Sunday

I jumped hard on my knee five days ago. I didn't fall, I didn't land funny, I just jumped too hard. I hope my knee goes back to normal some day.
Little tiny buds are coming out everywhere today. Yesterday, some green stalks for flowers came up about a half inch out of the ground in my front yard. Today, they are about three inches out of the ground. I hope the frost doesn't come and whither them to destruction. In the amazing winter we had, it seemed to snow every day in February. Then it didn't snow anymore. Everyone I talk to about the weather thinks it will snow again soon.
The weather is like people's personalities. Sometimes you can make some predictions based on past experiences, but you never really know.

Lucky

Yesterday, I took a walk through the neighborhood, my usual route up and down some steep hills. Toward the end I walked past two women, who had just pulled up into a driveway right next to the road. One of them walked close to me to retrieve the mail from her mailbox. She yelled to woman #2 and said: "When we first moved here I had to get Lucky." Woman #2 said, "What?" Woman #1 said, "When we first moved here, I got Lucky." And Woman #2 said, "WHAT?" As I walked on past, I heard, "When we first moved here, I got Lucky in the car. He was so small back then." Not knowing how the rest of the story went, because I had walked out of hearing range, I smiled the rest of the way back home about the "Who's-on-first" beginning of her story. I repeated the overheard conversation to my friend when I got home, but she didn't laugh.

Scenery

Just a little drive two and a half hours south of here yesterday for work was amazingly uplifting. The closer I got to my destination, the scenic landscape showed gradually disappearing snow all along the sides of the highway. After driving for about an hour and a half, the ground was finally visible and I thought all the brown, yellow, reddish and gray colors of the earth that were illuminated by the brilliant sun that shone everywhere that would have seemed dull at this time of year were .. I don't know how else to say it ... absolutely beautiful. The sky was at its darkest, deepest blue and I listened to old and new songs that made me happy: 1) Sweethearts by Camper Van Beethoven (old), a cynical song about Ronald Reagan, and 2) Home by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros (new), a song that makes me feel that crazy, abandon-all-else, glorious, sunny, all-consuming giddy feeling of being in love for the first time. While I was down south, I heard by telephone that my friend's baby was being born in the afternoon. I got to see photos of the mom and baby.

Friday

Today and yesterday the sun returned after a long absence. Everyone was happy. Yesterday I went to a fundraiser, an event that composed one of a string of fund-raising events I seem to be a part of, or a visitor of, lately. There's another one on Sunday, and yet another a few weeks from now that I will be attending. Friends are bringing a baby into the world today, a lot sooner than expected. Life is amazing.

Please Melt So You Can Help Heat My House Again

The heat pump has been broken for more than a month. We've been using what is called here "emergency heat," which is traditional electric heat, minus the "air handler." True to what the repairman told me yesterday, the heat pump reduces cost by three to one. Usually the electric bill is $100 per month, and the previous month's bill was three times that much. Repair guy says he can't fix it until the huge block of ice melts the blades of the fan outside, and he insists on having mother nature do the work for him.

Peppermint

"The Green Pharmacy," by James A. Duke, says that peppermint is good for anti-aging, backache, bad breath, earache, emphysema, fever, gallstones, gingivitis, headache, heartburn, hives, indigestion, morning sickness, nausea, pain, scabies and sinusitis.

Existential Monday

I thought long and hard today about how to break up the monotony. I thought about it, and I tried to think about all the great things about my life. I'm glad I don't live in an earthquake zone, I'm glad I don't have a son who just committed suicide (I'm thinking of Marie Osmond and the parents of that guy who acted in Growing Pains), I'm glad I have my own room and my own place and I'm glad I have enough shoes for awhile. But as for the monotony ... I'm still thinking. It could last forever; forever, that is, until I die, and then what? I could be doomed to eternal monotony, but only I control my destiny. And when I refer to "eternal," I mean however long that will last.