, success, and failure have fostered changes to my behavior. I work on improving myself more than I used to, when improving myself meant working out or taking classes.

I’ve lost hair on my head. My hairline recedes and my baldness expands. My hair thins and grays. Meanwhile, the rest of me becomes hairier. With my aging and changes, I became more invisible to a larger segment of population.

Or maybe that’s just me and my perceptions. They can change.

I can extrapolate some ways that I’ll probably change. I think I’ll be more withdrawn, speaking less, and enjoying small talk less. I hope to be writing and publishing more, but that’s a hope that I’ve been nurturing for over twenty years. My future diet will probably be more limited, I’ll be less active, and pop culture will seem more alien. I’ve always disliked talking on the telephone, and avoid it when I can. I suspect it’ll be hard to get future me on the phone.

I’ve been fortunate that I’ve escaped being caught in disasters. That luck can change. It feels, sometimes, like the hazardous air from the wildfires of the last few years have changed me. Certainly, that smoke, combined with the blazing heat, increased my depression, depleted my energy, and sapped my will. It certainly changed my summer and expectations.

Then, there are the other people in my life. Their changes, illnesses, success and failure will change me, too. That’s one constant that’s not likely to change.

All these variables will cause changes in me. I don’t know what I’ll be like in the future, but I don’t think that who I am now is who I will be.

The New Norm

I run through the checklist.

Check the Air Quality Index. We’re at unhealthy, bordering on very unhealthy. Remember, that’s an average, and it’s early. The AQI usually goes up (the air becomes unhealthy) as the temperature rises.

AQI 08062018

Checking the weather, I confirm that it’ll be in the nineties in our area, with no precipitation. (Ironically, I check Ash Station, ironic because of the fine ash that covers things after a few days.)

Forcast 08062018

It’s a mask day.

I apply my SPF 50 UV A/B lotion.

Then a hat to cover my head, and sunglasses for my eyes.

I’m ready to meet the great outdoors.

Masking up is becoming the new norm, along with skin and eye protection. It’s not truly the new norm yet. We haven’t monetized the masks.

There’s potential there.

America is a consuming, personality driven nation. I can see masks being spun to political preferences – MAGA masks, blue masks, Code Pink masks – but also to styles, personalities, and trends. Advertising can be put on masks. Budweiser and Coke can issue masks in their colors, with their logos, and give them away for free, or a discount. But two litters of Coke and get a free mask!

Pick up your mask with your Domino’s Pizza.

Or, take zombies. If you’re going to wear a mask, find a way to make it look like a zombie. Prefer Star Trek or Star Wars? Show it on your mask.

Bling can be added to the straps. The masks can be manufactured and offered in different colors. Come on, support the Pittsburgh Steelers in your Black & Gold mask. State your preference for the Oregon State Beavers in orange and black, or wear a green and yellow Duck mask to support Oregon University.

Call me a cynic (or call me Ishmael), I’m so surprised that some company hasn’t jumped all over this. I’m sure it’ll happen soon. When it does, when you finally start seeing blinged masks or masks supporting your cause or your team, then you’ll know that the new norm has arrived.

Speaking of which, I better stock up before the prices jump.

Masks

With our AQI drifting between unhealthy and hazardous in southern Oregon because of smoke from wildfires, masks are the new norm. The N95 is the most popular and the lowest level of protection that should be used if you’re outdoors.

Ashland Fire Department-chart (2)
Purple is very unhealthy and red is unhealthy. Green is good. Nice to see the air quality is improving today. We’ve not been in the yellow since 4 A.M. on July 28th.

While the masks help us stay healthy, I’ve encountered drawbacks, like it’s harder to exchange greetings and smiles as you encounter others. You can’t sip a beverage or eat anything with the mask on, and the mask makes my nostrils itch. With temperatures rising and smoky sunshine, sweat sheathes my face. The combination of breathing through a tight mask and being hot and sweating also recalls my twenty years in the military and the times when we wore our NBC gear. Ah, good times!

But, besides staying healthier, I’ve found wearing the mask protects my beard and mustache from the sun. Without the sun’s influence, my beard and mustache grows in darker and stays darker.

The darker beard and mustache don’t make me look younger, however. There’s a few other things that need to be overcome to rejuvenate my appearance. The mask, though, hiding my nose, mouth, chin, and most of my cheeks, does help with that.

Stay healthy, everyone.

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