For the last quite a while, when I don't get around to doing what I intended, I have added "I blame the Electoral College" to the collection.

I have managed to do a step (almost) every day! That is calling my now 90-year old mother in the evening. We had moved up to Washington from Southern California in 2018 because Mom really could use more help than the one local brother could provide. (If I get my posting frequency above once a month I'll go into who "we" are.) Mom has dementia. A half century ago I was not clear on the distinction between dementia and demented. However, she is often sparkling with it and funny dealing with what memory marbles are at hand. Conversations are somewhat recycled -- sometime rerunning in the same week, rarely on the same phone call. But we are both having a good time, and I'm also getting life stories that I hadn't hear before.

Her Dad made it to 101, almost 102, so we may well have quite a lot ahead of us still.


Today is my 65th birthday. I dodged February 29th, 1956 by a few hours -- otherwise I would have much less birthday practice and much more Pirates of Penzance references in my life. I am now sufficiently venerable to get on covid vaccination waiting lists.

For most of my life (so far) from 2nd grade to last year I would usually finish several books a week. Last year there was so much emotional stuff going on that I'd read a few paragraphs of fiction, and have just no capacity to deal with bonus emotion. Writing and other creative doings also nose dived. This year I'm up to several chapters a week.

To be continued.

Lyndon