I don’t know, not only has my get up and go got up and gone, but my zen has zoomed, my stoicism has stuffed it and my inner calm has tanked.

I don’t know, somehow getting sick AGAIN wasn’t supposed to be on the docket.

Stuff I’ve internalized via stoicism, reading, and being married to X.

You can’t get anything out of life. On a beautiful day, if not outdoors, I would say, “I should be outdoors.” If outdoors, but not doing something fun, I would say, “I should be doing something fun.” If doing something fun, I would say, “I’m not sure I’m enjoying this as much as I should.” You know what… it doesn’t matter what you do. You can’t possibly get more out of the day than you’re getting. Because you can’t get anything out of the day. It doesn’t fit. You’re in the day. You are the day. This is freeing.

Tomorrow isn’t promised. Yeah, yadda yadda yadda. Wracked with insomnia, I would make it 10x worse thinking, “But tomorrow I was going to do this, that, and the other. Now I’ll be too tired!” Who ever said you were going to do this, that, and the other anyway? Nobody ever promised you that. That wasn’t on anyone’s docket. How can you feel gypped out of something that was never owed to you to begin with?

So, this past week I would be looking out at the beautiful June day with illness rampaging through me and I’d be at peace. I didn’t think, “But now maybe our trip won’t happen! I wanted to go biking this weekend!” Those things were never promised. I didn’t think, “It’s so beautiful out! And I’m wasting it being sick!” Because I wasn’t wasting it. The day was beautiful. I couldn’t possibly get more out of it than I was already getting.

Oh, Tytania, you’re so zen.

I prefer stoic.

Oh, Tytania, so everything is perfect now?

No, I am not pleased that my breathing still feels compromised. Now I might never bike again!!!

I had a mild fever the past two nights; but not tonight.

I am ill. Pity me.

Yes, the home covid tests are negative.

Pity me anyway.

Scenes from an old rail trail going from Jeffersonville to Bakersfield. 11 miles or so. NO ONE else on the trail, till an ATV at the very end. Overgrown, weeds knee-high in some places, large stone in others, mud and puddles elsewhere, hard going. Took 36 to 108 back, rather than face the trail again; thus, something more than 11 miles coming back. X wanted to try this trail. I was glad he took some initiative. It was mostly downhill coming back which always gives a positive afterglow whatever the travails going out.

Solstice is not even here, and I feel like we’ve already lived a summer and a half.

That’s actually got potential as a band name (though nothing will ever beat Robert W. Funk and the Jesus Seminar). Here we have the notorious R.B.G. (rose-breasted grosbeak) and of course a cardinal, both male; a rare display of simultaneous color at the feeder.

It used to be hard to get near her, she was so popular when she first went up; and then when they put her in front of the bull, forget it. Now she’s all alone in the middle of Wall Street. I guess it takes an extra-brave girl to stand alone.

Do you ever just want to hug the world? How can summer be so beautiful? It’s not even technically summer yet. How can not-winter be so beautiful? By not being winter.

When my cylinders are all clicking, I call it mojo. Mojo descends abruptly and leaves when it wants. Making offerings to St. Mojo won’t help. You’re either blessed with mojo, or not; and only for the moment.

And you still have light enough to take a clear picture at 8:40 PM.

I remember these days when I was a kid, playing outside till the sun went down, being surprised to hear the theme song to “Laverne and Shirley” (Tuesdays at 8:30 PM, 7:30 Central and Mountain Time, on ABC), pouring out of my house through the screens on the open windows. 8:30 already! Summer rules! One more kick of the kickball through the curb recess to score, and I’m in for some hard ice cream from the freezer.

Now back to being 52.