Very few of you will consider the following an emergency but I will share it nonetheless.
There are only six rolls of toilet paper left in this house.
SIX ROLLS LEFT!
Almost made an emergency run to Costco and then I remembered that even my dysfunctional digestive system can’t consume that many rolls in a couple of days or even a week.
But given the coming storm of the coming week I figure I’ll head out and make sure I am covered just in case.
Can’t use a pressure washer as a substitute, no matter how clean it might yield by behind and not just because I fear the pain that will come if my aim falters.
Things I Ought To Change
The quote above is one I ought to adjust, or should I say I ought to redo the picture because I don’t like the way it looks.
Aside from that I have no issue with it, hell I. think it is perfect for this moment in time.
We have a collective amnesia that has infected our elected leaders who have adopted the grifter’s attitude of “you scratch my back and I’ll scratch my back too.”
A couple people responded to one of the Facebook stories by telling me I don’t understand the grifter, he is a “person of the people who is draining the swamp.”
I push back, “Gorsuch and Kavanaugh are part of the elites you say you don’t like. They are part of the swamp.”
There is a series of emojis flying followed by memes that are supposed to make me look foolish.
“You are so dumb, he is not hiring career politicians.”
“Right, he is putting people with no experience in positions they should never have. Maybe I’ll see if I can save cash by having my triple bypass done by a guy who watches YouTube videos and was really good dissecting frogs in high school.”
More insults are flung in my general direction but I pay no mind to them because if you are willfully blind or too dumb to understand why people are so angry you are part of the problem.
My anger with the current circumstances and administration isn’t rooted in not understanding how he got elected.
It doesn’t require significant skills or special understanding to see why people looked outside of the box and saw someone they believed had tremendous success in business and why they thought those skills were transferable.
Nor does it take an advanced degree to understand government isn’t built to run like a business and the grifter isn’t who he claims to be.
Back in my lifeguarding days we would talk about the riptide and how people might not notice they were being swept out to sea.
Problem is those of us in the lifeguard towers are yelling at people who already drowning or who have water in their ears so very few respond.
Doc says once he gets the results of my last few tests it will be easy to provide guidance on what changes I ought to make.
He tells me he is pretty certain that things will go a certain way and that if they do I can focus most of my efforts on dropping a couple more pounds.
“Josh, if you do that I think you’ll probably not have to see me very often at all.”
I make a mental note to be conscience of what I eat when I hit the state fair tomorrow.
“Do more walking old man, trade some exercise for calories.”
The laughter that follows makes me mutter something about crazy people talk to themselves and or hear laughter.
For a moment I stare at the mirror trying to figure out if I am living out a Marx brothers moment. You know the one where Harpo dresses up as Groucho and mimics him so well he almost fools him into believing his reflection has come to life.
Man In The Mirror
The reflection looks a little bit better than he once did but he is not quite where I need him to be.
He is curling 40 pounds in either arm and the strength he once had is coming back in a way that makes him feel more optimistic about aging.
But there are so many moments where it is clear that life has had its way and he doesn’t know what to do with that.
Does he accept time is the master that cannot be beaten or does he fight for some kind of compromise.
Back on the treadmill I alternate between listening to Neil DeGrasse Tyson narrate his book on Astrophysics For People In A Hurry and Steven Ambrose’s book on D-Day.
I have almost finished both of them and have several others waiting for me to get to.
The books on tape help pass the significant amounts of time I spend in the car but sometimes I wonder how much I miss because I am not reading them.
I am a heavy consumer of information about all sorts of stuff and I pride myself in having a very broad base of knowledge and decent depth in many areas.
My kids get hammered a bit by me about this because education is critical.
You can lose possessions but you can’t be robbed of knowledge or at least that is the theory.
My daughter told me not so long ago it is sometimes frustrating to mention something from school and know I can speak about it.
“It is a personal and professional thing for me. As a storyteller the more information I have on hand the easier it is to tell them. And as someone who has to build professional relationships it is very useful as well, makes it easier to find things to talk about with people.”
She mostly gets it but I hope it doesn’t come off as snobby or conceited. It is not my desire or intent, especially as I dislike that in people and prefer not to be a hypocrite.
Growing up in Los Angeles I thought my mother’s stories about packing/unpacking winter clothes was silly.
Not having snow in my childhood made the idea of requiring special clothing for winter seem silly. I had long pants and sweatshirts or a jacket.
Occasionally the folks would buy me a raincoat, but it wasn’t particularly important.
We don’t really get much snow in Texas but it comes occasionally as does ice and we do see some bitter cold.
So today I took a look in the closet to see what I did with the few thermals I own and my gloves. I have used them during the last two winters and expect I probably will need them again this year.
Midway through my time in boxes I came across a note I wrote around 15 years ago.
My sister and family flew out from New Jersey to spend the holidays with us and there was a moment where I ended up holding my then two-year-old niece.
She had her head on my shoulder and was snoring away when she woke up, looked at me and said, “you don’t smell like daddy.”
I am guessing I just smiled at her but I don’t know for certain. I just know she put her head back down and went right back to sleep.
She’ll be 17 next month and by the end of the year 50 percent of my parents’ grandchildren will be 17 or older and the memories of their toddler years will drift ever further into the distance.
I wonder if 15 years from now I’ll look back at this time and shake my head because of how fast it has gone.
Hell, 15 years from now my youngest nephew will be 27 and my own baby will be 29. Oy, someone slow down the clock.