I have in my possession a two CD set featuring 32 versions of House of the Rising Sun. …You might think it boring to hear the same song 32 times. But on the contrary, it’s a great lesson in how musical tastes vary…

It was a beautiful morning yesterday, cool and the air was gentle on my skin. It mattered little that I thought the air belonged to Friday. It was still a nice day.

I forgot to take out the trash yesterday. That never happened when my wife was alive. Even when her brain went wonky, the schedule was still there.

Had a fine day yesterday. Wrote a bit. Did some website work. Played a little golf.

Here we are. Another day another dollar. Can’t tell whether the latter is coming or going. Probably going. That pretty much defines retirement and fixed incomes.

It feels strange sitting down to write at 11:30 when I normally wrap things up by 6:30 or seven, but here we are, nearly noon.

It has started. At first it was a trickle. Now, its more or less a steady stream. The clothes of my departed wife are leaving. Hardly of their own volition, of course.

If something is bothering you, get it checked, waiting almost never pays. An early fix may be hard, but it beats a catastrophic failure later.

I felt like one of the three little pigs last night, and the wolf was at my door. The wind howled, screen doors banged, and chairs rocked on the porch. There was a low moan from the dog run. I expected rain, but none came.

Duck. This is about grief. The recent cold spell put a real freeze on the house, literally and metaphorically. The cold came and it seems as though it never left. There is no warmth in the house at all. Just a dark chill.

Home again. Home again. Made the long slow drive west without incident. I traveled on a road I once disdained as too slow and tortuous.

I went to a high school junior varsity track meet yesterday. My varsity grand-daughter was running to post some times and warm up for district.

Memories are the skeletons of our lives, the things that build the present. Some are good, some are bad, and some are nothing really at all. And interesting enough, with perspective, they move around.

The other day I went searching for information on what happens when the earth’s magnetic poles flip. I found it. It didn’t really fit into the essay for the day. So, I moved on. The internet, however, has not moved on.

A crescent moon hangs low in the sky on this crisp winter morn. There are deer in the distance and nary a cloud in the sky. The horizon is gold and pink as my piece of earth turns toward the sun.

There’s a lantern in the trees at the end of the clearing behind my house. I can barely see it during the day, but at night it glows softly with a solar powered bulb until the energy gathered during the day is depleted.

I do believe I am victorious in a recent battle in the ongoing gadget war.

The other morning the heifers gathered along the back fence to eat dead cactus and lounge in the winter sun. It was cool but not cold.

I felt deflated yesterday. Which is appropriate, I suppose, since I had a needle stuck in my arm on Friday. Up until that point it was all excitement, and I was pumped up like a balloon. Then the deed was done.