Pumpkins

It's Albuq; not much to say.

A followup visit today with Doc Wilder, age 31, to reassess my right ear. He's puzzled by why he can't see my right eardrum; something's in the way...not wax. No chance of being seen in the Ear, Nose & Throat clinic anytime soon, but I'm on the list in case they get a cancellation.

Michele only has two cat-sits a day and we've continued to "knock out" errands. Despite the mundanity of it all, we enjoy each other's company. Even after 33 years we hold hands, exchange ideas and laugh alot.

The increase in isosorbide has provided a modicum of more energy. But I'm noticing twinges of angina again, a symptom that's been kept at bay for the past eight months by a religious adherence to a dosing schedule. 

I dreamt of keeling over like a falling tree. There was the briefest of moments, as I hit the ground, when I heard Michelle calling for help, then I was dead. It was blackness; a void; nothing. Hopefully it'll be that quick.

In the meantime the weather's been perfect.

The terra-cotta figure in the background was a gift to my father from the mayor of Munich; one of six made of his daughter, age 16, she was killed in a car accident that year.

Mélange & Meds

Today I increased the iso to five & five....putting me over the recommended max dose of 240mg/day. It was in July that I upped it to five in the morning and, at Dr. Marin's suggestion, keeping it at four in the evening.

This past month I've been groaning when getting up from a chair and realizing my thighs were weakening while, at the same time, the upper-body mass, now at 248 pds, is becoming too much for them.

I've had several "good" days of no groaning and renewed energy. And though I continue to need long rests between tasks, I've been able to transition from sitting to moving fairly easily.

FOR THE RECORD.

They visited Bosque del Apache where there were cranes and geese.

They went from Las Cruces to White Sands where they got to see the moonrise and in Mesilla, celebrated Dia de los Muertos.

Michelle sent this cartoon.

We went to dinner at a new East Indian restaurant where we weren't sure what we were eating...but it was good. (eating w hands)

Shirt by Izod ($5.99 at Goodwill) overalls by Carhartt ($47 @ Tractor Supply),

hair by MFH (free)

At Michelle's, I sorted through a box of stuff where I found a picture of myself with Uechi Kamei, grandson of the founder of Uechi-ryu karate. After 10 years of vigorous study, I went to Boston to test for 1st-degree blackbelt...basically, nothing more, at least with my lack of talent, than recognition as a student.

Later, preparing to read stories, I saw this photo of us on an earlier Halloween. Note Michelle's orange leggings, my orange & black bow, purple hair, helmet w flashing red light (from prev year's costume as Crossing Guard for People On Acid), and esp the purple-satin pants. Sophie, in my arms and Leroi, in Michelle's screaming, "Lemme outta here!"

Carving Pumpkins

A favorite holiday. At the very LEAST we have to carve pumpkins. 

We met at the park; covered the table with newsprint; she pulled out Uncle Bud's Victorinox knife - he died a few months ago just short of his 100th birthday - and we set to work. 

Preparing

I picked a design off the internet & she modified it to my specs.

A young mother walking her daughter home from school stopped to admire. As she left I complimented her on her initiative...what with all the rapists & slave-runners rampant on the streets. She laughed and said, "I live in the real world." 

Hers

Christina and the Glass Pumpkins - Stanford Shopping Center

We were so enthralled by the stuff we went back.  Christina told how she's been helping produce the work for eight years.

They use a mold for the basic form, but the rest is hand-done.

I Can't Go on; I'll Go On

72 hours is my limit. Beyond that and reality gets twisted; things turn ugly. Tomorrow we'll have been here, in ABQ, a week. 

I recently read about a book: When Breathe Becomes Air in which the author cites a line from Samuel Beckett's The Unnamable; it's the title of this post. I first read Waiting for Godot at age 16...on acid. As it did then, it inspires guffaws, even when things seem too much. When Joe Pesce and Tricklock Theater performed it back in '82 (?) I laughed so hard I fell off my chair. I tho't it odd that the rest of the audience wasn't laughing.

