I’ve been trying to decide if I feel a little under the weather today or not; it could go either way. However, I looked at the weather forecast and decided that maybe it wouldn’t hurt to spend some time as an undercover agent.
Look at what I found out:

… WIND CHILL ADVISORY REMAINS IN EFFECT FROM 8 PM EST /7 PM CST/ THIS EVENING TO 11 AM EST /10 AM CST/ TUESDAY…

HAZARDOUS WEATHER…

* WIND CHILL READINGS WILL DROP TO BETWEEN 12 BELOW AND 18 BELOW ZERO TONIGHT INTO TUESDAY MORNING.

* WEST WINDS OF 10 TO 20 MPH WITH AIR TEMPERATURES IN THE SINGLE DIGITS CAN BE EXPECTED.

IMPACTS…

* PROLONGED EXPOSURE MAY LEAD TO FROST BITE ON EXPOSED SKIN.

PRECAUTIONARY/PREPAREDNESS ACTIONS…

A WIND CHILL ADVISORY MEANS THAT VERY COLD AIR AND STRONG WINDS WILL COMBINE TO GENERATE LOW WIND CHILLS. THIS WILL RESULT IN FROST BITE AND LEAD TO HYPOTHERMIA IF PRECAUTIONS ARE NOT TAKEN. IF YOU MUST VENTURE OUTDOORS… MAKE SURE YOU WEAR A HAT AND GLOVES.

This includes LZP in Iowa, AmeliaJake and cohorts in Indiana and Der Bingle in Ohio.

NOW WE JUST HAVE TO AVOID THE PURPLE PEOPLE EATER. Er . . . or was it the People Eater was purple? Odd, I’ve known that song for years and only now am I envisioning it.

Every morning I check to see what the Kindle Daily Deals are and today it is 25 romances. GROAN.

THAT IS HOW MY DAY STARTED. It’s 5 p.m. now and I am sitting on my soft sofa in warmth after having spent part of the afternoon outside while ribs were grilled, along with hamburgers. Der Bingle decided to start a fire in the firepit and I felt an Indian phase come over me; yes, I danced around the fire and I used a tiki torch post with the remains of a lantern on it for my staff. After awhile Summer joined me and we just let the Indian fire rituals flow.

I think my Indian name is Socmonkeyjawea; Summer’s is Paw of the Cat Rabbit. The latter may be subject to change, however. I think there may be a picture or two on someone’s phone of me. So far I have received no blackmail messages.

It is possible some people think it would have been better had I buried my nose in a romance. Just possible.

Today I just looked around and just accepted the fact that I am in a “fed up” mood. And that’s how I’m going about this day. So far it’s not been too bad; I actually thought about a task that I had been putting off and decided to just stick my hands right in the mess of papers and do “something’. It’s always good to set your goal at ‘something’ because it’s really, really flexible.

Unfortunately, my efforts are now evidenced by stacks of half-sorted correspondence and “Oh, so that’s where I put those instructions” type of stuff. I don’t mind; I know how to step over clutter. There is the benefit of having a full trash bag as well . . . now to haul it out – but that means two woodpile exercise trips.

I’ll probably be back, whining about something else.

About a quarter past one in the afternoon.

A prominent man was eulogized today, and perhaps right now they’re filling the grave. He was the real article when it comes to nice people and was gifted with abounding energy. Don Moore worked hard for his family, his friends and his community, and, quite frankly, I don’t think he considered it work. I interviewed him a couple of times, but I’ve lost the notes from the more personal of the two. I think they got frozen on the hard drive of my old Apple PowerBook 100 – one of the first really portable laptops.

But I remember. I suppose if this were Ohio when I was writing there, it would be a safe bet I would have been tapped to write a memorial. I’ve thought about those types of articles in the past few days, my memory having been jogged by this week’s happening.

You stare at a blank screen and you start writing and somewhere in there you will happen on a phrase that will stick with readers; if you are lucky, you may draw close to the essence of the person and trigger wordless memories in those who knew him.

In this case, there would have been so much to say about Don Moore; I’m sure it was said today. There is one detail he mentioned while talking with me – a detail about the loan he took to buy the radio station. He borrowed money from his mother . . . and he paid her back. He just added that last bit in passing, but with a truly proud look on his face.

I think Don might have said about a lot of his doings that it was in his genes – his energy, his need to be moving and doing something. He was happy to do so much for so many, but I think he might have been a bit self-conscious about taking credit for being such a good man. And he might have said it was in his genes to be a decent man, but I think he realized that in paying his mother back he had done the most decent of things and had shown her she had indeed raised . . . a very good man.

I am sucking down a Diet Sam’s right this very minute because I think I really need it. What made me think this? Could it be because I kept hearing the ding from my mail alert and clicking over to look and thinking, “Oh, gee, there must be a malfunction.”
There was. It was in my head.
Last night I had typed NIPSCO into the search part of my mailbox to locate the electric bills AND I FORGOT TO ERASE IT.
It’s cold here today; you know how everyone talks about feeling it in their joints and whatever – I guess for me it’s the brain. Which, I just realized – somewhat belatedly because of you know, the brain thing – that winter is here for quite a while and . . . oh, I lost my train of thought.
I changed the picture on my facebook profile because there were some comments that it was kind of off-putting. The new picture was taken with the Photo Booth app on my Mac and a lamp was shining brightly on my face. I look a little shiny and balding, but the red-eyed, pointy-teethed me is not the first picture you see.

vs:

And now I am sitting on my butt because cleaning a bathroom floor on your hands and knees is tiring – not to mention, somewhat demoralizing.
I think I will sit on my butt and read my Kindle, which will drive Der Bingle crazy because he left his Kindle here this week-end. Oh, Dear Der Bingle, I feel your pain.

