A. POOKIE’S ADVENTURES IN SOCIAL DISTANCING:
It is now the beginning of our fifth month of social distancing. It all began as an amusing novelty, then drifted into annoying boredom and now is becoming a way of life. True in my case, at my age, normality means slowly slipping into senescence, sitting in the dark before the television and eating fast food. On the other hand, last night I watched three Charlie Chaplin movies in a row.
It has now been about a week since I have last written here. I am not sure there was much I wanted to remember about that week. John Lewis died, an additional two hundred thousand Americans have become infected with coronavirus, Be a Dork Day came and went unnoticed, he who is not my president remains living in White House, HRM cut his hair short, Naida continues writing book two of her memoirs and I press on in my exploration of the variety and vagaries of hypochondria. Oh, I also upgraded my operating system and may have lost all the information stored on my remote disc. Now that is serious. People over 70 should not be forced to upgrade anything. It is a danger to themselves and to others.
B. POOKIE’S MORNING:
I thought I would record my morning today. I woke up at 7:30 AM with Naida nudging me because my alarm was going off and I, as usual, did not hear it. The dog began barking. I sat up grabbed my phone off the end table and turned off the alarm. I then sleepily began going through the news headlines on the phone followed by the emails that may have arrived overnight. Then, I checked the weather to find out what the temperature would be at 9AM this morning when I go swimming — 66 degrees, colder than I would like. I looked up the latest world coronavirus statistics after which I checked 49rs Webzone for the latest news about the Niners. I then reviewed Facebook. Completing that, I put the iPhone aside, put on my swimming trunks, peed, put on a white bathrobe, and then combed my hair and brushed my teeth. While brushing my teeth, I looked down into the basin and wondered why my basin is always so much dirtier than Naida’s and why my drain clogs up quicker than hers. Deciding that that is one of life’s great mysteries, I head downstairs preceded by Boo-boo the Barking Dog announcing my descent.
Naida is sitting in the recliner watching CNN. I sing a little bit of Hello! Ma Baby, kiss her on the top of her head and then go into the kitchen and make some coffee. I returned to the studio sit in my recliner and open up the computer. I checked Niner’s Nation for more niner’s news, Huffington Post, Daily Kos, Facebook (again) and my two blogs in that order. By about then, I realized it is nine o’clock and I will be late for my assigned pool time. I leaped from the recliner, put on my sunglasses, picked up my faux shillelagh cane and rushed to the pool.
At the pool, I lean my cane against a railing, insert earplugs in my ear, remove my robe and contemplate whether the water is too cold and if I should just give up and return home. I put my foot into the water. It felt warm. I decided to go in. I went in up to my waist and thought about how cold the water will feel once I submerge myself. Again the option of returning passed through my mind. I dive in.
My usual routine is five laps swimming, then ten laps running across the low end of the pool, then four swimming laps and nine runs, followed by three and eight and finally four and seven. Some may think I suffer some form of obsessive compulsive personality disorder which I most probably do have, but in this case, I simply like to count — I count my steps, sometimes my breaths and so on. Unfortunately or fortunately, the sparkling of the sunlight on the water, the movement of the branches of the trees as they wave back and forth in the breeze, the undulations of the flowers that have fallen into the pools, and the hellos and waves from the people as they walk by the pool make me forget where I may be in my count. Anyway, after about thirty to forty minutes, I finish, get out of the pool, pull on my robe, remove the ear plugs, put on my glasses, grab my cane and leave the pool.
