I consider this a good day. Did some cooking, using up some stuff that needed preparing. Fixed some black beans which I ate over brown rice. I ate a lot of fruit as my dessert.

I try to stay away from stuff that upsets. My worries about Russo-American relations I must give over to God. We’ve come too far since 1945 to think He will not abandon us or them. Both our nations will find a way to Peace.

I will start the KonMari book tomorrow. The challenge is to engage my wife in the project. We shall see.

With the passing of my brother-in-law, and the pinched nerve, I have put Weight Watchers on hold. But I miss the structure, the food awareness, and the support system.

Here comes Summer. It is roughly seven weeks to the Summer Solstice. We will have the usual routine of Spring & Summer games, golf, tennis, horse racing, baseball, softball. I will go to a Richmond Flying Squirrels game with my son(s). Hopefully both. Life is good.

Seems like years ago somebody told me getting body work can bring about recall of experience and feeling long suppressed. I don’t know if neck traction to relieve pressure on a pinched nerve qualifies as body work, but all of a sudden, stuff is coming up. I don’t know how to describe it. I had a dream of long time old friends I had not thought about in this detail in ages. I dunno. Maybe it’s just coincidence

Our posture is about holding our selves together. Something’s afoot here.

2:29 AM.

I have been awake about 50 minutes. I made a pot of Gevalia Decaffeinated. I drank a cup so far.

I want to cry, sometimes just because of the brokenness of the world.

That’s all for now.

I had a session today. Afterwards I noticed different muscles were hurting. Then I realized that was a function of the body being adjusted to take the pressure off where the nerve is being pressed. In other words, I’m getting better.

I slept some this afternoon. I’m watching and listening to the Russian ladies talk. I figured out how to type in words using the Cyrillic alphabet. I’ve been watching enough shows with ordinary Russians going about their business that I think of them as my neighbors now. They are truly beautiful souls.

I have an ice pack on my shoulder. I took a hot shower, shaved, put on clean clothes. Pizza and lasagna leftovers are heating in the oven. I should have a better attitude than I do.

I stayed home from Mass because sitting without being able to move around gets really painful. I also watched the Russian Orthodox Easter Vigil last night, from Moscow, which should be the equivalent of four Catholic Masses, if measured on a basis of reverence and intensity.

When J gets home we shall have the leftovers. Then I shall go to bed

It is 3:34 AM. I am watching a Popeye cartoon on YouTube. I just haven’t changed the channel yet. I’m actually tired, so I might go back to bed.

The wave of sad is hitting me. I’m comparing my life to other people’s lives, which is a guarantee for instant misery. The irony, of course, is that I’m blessed to have the life that I have with love, security, and freedom.

I do wish the physical pain weren’t so omnipresent.

OK. Going to bed.

This little episode has been the subtlest challenge I have had to deal with since my fusion. The fusion was pretty straightforward with a rigorous set of guidelines around recovery. This pinched nerve is deceptive. I think I can do stuff, only to find myself in pain afterwards.

So I have laid off swimming. I can move the muscles fine, but the pain the next day isn’t good. Pain is like your body’s “CHECK ENGINE” light. It is wise to pay attention to it.

So I took it easy yesterday. I’m frustrated because I want to do more.

It is 3:41 AM (Eastern time North America). Pain woke me up around 2:20. I’ve felt worse, but I am hurting right now. I watched the end of a fine film noir film from 1950, Night And The City.

Right now I’m listening to some Russian Orthodox znamenny chant, but I can’t get into it. I just fixed J some sliced fruit and an avocado for her lunch.

I suppose I will go back to sleep, but not now. I switched over to watch plus-size Brazilian women modelling intimate apparel, (underwear). Evidently the Brazilians don’t mind a little cellulite. Now I’m watching Marina Morlok show the melting snow outside her apartment as she chatters away in Russia. Now her hairless cat is on camera.

The Internet has made us all vulnerable, not in the sense of being subject to attack, but showing us all as human with our softness, frailties, and shared humanity.

Marina is my virtual friend, and I understand practically nothing of what she says. I hear only the deep, rolling cascade of Slavic verbiage. But it is a woman’s voice I hear, a woman’s face I see, as I recall again, my very first memories. From such a voice and such a face I learned to order the world.