It is the middle of the night. Back pain has me awake. There will be no trains to watch till after 5:30 AM.  The Silver Meteor , #98, Miami to New York ,is running late. Then again, it usually runs late, from a little to a lot.  Amtrak tries. They really do.

But for now, as I take a break from reading Behrouz Gets Lucky by Avery Cassell, I decide a selfie is in order. I turn the camera around, so I don’t take a mirror image. I doctor the picture a bit. I look at myself and say, “What the Hell, I’m 66.”

Behrouz Gets Lucky is an entertaining read, about two masculine presenting lesbians who fall in love with each other. Doggone it I love Love. I don’t care much for TV love shows.  I’m partial to Fred and Ginger kind of love stories. Substitute Rita Hayworth or Judy Garland for Ginger. Then again, if dancing is not your thing, Bogart and Bacall are perfect.

“You know how to whistle,don‘t you Steve? You put your lips together and blow.” 

MrsCorC? has a hair appointment in the morning. I will go swimming while she gets clipped. Maybe.  I may just sleep.

I made bread in the bread machine motivated by nothing more than laziness and reluctance to shell out $3 or more for a loaf of marginal stuff. Much as I like the convenience of the bread machine, it’s time to knead my own dough with my own hands.  Maybe make my own scones or beignets. The catch is to bake for somebody else, like my AA buddies. Why the Hell not? Perhaps it will assist in managing my hours a little better.

So where is this picture, you ask?

Here. That vein on the left side (right side?) looks kind of imposing there.