September 28, 20-

Awaiting arrival of Brandon’s new shoes as did not want them left on porch. Dear Brandon wears size 17. Feel sympathy for driver delivering packages. Was informed shoes weigh eight pounds. Recall that he weighed less than new shoes when he was born.

Wonder if universe planned birth of internet to coincide with his arrival on earth. Without electronic shopping, would not be able to provide him with correct size. Every year on his birthday, shoe size matched his age.

Ardently hope his children don’t feel need to surpass their father in everything. Do not want to be sued by future UPS driver for hernia incurred delivering shoes for grandchildren.

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(Dear Brandon victim of genetics. Was not able to find size 10 myself when growing up. Fortunately, growth stopped far short of 17.)

Make note of joke that awakened me at 3am. Was inclined to be annoyed at disruptive humor cortex of brain interrupting REM cycle. Annoyance of brain awakening me from sound sleep, yet finding joke humorous, creates ironic dichotomy that is not lost on me.

Joke went: What do you call it when someone writes naughty graffiti on a castle’s walls? Answer: Turret syndrome.

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(Mem: Send joke to Reader’s Digest for possible inclusion in future issue. Make list of things to buy with accompanying one hundred dollar check).

Overhear phone conversation between Don and old friend who lives near woods about a ‘deer forum’. Am left wondering if deer really have enough on their plates to convene forums. Perhaps forums are meant to bolster courage and share tips amongst compatriots during hunting season? If so, can only admire community spirit of deer. Fond hope springs up in breast that deer are not planning revenge. Racks of antlers quite intimidating and can no doubt do much damage.

(NB: One-sided phone conversations always so enlightening).

Enjoy usual breakfast in bed served by dear Don. This tradition on Sunday mornings instituted by him for reasons peculiar to his personality. He does not like being waited upon, I am not one to refuse it.

During short constitutional around neighborhood, notice parking lots with tiny houses on wheels, and tiny cars parked nearby. Wonder if instead of Race of Giants, Las Vegas is future site for invasion of Race of Little People? If so, which of us will be the masters? (Mem: Make plans to introduce Little People to activities unique to Las Vegas as sure-fire way to postpone indefinitely alien invasion plans.)

tinyhouse

(Note to self: Little People method of domination most likely to include Ankle Biting, so will require combat boots). Remember maxim of dear Scouting days: Be Prepared. Feel complacent about efficiency exhibited, albeit mental only.

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Safe arrival of new shoes. Dear Don informs me later that CEO of Zappos is responsible for tiny houses and cars. (Query: Is this stock response for those who Ask Questions? Will withhold decision for now, but continue to Be Prepared.)

September 26, 20-

Fondness for real life murder mysteries gives weight to observation repeated to dear Mother, now gone, about habit of leaving tissues wherever she was sitting.  Tissues excellent clues to identification should she ever have committed homicide. Profile built by law enforcement would include propensity to keep tissues, used and unused, nearby at all times.

Observation justified when murder suspect in show is caught because of DNA left in tissue at crime scene. Murderer not only unhygienic, but  sloppy. Must suppose he did not listen to his mother. (Do not like to imagine how forensic scientist retrieved clue).

(Query: Are television viewing habits conducive to restful sleep or comfort with being home alone?)

Lie down for nap in the afternoon and awaken to find dear Sugar Baby sitting at my head and holding large rock in her mouth.  Am quite startled, and contemplate whether she and I were adversaries in another life. (Am reminded of favorite Far Side cartoon of sweating moose backed up to tree in forest and racking his brain as to where he has met roving man with hunting gear and rifle; me being Moose in current scenario featuring Sugar and Rock).

Am thankful rock is deposited on my stomach, rather than face, and rack brain to determine what chance misdeed perpetrated by me has birthed incipient canine violence.

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Later, find rock reposing on my spot on sofa.  Reminded of chilling metaphor in Godfather movie of paper wrapped parcel of fish delivered to enemy as symbolic warning that recipient will Sleep With The Fishes and decide Sugar has ties to Organized Crime. Consider changing her name to Capo. Misgivings later confirmed when remains of Mr. Squeak are presented by dear Sugar as viable toy. All that is left is one blue leg with red boot.

(Query: Do I have responsibility of finding relatives to inform them of probable demise of member of Squeak Family?)

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(Note to self: Hide kitchen knives and ask local police to do background search on her biological parents).

Decide not to let her watch murder mysteries with me any longer.

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(NB: Belief in limpid brown eyes as indicators of innocence now extinct).

 

September 24, 20-

Am reminded of fierce Celt warriors who rushed into battle sans shirt, trousers, and undergarments after I read book, Shocked. Famous designer Schiaparelli, according to author, responsible for modern underwear for women, due to bicycles being main mode of transportation before and and after WWII. As avid bicyclist, am quite sympathetic with efforts to make experience more comfortable. Before War, women riders subject to chapped lips, and great quantities of fresh air.

