Today is Tomorrow ....

.... OR tomorrow is today.

Our niece Catherine's birthday is March 28.  I posted this calendar on Facebook and told her
"No birthday for you, Catherine."  😉

Colonel Potter

Quotes from Col. Sherman Potter on M*A*S*H.

"Don't yell to my bird."
Col. Potter, pointing to the insignia on his hat, to Maj. Houlihan.

"They don't give you the big bird for being handsome."
Col. Potter, again pointing to his hat.

Faithful Clicker

December 13, 2016

I began my "morning walks" on July 5, 2016, a few days into my retirement.  I walked throughout the neighborhood until mid-December when I became concerned about safety while walking on potentially snow-packed and hazardous sidewalks and streets.  I then purchased a membership at the local park district recreation center.

I mostly walked the track for about an hour.  I saw a sign that said 10 laps equals a mile so I attempted to count my laps.  I primarily counted on my fingers.  One of the morning walkers saw that I was using my fingers to keep track of my laps, and she gave me one of her extra lap counters, a clicker.  I was grateful for that and used it faithfully.  I still walked for about an hour, and that equaled roughly 26-27 laps.  I keep a log of my time, and I usually just wrote in 60.


Sometime around June 2018 it occurred to me that I could use my Fitbit to monitor my time.  Around about then I increased my laps to 30 which measures 3 miles.  I was now recording a slightly more accurate time that generally ranged in the low to mid 70 minutes.

A couple weeks ago I noticed that my Fitbit data was a little bit higher than usual for my 30 laps: time, steps, and distance were all somewhat more than usual.  I just thought maybe I'd forgotten to click the counter and that I may have walked an extra lap or two.  That happened a second day, and on the third day, as I neared the end of my walking time, I saw that the clicker recorded lap 28 three times.  For the next couple days I viewed the clicker from time to time, and it became clear that it was not advancing correctly ... it was broken.

I left the clicker at home and used time on the clock and Fitbit steps to gauge my laps.  I also counted on my fingers again.

I purchased a new counter, and I'm back in business: 30 laps, 70-75 minutes, of morning walking.

the old clicker, now "gone to the railroad"

I Think That I Shall Never See .....

I am really sad.

John decided that our only remaining tree needs to come down.  He said it is pretty well rotten.  I guess he knows, but it seems o.k. to me.  It shades the west side of the house.  

I hadn't known how much I value and respect trees.  They can be a nuisance when they drop their leaves, and when twigs and branches fall off.  And, of course, it's a major headache if they're blown down.  (Like our crabapple tree 3 or 4 years ago.)  But they are a pleasant haven from the hot sun.  And when strategically located, can help to block direct sunlight through the windows.  Plus, I really love the colors of vivid green leaves against a bright blue sky.

Patrick's 2nd summer, before he could walk, I used to sit with him in the shade of this tree and the crabapple, too.  He'd either be on a blanket or in his stroller watching the activity around him, and I would sit on a lawn chair and read a book.  It is a sweet memory.

Maybe someday we'll get organized enough to replace the trees that once shaded our property.

That One Guy

John talks to the TV.  Sometimes he just comments on what is being shown.  Or he might disagree and argue with something (especially if it's Nancy Pelosi and the Democrats).  Or he might ask me about something or try to engage me in what is playing on the screen.  A lot of times I'm not paying attention.  Maybe I'm reading or checking text messages.  Maybe I consider it a rhetorical question, and I'll respond with a "hmmm."

The other night he was trying to engage me in what was showing on TV while I was doing important texts with my sisters.  The most he got out of me was "I don't know" mostly because I was not listening.  I got up and went in the kitchen to prepare supper.  While there I softly sang to myself:

I talk to the trees But they don't listen to me. I talk to the stars But they never hear me. The breeze hasn't time To stop and hear what I say. I talk to them all in vain.

John announces: "Hey, I know that song."

I didn't even know he could hear me.

I answered back: "What is it?"

J.:  "That one guy sang it in that movie."

Me:  "What guy?"

J.:  "The good, the bad, and the ugly."

Me:  "But what was his name?"

J.:  "Uh.  Clint Eastwood.  And that other guy was in the movie, too."

Me:  "You mean Lee Marvin?"

J.:  "Yeah."

Me:  "What was the movie?"

J.:  "I don't know."

So I sang:

Where am I goin'?      I don't know. Where am I headin'? I ain't certain. All I know Is I am on my way.

Then I cut to:

Gotta dream boy Gotta song Paint your wagon And come along.

 
J:  "Yeah.  That's it.  Paint Your Wagon."

I was totally surprised that he would know any of this until I thought back years ago to when we were dating.  He knew:

I was born under a wandrin' star. I was born under a wandrin' star. Wheels are made for rollin'. Mules are made to pack. I've never seen a sight that didn't look better looking back.

He now says that he knew the music from watching the movie several times on TV.  It still surprises me that he recognized my rendition of I Talk to the Trees.

Moral:  If you hear me singing or humming I Talk to the Trees, it means I'm not listening to you.