I have several copies of Waiting For Godot, the library has the book about breathing. I have yet to read The Unnamable.There're 47 holds on 29 copies on the breath book and as of a few minutes ago there are 4,508 reviews on Amazon. I was impressed by how well-written the one-star reviews, comprising 1%, are. And after reading a few I decided not to enter the "hold" queue.

The trips, the driving ones, have themes. The last one was titled Existential Dilemma. It characterized the year. My (calling) card and the blog featured a picture of me, shirtless, tits nearly dragging the ground (teats give milk; tits don't.), struggling to open a beer at 9:00 in the morning. I don't usually "drink" that early, but this was a special occasion and I was attempting to rise to it.

Death has been in the forefront for many of us these recent years. Sometimes I wonder how you...anyone, can go on. 



Serendipitously, I ran across this...

A Hopi Prophecy  (This could be a good time!)



...and went back and found this: 
http://squishytulips.blogspot.com/2015/12/meditative-joyful-magnanimous.html


Both convey that joie de vivre. I include 'em here for future reference. Unlike some folks who write for their readers, this is my way of keeping track of where I was when and what happened. But perhaps the above links'll resonate with you too.



Thanks to RPM Automotive, Phoebe, my '96 Geo Tracker, now runs like a Swiss watch. And thanks to Koenig's Metalmorphosis she'll soon have a new chapeau (roof rack). Estimated date of departure is 10/13. In the meantime Smith is plotting tricks.

I have, for many years, made attempts at the accordion. Here's one from the oughts...you know -- ought one, ought two, ought seven.

The video was crafted by none other than Ms. Michelle D. Cook, cat-wrangler extraordinaire. I'm playing an expensive -- $40.00 -- toy that died an untimely death when it was put in storage. Heat melted the bees wax that held the reeds in place.

It was in Port Orford, Oregon the other day that I was inspired --- you know who you are -- to once again search for an instrument. Smith and I drove to Jemez Springs to look at one seen on Craigslist. The Fall colors are just getting going and the afternoon light gave truth to the phrase Land of Enchantment. If you're touring on highway 4 you might enjoy the side trip on 485 to The Tunnels. The accordion was too big.

Halloween

The print above the Jack-o-lantern is by Marjie Bassler.

We demand a trick. An elementary teacher who lived up the street gave us the idea; she used to make them scream or shake their booties. We've never tried the booty bit, but they seem to enjoy screaming. Their first attempt is always met with "You call that a scream?" 

The teenagers are taught Cat Odor Review and then have to perform it. Keeping a straight face while they "learn" it is half the fun. Watching them sing is priceless. Surprisingly, none have ever refused. 


From 2014...

Age takes its toll.....

The lovely terra-cotta girl (above the pumpkin) was the daughter of the Chief of Police of Munich, Germany. He gave the statue, one of six, to my dad. She was killed in an automobile accident not long after it was made. She was sixteen.

Halloween Cat Odor Review

The story is told how cats, literary creatures that they are, glean the latest news, stock reports and foreign affairs from the publication delivered whenever the opportunity arises...via pee mail. 



It's read, or rather flehmmed, with concentration, much the way humans partake of the Yale Law Review, Bloomsbury, or Atlantic Review. As an addition to the aesthetic experience, this song was created to be hummed while reading and/or sung on special occasions such as birthdays, weddings and art receptions. 

It's also a "trick" quickly learned and performed by the beggars, esp the teenagers.*

Vincent Distasio Performs

Happy Halloween!!











* A former neighbor, an elementary teacher, began the tradition of having them perform tricks for their treats; her list included screaming. My usual response to the first attempt is an obviously affected "That was pathetic!" I give a count of three and am, each year, amazed at the enthusiasm embodied in the second and occasionally third performance as the children embrace the encouragement. Watching the teenagers reactions to learning and performing Cat Odor Review is incomparably more valuable (to me) than the wealth of candy I reward them with. Awwwww, maaAAAAANNN!