I have to laugh

I have to laugh at myself, I am becoming such a stick in the mud. I was just telling one of my granddaughter's I am an extrovert. Now I'm thinking, am I? Did I change in retirement? Because now my preferred days are those when I don't have to leave the house.

The other day I had three things to do (horrors!):

1. Go to physical therapy in the morning
2. Go someplace fun with my daughter and grandson in the afternoon
3. Go to someone's house to celebrate an event in the evening

I woke up in the middle of the night worrying about having so many places to go and things to do the next day. I tossed and I turned. My mind would not stop.

All that worrying and missed sleep for naught. 

1.  PT was simple and straightforward
2. The afternoon with M and N was so much fun.
3. The event celebration was quite enjoyable, and we left early

How many times have we all done this, woken up filled with worry about something that doesn't seem the least bit worrisome the next morning?

What is it about the night that makes anxiety so potent? 

This 9 of swords tarot card image is from the following site: http://www.sacred-texts.com/tarot/xr/index. It is from an original "Pamela-A Deck" version of the Rider-Waite-Smith Deck. My use is for informational purposes only.

The Perfect Man Valentine

I was wandering around our local Publix (the ubiquitous Florida grocery store), looking for something to pick up as a Valentine for my Tom.  He usually buys me candy, so I didn't really want more candy in the house.  Plus, I count on him to help me eat mine. 

Romantic dinner, I thought!  Steak, baked potatoes, salad, wine, maybe grilled asparagus.  "Yeah," I thought to myself, "that's the ticket."

Imagine my delight when I came upon this heart shaped Ribeye steak in the meat cooler:

Happy Valentine's Day, Baby!

Ouch.

Aaack!  My upper arm still hurts, 5 months after that damn fall that broke my patella. When I fell last September, the med team asked if I hurt anything more than my knee. I was on drugs. I felt no pain. I said no.

It wasn't until I was off the strong meds, weeks later, that I realized I'd damaged my upper right arm when I used my arm to block my fall.

I have ignored the soreness for five months because healing the kneecap kind of made everything else pale in comparison. I didn't want to get off the couch. I didn't want to leave the house. I didn't want to see more doctors. Wheelchairs, walkers, ill-fitting braces, keeping my right leg stick-straight, watching The Great British Baking Show - there were SO many good reasons to ignore a sore arm.

My knee is mostly healed, but my arm still hurts every day. I could live with it. I could! Advil takes the pain away in 4 - 5 hour time slots. But pain wakes me up at night, and it hurts when I try to brush the back of my hair, or put on a sweater.  Enough!

I start physical therapy on my arm on Monday. 

Bitch, bitch, moan.  What a pain!

I guess I still have work to do.  

Getting back up

Like so many of you, I am fighting despair after the Senate acquitted Trump. We knew that was going to happen. Still, it sure has hit me hard. How about you?

Despair seems like a normal and reasonable reaction to injustice. We all feel it from time to time. Unfortunately, it is an emotion that will not sustain us. Despair won't make us stronger or happier. Left to it's own devices, despair will consume us. Then we lose. By all that is righteous and good, I want to win.

(I'm trying to give myself a good talking to.)

I've used the boxer analogy before because it is beautiful to me. It is the only sport I might be tempted to watch on TV. The fighters with the most "heart" are the ones who never give up. Sometimes they get knocked out, but there is always the next fight. Who knows what might happen next?

The odds are that 50% of future events will be good ones over a sufficient period of time. Nothing stays the same. History is cyclical. Blah, blah, blah. You know what I mean, those platitudes are actually shorthand for the truth. 

Now I'm going to go read a sword and sorcery fantasy and veg out for today. Maybe I'll make some cookies, or putter around in the garden. I think we all need a little R&R. We should be back to normal soon.

My uncle and my father about 1937

That race is run.

I recently learned two of my father's first cousins died. We weren't "close." However, we shared an interest in family history and I liked them. I hate "losing people."

They were both generous when asked genealogical questions. I received family stories and photos from each via email and snail mail. They solved a number of genealogical mysteries for me, giving me the low down on family rogues and reasons to be proud of some others.  I liked knowing they were still alive.

Ray was a double first cousin to my father. Ray's father was my paternal grandfather's brother. Ray's mother was my paternal grandmother's sister (i.e., 2 sisters married 2 brothers). He was a gentleman, kind and friendly. If curiosity and enthusiasm can be family traits, then I recognized those shared qualities in him. 

I knew Gary better. His father was another of my paternal grandfather's brothers. Gary was a polyglot who went to South Korea in 1964 to teach English and to study Asian languages. He never married, but he fell in love with South Korea. He stayed there for the rest of his life as a hired word-slinger, translating and editing. He had a passion for Esperanto, always hoping it could become a common language. Eventually he gave up his U.S. citizenship to become a citizen of South Korea. He said he had no axe to grind, being a citizen was just easier.

