It’s late morning. I’ve spent an always productive hour with my computer guru, who is smart as a whip, lives local and is accessible when I’m stuck. She comes to tutor me every week for a reasonable sum and there’s no dead time, just tons of info to garner and digest. I’m always sorry when my sessions end.
My IPad is older than God’s angels and it’s time to upgrade. I scouted for the best bang for my buck and she approved my choice, so I’ll stalk the mail lady and hope it arrives quickly so we can get a handle on it. Turns out my dying instrument is likely a first issue, very heavy, very old, and now not just slow, but ignores what’s in the selection bar and sends me wherever it wants. It feels very much like what my own brain is doing! Checks in on command and promptly ignores/forgets/ falls asleep at will whatever I’ve politely asked it to do. I know blueberries are supposed to make some little brain wire repair, but frankly I really can’t increase my blueberry intake much more and still take longs trips in the car. Just sayin’.
This is another lovely weather day so I have no plans to do anything but enjoy it. Maybe outside beneath the faded green sunbrella with Crisis of Character, a barn burner page turner about the Clinton machine. My daughter read it cover to cover in a day’s sit down. Said worth the read, but make time for it, rather than read it piecemeal.
So. Off to Jimmy John’s for a perfectly sized submarine sandwich on a really nice roll, then outside where life is always better. Lunch and a book. Heaven. When the bull frogs begin their singing in the sun, I’ll have an accompanying symphony. Their presence makes me happy, especially because they deftly snatch mosquitoes from the air and down them with relish. Our cicada siege seems to be over, leaving huge patches of dead brown leaves hanging from trees, their signature residue. I enjoyed their full-on orchestration, thrumming through the summer air while it lasted, but truth to tell, the morning silence is soothing and peaceful. Heh, I used to think it strange that my parents lived attuned to the weather, nonstop. Now I’m a ditto practitioner. I’m sure that has everything to do with aging, but this type of day is very important: San Diego temps, low humidity means, for me, no aching bones or muscles. Both my daughter and I are quite body sensitive to weather. She’s aware of stormy weather coming two to three days before it arrives, when her hands ache along with her teeth. Not pretty.
I’ve turned off the political news through tomorrow and the weekend. Pol fatigue comes from the gearing up of the fight for the Presidency while reports I’ve long awaited confirm what I heard early on. I actually spend more time with Breitbart and Drudge than the telly.
But mostly I’m looking for some downtime. Vegging sounds good today. Think I’ll get to it.