Thursday, January 2, 2025

     In the early morning just as the heater begins warming my bedroom, I check out my 84 year old hands.  Wrinkled, dark spotted, a couple of bent fingers.  They move, open and close with ease. No pain. Yes, good hands.

     A flock of tiny birds graze quickly in the red flowers of the bottle bush trees. The sun is out and the air is still cold, cold.

     I watch another episode of Northern Exposure in the early evening. The college student keeps reading his book. I also have been slowly watching the Barack Obama’s show on the ocean. The film makes everything too beautiful to believe. I want to see how the filming was done.

     Now that the antibiotics are working, I am back to reading another Shanghai detective novel. INSPECTOR CHEN AND THE PRIVATE KITCHEN MURDER by Qui Xiaolong. Comfort reading.