I wish we had corresponded more. There's so much more I want to know, and they were the only ones alive to tell me. I should have thanked them more profusely, and I would like to have had the opportunity to say goodbye. Now that race is run.

Death is so freakin' permanent. 

Evil is as evil does

I read a post on Facebook yesterday that gave me pause. It began: "Today Democracy Died!" I was moved by the strong emotion; however, I don't agree.

We are all disgusted by that sham of a trial in the Senate. We ask ourselves, "How can there be a trial if witnesses are not called, and evidence not presented?" Well, the answer is simple, there can't be. That was not a trial.

When the Senate votes to acquit down party lines, it will  be a vote of shame. History will record it as such. Donald Trump will not be exonerated simply because he was not removed by the Senate. The House impeached him, and that impeachment stands forever. He can never escape that great truth. He was impeached.

We knew the Senate would do this, and that Trump would not be removed from office as a result. This is awful, but not a surprise. The thing we must do is persevere, organize, register voters, and vote to remove him in November.

Call me a political literalist, but Democracy is not something that can die. It is an idea, a political construct, a governmental norm for many enlightened nations. I take comfort in history. Yes, evil exists, but it never triumphs in the end. It only rises to the top when we allow it.

Let's vote for a Democratic nominee who can actually beat him, and who has the ability to bring this country together. Enough with the division and hate that evil thrives upon.

Wednesday, January 29, 2020

We did a last minute, quick trip to St. Petersburg, FL on the Gulf Coast today to take Tom's guitar to a trusted guitar store for repairs.  Photos:

St. Pete's municipal marina

a boat motor

heron

just a sign

antique gumball machines

Guitar store

I think these are slides for a guitar

banjo

Wish I had the nerve to go inside this bar alongside the road

This bad boy jumped up on our table, stole Tom's crackers, and flew away

Dragging it out

As you know, we recently visited our Kentucky family to meet our great grandchild. What you don't know is they took us to a Star Wars themed drag brunch. OMG, was THAT fun.

It's a new world, a better world when your daughter, granddaughter, and future granddaughter-in-law take Grandpa and Grandma to a drag brunch. I had to laugh when R texted me and asked if we'd like to go. My response? "Are ya kiddin'? YES!" For some reason, she wasn't surprised. 

As each one sashayed past our table, we whooped it up and handed them tips. I was overcome with grandmotherly love for all the performers. Since I was sitting at the end of the table I was able to I tell each one either "You are my favorite" or "You look beautiful!"  Okay, make me say it, I threw a few kisses, too. 

Looking and learning

We recently returned from a deeply satisfying trip where we met our gorgeous great granddaughter.

She is only one month old. Like a new puppy, she's just learning to keep her eyes open and look around. When she is awake, she's fully engaged. I get the distinct feeling that with everything she sees, or smells, or hears, or touches, she is actively learning.

Then I wonder how you can possibly learn without language? I'm so used to having language skills dominate my existence, I forget there are other ways to learn. When you are a month old, you learn with all of your senses. Everything is new, and most everything seems wonderful. 

I want to be more like that baby.  

Complete Lives

The majority of people seem to marry and produce children. When researching genealogy I wonder if their lives were meaningful or if they were happy? What's usually missing with genealogy records is the backstory.
Vital records don't tell us is who was a cheapskate, who ran off with the milkman, or who left home and never came back. Every once in a while there are stories that fill in the gaps and gives one pause.

I came across a 5th great grandfather who was a Revolutionary War soldier. He was born in Virginia about 1760, and married in 1780. He had 6 children with his wife.

He left his family prior to 1810, to live with another woman. He seems to have beat his mistress "mercilessly" on more than one occasion. Later court testimony claims she finally warned him if he did it again, she would kill him. Unfortunately, she made the mistake of warning him in front of witnesses. He "drowned" not long afterwards, in 1821.

Or maybe not. Upon examination of the body, the authorities discovered a wound "on the left breast about 3/4 of an inch in a circular form. Whatever it was which the deceased had been wounded with supposed had caused his death, passing between the ribs, none of which were fractured."

The mistress was indicted for his murder. Later she was convicted of second degree murder, and sentenced to 12 years in prison.  

His wife lived until 1840, but I found no information about her. I hope she had a good life after the old man left. 

I have no further information about his mistress, either. I feel sorry for her. A woman of her time living outside of marriage with a brutal man didn't likely have many options. And, of course, she warned him.

Women's lives are nearly invisible. It is kind of sad when only the bad guys leave a trail.

This is just an old photo I found online.  It is labelled "The Absolom Davis family".  I am  not related to this family.  I love it though. You don't often find casual old photos like this. It says a lot about these people's lives.