It snowed. Visually it’s most beautiful. It’s cold out but not terrible. Sent pictures to a friend, who said it was “greeting card beautiful“. And so it is

COVID-19 closed the Y in Mid-March 2020. That meant I had no access to the pool and hence no swimming. The Y and its pools reopened around July 1, but for various silly reasons, excuses really, I did not start swimming again til January 28, 2021.

Since then I have regained my enthusiasm for swimming and the Y’s cleaning protocols allow me enough time to complete my 1 mile swim. The lifeguards will let you start ahead of the official start time or run a little over. My times for the distance are rapidly approaching the 45 minute allotted time slot.

It’s all good.

The difference to my overall demeanor is incredible, as in a totally positive change in my outlook. I see many familiar faces, and even with mask-wearing and social distancing, we can have downright friendly conversation.

Of course due credit must be given the exercise component, but the intangible of fellowship with both members and staff makes a huge difference.

Anything to take one away from the ongoing political melodrama, or comedy of errors, is a positive thing. Isolation with nothing but the television was a prescription for a mental health breakdown. I’m surprised more people didn’t go crazy.

Adequate and effective self-care is a major component in coping with this madness. We’ve all been beat up by the political discord and prevention protocols we’ve experienced in recent years. Doesn’t matter whose side you were on. You are a casualty.

Get out there and act like a civilized person again. Those are your neighbours after all, not your enemies.

“With malice toward none,with charity to all.”-Abraham Lincoln

I’m thinking about all that stuff that makes life so beautiful, like love, sleeping beside your lover, all kinds of sentimental crap.

Right now, I hear night sounds. I think they’re maybe bugs, and I don’t know if anyone else ever hears them, but when it’s night I hear them. I hear the bugs and the heat pump and occasionally the refrigerator. They are my night friends.

At night, when I was in my twenties, I would make plans with A, whom I would later marry. I don’t know what became of the plans, but our marriage fell apart, we divorced and she ended up dying of cancer.

And now that whole time haunts me.

Plans? What were we thinking? We didn’t know nothin’. But forty-plus years ago, at three o’clock in the morning, at least we weren’t lonely.

I just watched and listened to the finale of Andrea Chenier. I felt emotions rise, was moved nearly to tears, felt the goosebumps on my neck.

Beauty. I needed this.

#2 Son, as is his habit, asked that I give him a wake-up call at Five AM. No problem. I’m a Dad, after all. He has a business trip to Pennsylvania, with his boss and friend Torres, to buy motorcycle parts for resale. J got home early. She is sleeping . I should be doing the same.

For now, while I get free sleepy again, I’m watching The Divine Liturgy from a monastery in Russia. The Liturgy is very reverent with a choir chanting melodically in counterpoint to the chanted reading of The Gospel, I think it’s The Gospel.

“We will comprehend the word serenity and we wil know peace.”

So states one of the Ninth Step Promises of Alcoholics Anonymous. I have this notion of serenity that has me “cool” in the face of stress. While that may be true, serenity in the Presence of Our Lord is another type of serenity. He promised us that He would be present whenever we gather in His Name. I see that today at this monastery, with prayers offered in a language foreign to me.

This is the Russia that endured when Communism faded away. The faith that sustained Russia in the face of Hitler, Stalin and their murderers is expressed by the worshippers gathered here. A nation isn’t just its government. During this turmoil in America, continuing even after change of Presidents, we need to remember this.

Our Lord’s sovereignty prevails over Russia. His sovereignty prevails over America, whether we choose to recognize it or ignore it. And He is the same Lord of all, particularly of all nations, Christian or non-Christian.

I wanted to brag about my return to the pool and swimming at The “Y”. But somehow, right now, it doesn’t seem all that important. I’ll save that for later.

