I’m still on the truth. Partly because it’s interesting, and partly because it’s so elusive. It’s all wrapped up in the verb to be, the usefulness of which I came to doubt in a Victorian literature class when the instructor started talking about Modern Painters, Aristotle, and Plato. I was reviewing music and a great realization swept over me, that what I was hearing was probably nothing like what someone else was hearing. So, where was the truth in that?

I saw a promotion for a documentary on Thoreau yesterday, and during the promotion his search for truth was mentioned. It seems a common goal for writers, they’re always looking for the truth. Lots of people already claim to know the truth, just take a quick gander at all the worlds religions, or anyone trying to sell you something.

Every morning I go out to see what the clouds and the sun are up to. I stand on the end of the south porch and look east. Today’s show was particularly nice. Thin clouds spread across the sky reflecting the coming of the sun in various shades of pink, gold and lavender. The morning air was cool, with a slight breeze. It was idyllic. It was nature at its best.

And today we’re off in search of words, because yesterday was a day of rest. Although, I did go hear two friends play and sing in the company of many other friends. Wine and chocolate were involved as well, which combined with the cool weather made for a lovely day. The singing friends were Tina Mitchell Wilkins and Ron Flynt.

It’s interesting work refurbishing rooms well lived in. The rooms in question were occupied by my son, who now has a place of his own, after many years of helping me during his mom’s illness and after her passing. I’ve already painted one room, and I’m now working on the bathroom where water has proven a formidable enemy. I’ve painted, replaced baseboards, tightened up moldings, and all that’s left to do is caulk.

Had my innards scrutinized again yesterday. The annual celebration of my abdominal aortic aneurysm repair. It was me, two techs, iodine, and a CT machine. The process took about 30 minutes. It was a lot easier than last year when it took two days, because machines were down. Doctors will look at these pictures and tell me what they see. I might get a fork in the road, or permission to carry on.

I bought some cut flowers the other day. Carnations. White and red. Friends were coming over, and I wanted a little color in the kitchen. The flowers have done well. They still look fresh. I think I’m going to make a habit of this. Flowers outside. Flowers inside. They were less than $5 a bundle. I’ll go for different colors on the next go just to spice things up.

My embrace of the night of two sleeps is playing hell with my mornings. I used to be up at 5:30. Then it slipped to six. Nowadays it’s coming in around 7 or even 7:30. Sometimes I feel like a wastrel. Squandering time by lying about. But I know that time is not really mine to squander, it’s just there to use, and perhaps in the time between my sleeps I now should consider some semi-useful activity.

I painted yesterday. One of my least favorite things to do, but I’d priced it out and figured when you have as much time as I do, painting a room, really isn’t that difficult. Unfortunately, I’m a can short and I’m not sure why I didn’t realize I might need two gallons of paint, especially since I had to paint the ceiling. So, now I have to wait until Monday to finish up. That’s okay.

Sleep these days has become an exercise in pain management. My hips hurt, my shoulders hurt, my foot hurts, old hernia repairs hurt. I pulled something in my right arm moving a dresser. It now hurts. I’d like to think there’s a way out of it, but I’m pretty sure it’s just my lot in life. I occupy an old frame and even though I’ve tried to treat my body with respect things just happen.

Well, I’m a new grandpa. My daughter had a son yesterday. In days gone by my wife would have been there to help, but she’s gone. So, the job fell to her sister. There’s not much a dad can do in this situation, because it’s all about the experience of childbearing. Moms do it, not the dads. The girl needs a female compatriot, and she has one. My wife’s sister had two children of her own.

On my most recent trip to Big Bend, we drove in to Presidio to look around and eat lunch. A big sign on El Patio, where we dined, welcomed the transmigrantes. At first, I thought it was all about the truckers hauling goods into the US from factories in Mexico, or vice versa, but the dictionary definition says the phrase describes people hauling used goods from the US to Latin America. The key word there is used goods and the destination isn’t Mexico.

To set the stage, I wear gloves when I work. Depending on the type of work I have three pair. Yesterday, to mow, I wore my thinnest, they come almost to my elbow, covering my forearm from sun and brush. At one point, something called me inside. While there, I saw I had a text. I removed one glove, answered the text, did something else in the house and something else again. When finished, I went to put on my glove. It was gone.

I’ve sunk into my medieval self, the world of two sleeps, as described by historian Roger Ekrich in his book At Day’s Close: Night in Times Past. I wake at three, bounce around a bit and go back to sleep. I have to be careful though, sometimes I let the waking get away from me, and simply stay up. But usually, sleep overtakes me and I succumb. Of course, it helps I’m no longer driven by the clock and work. I can sleep until I wake, which is why I’ve mostly given up on my alarm.

It’s odd the things that bring me pleasure these days. Yesterday I completed the restoration of the three lights that adorn our dog run walls. They were bought in the rush of pleasure that comes with decorating a new home. They fell victim to my late wife’s long disease and grief. Bulbs died and broke and the lights went dim. The will to repair was broken as well. For years, I mostly sighed when I looked at the dark lights.

I voted. Did my civic duty. Although this is just us picking our team. Still voting is a thing I’ve cherished since I cast my first ballot in 1968. I was on active duty in Quantico, Virginia. Mailed my ballot back home. I really pondered over that vote, weighed the pros and cons before making my decision. It felt momentous. It made me feel like an adult.

I love context. And I had a good example of it this morning. I was feeling overwhelmed by the world and wished I could enjoy the bliss of ignorance. Then I wondered about the genesis of the words and looked it up. There was Thomas Gray’s poem, Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College, and right at the end I read this: “…where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise.”  It’s a poem on the innocence of youth, and they’re ignorant of what’s to come. I don’t believe Gray intended them as words to live by.

I’m here to testify that a shower head soaked in a solution of citric acid will come clean. All it took was time, hot water and a teaspoon of the main ingredient, which can also be used in canning. Interesting. Household ingredients. I’m adding it to my official house cleaning regimen. Another tool to combat hard water. And now that you have my household tip for the day, I don’t have much else to say.

Walked out onto the porch last night and took a big drink of the dark sky from the big dipper hanging low in the east. I remember as a child finding great pleasure in being able to spot the dipper and its cousin, the little dipper. Then later in life Orion’s belt became the night sky feature with which I was most familiar. Why it drew my eye, I have no idea. All I know is that last night I was happy to be reminded of my childhood.

What I did this weekend. Watched a sunset. Watched it rain. Listened to music. Visited with friends. Thought about my two boys having a weekend together. Slept late. Fed the cats. Made plans. Talked about the missing. Talked about the living. Drove a back road. Simple things. The pleasures of life.