Wherever you are. Whatever activity you’re engaged it at this moment, stop and sing happy birthday to me (Leslie). Offer good only through midnight on October 5, 2021.
Just sing quietly to yourself if you’re in a meeting. Or in church. Or hiding from a burglar. Or if your mouth is full, because that’s just bad manners.
Thanks! I believe I heard a few of you.
Peace, people!
Studly Doright and I are watching Blacklist. We’re midway through season six, and frankly I’m a little weary of Raymond Reddington and Agent Keene’s soap opera-ish entanglements. If it weren’t for Agent Arim Mojtabai, played by Amir Arison, I’d probably bail on the series.
Don’t tell Studly, but I’ve been cheating on Blacklist with the Netflix series Midnight Mass. I’m only on episode two, but the moodiness and the sense of impending doom is captivating. I am already hooked.
Where is the old Monsignor? Is the new guy even a real priest? What happened to the cats? Is Riley going to make it and why does he look so familiar? Who else is watching this and what are your thoughts?
Peace, people!
I recently read an article, okay, I read a headline, that said something to the effect of Why the Rest of the World Believes Americans are Obsessed with Autumn.
“Huh,” I thought. I like Autumn, but I don’t like like it. I mean, I could live without it, totally, if I had to. I might get the shakes for a couple of months, but surely by Christmas I’d be fine.
What would be obsessive is someone like me who lives in Florida, where autumn temps barely drop into the 60’s, lowering her thermostat so she can wear sweaters around the house while sipping hot chocolate with a cozy blanket wrapped around her feet. That would be obsessive.
Here, hold my hot chocolate while I decide if I want to wear the orange sweater or the brown one.
Peace, people.
On my way into the mall where my favorite coffee shop is located I paused to hold open the door for an older gentleman. It was one of those awkward situations—he was just outside of the distance that demanded the courtesy, but of an age that I worried about his stamina. I erred on the side of being an overly concerned citizen.
He thanked me with a smile. “This old man appreciates your help.”
“Old? Hardly. Besides, I see by your t-shirt that you’re one of the folks who’s part of the boxing class that works out here. I doubt you need any help at all.”
I’d noticed the Rock Steady t-shirts before on elderly boxers at the small fitness center in the mall. The boxers always looked serious in a fun way. Like, “I could probably kick your ass, but I won’t ’cause I’m a nice guy.”
The man laughed. “Well, the class is only for folks with Parkinson’s, so depending on the day, I just might need your help.”
“I had no idea. Does the boxing help?”
He stopped at the entrance to the gym. “Absolutely. Best thing I’ve ever done for myself. Helps me forget what this disease has taken from me. Makes me feel young again.”
“Maybe I should take up boxing,” I said.
He smiled. “I highly recommend it. Thanks again young lady.”
I resisted the urge to hug him for the young lady remark, and hurried on in hopes of securing my favorite table at the coffee shop—the one in the corner that allows me to people watch as I work on editing my current work in progress. After ordering my usual chai latte I set up my laptop in the highly coveted location and scanned through yesterday’s pages. Outside the window I caught a flash of red. Boxing gloves. The Parkinson’s pugilists were throwing punches at unseen opponents. It was a beautiful sight.
Peace, people!
Here’s a link to the Tallahassee gym that offers the Rock Steady boxing program for those diagnosed with Parkinson’s. https://sweattherapyfitness.com
Rock Steady has its own website to provide further information and to direct folks to facilities near them that offer the fitness program. If you’d like to donate you can do so there, as well. https://www.rocksteadyboxing.org/
Peace, people!
Praying for Eyebrowz 