My deaf rescue dog Grace is such a good friend. She knows how to pick me up when I am down. Every morning she greets me like she has never seen me before.
She is totally deaf except when I let out a loud sneeze ( sorry, I learned it from my dad). That scares the hell out of her and she runs to mama when I do let one blow.
My digestive disorders are almost in check. I was diagnosed with microscopic colitis. A nasty little bug, but the steroids they put me on seem to be doing the trick. Hell, they should cure most anything at $1300.00 for a one month dosage. Luckily I only have to take them for two months.
Still working on my back and hip problems. Had a cortisone injection in the left hip on Wednesday. Felt so good I will go back next week for one in my right hip.
Ah, the pleasures of living to become an old fart. Keep looking in the rear view mirror to see what falls off next…….monos en theos ††† jas L
I have been having some lower intestinal issues now for a few weeks. Several tests looking for the problem. I am beginning to feel like a car going to a mechanic for diagnosis. You go in and the doc plugs into your circuitry and runs a machine to diagnose the problem. Only problem is, it doesn’t show up on the computer, so the doc shakes his head and sends you to another doc who repeats the process with a different apparatus only to have the same “can’t find anything” answer
So today it is off for another “procedure” for a closer look into my lower GI system. I can’t help but always be reminded of Billy Crystal in City Slickers delivering his monologue to a class of elementary age kids about how as we get older we have a lot procedures.
Anyhow, I have also been “irregular” on posting and will probably continue with that trend until we get to the “bottom” of it all.
Peace out & monos en theos ††† jas L
WHAT TO SAY WHEN YOUR TEAM’S LOSING…
‘It ain’t over till it’s over.’ Thanks, Yogi Berra. Yesterday, the legendary baseball player died at age 90. He was known for his catchphrases and his catcher skills – he won 10 championships with the Yankees, and appeared in more World Series games than any other player. He was also a Hall of Famer, named MVP three times, and inspired a cartoon character. And he knew that ‘when you come to a fork in the road, take it’ (yes, that was another ‘Yogi-ism ‘ attributed to him) — Berra became a MLB manager and coach after he retired from the field.
I was always a Yogi fan even before his great “Yogi-isms” began. I loved him because he always reminded me of the last guy to be picked to play. But after the game started you quickly realized he should of be picked first!
“You should always go to other people’s funerals, otherwise, they won’t come to yours.” Yogi of course
I have already stormed through Brene Brown’s latest read. And when I say stormed I read like Gen Sherman marched through the South.
I need to lay down my torches and read it again. I so want to be the man in the arena, and even more so desire to be the man who rises strong to finish the battle.
My first read makes me feel that I may lay too long and languish with my face in the sand seemingly that I am not rising at all. But I find that we rise strong at different speeds. I am just not one that quickly arises with sword in hand ready to lay siege to the castle
I find that even with tattered and torn wings, I must just hold strongly awhile until my heart, mind, soul and body find ways to do battle that will end with me truly rising strongly.
And even knowing all of that, there are some battles that I cannot win.
So hold tightly today and prepare your body to rise strongly! monos en theos ††† jas L
Unlike most butterflies, gray hairstreaks do not prefer one specific habitat. They are widespread in tropical forests and open, temperate woodland areas. They can also be found in meadows, crop fields, neglected roadsides, and residential parks and yards are often homes of this fascinating butterfly.
Gray hairstreaks can be found in Southern Canada to Central America and Northwestern South America. They occur from coast to coast and in a variety of altitudes ranging from sea level to nine thousand feet
Not to mention they are skittery and fast. Glad to find a butterfly to match my persona. Well not that I am ever any longer thought of as fast, skittery, yes. A wild hair for sure. monos en theos †† jas L
My wife, Susan, and I often fall into opposite sites of corners when it comes to our favor of seasons. I fall ( no pun) into a general dislike of things falling and fading. She is quick to remind me of my like of fall colors and of change in general, the flavor of turkey and pumpkin. The damp smells and subtle earthy color. She makes me see how it is is not so much dying and dormancy. Rather a time of rest and hibernation. A time of rest and rebirth. Fading turns to endless warm tones of gold, brown and red.
Much like fall, change slowly overtakes me and peace filters up through the soles of my shoes and into my heart.
And so I pause. Move slowly. Take time to see, smell and feel the change. The rust tones fill me and i long for a slice of warm pumpkin pie with a dollop of whipped cream. I also receive the addied bonus of finding that hearts that have grown close to us come to understand the inside of us better than we see. monos en theos……jas L
So part two of the Metamorphosis thing. The whole process just takes my mind to places I cannot quite put into place. I am sure the caterpillar has less of a thought process than me. But I got to figure when he goes into the cocoon thing, he has to figure this it it, I’m one dead bug. And then after a few days, weeks months whatever it takes, he awakes and emerges a whole new and different creature.
“When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has been opened for us.”
― Helen Keller
Enjoy both the closed and newly opened doors! monos en theos †††† jas L
Okay, I admit this guy is a little scarey now but little does he know what he will become. Oh that we could experience such a metamorphosis.
Yeah I know we can all make major changes but to curl into a cocoon and a few months later come out a whole different creature just rocks my imagination. Stay tuned for the morphed version……..monos en theos jas L †††
What lifts the heron leaning on the air
I praise without a name. A crouch, a flare,
a long stroke through the cumulus of trees,
a shaped thought at the sky – then gone. O rare!
Saint Francis, being happiest on his knees,
would have cried Father! Cry anything you please
But praise. By any name or none. But praise
the white original burst that lights
the heron on his two soft kissing kites.
When saints praise heaven lit by doves and rays,
I sit by pond scums till the air recites
It’s heron back. And doubt all else. But praise.
Find your praise for the day! …† jas L