Thinking Time

Three AM.  A care giver opens the door and peeks in.

"Hi," I say.

"Hi, Chcuk.  Are you okay?"

"I sure am," I reply cheerily. 

I am up because I want to  be.  This is prime thinking time. No TV, no call to meals, fo announcements by an activity director trying to entertain the old folks.  Just quiet.

Today I won't burden you with what I am thinking about.  No stream of consciousness rambling.  Well, except this...

The computer takes forever these days to start up.  There is so much junk it has to wade through.  From time to time I purge the list of programss and throw out things I seldom use, and yet there are hundreds of strange things I do no dare remove.  Updates with weird names like COMZin22ia.1.  I have no idea what that is, nor how it got there, nor what it does.  I only know if I delete it, tomorow my clock will run backwards and AOL will say "Hola, Usted habana communicado."

I rent a garage sized storage bin that I use to hold my accumlated junk.  Things I dare not part with because, I tell myself, "I may need that someday."  My Ham radio, for instance. It served me well, but I will never use it again. But I keep it.  So it is with my computer.  It is stuffed with copies of letters I wrote to the manager in 2000 for example.  My, it is fun to see what angst I had then by rereading it, when I am looking for stuff to throw out.  I'll just keep it, for now.

I paused here.

To think.  To let my mind wander.

An that's okay, too.

I guess now, I'll go back to bed before the caregiver pops in again, though I hate to waste this prime thinking time.

(Pardon me if I don't proof-read this tonight.)

Readjustment

The doctor who looked at my insides and fixed the ulcer I had told me that cola is very bad for ulcers. I had been living on Diet Pepsi... in fact I had a refrigerator full.  But I put it aside and replaced it with cola-free Seven Up.

The readjustment problem is this: when I drink Seven Up, I cannot help but think how much better it would taste with a shot of bourbon* in it.

Well, I know what the doctor would think of that.

(* Bourbon is my favorite whiskey. Scotch is my least favorite.)

Formula for a Good Night's Rest

Put a form fitted sheet on a twin size mattress.  Lay a King size quilt on top, but do not tuck it in.

Lie on the mattress and pull a corner of that massive quilt over you. The rest of the quilt makes a nice "nest" around you. When you get up at night, your return to the nest is inviting and comfy.

On those night when a racing mind keeps you tossing and turning, write those thoughts in your journal, or read a few of your favorite blogs.

An over stuffed chair in front of the Tv is handy. I have earphones so the sound does not disturb my neighbors.  Late night TV is filled with long boring commercials, so it does not require any concentration.

As morning approaches, the best sleep comes after the first call to breakfast, lay your head on your pillow for a few minutes extra rest and you're sure to sleep for an extra hour or more.

And if all fails, an afternoon nap is delicious.

An Extra Day

Woke up thinking it was Saturday.  It is only Friday.  I have an "extra" day, suddenly added to my life.  What shall I do with it?  It would be a shame to waste it.

David Burke, the gentleman who is about to take off on a year long tour of United States was here to work on "Theme music" for his Blog, Podcasts, Radiocasts. We didn't settle on anything, nor even master the recording techniques necessary.  Alas, the things I had prepared...a list of songs, a list of musical instruments producable by the computer...disappeared when I needed them most.  We foundered around with a "haywire" hook up and I enjoyed the visit, but not much was accomplished.  Dave said he was satisfied with our progress, but I think he was being kind. 

The truth is I have lots of "toys", computer, online resources, keyboards, and I have grandiose ideas of what I can produce, but no real skills, musical nor computer.  I cannot put music on my blog, nor home movies.  I have a MIDI connection from keyboard to computer, but I don't even know what MIDI is, nor what it stands for.  If I live another 82 years, I may master some of the potential I have with my toys. 

Back to bed... maybe I can solve some problems in my sleep.  Don't even know why I am up.

How to be Clairvoyant

clairvoyant...just checking the spelling.

