Hey there, Madel Paddle;
Howz by you? Hope everyone is healthy and busy, but not too busy.
I'm finally beginning to feel better. I've had 2 days in a row w/o pain or inconvenience, sleeping well, with a good appetite. It is a glorious blessing, after the last 5 weeks! I now take the Senior bus to and from the Rec Center for my lunch and for swimming -- walking in the sun and heat seems to always trigger something with me, so until the fall I guess I'll just keep using it. It's free, thank goodness.
I think I'll even be able to go to Church today.
This morning I was out on my patio to watch the sun rise over Y Mountain. I tended my little flower garden that the apartment building planted in front of my patio. There are 3 peony bushes, long past bloom but full of seed pods (Lance almost killed the biggest one by jumping on it hysterically several times the last time he was here; but it's recovered, although the stems are mostly on the ground). I pulled some weeds. I've set out an old wooden chair for the morning glory to climb up; I think it's a another weed, not planted by maintenance but sprouted from some wild seed. But the purple flowers are vivid in the morning as it climbs up the chair legs and onto the back. I hope they let me keep it until fall -- they get kinda picky about those kind of things.
Speaking of which . . .
I put up one of my clown signs on my front door -- the one that says "UNEMPLOYED CIRCUS CLOWN. PLEASE HELP PUT ME IN THE WHITE HOUSE WHERE I BELONG". Several old Hispanic ladies have scolded me for it, asking why I am begging for money, it's a shame, why don't I go out and work, etc. And the English speakers are no better. When I was walking through the lobby the other day several of them pounced on me to ask what the sign meant. I tried to explain how it's a bit of satire, but they didn't seem to get it. As soon as the Conventions are over I'll take it down, if the management doesn't ask me to first. I bet some of those old geezers have complained to them about it.
My poetic muse has been in overdrive this week. I went back to count and discovered I've written 27 poems this week alone. I'm not saying they're good poems, but I still think that's quite an achievement for someone who has been as sick as me.
I had your mother over for movies and popcorn Tuesday night; it was over 100 that day and she has no ac, so I invited her over to cool off. We had a good time watching Preston Sturges movies, but she couldn't stop herself from lecturing me about my diet. I didn't let it irritate me, just listened and nodded my head. She did have one good point, though; when I told her how much cranberry juice I was drinking she looked at the bottle and told me it was mostly grape juice, not cranberry juice. And by golly she was right! I was paying a fortune for grape juice, not cranberry juice. So the next time I went shopping for cranberry juice I found the 100% pure stuff. It's super tart; you can't drink it by itself -- so I mix it with orange juice and pineapple juice and lemonade.
I splurged on a small bag of frozen shrimp for my Sunday dinner today. I'll saute it in butter, with onions, garlic, mushrooms, and sliced zucchini to have over vermicelli. With a tall glass of cold pineapple/cranberry juice. mmmmmm. It's making me hungry already!
Now I think I'll go make bacon and eggs, with lots of buttered toast (and some leftover black beans from dinner last night -- beans go good with bacon & eggs).
Your mother tells me that Ed has been assigned to the submarine U.S.S. Cheyenne, out of Pearl Harbor. But maybe you knew that already. I forgot to put that on FB -- I'll do it after I finish this. It's funny that your mother doesn't use FB. But then, she doesn't have wifi at her apartment.
Take care, my little petunia! Love, dad.
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