83 year old plane vamp

I schooched down the narrow airplane aisle with my bag to seat 18A. "I seem to be over there," I said. The young man in 18C got up. The older woman in 18B was having obvious trouble with the move. "That's alright, just scoot on over to the window seat," I said. "Thank you." As she slid over she managed to sit atop a portion of my seat belt. In my attempting to retrieve it. my hand moved dangerously close to her no fly zone. I hesitated. "I don't want to be accused of being fresh with you," I said. "That's okay," she said, "at my age that would be a pleasure." We burst out laughing.

fluidity and grace

It is 1066 steps from the library to my house (and presumably the same number going the other way though it is a mysterious world). If the length of each step is three feet, though some may be less due to periodic icy conditions, that means 3198 feet, somewhat less than 2/3rds of a mile. It is a pleasant walk with occasional convivial encounter with a humanoid, feathered, and/or furry neighbor. I returned the Swedish author Henning Mankell's "The Troubled Man" which is the swan song of his aging detective, Kurt Wallander and bumped into and gave a lift home to Vaclav Havel's autobiography "Disturbing the Peace" and to Jim Harrison's "Sundog."  I thoroughly enjoy walking. Solvitur ambulando! It is solved by walking around. Or as Jim Harrison writes in his Author's Note to "Sundog" -- "...I shouldn't have been caught standing in the first place. It is an unnatural act. Fluidity and grace are all."

plugged in

O gawd! Here we go again. Now there is this brain suck called pinterest that calls us all to post our pathetic noticings along with the crust of societal cream who can lead us into new noticings causing us to feel in the In while our fattish butts sit on our ergonomic work chairs at home or on the time work clock drawing our salaries while spacing out in hyperspace thus contributing to the downfall of our nation as our land is conquered while we fantasy cruise and even Jesus could come with a blast of trumpet and we would never notice as we are chair wheeled into the hellish heaven we deserve while never coming unplugged but wait this is a good thing for the nursing homes as the boomers age and nursing staff can never mind and sit in their own butt sprung chairs plugged in with great pinterest.

small town geezers

Pickin' & Trimmin' -- bluegrass and the barber shop
 

on the tuba-phonic and the toasty

I have noticed that as I get older, the 32 feet or so of tube that I am moves more in synchrony: when I cough, I fart. The reverse is not true, however. Coughing from the rear does not produce a mouth fart. I regard this as supreme engineering and am grateful.

I am also grateful for body heat. Living in this cold clime at the foot of this (currently) extinct volcano, when I snug between the cool covers at night, I am always pleased by the automatic generation of heat from my body and by soon being toasty warm. I smile and thank my Creator for such a blessing and drift into sleep.