Pat Robertson has predicted a disaster in 2007.  Well, duh.  In every year is some disaster.  Like predicting snow in Missoula.  And when something bad happens, he can say, "See.  I knew it.  God told me."

Now let me get in on the game too.  Ah ah... I predict three celebrities will Die in 2007... maybe more. Wow, Chuck, how can you go out on a limb like that?  Because I am clairvoyant/

And Oh, a famous couple will divorce...Can't tell you yet, but you will know them.  They are in show business, and everyone will be stunned. They got married just recently.  Oh, how shocked we will all be.  You'll see.  Chuck is clairvoyant.

Oh, a plane will crash, too.  I can see it coming.  Be careful, make sure you are not on it.  And stay out of Florida, there will be a hurricane.  Didn't Pat Robertson tell you about that?>

Second sight is wonderful... and all you have to do is read the papers for last year, and the year before.

Tintype

Photography was invented during the life time of my great grandparents. So I have a few photos of some of them.  Mostly they look very stiff and serious, having had to hold very still for the long time exposures.

However it made it possible for me to send to my great grandson, age six weeks, photos of his great-great-great-great grandfather (four greats) for "your baby book. You do have a baby book, don't you?"

They wont mean much to him until he is, perhaps, forty or so. I wonder if he will send them to his great grandchildren when he is 82, in 2088.  I fact, with medical advances and a lot of good luck, he may see the year 2101 or beyond. 

Insomniac Almanac -- Vol 3, No. 1, 1/1/07

Three and a  half hours of sleep this year.  (2555 Last year)  Not enuff.  Should have been four, but I got up for half an hour to "ring in" the new year.  Was very quiet.  A few bangs outside in the distance, and NOTHING in the old folks home.

I looked in the hall and saw two care givers, but they didn't see me.  No shouting "Happy New Year".  I went back to bed.

I remember new year 2000.  I thought people would go nuts at midnight, tear around the halls in their underwear (or less), shout, sing, bang pots and pans.  What an event...changing the calendars from 19 something to 20 something.  Happens once in a lifefime.  But no.  It was almost as quiet that new year too.  A few more bangs, and a auto horn or two. 

I used to take a swim at midnight on new year.  No reason, except to say I had done it.  Yes, it was always chilly, but I didn't stay long.  I used to excuse myself from whatever party I was attending, go out to the pool, (in Southen California there was always a pool), strip off my clothes and jump in.  Made people laugh.  Nobody ever joined me. Once I dove in, at the shallow end, and hit hy head so hard I was lucky I didn't break my neck. Sort of sobered me up suddenly.  I had a stiff neck for some time after that. 

Other than the sock on the head, I cannot remember any memorable new years.  After 82 of them, they all seem pretty much the same.... lots of expectations, very little excitement. You sort of have to force yourself to be jolly, and force yourself to be nostalgic by singing Auld Lang Syne, that draggy tradtion.  The kissing one another is nice though.  I liked that.

My mother used to pass around smoked fish at midnight and make us eat a bite, whether we wanted to or not, to insure good health, (or maybe wealth, I forget) for the coming year.  I guess it worked, I'm here, aren't I?

The new year is four and half hours old.  Think I will turn in again and see if I can sleep until breakfast.  It won't be fried chicken though.  The first thing I ate in 1937 was fried chicken.  Isn't than an odd thing to remember...fried chicken for breakfast seventy years ago today.  Mother and Grandmother were frying chicken in preparatioj for a picnic when I got up that morning, so I had some for breakfast.

Aren't you glad I can tell you these secrets? Midnight skinny dipping and early morning chicken eating.

And Oh, I have been to the Rose Parade a couple of times on new years day, and to the Rose Bowl one year when I was a UCLA student. We lost. 

Hey, that reminds me.... get to bed now...I've got to get up to watch the Rose Parade in a few hours   

P.S.  What I actually watched was a Rose Parade for a couple of floats, Cotton Bowl for a couple of plays, and then over to a  Monk rerun.  What does that say about me?