That’s why I’m here – because I’m talking to myself, in the sense of telling things to the air. I think I’ve been doing it about my entire life; I thought everyone did and maybe they do; I don’t know. But, once, over two decades ago an editor remarked about a column I was writing, “You just sit down and write these things out, don’t you?”

She intended it as a compliment and she said she was envious, that when she wrote a non-news piece, she agonized over just how she wanted to phrase her thoughts and feelings.

Maybe because I can not hear music as others do, I tended to gravitate toward the rhythm of words in poetry and the parts of speeches that were intended to move people and not just inform. There are lines of poems that replay in my mind’s ear the way people seem to hum popular songs.

Ah, this actually is beginning to read like something I should not “just sit down and write” – hmmm. Well, the hell with thinking about it. And, I guess, the hell with writing right now. When I sat down I was upset, mentally telling the air a tale of perceived woe like a monologue. It was more than my usual upset; I felt the need to write and I figured I’d just not publish anything I typed.

Now, it seems to be out of my system and if I need to post anything, it’s a sigh and a “Well, let’s get to it.”

I look normal (ignore the Guido-ized photo below) and I am still bopping around, but yesterday I was freezing at the nursing home, while hugging a sweatshirt close to me. I came home and sat in front of a space heater. I went to bed early and my ears hurt deep inside and my throat is a little scratchy. It looks like I’m coming down with a cold.

These are the times when you say maybe you are not feeling so good and people roll their eyes at you. No sympathy.

Ironically, when the symptoms pop out with germ sneezing and the coughing that annoys people, I usually feel much better over all. I get some sympathy then, but I also I get avoidance, which does have its own benefits.

I am back in Kendallville; yesterday I was sitting on a balcony, being chauffeured around, treated to HHB and CV, placed in the comfortable corner of a leather sofa with an Apple remote and more episodes of House of Cards. As I pulled into the driveway, I spotted with freshened eyes CHORES to be done outside. I found some more inside. But enough of that for now; we will see what happens now that SHE* is back.

*SHE: Something AmeliaJake is often called by some people who I believe are sleeping in right upstairs as I type this.

There was talk last night after the posting of the picture below that it be replaced because, oh, let’s just quote Der Bingle, “It looks like Guido (the bat) took it.” Or maybe he said it made me look like a Guido wannabe.

Well, the heck with it; I can take a little tittering, but, please, no guffaws.

Yankee Candle had a 6 for $60 sale and since there is a store close to Der Bingle’s apartment I took him over to sniff candles. We walked by a kiosk that had free ear-piercing offered with purchase. Well, I had my ears pierced in the 60’s in a dorm at IU with ice and a hat pin. The holes were a little low; we wore bigger earrings that occasionally caught on something and eventually one hole worked its way down to the edge.

Years later I had it repaired, but the holes were just too low and my earrings looked downward, so I was tempted to stop at the kiosk. But I did not. As we walked out of the mall, I passed Claire’s and saw a lady doing ear piercing through the window. Free. I thought surely it must be a signal.

So:

I’m making a quick trip with my husband down to his apartment – situated between Wright State University and Area B of the air force base – in Fairborn, Ohio. Cousin Vinny’s and Hot Head Burrito are close by, but, of course, I am paying attention to what I eat, but think I may have temporary amnesia while I am there.

Although I felt quite well on Monday and Tuesday, I had an attack of the blues/blahs accompanied with a slight fever and chills running from Wednesday until this morning. I spent time on the sofa; I spent time watching several episodes of Orange is the New Black and House of Cards. I also read a throw-away book for no good reason other than escapism.

The days are going to start getting shorter and maybe that is why I started thinking about the years piling up and my upcoming 66th birthday. I fantasized about a phenomenon in which I would be back 20 years, anticipating my 46th birthday and how great that would be. My 50’s never looked so good – although I didn’t know it then. Back then I was not anticipating my 46th birthday, I was bemoaning it.

All of a sudden it occurred to me that perhaps just seconds ago I was sitting somewhere thinking of my 86th birthday coming up and how happy I would be if it were my 66th. It gave me pause and I decided I’d just pretend that a few seconds ago that was exactly what happened – so Woo Hoo. Sometimes mind tricks are not a bad thing at all.

Last night I tucked myself under an afghan in an air-conditioned room, after having spent the day in a car with a non-working AC in 88 degree Indianapolis, and I slept. I woke up around 1 am and decided maybe I could adjust the AC to a higher temp and shuffle off the heavy afghan for a light one.

Actually, I feel better this morning than I have in a while – but I think yesterday’s “activity” is more of a wake up call to the benefits of pushing myself than a blueprint for a training regimen. Yes, I think there will be modifications. Oh, yeah.

By the way, the Interstate that circles Indianapolis has been undergoing repairs and reconstruction for years. My exit was closed – the exit that is about a half mile from my destination.The city is also introducing roundabouts instead of intersections, at least in the northern upscalish section (Can you say Fishers?)

I’m going to have to study roundabouts in the field – the paperwork just doesn’t do it. When you are staring down at the overview on a map, the little lines make some sort of sense. When you are in one of the hellish circles at ground level, with cars all around you, it’s a little difficult (for me) to figure out things like: Is that my exit off the other lane?

One grandkid asked if I were lost. I said no. I could have elaborated and added: I know right where I am but I don’t know what I’m doing.

Now, here’s an inviting one I saw at this site.

Der Bingle told me last week that The Farmer’s Almanac said this was to be a really hot summer. Up until the time he told me, it had been very cool. I said he’d jinxed us. I went to Indianapolis today in a car with a broken air conditioner and it was 90 degrees.

Oh, by the way I think this is Take a Gnome to ? Day; somehow they think they have to use French Silk ones to celebrate.

Well, I don’t feel so old when I think of my great-grandfather having been in the Civil War. This fellow is my mother’s paternal grandfather, George Shimp. I’m thinking her maternal grandfather may have been too young to go. My other two great-grandfathers served and I remember sleeping at my paternal grandma’s under a picture of her father in uniform. Once she asked, “Wasn’t he handsome?” She probably thought I would join the Daughters of the Union, but I think that organization faded away.

Now, in another bedroom was the picture of Roy – you remember Roy? No? Well, here’s HERE.