Saturday, December 6, 2025

     In the morning, before I can walk on the deck I look for my cane. Checking all the common areas I find it on the floor near my bedroom reading chair. Outside the air is crisp and clear.  The traffic sounds are louder than usual coming up the hill. The high school bell rings and the kids are moving in the corridors. Trails in the growing grasses appear. I am not sure which creatures are moving around. A large floppy mushroom is covering the oak tree stump. Finally, I hear and see a tiny grey and yellow bird flittering around the potted plants on the deck

      I go to my bank for cash and offer her my ID.  No, she says I don’t need to see your ID. Well, I say I am 85 years old, so I must be too old to be a bank robber. I leave the bank slowly with money in my pocket.

     The San Carlos beach park has few visitors. I sit in my car watching, mostly single people with dogs on leashes.  The dogs are attentive and busy with the world around them.  The people are focused on their cell phones. A few single men carrying bulky back packs are rummaging through the trash cans. Maybe looking for recyclable cans and food.

    In the evening, I watch the first episode of LONG WAY UP, a documentary of these same two middle aged guys on a long motorcycle trip through South America. It is definitely a comforting series. I finish reading Michael Connelly’s THE PROVING GROUND, A satisfying story.

 

Friday, December 5, 2025

     In the mornings, I peel a citrus fruit, usually a tiny one with loose skin. This morning, I had a real orange. I struggle with my fingers to detach the orange’s skin. Bit by bit the naked orange appears. I eat several segments. Really good. My hands now are saturated with orange residue.

     We have a long intimate discussion of our struggles with politics and community. We each have desperate desires to make things better, to fix people and situations. The reality of life’s uncertainties keeps arising.  I cannot fix people or things.  But there are things I can do. I am a member of this community of humans, but not the boss.

     I walk on the deck in the sun light but I am too cold and quickly return to the warm living room. I do my thirty minute chair yoga exercises. I read a book, watch the news, talk to friends in person and on the phone. Life is good and life is difficult. I practice blowing my anti ICE whistle. Soon I will go out to Home Depot parking lot, with my whistle, to see what is happening.

     I am intensely involved in Michael Connelly’s novel, THE PROVING GROUNDS, a Lincoln Layer novel. The plot revolves around a court case concerning the dangers of Artificial Intelligence development. My go to TV show is now BLUE LIGHTS, a series about young police officers in Belfast Ireland.

 

Thursday, December 4, 2025

     The personal librarian arrives with ten more library books, a full grocery bag of books.  No way will I be able to finish them all in three weeks. Well maybe. I place holds on books that seem promising, recommendations from many places. Most of the time it is months before the book arrives. I will pause the rest of my holds for a couple of weeks to give me breathing room.

     The sun warms the kitchen this morning as I brew coffee and put together my breakfast.  But still, I need the heater on for the rest of the house. How much heat do I need. I am fighting the PG&E monthly bills. It is a losing battle. My aging body wants to be warm.

     I argue with the Trump’s image on my television screen during the Katy Tur news report.  AFFORDABILITY is a real word even if you are ignorant. He doesn’t hear me, keeps on complaining about the democratic menace and the horrors of Biden and Obama.   We need real progress in interactive television.  I want him to hear me now. I have a whole bunch of topics for him. I wish I had a whistle to blow to get his attention.

     OK, another book from the endless supply of library books.  The latest Lincoln lawyer novel by Michael Connelly, THE PROVING GROUND. A legal case about AI. And as usual I am reading several books at a time hoping the narratives don’t intermingle.