Choosing Kempt Over Unkempt

Over the years I have often alluded to some of the oddities of the golden years. I try not to get too descriptive about some of them, knowing that there are readers who may be eating as they scan these posts.

But this picture caught my eye this morning, and it brought up one of the real puzzlers in the celestial plan – why does Nature take the hair away from one area of the body but then add it to another? Specifically it is the nose and the ears where the unwanted additions occur.

I have a sense that if I were not a compulsive trimmer of these areas, within a few weeks I would resemble this gnome. And it’s definitely not a look that I am going for … at least not intentionally.

As an older gentleman I have finally become resigned to being invisible. I don’t want to move on to a new category, that of horrifying. Not if it can be helped.


Unusual. We’ve actually had a two day snowfall here in Paradise. About 14 inches total. Driving is interesting in that the city fathers obviously don’t want to waste money on snow removal. So all those inches are still sitting there. Our Subaru Outback loves it, of course, leaping from drift to drift as happy as a malemute puppy.

But I had to shovel the walk and driveway three times on Wednesday, just to keep the them safe for my neighbors, especially those pesky senior citizens who still imagine they are in their twenties and walk places that they might better avoid..


A Dick Guindon cartoon


My eldest child reminded me of another sailing song that I should have included in last Wednesdays post, and that was from the soundtrack of the movie Windjammer. Title of the tune: Kari Waits For Me.

Thanks to daughter Kari for the reminder. ‘Twas the song that provided the name her parents chose for her.

Kari Waits For Me, by The Easy Riders


The only thing that seems clear in the ongoing UFO drama is that if we see one we’re going to shoot it down. So far there’s been a bit of a hassle in that the wreckage of the four doomed objects so far has been in in places where recovery is a big problem. Like the Atlantic Ocean or the Great Lakes. So we have little information as to what these objects were.

Not so reassuring is the knowledge that we’ve blasted four of these things out of our skies this week simply because we opened our eyes and saw them. Spokespersons tell us that there may have been more of them dating back many years, but we weren’t looking that hard back then.

No matter. Everybody be warned. For certain, this is not a good time for balloon hobbyists to launch their newest creations. You may find an F-22 whistling through your back yard if you do.



Friday morning and it is one degree … it pains me to write this … below zero. Fifteen below is the wind chill. I would like to say that it is a pleasant reminder of winter-life in the Midwest, but it isn’t. While we moved to Paradise for the grandkids and not the climate, we have definitely become pleasantly accustomed to not having to worry about things like frostbite. We like it when the car always starts, and when the cabin starts to warm within a couple of blocks of driving.

We are spoiled.

So we are now sulking, which is what spoiled people do when they don’t get their way. You may call us the petulant twins, if you like. The acrid aroma of self-pity pervades our dwelling.

I think that, for psychological purposes, it might be better if we switched to the Kelvin scale, where the temperature would now be 255 degrees. It just sounds better. I think I’ll write to my congressperson and suggest the change.

There, I feel better already. I’m sure that they will say “Why, Jon, what a wonderful idea. I’ll get right on it!” And once I have their ear, there’s a couple of other items on my agenda that I know they will love just as much.


From The New Yorker


The introduction to this video from Boston Dynamics goes like this:

“This is a compilation video which shows two of Boston Dynamics’ humanoid Atlas research robots doing the twist, the mashed potato and other classic moves, joined by Spot, a doglike robot, and Handle, a wheeled robot designed for lifting and moving boxes in a warehouse or truck”.

Sounds pretty benign for something that ruined the day for me when I first viewed it, and will spoil all of the days I am yet to have. At no time in my life could I move this gracefully. To know positively and forever that I am clumsier than these advanced toaster ovens.

Robots, by Flight of the Conchords


Sunday afternoon we expect visitors. Elsa and Marc are stopping by on their travels and will be with us for several days. Our fervent hope is that we don’t have a repeat of Christmas, where I transmitted a version of the Black Death to our guests.

I am unsure of what activities we’ll be able to pursue. The recent heavy snowfall shut down a few options, but hey, there’s always Uno to fall back on. Why, we could have an Uno tournament, starting right out with our group as the Final Four.

Think of it … becoming the Uno Champion du Jour!

Tee shirts … endorsements … rose petals scattered in our path. What a great country this is, where a group of four unknowns could start with only an idea and go on to fame, fortune and laying about in villas in Italy. All in the course of a few days.

Gotta get started. Really haven’t a thing to wear if I’m going to Europe. Is it winter there?

Who Knows Where The Time Goes, by Sandy Denny


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