That box, necessary to our house because we inherited Mother’s cat, the infamous Tiffi, stays in my cart when I go through the check-out line. Neither I, nor the cashier, have any desire to lift it; two lifts, into my cart and then into my trunk are enough for me.

It struck me the other day that I have lost more pounds than that box weighs. That’s kind of scary and a real incentive to keep it going. I suppose I am going to look at tasty things now and see and smell cat litter. Lordy, what a thought. Having gotten it in my head, however, I need to use some AmeliaJake modifying tactics: I have to divide the list of tasty foods into two categories – and right now I’ll just call them “Litter” and ‘Not-litter”.

I’m going to have to do better than that. . . Oh, yeah. Rats, why did I ever get this thought in my head? And why did I type “rats”? Why?! Rats and cats.

I’m over-reacting. I know myself; I’ll overcome this and be nibbling a cookie before you know it.

Oh, dear, as I finished typing that final “f” the vision of a little AmeliaJake corpse popped into my head. Not a close-up vision, more like seeing a giant figure in the distance toting me away under his arm like a piece of wood. I suspect I get alternate visions of what I write a lot, but don’t pay much attention; this one caused me to temporarily stop chewing my foldover.

Oh, well, moving on . . . and continuing chewing . . . I am thinking today would be a good one to putter around on the main floor, washing a few dishes and pushing the vacuum a wee bit. I am feeling – here it comes – a little stiff from my exertions in the basement yesterday. I traipsed around down there with stepladder in tow and spray cleaner and paper towels in hand. I also kept the fire going and decided that for a bit of exercise, I would make two trips from the big woodpile to the little stack by the door every time I went outside.

Of course, the “getting wood to keep the fire going right now” trip did not qualify as one of the two extra exercise trips. Somewhere along the line, I figured I’d load myself up with the “keeping the fire going” wood so that I would have to make fewer trips outside . . . and you know, the extra exercise thing.

This worked okay until I really loaded myself up and by the time I reached the kitchen, realized I had a bit too much. So I left a log on the kitchen counter. It is still there. My granddaughter remarked on it; others didn’t feel it deserved mentioning . . . and, obviously, no one was struck with the idea of carrying it to a hearth. Hmmmm. They seem to be the kind of folks who need to be hit over the head with a piece of firewood to get motivated. Oh, and guess who has one close at hand . . .

Darn! The law does get in the way some times. So I’ll take a couple of aspirin and maybe make a trip to Wal-Mart – that way the aspirin can help out with two things.

That post title should get me slapped in the face by lots of people. I sat here this morning, looking all around the Web for things of interest. I knew what I was really doing; I was putting off getting down to business in the basement and cleaning out a corner. After all, I have already been doing MIGHTY sorting in the master bedroom and sitting room. (And, by the way, while doing that I came across another letter my father had written Quentin when he first went out to San Diego. The date was 10-10-99 and he would be dead on February 10th. Seeing his handwriting, reading the first sentence . . . Gosh, it took my breath away – Talk about holding yourself together from the inside out.)

Today is a change of scenery day – actually not too much scenery, mostly lint and dust and redoing some plastic on a basement window partially converted to Jenn-Air venting. Actually, it’s kind of a cleaning out the area for cleaning . . . Yes, I know, the ounce of prevention thing would have been smart – the maintenance frame of mind.

I was not looking forward to it, nor was I happy with the fact that the rest of the basement would loom behind my back, waiting its turn. Then, of course, there is the massing of boxes in the lobby awaiting a trip to the attic – probably this week-end since the temperature will be moderate up there.

So, I sat here and thought I’d just have to get at it, and then, all at once, it came into my mind that I am able to do it. I am not at this moment, on this day, lying somewhere ill or injured. After a couple of pictures flashed in my head, I found myself grinning and thinking, “Wow, I get to get up and go work in that basement. Woo-Hoo.”

When it comes right down to it, a kick in the pants can be quite uplifting.

I have been making a photographic record of all the stuff I have been going through and re-stashing because I have learned that the old “I’ll remember where this is” assumption is just a BIG, FAT LIE TO YOURSELF. For a day and a half of this endeavor, a box set on the love seat from LZP for Der Bingle. Then, last night, the latter asked me if it had arrived and when I answered in the affirmative, he told me I was to open it because buried inside was something for me, AmeliaJake.

Well, yes there was. I was so pleased that I put on my polar bear pj pants. I suppose I might be confusing you here.

Okay, the surprise was Sock Money slippers (the Ambassador’s minions) and I wanted a picture; it seemed only fitting that I wear my new Christmas polar bears also. Of course, my camera has so many photos on it of the contents of drawers and whatever that I didn’t want to wait for the download, so I am taking this picture with my phone. It is of only one of the guys because if I focus on the middle of the two, they each look a little “not right”. (Then, again, they are Sock Momkeys so maybe . . . Oh, better watch my mouth.)

Without further explanation, I give you