Talking backwards

At time of writing, we’re still a couple of hours from the presidential debate. Which means we’ve had about ten days of Republicans laying the groundwork for a catastrophic failure by their twice-impeached, adjudicated rapist and fraudster, cognitively impaired, convicted felon candidate. They’ve been doing that by confidently proclaiming that Biden will be jacked up on everything from vitamin supplements through crack, washed down by Mountain Dew.

You really can’t make this shit up, folks, because Republicans do that for you.

Anyway, I thought that I should adhere to this theme and give you something from the better-living-through-chemistry years. So, here’s Jefferson Airplane and “White Rabbit”.

(Just so you know—I spent the afternoon rolling down memory lane on this one, because the choices, man—the choices…)

 

 

©2024 Bas Bleu

Lighting up

As I reported recently, I’ve had to finally Do Something about my kitchen lighting. I just couldn’t stand that harsh light in the single fixture.

So on Tuesday the electrician—Jeff Littlejohn from JML Electric; if you’re in NoVa, he’s the man for you—came out. In less than 90 minutes he installed three flush-mounted recessed lights. When he flipped the switch, my ratty old kitchen looked like a showroom. It was amazing.

You cannot believe what a difference those three lights make. No shadows on the counter wherever I’m working. It looks…positive.

(On the downside, I can see every single place where I missed something when wiping down the counters. This is going to end up with more work for me.)

I’m going to think about a dimmer; I think I need to live with this brightness for a while. But I’m so happy I finally got this one ticked off my 2017 move-in list.

And yes: I'll finally have to call a guy to patch and paint over all the holes in the ceiling.

 

 

©2024 Bas Bleu

 

Another shot at it

I had an appendectomy the summer I was 27. It was the first time I’d ever experienced a procedure that impeded my mobility. Post-op, I could walk around—carefully—but I was deeply aware that any sudden movement or extra stretch could bring pain.

One incident stands out in my mind: Through connections at the newspaper I worked for, I got permission to do some research in the textiles facility of the LA County Museum of Art. To get there, I had to take an elevator up three floors. Just as the doors were closing, two teenaged boys jumped in with me. And I felt anxiety because I knew I didn’t have full range of motion; I couldn’t defend myself, I couldn’t run. “This is what old age will be like,” I thought.

They got off on the second floor and I went on up to the textiles department to do my research.

I’ve been reminded of that in the past couple of weeks because of the pain in my lumbar region. It affects my ability to reach, to bend, to carry heavy things, sometimes even to walk. I know I walk hunched over, because the muscle spasms have extended up my back on the left side. It’s also arbitrary—sometimes a particular action will trigger agony; other times I’m fine. But I live in fear that it will strike, and that makes me furious, that fear.

The orthopod three weeks ago diagnosed it as bursitis brought on by chronic tendonitis, but Monday when I saw the physical therapist (you can get scheduled for surgery faster than a PT practice can slot you in for treatment) he diagnosed something that feels more precise: the left sacroiliac joint is looser than the one on the right. As a consequence, that ilium is lower, and my left leg seems longer, which affects my gait. He reached this conclusion after asking a lot of questions about my symptoms and probing the affected areas. (The orthopedic surgeon spent about three minutes looking at the X-rays, which did not include anything above the ilio-femoral joint.)

This feels more in line with the pain I’ve been experiencing, so I’m feeling more hopeful about recovery. For some time I’d been carrying the burden of “this is what my life will be like, hunched over in pain, just like I pictured it in the elevator of LACMA, and I don't like it” and it may be that this isn’t, in fact the case.

Now it’s a question of doing the exercises—carefully; nothing that puts all my weight on the left leg—and being aware.

 

©2024 Bas Bleu

 

Parental controls

It never ceases to amaze me the extent to which device screens have taken over humanity here in the People’s Republic. During the pandemic, I used to look out my front window and see people walking their dogs, their kids (in strollers or not) or alone and be completely oblivious to the world around them because their heads were bent, eyes focused on their little screens.

(This is the logical extension of what I saw 15 years ago in the Seattle Arboretum: two guys walking through spectacular nature (if you like rhododendrons), each listening to his own earbuds. Just physical proximity, no acknowledgement of each other or their surroundings.)

I still see it when I’m out on walks (when they’re not carrying on conversations with their phones on speaker). And I don’t get it—what is the point of being outside if you are not, in fact, being outside?

Well, yesterday I may have hit peak device dementia. Viz:

I wonder how that kid is going to turn out in 18 years?

 

 

©2024 Bas Bleu

 

Gratitude Monday: keeping cool

We here in the environs of the District They Call Columbia are part of the extended heat wave that’s covering a good chunk of the eastern half of the United States. Heat index for most of last week was well into the upper 90s; Saturday we had triple-digit temperatures. For my morning walks, temps have hovered around 80F.

Saturday evening around 1900 I opened the patio door to toss out some pizza bones for Foxy and the heat sucked the air right out of me. Google told me it was 93F.

Listen—when it’s so hot that squirrels sploot on the shaded concrete, it’s bad.

(I’m not going to go into global warming, but c’mon, people—how much evidence do you need when all over the world, including both northern and southern hemispheres, temperatures are abnormally high for prolonged periods of time?)

So today I am so grateful that I have working air conditioning in my house, and ceiling fans in the bedrooms upstairs, where it’s noticeably warmer than downstairs. Because of this, I do not sploot.

 

 

©2024 Bas Bleu