With all due respect to Poor Richard, I live in my own sleep-deprived world. Sometimes things get a little topsey-turvey I had dinner last night at Eleven PM. I was hungry and I had dinner ready. except for the tomatoes and okra I had some red beans and barbecued pork loin, slow cooked for eight hours I had not planned on eating but it was all too yummy to pass up

I got back to swimming last Thursday. That day I swam 1,000 meters. Last night I swam 1500 meters. I felt great swimming The COVID-19 Protocols allow for only a 45 minute session and I swam 43 minutes My goal is to swim a mile in under 45 minutes, then go even lower, meaning faster. It is entirely attainable.

Time to go back to bed .

If I want to play The Oven Repair Game, I better pony up around $100, just to be dealt a hand.

That’s about what it costs for the technician to show up and tell me what’s wrong. It could be something minor, or it could be something major. If it is the time/ temperature module, the cost of that part costs almost as much as a new range.

Think about it. The components of a range are heating elements, sheet metal, and the electronic control module. Guess which part is the most expensive? Yep. What went bad or, best case scenario, what might be going bad.

So I’m not paying for a technician to show up and tell me my range isn’t worth fixing. I can’t blame the repair people. They have a business to run and it costs money to send technicians on a call.

It’s not really a game.Reality, as in what it takes to run a business, sets the terms and conditions.

Nobody says adulting would be easy.

There was a novel and a derivative television series, A Year In Provence, where a couple gives up the hectic pace and complexity of life in modern London for the tranquil and relaxed lifestyle of rural Provence. Americans of a certain age will immediately recognize that the premise of the story tracks that of the classic American sitcom, Green Acres.

It is an enjoyable charming series and the stars, the late John Thaw and Lindsey Duncan, make the show as engaging as Eddie Albert and Eva Gabor made its predecessor. Admittedly AYIP is a bit more sophisticated and Albert and Gabor were definitely doing great satire on American life in the Sixties.

What brings them both to mind is I have to have my Whirlpool electric range repaired. There is a bad time/ temperature control module. Back in the day, it would be a simple enough task to open the Yellow Pages, find a repair service, call them and somebody would come over and fix it if you told them to do so.

Now I go online and the entire appliance and home repair world opens up at my service. Call them and somebody will come by when it is most convenient for them and least convenient for me. It’s all similar to how life worked for Peter Mayle or Oliver Wendell Douglas.

Back to the hunt.

Ideas are percolating in my brain..I did some cleaning and I started getting ideas about the house worthy of an HGTV host. Suddenly I fancied myself serving tea on my newly reconfigured terrace, formerly the deck. Just the finest of whoever I hang around with was savoring the good life in my little slice of paradise.

Then my brain shifted gears and I was thinking about making my own lavender-infused syrup which i could use in concocting fancy drinks to serve my necessarily teetotal friends.. 

I did throw out my accumulated plastic cutlery stash and much of the recyclable containers that come with take away.

I really  want to fall asleep. Blogging is counterproductive to that interesting tion. 

Nighty Night.

We got iPhones, J and I. It is a new world, but it really isn’t.

I don’t have it in me to write about how effed-up the world is. I did watch a video on YouTube that featured a nine year old girl who is a balalaika virtuoso. If you’ve seen The Grand Budapest Hotel, you may remember the balalaika orchestra that accompanied the closing credits. This girl gave me more hope for the world than anything I’ve seen or read in the news since Nixon’s resignation. Then again, that is a major purpose of art. Art puts the mundane in its proper place.

Meanwhile, we had snow. It was Currier & Ives beautiful for a couple hours before turning to slush. Alas, Bing Crosby and the gang were not around to keep the magic going.

I did a FaceTime call with a friend, worth every minute it has taken to learn this new system.

I cleared off an enormous pile of crap off my side table, wrote some checks, paid some bills, made some charitable donations.

Here is a thought . Can you imagine your life without bogeymen? You know the people you blame for the planet’s predicament and your own personal problems. Trump, Obama, George Soros, your “ex”- boss, spouse, lover, fill in the blank. Seems like every four years, we start looking for a new Savior. We don’t need new Presidents. We need a football head coach. If things don’t work out, we hire a new one.

But whatever. The decaf is ready. My feet are cold. Life’s pretty good, as long as we have nine year old balalaika virtuosi.