01 August 2025

so this is August

Here is an amazement - once I was twenty years old and in every motion of my body there was a delicious ease, and in every motion of the green earth there was a hint of paradise, and now I am sixty years old, and it is the same.

         Mary Oliver

But wait until you're 67 and had surgery . . . 

Accepting 

  1. limitations of age 
  2. chronic illness treated with immune supressives 
  3. after effects of surgery due to 3
  4. massive lack of get up and go 

 All of it a work in progress. Isn't this the life.

Due to a massive lack of energy and brain power, all I can do is dig up my seemingly endless list of drafted blog posts, mostly first sentences, half finished posts, a selection of what I saved ten years ago:

 

  • There’s being dogged in pursuit of a goal and there’s the pointlessness of being bitchy.
    A hen is a hen and a cock is a cock, but a chick is always female.
    An Old Master is one thing, but an old mistress is something else entirely (note those capitals). 
  • I spent the last two hours editing papers on oxytocin and its effects on hunger craving in women. Yes, it is just as you imagine only now male scientists have found a way to prove it using big machinery and extensive tests which include healthy women staring at images of sweets and desserts while inside MRI tunnels. 
  • I am whistling in the dark - praying, hoping, that fraying edge between worry, misery, loneliness and actual illness, that blurred line.

 Recent social media finds:

 
 
 
A fitting addendum to my bicycle post: Norman Quentin Cook (aka Fatboy Slim) shows off his new one.

 

 

Also, the last post was censored by my family. And they come first.