Sparrowman’s Perch

It’s not a good idea to listen to late night radio programs via your clock radio’s sleep mode before bed.  This is especially so when they have folks on talking about exorcisms which feature recordings of supposed real live exorcisms–as you begin to fall in and out of sleep. 

Since around March I have been in and out quite a bit.  I told someone the other day that I wish I could have a “normal” weekend again.  The last one of those that I had was in February.  Next weekend I’ll be out of town again.  I am sort of making up for lost time when I had no way to get around for about three months earlier this year. 

Two very good friends of mine fixed up one of their cars and gave it to me as a birthday and Christmas gift.  It rides nicely and outside of a couple of body panel adjustments needed, it is a solid car.  It replaced another car (the red one) that I had since 2000 and it, too, was given to me by a good friend from back home.

Again, I feel that I am blessed to have such good friends (previous d’akujem).  Here, I wish to express a thankfulness for having a decent vehicle to get around.  Actually, it is absolutely necessary for me to get to work. 

I miss living in Pittsburgh in which I could just take a bus to most of the places I needed to get to.    Being in West Virginia necessitates having a car and in some places, a four-wheel drive one is even more necessary.

Despite the gas prices, insurance, taxes and other various expenses, I like the freedom of having and being able to drive a reliable car. 

I really don’t feel like writing today.  I don’t like the way I’ve been writing.  I’m going to try to do a "dramatic story rendering mode".  Think "Guy Noir, Private Eye" from the Prairie Home Companion Show.  Here it goes folks…

It was one of those days, Thursday to be exact, in which I got up, went to work and then came home tired from doing a whole lot of nothing.  Sure, things got done; stuff I’m supposed to do, but today was just so unsatisfactory.  The boss had invited me to lunch at the Rio Grande.  I love Mexican food but I wanted to go and raid the fridges downstairs for some burgers and hot dogs that were left over from the previous day’s luncheon.  Yes, it was yesterday’s meat; however, they were grilled over a charcoal fire and the price was right.  Nothing like free meat to give some satisfactory sense to a lack-luster day.  Still, I flipped a quarter and decided to let tails tell me that I should go to the Rio Grande.  Heads.  I stay and reheat the meat.  That was the high point of today’s workday.  Throw in some leftover macaroni salad and I was ecstatic.

I came home and there were whole bunches of people in my parking lot behind the apartment.  An officer of the law was chatting with one of my downstairs neighbors.  Other neighbors were looking on.  A car was parked a bit haphazardly and I walked past it and everyone.  Good.  No yellow tape surrounding a body shaped object under a sheet.  No blood spatters anywhere.  I just want to go in and water my plants.  I’m not exactly sure what happened.  Something involving the teenager of the one neighbor.  I decided instead to grab a t-shirt and do some fast walking on our rail-trail.  They were calling for some thundershowers today and I wanted to beat the rain.  Plus, I need the exercise. 

Even walking was not giving me the high that I usually get.  Sure, I’m not anywhere near the athletic prowess of the lean high school and college track runners who fly by.  Hell, even gray haired guys doing that funky speed walking thing are passing me.  I still can "feel the pain".  Yes, I feel the pain.  You know, it’s that little stone that somehow gets in your shoe and lodges right between the sole of the shoe and the sensitive portion of your foot that causes nerve endings to really come alive.  Yes, I feel the pain.  (I did break a sweat though).

I did my hour on the trail and got back to the apartment.  The police car was gone.  Time to water plants.  I’ve been house, pet and plant sitting for some friends of mine and I’ve been neglecting my own place and plants.  The peace lily looked like I felt.  If it could speak I’m sure it would just say "what?" and then keep on drooping.   Sorry old friend.  You deserve better.   The other plants had that "look".  If you’re a plant keeper, you know the look.  It’s that look of "I’m holding on and I need water and attention, NOW".  They got watered.  Chatted with a couple of them–you got to let them know they’re wanted, sometimes.  And I do want them. 

After the watering I decided to gather up some laundry and go back to my friends’ place.  It’s quiet there.  Plus, they have a washer and dryer and full cable TV.  The cat was probably getting antsy. 

