Things I was thinking about when I was thinking about the things I think, I think

It’s that time again when I have to get some things off my mind or I’ll go out of my mind, and that’s the first one. Going out of one’s mind (which admittedly falls trippingly off the tongue) is taken to mean losing it, going nuts, flipping your lip, and a half-bazillion other ways to say gone bonkers. “Don’t pay attention to him, he’s out of his mind.” “I need a day off or I’m going to go out of my mind.” But it’s actually possible to just go half out of one’s mind, “I was half out of my mind with worry” which usually conveys just a temporary inability to deal with a specific occurrence. That’s not to be confused with “having half a mind” which no less an authority than Merriam-Webster defines as “the feeling especially when angry and annoyed that one would like to do something while at the same time not really planning to do it.” It’s just all much too mindless for me.

This one gets a little politically incorrect (and if you ask me, all of politics is a little incorrect lately). Recently, I had the opportunity to read a magazine article that addressed a dispute between a person who wished to be addressed by the pronoun “they” and another person who was addressed as “she.” The columnist, clearly being a woke (and presumably politically correct) person that he/she/it is, honored the request. It was by far the most difficult piece of reporting I have ever read and I used to read military efficiency reports. I could never tell if the author was talking about one or both of the individuals at any given time. In one sentence the word “they” referred to both the individual and both individuals. Please can we stop with using “they” as a singular pronoun. As noted last week, the English language has over 600,000 words. If you don’t like the one people have been using, at least pick one of the more obscure ones. Or make up a new one. Clearly with over 600,000 words, English language users are not shy about doing that!

I don’t know if this is universal among anti-virus programs so maybe you can clear things up for me if you know. I run Norton-360 antivirus program and I swear, sometimes I wish I’d have opted for the virus. I can’t turn on any of my computers without having it pop up and remind me of some extra cost option I haven’t purchased, or pop up usually while I’m in the middle of entering a nice long string of something (data, words, pictures) to let me know it recently did its thing, all is well, and do I know there are extra cost options I haven’t purchased, or pop up while downloading a file, program, video, whatever and assure me that suchandsuch.somethingorother is safe and by the way, do I know there are still some extra cost options I haven’t yet purchased. If one of those options was a pop-up free version I’d write out the check today!

Another thing I don’t know if it is universal is that since I’ve had COVID, I cannot get warm. I can have the furnace on 68, 72, or 76 and I still want a hoodie (or two) on over my sweatshirt (or two). Oddly, or oddlier, it’s only my upper body. Throw an extra blanket on the bed and my legs get hot. I have got to get this in check before next winter because I refuse to be one of those over-testosteroned Neanderthals that walk around in blizzards with their flannel shirts, camo hats, Carhart jackets, and shorts! And I don’t even want a pick-up truck.

I seldom go on Facebook anymore and maybe this is why. On a recent rare excursion to the Land of Odds (odd balls!) I found a post that had great intentions, but, well, really now. You likely saw it or one of its cousins if you still visit there. It was titled(?) “Why Ukraine matters” and then went on for 1,000 words or so listing all of Ukraine’s attributes. How about. “Ukraine matters because Ukrainians live there. Ukrainians matter because they are people.”

Thank you for sticking around to the end. I know it’s a messy process when things just fall out of my head. I should be good for another couple months now.

2 + 2 5 (5)

The Meaning of Life – No, I’m Not Kidding!

Some day I have to figure out how my mind works. Not my brain. I have that figure out. Seven years of school better have taught me something. No, what I can’t figure out is how my mind works. That unfathomable piece of consciousness that works on its own stream and might or might not let us in.

Monday I woke up with a sore back. Check that. I woke up with a back that hurt like all the gods on Olympus and in the Coliseum (or wherever the Roman gods lived) were mad at it. I called my doctor; he worked me into his schedule, poked, prodded, and ordered some x-rays and gave me some muscle relaxers. Monday night I took some muscle relaxers and Tuesday woke up and did my normal morning stuff, sore but not in outright pain. Tuesday night I took more muscle relaxers and Wednesday woke up even less sore and certain I wasted my doctor’s time on Monday. Wednesday afternoon he called and told me I have three compression fractures in my spine. All of a sudden I can’t sit still I’m in such pain.

Normally I walk with a cane. I’m not too weak to walk but if I don’t use some support I wobble. In fact, without it I look for all the world like I’ve had one bourbon too many. (Yes, I used to also believe that was a contradiction in terms but you really can have one too many. Try not to spread it around.) Every morning I walk a couple of miles and if it’s not raining I go to the pool for an hour or so. To get to my pool I go out the door, through the breezeway, across the courtyard and up a flight of stairs. Since the stairs have a railing and to get to them is a short walk I usually leave my cane behind. Yesterday, before I found out that my back is living on borrowed time, on the way in from the pool I detoured down the front walk to the mailbox. The mailman was just dropping off the day’s haul but he hung around long enough to comment that it looked a little early to be “hitting it” (aka “the bottle”). I immediately felt bad to be out in public like that. It was only after he was pulling away for the next mailbox that I realized how little I had to be feeling foolish of.

Why do we put so much stock into what others say? Nothing changed in my back between Tuesday and Wednesday other than the doctor confirming what other doctors had already told me several years ago. I hadn’t removed the cap from the Marker’s Mark for a couple of weeks when I fortified the glaze for a steak I put on the grill. Yet I was willing to change how I felt, indeed how I was, based on what others – one supposedly learned and one supposedly a federal employee – had to say. (How many people work for the federal government? About half of them.) (Sorry, I couldn’t resist.)

Quite some time ago I found this, printed it, framed, it and took it to heart. Since then I’ve Lifechanged. I got an incurable condition. I got cancer. I beat cancer. I still have an incurable condition. Through it all I see this every morning. I have to. It’s on the wall above my toilet tank. It’s a great place for a bit of inspiration. At first I misinterpreted it to mean that if we want to live life to its fullest we have to physically beat the odds. We have to literally skid in sideways. Not so! As long as we don’t give in we won’t give up. I sort of like that expression. Maybe I’ll hang that on the wall too.

As long as you don’t give in, you won’t give up.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention
of arriving in an attractive and well preserved body,
but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, martini in the other,
thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming
“Woo hoo, what a ride!”