What's the use, and other meaningless stuff...

Today I am pondering meaning.  Purpose, for the more literary folks out there.  Why am I here?  Why are we all here?  Well, I know that a whole big bunch of things had to happen to bring us together in this cobweb known as civilization.  Like, there had to be a BIG moon out there, to keep our little mudball from wobbling too much allowing for stable climate zones so we could stop that annoying hunter/gathering thing and settle where we could grow food.  And certain animals had to be domesticated, like dogs who found our garbage better prey than the four legged kind and in gratitude provided a state of the art warning system against intruders and predators.  And horses that greatly improved our transportation and hauling capabilities.  And cattle who conveniently stayed where we put them and gave us milk and cheese and steaks and leather clothing.  Whoopdidoo.  So, here we all are, strangely bipedal creatures who are vulnerable just by virtue of walking on two instead of four legs, I mean, all that stuff sort of hanging out there so tenderly, with big brains on top of skinny necks, running the whole show.  I just listened to a TED talk about the nature of reality.  This is not the first sojourn I have made in this direction.  There are times when I am driving somewhere, and feeling how ridiculous this world is, all these fragile creatures encased in metal cages on wheels, hurling themselves forward at alarming speeds, counting on fortunate circumstances to arrive safely wherever they feel compelled to be.  Surreal.  I have also had more than one moment where I felt that were I not there, there would be no there there.  Think about that for a moment.  Whatever, this guy on TED says that reality is like icons on my desktop.  It lurks behind the imagery.  And getting back to purpose, I think I need to cast my reality out into the netherworld, and realize I am in the net, too.  Connection.  That's my purpose.  In some regions of my tiny life, that is not possible.  I cannot connect to my mother, who sees me as her Pontius Pilate, perpetually nailing her to the cross of her own construct.  That reality is very interesting, and totally a fantasy.  Fortunately, there are many who are happy to connect with me, and with whom I am happy to connect.  There is a wonder in shared consciousness.  Even when it is directly oppositional.  Okay, my brain is now sufficiently fried for this Saturday afternoon.

Must, should, AAARRRRGGGH,,,

It is a sunny but still cool day here in halcyon Northern (drought-ridden) California.  I have had my semi-weekly very short shower, after all, at my age, all I really need to do is swipe the dust out of the cracks and folds every so often, anyway.  What to do today?  Maybe the same thing I did yesterday - nothing.  Oh, I hit Trader Joe's for necessities like yoghurt and flowers, and I did most of a meeting.  My head hurt.  I went home.  I think a good thing to do would be hit the hardware store for some masks to shut out the dreaded pollen and weedwhack my yard of shame.  The neighbors would be ever so happy.  Or I could curl up in the living room and stare at the vacuum cleaner that is still sitting there waiting for the Resolved carpet to dry.  Do you think 28 hours is long enough?  Okay, not very productive at the moment.  There are a couple of paintings waiting for attention, too.  Oh, well.  It will all get done.  Some day.

The morning mull...

While I sit here in the front office/library./meditation room, the television is merrily burbling in the back (front) room.  I feel guilty that those folks are acting their hearts out, and I am not paying them any attention at all, other than background noise barely audible over the fan that is blowing mercifully cool air about.  It is 10:45 AM.  I have been up for an hour and 15 minutes.  When I can, I sleep in.  Isn't that the ultimate statement for a retired person?  Consider that for 40 years, I rose before the sun to travel, sometimes more than an hour one way, to a windowless office, often without the requisite 9 hours my body needs, took naps in my car at lunchtime, and came home to husband and/or children who required more care, I feel I deserve my sloth.  Dogs are not particularly happy since it seems unlikely I will rise soon to fill their bowls.  They look up hopefully every time the clicking of the keyboard ceases.  No hurry.  No one is looking for me for, oh, another hour and a half.  I had my semiweekly shower yesterday, and the bed is (somewhat) made.  Big question is the usual what-to-wear.  I have this dandy long black and white striped skirt and the top I ordered for it in abeyance.  Also have a sweet tunic in creamy yellow I could layer over white leggings.  Or the new gray leggings with a white shirt tunic.  Oh, this is all very exhausting.  I will just surprise myself.  Soon.

The non-fat latte day...

Surprise!  I got up early enough to get to my favorite meeting, and procure for myself a non fat latte, too.  I did a medium this morning, not my usual larger than large.  Trying to be circumspect in my old age.  Great time with my gang, then home to get grunged up with hopes of doing something, like vacuuming or weed whacking, neither of which happened.  Oh, I did stop at Target on the way home, for an avacado, spinach wraps, a sweet new pitcher, some raspberries, a pack of 9V batteries (smoke detector somewhere in the little yellow house is chirping at me) and the can of Resolve I went in there for.  Then the doctor called, verified dreadful infection, and off I went again to Costco for pills, where I had to wait 20 minutes, so I spent another $71.  Can't remember much about what I bought. 
Whipped cream, for sure, and a sweet pair of gray leggings, pair of bluejean capris, etc.  Really necessary things, of course.  Now waiting to digest yogurt I ate before I remembered I cannot take this antibiotic with milk products.  Oh, and it may make me drowsy, as well as sunburned.  Yay.

The dogs and I are trapped in the computer/music/library/meditation room while the nice man installs the new water heater, necessitated by the mushrooms that grew out of the baseboard by the water heater closet.  Big hint that something was going on behind that door, which was swollen shut.  Oh dear.  Anyway, I am assured that this water heater will not be as good as the one before it, and isn't that always the way?  What ever happened to chrome bumpers on automobiles?  Like, one little bump and you have to replace the whole thing.  $1500 later, you still have a piece of crap bumper.  Okay, doing some gratuitous griping here.  I am blessed to have the little yellow house, even if it does grow mushrooms in the laundry room, which one must traverse to get to the front room,. which is in the back.  Oh, it is all just wonderful here.  And poochies are all saddled up for their trip to the vet this afternoon.  That will be fun, too.

That little old phony baloney, moi...

I don't know which is worse; to make a doctor's appointment and find out nothing is wrong, or find out something really is.  I figured it would be a good idea to get the old bones scanned before taking them to Europe this fall, and knowing my PA, she was going to tell me to come in, so I made the appointment.  Plus, I was kind of thinking something was a little off, like I would get so sleepy I could not sit up, or my joints would ache, or I would get chilled.  Sometimes.  So off I went at the crack of dawn (MY dawn, not yours) for my 9:20 appointment.  BP is sterling, vitals are, well, vital.  However, little UTI, and probably, little sinus infection, too.  So, I am not that big a phony after all.  Soon, I will be off to Costco Pharmacy for DRUGS.  No more hubris because I was the only senior citizen on the block who had no prescriptions.

It's my birthday.  Not a terribly significant one, that was last year.  Seventy big ones.  So, now seventy one.  Hair is naturally silver.  Other hair no longer grows where it once did, and now adheres to upper lip and lower chin.  Glasses are permanent fixture, not just for up close work.  It could be worse.  I can still put my panties on standing up, bend down to pick up the dog toys that litter the little yellow house, and I wield a mean weed whacker.  So, not entirely depressed here.  I got feted on Saturday, Sunday, and today.  Tomorrow is another celebration.  I am thinking that one will include cheesecake.  And just like usual, summer seems to have arrived.  For most of my life I thought I was born in the summer because school always ended around my birthday (I actually graduated from high school on this day, 59 years ago).  I now know I was born in the spring.  I like that.  My only sad note is that mother is still not acknowledging me (long story, some dementia at 94 which only magnifies her earlier disdain, sick sick woman).  Therapy in on the horizon again.  I will know who I am before I die.  Yes, I will.