I do not go straight back home after swimming. I usually, and did so this day, go on a walk through the Enchanted Forest. No-one but me wears a white robe and Crocs. This embarrasses me. I mean, everyone else is dressed normally or whatever it is that is considered normal. So, I wear my mask and persuade myself I am unrecognizable. I passed a group of workman digging a trench across the sidewalk. They seem to always be doing things like that in the Enchanted Forest, digging this and that, blowing leaves into the street, climbing up and down roofs, cutting branches of trees. It all drives the dog crazy. Me too. Anyway, as I passed by, a woman dressed in a hard hat and brightly colored vest accompanied me around the activity. I do not know why, but I thanked her anyway. I walked past the Nepenthe Clubhouse always trying to walk in the sun and avoid the shade in order dry off. As a result, I weave a rather crooked path through the Forest as though I am drunk or stoned. I guess with my white robe, cane, Crocs, wild hair, and wandering walk I must appear quite odd. I am reminded of the goddess Athena’s 3000 year-old pun on Odysseus’ name — “Odd I see
Arriving back at the house to the yapping joy of the dog and after a warm hello to Naida, I go upstairs to the bedroom, take off my swim trunks and throw them onto the rug to dry. I then get into the massage chair for a restful 10 minute or so massage after which I hang up my robe to dry, take a warm shower, swallow my morning pills, shave, and brush my teeth again. I then choose the Hawaiian shirt of the day, put on my pants, insert my hearing aides into my ears and, with the barking dog leading, return downstairs.
Downstairs, I usually prepare my regular breakfast of toasted Thomas’s Original Muffins slathered in butter and jam, but today I had biscotti instead. Taking the biscotti and my second cup of coffee, I returned to the study where I sat in the recliner, opened my computer and trolled again through my latest emails, Huffington Post, Daily Kos, Facebook, and my blogs, after which I resumed reading my most recent novel. This one written by someone who calls himself Howard of Warwick. It is a comic historical novel set immediately after the Battle of Hastings, where the victor, William the Conqueror sends three of his Norman knights and one Saxon north from Hastings and the Vikings beyond Lincoln in the North send three Vikings and a Saxon south because neither knew if King Harold had died during the battle. William wanted him killed if he was alive and whether he was alive or not wanted to find his treasure. The Vikings wanted Harold if he was alive to ally with the Vikings from the north of England to drive William from the Island and, of course, whether he was alive or not find his treasure. Then the fun began.
After reading for a while, it was time for lunch and/or a nap.
And that was my morning, an adventure that more or less I repeat like a recurring dream or nightmare just about every day of this our era of social distancing.
C. TO THE BIG ENDIVE BY THE BAY AND BACK AGAIN:
On Thursday morning at about 6AM, Naida and I left Sacramento and drove to San Francisco for my infusion. Traffic was heavier than it had been on my previous trips so we arrived a bit late for my CT scans. Then it began, CT scans, blood tests, Dr. Appointment, and finishing with my immunotherapy infusion. While this was all going on, Naida returned to the car parked in hospital lot and fell asleep. She woke up with a start and thinking she had left me waiting and rushed back into the hospital only to arrive back at almost the same moment my infusion finished. It all took about four hours. We left UCSF Mission Bay and drove to Noe Valley for lunch. I ate a lamb gyro washed down with ginger beer. Naida made a delightful and refreshing drink by combining her Arnold Palmer with a bit of my ginger beer.
After lunch we drove to Peter and Barrie’s home on 25th St. Peter brought out some chairs and we spent pleasant hour or so sitting in the sun in their front patio talking about those ephemeral things friends talk about when they get together. Peter showed me a copy of my friend Richard Diran’s great book, The Vanishing Tribes of Burma. I had never seen a complete copy before. It was magnificent. Peter got his copy of the book from https://www.thriftbooks.com/. Peter ordered a copy for me also.
After leaving Peter’s house we drove across the Golden Gate Bridge and the Richmond Bridge and returned home, and greeted an over-excited dog.
The next day I drove into the Golden Hills to have lunch with HRM. After lunch Hayden, Jake, and Jordan decided to wash the Mitsubishi which had gotten covered with bird poo after I had parked it for a few days under a large tree in the Enchanted Forest.
That’s all. Take care. Wear you mask. And, never forget to,
Papa Joe's Tales, Fables and Parables 