The Kennedy Center has finally
got round to honoring Gladys Knight, the Empress of Soul. So I’ve spent some
hours running through her discography, which—frankly—has been balm to my soul.
Her voice is like honey and
her delivery is pure power. What took you so long, Kennedy Center?
I almost chose “Midnight Train
to Georgia”, to also honor Fulton County DA Fani Willis, who may beat NY AG
Letitia James to indicting the Kleptocrat. (I can live in hope.) But I finally
settled on “That’s What Friends Are For”, because friends are everything.
I guess the only time I’ve posted about garden
critters was on my visit to Sedona in January. Well—that wouldn’t include displays
for Halloween or Christmas, obvs.
But I do take note of how people dress up their
yards on the regular. Viz:
As a rule, I don’t showroom.
Unless I’m going to a Big Box store to check out an appliance or piece of
electronics; then I’ll generally order it online (or even from a smaller
retailer) because they’re pretty much a pox on civilization.
And for the past several
years, I’ve bought my walking shoes from Potomac River Running, a small chain local
to the environs of the District They Call Columbia.
(Even though a couple of years
ago one of their salesmen tried to pawn off a pair of men’s shoes on me. That
was weird.)
However, in recent weeks, I’ve
tried to buy Asics Kayanos to replace the pair that’s a year old, and the
salesman kept telling me they don’t have my size in stock. I’ve asked when he
expects to get more, and all he’ll say is they get shipments of new merchandise
on Tuesdays and Fridays, and I could check back then.
Not even an offer to get one
of the other shops in the region to send some over.
So last week I finally went
online and ordered two pairs from Asics, which arrived in three days, and cost
me marginally more than a single pair would have cost me from PRR.
It’s time for the hydrangeas
of 2022, I think. I love these shrubs, how the color of the blossom varies by
the soil content, and how you can even find different colors on the same bush.
Enjoy.
These three were on a single shrub in front of the running shoe shop:
And these are just random examples around the 'hood:
As I’ve mentioned
here last week, I’ve got some issues with my knees. Getting cortisone shots
helped considerably, but what I’m grateful for today is the almost-regular yoga
session I had on Friday.
After skipping one lesson because of pain and
inability to bend my knee, then two severely-modified sessions to accommodate
the inflexibility, Friday’s lesson was probably about 95% of usual. Including
sun salutations and nearly-full child’s pose. I was a bit ginger about getting
into the knee-bendy warrior poses, and I put down padding for the camel, but—man,
it felt so good to get back into the full Monty.
Also, I realized several hours later that all
the stiffness and discomfort were gone. And Saturday and yesterday, I was back to my full morning walking circuit. If that’s not worthy of gratitude, I
don’t know what is.
Unless you’ve been in a
monastery without connectivity the past week, you’ll know about the 10-year-old
girl in Ohio whose post-rape pregnancy was confirmed about one day after the
15-week cutoff for banning abortions; the pre-teen who had to be driven to
Indiana to have the pregnancy terminated.
Republicans have been all over
the case, with Gym Jordan calling the story a hoax, and the Ohio AG threatening
to prosecute the OB-GYN who treated the child.
When asked in a Congressional hearing
yesterday whether a 10-year-old should bear the child of her rapist, some anti-abortion
cow prevaricated that the situation of the particular child would mean that an abortion
in this case would not, in fact, be an abortion. Meaning: if it’s an
abortion of which you approve, then it’s not an abortion. I guess.
And some clown named (I swear
I am not making this up) Jim Bopp, the general counsel for National Right to
Life (Until Birth), who has designed post-Roe “model legislation” for abortion
bans, proclaimed that under his law, “She would have had the baby, and as many
women who have had babies as a result of rape, we would hope that she would
understand the reason and ultimately the benefit of having the child.”
Yes—a child who is probably
unable to understand the fact of rape will understand the reason why she’s
forced to carry the products of rape to birth, and its “benefit”.
Jesus wept.
So, today’s earworm is Rachel
Platten’s “Fight Song”. I hope this child and every other one never has to fight alone.
Sadly, France (along with most
of Europe, and the UK) is experiencing a massive heat wave, and Macron is
himself in some bouillabaisse chaude with the recent Uber Leaks revelations
about how he shilled for the company when it unsuccessfully tried to storm the
Bastille. But still—a revolution’s a revolution.
I’ll be having my customary
slurp of champagne to celebrate. Maybe salade niçoise, since it is also
stinking hot here in the District They Call Columbia. And I’ll leave you with
my traditional mashup of “Die Wacht am Rhein” and “La Marseillaise” from Casablanca.
Well, sports fans, I saw
the orthopod yesterday. For eight minutes.
(When I made the appointment
online two weeks ago, I noticed that his time was meted out in 10-minute slots.
So I checked when he arrived—three minutes late—and when my audience with him
ended—one minute late.)
As is typical for orthopedic
surgeons, he was not particularly interested in me; he got my name wrong,
glanced at the new X-rays, looked at the knee and prescribed a cortisone shot
and physical therapy. Which, for the moment, is okay with me.
I got the shots—preemptively in
both knees—and will make a PT appointment with whatever local practice isn’t booked
into September. I hope the latter will help with the IT band issue, but already
the cortisone is ameliorating the pain, so that’s something.
As orthopods go, he’s not the
worst I’ve experienced. But I have to say—I’d really have loved to have got
through life without meeting any of them. Still, I happen to know this guy does
good work, and he takes a conservative approach.
So, I guess it’s a case of
watch this space. At least I can get my daily step count back up.
This is a culvert on the golf course I
sometimes cut through, and I’ve heard this guy (or guys; not sure) before,
usually before the golfers are out. (Completely different locale from the last amphibian
rhapsody I recorded.) This time, there were several teeing off right next
to the concert hall, completely oblivious.
A few weeks ago, the arthritis in my knee
flared up. Literally one day I was fine and the next I was limping in pain.
Then the ilio-tibial band kicked in and life was really hell.
I backed off my walking, and even canceled a
yoga lesson because I literally could not bend my knee (let alone the pain);
after a week I went to see my PCP.
Well, she poked around and agreed that it’s
arthritis; the IT band is probably because my leg is somehow compensating for
the arthritis, but all told, it’s a mess.
And I’m probably going to be looking at knee
replacement. Joy.
But what I’m grateful for today is that I’ve
managed to beat back most of the immediate pain, I’m still ambulatory and I
have an appointment tomorrow with the orthopod to discuss options.
