I have written before about fourth dimensional traps. They open inexplicably. Suck items into the fourth dimension and spit them out at some point down the road in inexplicable places. Last month I lost my reading glasses. Couldn’t find them. Searched every surface in the house, top to bottom. Bought replacements, as in plural, a box of five from the giant online retailer.

One of my favorite recipes contains these simple words, a hearty dollop of sour cream. The word hearty carries a feeling of joy and is the epitome of the idea when you cook that you measure with your heart. The word dollop means a small, soft lump or blob, but when modified by hearty, you’re being given permission to go a little crazy, to live outside the box.

My team won last night, which is an odd thing to say because the team is only mine in the sense that I went to college there and have donated money over the years. But I have no say over the program or its direction or how it plays the game. My only job is to cheer and go to the games if I can get there. I’ve been to one this year and might go to another. Over the years I’ve attended lots of games, mostly in the company of a group of close friends who also call it their team.

My goodness. The weather is turning. A north wind is blowing in a cold front. Over the next several days we’ll have highs in the 60s, lows in the 40s, and memories of summer will be blown out the door. And that’s it for this archaic weather report. Because these days all one needs to do is roll over in the morning and look at a phone to see what’s up when it comes to the comings and goings of Mother Nature. Even TV is outdated.

I’m going to do something different. I’m shortening these tiny essays. In the digital world in which we live, where getting someone to watch a video for three seconds is a big deal, 300 words and three paragraphs feel like long form writing. So, I’m dropping back to two paragraphs. I liked three because it felt like a beginning, a middle, and an end. But in the beginning, it was only two, and given the current mundaneness of my life, going back seems fitting.

Slept until seven, which seems a waste of an entirely good morning. I have no idea how my alarm failed me, or why. I distinctly remember ensuring it was set. Of course, it might have gone off, and my tired body simply ignored it. Sometimes my body sends messages like that. I do know I woke up at three and felt wide awake. But I cooled myself down with a little ice pack. That may have been the trick that sent me into a deeper sleep than planned, in addition to the chamomile tea from earlier in the evening.

I’ve started making my own coffee creamer. Half and Half blended with sweetened condensed milk. My bullet does the job. It lasts a good while. There’s probably a small cost savings, but the big saving is no chemical additives. Although, I’m fairly certain at this stage of my life there’s not much left to reduce when it comes to loss of longevity through use of chemical additives. I think it’s just fun.

I bought a new vacuum cleaner yesterday. I splurged and bought a battery operated, handheld model from a maker of some repute. It cost a pretty penny, but if it lasts ten years then the cost per year will be small. From one day’s experience, I think it’s safe to say my frequency of pulling out the vacuum will increase. The new machine is easy to use. No more bulk. No more chords.

Got sloppy this morning. I need to tighten up my routine. I’ve been up ninety minutes and I’m just now sitting down to write. In my defense, I had to chase a raccoon away from the cat’s breakfast dishes. That was out of the ordinary. Usually, they come at night. Maybe the rain is changing their habits. Of course, I also piddled around with the crossword puzzles, took my meds, fixed my coffee, and wandered outside for a bit. So, it might just be a sign of my rewired brain brought on by too many short form videos.

My wounds from a visit to my dermatologist are healing nicely. Most were simply freezes. One was an actual cut. She dug for a sample. It came back benign, an age spot or seborrheic keratosis which Siri transcribed as “February caratosis (sic)”. Either way all is good and my skin is busy regrowing; I’ll go back in a year to make sure it’s till behaving itself.

It took some effort, but I broke away from doomscrolling and picked up a book yesterday. I’d already made a start but stopped for some reason. Now I’m back and in the story. But my concentration has weakened, and the phone always beckons. I may have to start deleting apps, although that feels a tad extreme. After all, I’m an adult with a brain, so I should be able to self-direct.

This is closer to the old days. An early morning start, when the day is dark and nothing revealed. There’s a cool breeze and I can make out the garden spider hanging in its web. The little wren is safe in its nook in the porch post. Mama cat is fed, and the new tomcat ran off when a sound spooked it. Patience will win the day, of course, but that’s a story only time will tell.

I used to get up every morning, make my coffee, then sit down and write. These days, I make my coffee, then sit down and do puzzles. I like the NYT Mini and Midi crossword puzzle, Wordle, and Spelling Bee. Sometimes, I’ll even go sit and play my guitar. Then will come a point, as I’m doing now, where I sit down to write. And it will feel late, which it is. In the old days, I’d be done by now.

Yesterday afternoon, as I was walking through the front room, I said, “I feel like a cup of coffee.” Then quick as a wink, I said, “But I look like a normal human being.” Then I laughed. Because some people might dispute the idea that I look like a normal human being, but mostly I laughed because I liked my own joke. And in your own house, it’s okay to laugh at your own jokes and the idea that you’re a cup of coffee. Although, truth be told, I laugh at them anywhere.

As anyone who reads this blog knows, I talk about what I’m doing and how I feel. On two occasions that sharing has proven beneficial. The first instance happened when I shared initial steps toward a possible surgery to repair my abdominal aortic aneurysm. A friend recommended a surgeon. That surgeon found I didn’t need the surgery at that time. So, I ended up with a more accomplished surgeon at a later date.

I always enjoy true love stories containing the phrase, he or she was married at the time. It’s mostly Hollywood star stories where I see this, but I suspect it’s more common than I think. And I’m not real sure I care. It just seems funny in an odd way and proves that love is a tricky devil. Because I’m fairly certain the relationship that proceeded the current true love story started out as a true love story as well. So, I’m not sure if the first relationship went wrong or the second one just felt like a better deal.

As expected, and as I knew would probably happen, my paradigm has shifted. My advanced age no longer seems a constraint, rather it feels more like a reward. I have navigated the perils of youth and the vicissitudes of life to stand with the other aged beings, the sequoias, the whales. Ancient creatures, each of our own species, living to the fullest according to our design.

As we drove out of Alamosa yesterday morning, leaving the San Luis Valley and heading toward Rotan then home, the clouds were hanging low on the mountains, snagged in passing by the tall peaks. It seemed the mountains were picking the cloud’s pockets for snow, or rain, if that’s all they had. In either case, I hope they made out and got what they needed.

I’m sitting in the cool mountain air of New Mexico this morning. It’s a most pleasing thing to do. The mountains themselves rise up into that air right out our door. Later this morning we might go take a walk along the Rio Grande Gorge.

My late wife was in a blended family, brothers and sisters with her mother’s new family. Brothers and sisters with her father’s new family. There were no halves about it. They were simply her brother’s and sisters. Like a mother hen, as the oldest, she gathered them into her arms. I’m with one of those families, her father’s, this weekend in Taos. We came from different directions for a music festival, but the result is the same, we’re together for a bit.