It's like jumping into the icy waters of Lake Monona in February to raise money for a cause. Or buying a pet rock. Or wearing cat-eye glasses. It's a fad. So I resisted it in the same way that I did not jump into a cold lake, nor own a pet rock, nor choose pointy frames for my eye glasses. I did not play Wordle. Not until 7 days ago, when I said what the hell and took the plunge. No, of course I wont join the club of result posters. For one thing, a good score on my part may simply mean that I have more time to waste on thinking about the possibilities. Unlike, say, team big T, composed of Snowdrop, dad and mom, whose goal is to finish the darn thing at breakfast (which they do), before they all have to leave to get to school by 7:40. I'd crumble under such pressure!
So it turns out I like Wordle. And I like the NYT Spelling Bee (which I just tried today), though possibly not enough to pay their extra monthly fee for it. I think word puzzles should be free for seniors. You want to keep their brains exercised so that they don't develop dementia and cost the taxpayer extra money in needed services. But how do I feel about adding these brain teasers to my "goof off" list? That list has things on it that take me away from my platinum level "awesome ambitions" list. Is it okay to not be inspiring or productive or mega-creative at age 68? Can I shed my life long ambitions, in the same way I have given up on bikinis and skinny low-rise jeans?
Ed asks almost every day if I will ever return to my book writing. But I think he's merely speaking to his own momentary laziness. He still aims to get things done. Big ticket items. Inventions and designs. People doing nothing make him nervous. There but for the grace of God walketh he. Me, I think my whole person is telling me to quit making grand plans. Puzzles are an important component of that process of letting go. I know that the president of the United States is ten years older than me and has to keep straight many important details like which country is an evil enemy and which is our best friend forever. But he also has a staff that walks his dogs and writes his emails for him when he's feeling not quite up to snuff. And I bet he did a good number of puzzles on that train ride home to Wilmington Delaware each weekend, because you can't just always read policy papers and write proposals for new legislation.
In the afternoon I got my shingles vacc no.2 (I still need no.3 down the road). I read a compelling piece (in the NYorker) about the unexpected consequences of being fully vaccinated (I'm talking about ALL your recommended vaccinations, not only Covid). And I had to smile: so, you think vaccinations may lead to unknown bad outcomes down the road? Think again. It appears that vaccinations may well protect you in ways beyond shielding you from the disease under consideration. Your flu shot may have boosted your resistance to Covid. Your polio -- to the flu. And so on. So, I'm loading up: shingles vax, get to work on boosting my immunity in general, so that I can do more puzzles, write at least a few stories and still travel far and wide.
(As a side note, I do find it remarkable that the recommended Shingles vaccine is not covered by Medicare. I mean, you're told to get it, right there on the state registry and on your MyChart page. And then boom! You get the tab for close to a couple of hundred. Our preventive health care system is so messed up!)
This is my day then. I did not take my camera out, except once, for breakfast, and only because I thought the tulips looked liked they deserved a moment of glory.
What, you think my day looks gloomy? It doesn't though! Oh fine -- here's a sweet bright spot -- a screenshot from tonight's FaceTime with Primrose. We both happened to be munching on apple chicken sausages and playing with our spinach.
There. Happiness abounds. Look left, look right, look in front of your nose. It's there.
With love.