So I’m here–the other place.   The plants are fine.  They don’t know me and I don’t know them and that’s okay.  Sometimes it’s not easy to bond with a strange plant.  "Misty" the cat, on the other hand, is very affectionate and very vocal.  She wants to be with and near you no matter where you go.  That cat is definitely a "pet me, hold me, touch me, be with me, don’t leave me, don’t abandon me, stay with me forever, I need your love" sort of cat.   In fact, this cat is trying to get under my hands and arms as I @#9838hffwq  er, type this very minute.  Misty was fed and let out and petted and let out again.  She is back and wants to cuddle.  If you’re not a cat lover, you may either wish to kill the thing and reaffirm your dislike for such creatures or you may become a cat lover.  If the latter,  you will have to discover that most cats do indeed want attention but then could care less about you once they get what they want.  

I’ve got more laundry to do and it’s 11 PM.  I have some leftover pizza in the microwave and the little bell went off about a half an hour ago.  So.  This was my day.   A day of leftovers—leftover food, chores, desires.   Sometimes you just end up sitting in your office, starring out the window knowing that life is happening out there and wondering what it’s all about.  Probably a lot of other people in other places are doing the same thing in their offices, some even wishing they had actual windows.   I can’t really complain though.  I can get away with contemplation there and no one notices, except my office plants.  They were giving me that "look".

Health.  That’s usually the biggie in which folks give as an answer when asked "what are you thankful for the most?"  Those who are before a certain age usually go along the lines of "Oh, yeah, there’s that".  After a certain age, health is what is discussed the most.  Those my age and a bit older are a starting to be a bit more attentive to those in that certain after-age group. 

First of all, I do not wish to use these d’akujems as a means to say, "hey, look at me, I have this and I’m better than you…".  A few friends of mine do have some health problems–some worse than others.  We all have something that is "wrong" with us in one way or another.  That’s life; that’s Nature.  Some things unfortunately happen to us in that health is no longer the same as before.  

I am thankful for my health.  I can move about and function decently.  "I function within defined parameters" as Star Trek’s Mr. Data might say.  I do have a few things that could be considered as wrong.  I’m badly nearsighted like Velma on Scooby Doo.  I actually have to keep an eye on glaucoma possibilities (pun intended).  I need to have stuff like scuba gear attached to my face at night when I sleep since I tend to stop breathing periodically (i.e., sleep apnea).   Mentally, some may think that I’ve lost it years ago, but trust me, despite being a recovering melancholic, things could be worse.  They could be better though.

A good and very dear friend of mine, Barb F., died a few years ago.  I miss being a guinea pig for her when she experimented with a new dinner idea. We would watch Star Trek TNG reruns afterward and/or talk about our travels and experiences.  She was diabetic and was blind for a number of years as a result of that condition.  I know she missed her vision and the ability to do things she used to do.  You’d never know that with her.  She was one of the most positive, vivacious, social, engaging persons that I’ve ever met.  Her faith was strong and I felt that mine got stronger just by even being with her.   She lived a life of gratefulness and grace.  I wish I had at least half of what she had in terms of her outlook.   Again, the cognitive psychologists say that so much is in the attitude—in how we look at things that influence how we act and/or see ourselves.  (The existential phenomenological psychologists say similarly, BTW). 

Again, I digress a bit.  For what I have, I am very thankful for my current health and I’ll leave it at that. 

(Barb F., I still and really miss you.  I wish you were here.  But, you are, I believe, with family and friends who have gone before you and are among the Communion of Saints.  You can now see and sing those great Episcopal and Anglican hymns you loved here.  But you now have the Beatific vision, which of course, is the ultimate vision.  Requiest in pacem. L )

Side note:  As much as I’d like to, I don’t think I can come up with decent d’akujems on a daily basis.  I will aim for weekly but I may do more.  I just don’t want to end up saying stuff like, "I’m thankful for the butterfly that flutters past my ear in the afternoon sun…"  If I start saying such things, first wonder what I’m on and then second, you can just shoot me.