(Muse over phrase ‘going commando’ and wonder whether Celts had anything to do with its coining. Would not like to think of them riding bicycles into battle in traditional war dress, or lack of it).

me and underpants

Am filled with delight when dear Sugar leans against me after dinner preparation, gazes up at me with adoration, and begins to lick my hand. Realize belatedly that I have chicken on hand and think of  title for potential song: Is It Love Or Is It Chicken?

After family comes home, I read aloud something I’d written, seeking feedback. Evenings typically reserved by dear Sugar as play time. She leans chin on edge of bed, looks me straight in eye, and sighs loudly. Am reminded of middle-school girl who has been asked to delay gratification of some request.

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Displays regrettable tendency to bring rocks inside from backyard, and appears to thoroughly enjoy taste and texture. This practice not only strange, but likely to result in severe injury to bare feet. She perseveres with odd fetish even when provided with more suitable items to chew. Remember that she used to bring me her poop when she was a puppy. Display of pride and accomplishment when depositing this in my lap very admirable, but misplaced.

(Note to self: Sugar enthusiastic rockhound. Consult psychic (or perhaps exorcist?) to ascertain whether she may be reincarnation of unknown, deceased geologist).

Rocks frequently get in way when walking about house, but today as Sugar lay on bed, she threw rock on my foot as I passed by. Accuracy of aim most laudable, but am left wondering if she is member of a different political party from mine, or if she has heard me say something about her that was less than complimentary. Perhaps this is canine warning of expectation of sharing in monetary benefits should she become famous from blog.

Thought processes of animals very difficult to follow.

sabotage

 

 

September 23, 20-

Treat feet to professional pedicure and realize as I mentally compose shopping list that I look at feet more than my hands.  (Note to self: Look up at sky now and then).  Do not get toes painted as swimming very hard on color.

Wonder why shopping list is needed when same foods are consumed on consistent basis. Have been on low-carbohydrate diet for two months and am told that weight is Coming Off.  Am gratified when wearing formerly tight clothing, but continue to be desirous of slices of toast swimming in butter and jam, or plates of spaghetti.

bread

(Cravings subside after exercise, as do not want all that effort to be wasted).

On the way home, see two men in intersection soliciting money for A Cause. I lower window for pleasant young man who tells me they are raising money for their church’s efforts to help women who are on drugs.  Song on radio is ‘Hooked On A Feeling’ and is playing very loudly as he  walks up to window. Wonder if he notices coincidence and will write about it later in his Diary.  Donate one dollar as appropriate amount in case young men are collecting solely for their Own Gain.

Song by Pointer Sisters plays next. Lyrics enjoyed by me and neighborhood, as have never evolved past teen years when loud music was enjoyed in car. Suddenly realize that line ‘Not come and go in a heated rush’ has double meaning.

(Query: Does the fact that it takes twenty years to understand full meaning of lyrics mean that I am Pure of Heart and Mind?) Thought inserts itself that it is more likely to mean I do not look for deeper meanings.

Rather discouraging reflection on sharpness of mind.

Do housecleaning as usual. Dear Sugar Baby sheds quantity of hair, in spite of having short coat.  Other than visit to groomer to shave off coat to avoid extra exertion, wonder whether dog hair could be collected and recycled as energy source. Would be wonderful use of poor animals confined in shelters. They would only need to shed, which they do anyway. Plan at once practical, humane, and sustainable.

(Feel smug and wonder whether I am budding environmentalist). Vision dissolves as I dispose of paper and plastic in trash.

Evidence of what has been removed from floor of house now resides in water in Rainbow, and is most gratifying confirmation of effort put forth. Water resembles primordial murk. Inexplicable amount of filth engendered after a mere seven days. Reflect on whether we favor Pig Pen character in Peanuts and shed dirt in showers.

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Ponder concept of Eternity as I clean same corner of earth week after week, year after year. (Query: Contrary to popular and biblical belief, is housework conducive to spiritual growth?)

 

 

 

September 21, 20-

Am struck anew by wondrous search terms that appear on dashboard of blog: Australian snob dolphin; ballerina woman kick man nuts; introverted insomniac; that feeling you get when you see a substitute teacher; kissing dopamine; and big, naked muscle bear. (Perhaps Google has heard me laugh at most inane of jokes and remarks and feels this is effortless way of entertaining me?).

When awareness surfaces again after pondering these phrases, a full half-hour has elapsed, and feel much sympathy with Walter Mitty.  (Query: Would not most therapists approve of wool-gathering, rather than otherwise, as it ensures that time is not spent in more destructive ways? This is perhaps wishful thinking on my part).

walter mitty

During course of research on old furniture, which we have owned since I was small, am gratified to learn that similar pieces are housed in museums as fine mid-century examples. On further reflection, am left wondering when possessions became mementos of ancient times. Think about the word ‘relic’ and remember that it was once used to describe a widow. (Perhaps single women can never grow old?) Am also aware that museum articles do not have gnawed spots on them.

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(Remember reading that ‘distressed’  furniture is regarded as very valuable. Can only think that my own furniture must be very upset, and valuable, indeed).

Perhaps if house was buried in landslide, much-used possessions would be valuable archaeological finds. Could house be declared a tax-free, non-profit enterprise since it harbors prized Americana?  Am left wondering why I am not regarded more highly as relic of ancient time.

Begin rereading Diary of a Provincial Lady, which is undeniably inspiration for this diary. Books are quite as amusing as the first time. Find myself expecting vicar and vicar’s wife for tea, and wondering whether Cook has received orders about what to serve.  Have spoken to gardener about state of hyacinths.

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Dear Don has said something most peculiar. He insists I consult therapist, maintaining we have no vicar, or vicar’s wife, or indeed, even a vicarage in all of Las Vegas.  Has also said we have no neighbor sporting title of ‘Lady’, and that there is no ‘servant problem’ as servants in house non-existent.  Am worried about his mental health, and will consult physician as to whether he may require medications.

Expect resistance to this plan.

 

 

 

September 20, 20-

Feel adrift now that pool is closed until end of month. Adjective ‘adrift’ very appropriate and idly wonder if writers’ choice of words are really subconscious.  Imagine myself in raft in middle of ocean, waiting for rescue. (Query: Why wait for rescue? Why not swim since lack of swimming got me into fantasy in the first place?)

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Check on messages on computer in usual places and tell myself once again this is Waste of Time. Continue doing it anyway. Often wonder what could be accomplished if did not spend time on social sites, but aware that Saving World would not take precedence. Would instead be cleaning something, or watching tv.  Am nevertheless appreciative of adult conversations. Retirement very quiet state, especially since dear Don still working.

Throw out large jar of half-used, stale peanut butter. Discrepancy often exists between intention and result. Buy large quantities of something because it is economical, but item goes stale before it gets used. Consider cleaning jar thoroughly and tucking money inside as fund for future entertainment or emergency. Feel this is guilty attempt to make waste of food more palatable.  Am furthermore aware that spare funds for Tucking Away do not lie thick on ground.

(Adjective ‘palatable’ so appropriate in connection with food. Wonder if it is possible to be declared incompetent based on mind games. Just as I am being sorrowfully admitted to Sanitarium by family, remember maxim that if one wonders if one is crazy, than it is unlikely that one is).

Dear Sugar Baby, wanting attention, leaves squeak toy on knee. Become aware of rubber toy when cold, slimy sensation interrupts train of thought. Have often wondered whether many writers own pets, though many books are written about them.

Pets and children perhaps abstract concepts to writers, who are better able to cast them in sympathetic and affectionate light if they do not actually interact with them.  Remember stories told by children of great writers who recollect life with their progenitors with less than fondness.

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Sugar watches housework with extreme interest, standing ready to help. This is indicated by cocked head and erect posture. Suspect this is more tendency to look for fun and play, rather than through any true sense of interest or sympathy with task at hand.

Dear Brandon tells me long story about chess game that can bring World Peace while I sip first cup of coffee. Am reminded of school days, now long distant, in which we were asked to imagine world leaders duking it out in boxing ring instead of destroying world through wars.

Dentist appointment went well. Am struck again by dentists’ tendency to talk to patient and wait for answer when patient’s mouth is full of cotton, tools, and Novocaine. Are dentists masters at decoding mumbles? Should they have been recruited by OSS in WWII to decipher recordings that were not very clear?

Remind self that a great many questions, although absorbing, are moot, as War is long over.

History of World chess game

September 19, 20-

Have checked library to see if new books are in. (Query: Does it make sense to keep ordering books from library when I have not finished reading the 30 I already have checked out?)

Cannot explain why I want books to read other than the ones I already have. Must be strange quirk of human nature, or perhaps only my nature. Console self with observation that checking books out of library is a non-expense.

Not looking forward to dentist appt. tomorrow.  Am getting only temporary filling, as budget currently does not allow full repair to be effected.  One lone back molar needs repairing, so feel fortunate that I have no major problems with teeth. Will pick up books after.

Am feeling very tired today. It may be too much sitting, or perhaps it is the swimming.

(Query: Why do we become fatigued from a) doing nothing; and b) doing something?)

Brandon and Jupie neck hug

 

 

September 18, 20-

Went swimming as usual at municipal pool.  Note that new suit is starting to disintegrate. Suit was bought mere month ago.  Have already replaced suit once this summer. Swimming, originally thought to be inexpensive way to keep in shape, is becoming costly.

Have tried numerous ways to wash suit after swimming. Would like to invent swimsuit which can withstand kryptonite death rays, yet still remain comfortable.

(Note to self: Must get chemical engineering degree, and establish science lab in basement). Do not have basement, and am not any great shakes at science.

Hopes of becoming rich and famous by inventing item many people would need and want, become faint once again.

Spent entirely too much time today on internet researching rumors and news items that appear to have no basis in fact. (Query: Do we enjoy being upset and fearful, or do we delight in rumors for the sake of disproving them?) These searches have again taken time from ubiquitous to-do list. Once again exhort self to learn to manage time.

nutty professor