Summer's almost gone . . .

 . . . but I did get away in this year that wasn't, once.

Summer's almost gone; Summer's almost gone; Almost gone. Yeah, it's almost gone; Where will we be; When the summer's gone?

The call came in on a Saturday at the end of August from a friend out west who I met in my college freshman dorm from whom I hadn't heard in years.  It was the first call from him that I can recall.

It concerned a college roommate, about whom he (and other dorm mates) was concerned who had recently suffered a compound leg fracture and waited for several hours (until the next morning) before dragging himself to his car and driving himself to the nearest hospital 30 minutes away.  (Roomie had dialed 9-11 when it occurred but, despite having insurance, engaged in the Republican health care plan of shopping for the best price option before committing by asking how much an ambulance ride would cost.  When the exasperated operator said she didn't know, he said he'd "call back" and dragged himself off to bed, leaving behind a bloody smear across the floor.)

My friend pointedly asked how long it would take me to drive down to roomie's house.  He obviously already had looked it up on Google because when I fudged by an hour or two and said about eight hours, he expressed disappointment and said he thought it might be a mere five and a half or six. The truth lies somewhere in between.

I drove down the next day.   I stayed at his house (and slept on his screened-in porch for five nights, it was so hot) and did what I could to make his situation more comfortable.

So I took a summer trip!  I was afraid up to that point that I would not a) go anywhere this summer or b) take a dip off a beach somewhere.

Mission accomplished.  I even threw in several attempts at capturing a picturesque sunup and a visit to the Civil War battlefield (several "battles," largely troop maneuvering that either succeeded or failed in dislodging the enemy from the river port city) of New Bern.  I will add here that Google seems to have commandeered Blog, "updated" it (which makes it more difficult to use) and rejects every attempt of mine to import pictures from my computer into a post like I used to do and hence has destroyed my ability to post pictures here and dramatically diminished my enjoyment in blogging here.

So this summer wasn't a total waste in this year-that-wasn't, I spent all or part of five days in rural North Carolina.  I swam off a "beach" (actually a river bank upon which the city had dumped a load of sand), sat around for an hour palavering with some southern good ole boys in a local convenience store, spent a half-hour speaking with the mayor at my roomie's house (she "dropped" by--I'm sure she was interviewing me to discern whether I was likely bringing the coronavirus to her region and hence should be quarantined) and enjoyed a subsequent fish dinner (cooked by roomie as he gimped around his kitchen in his rigid "boot") in this coastal village.

Summer's half gone...

. . . and I haven't been to the beach yet or even in the water other than the shower.  Last summer I took a July 4th car trip to get out of town so I didn't have to listen to our ridiculous liar-in-chief talk on the Mall about patriots securing all the airports during the Revolutionary War.  I swam in the ocean off Cape Hatteras, saw a baseball game in Atlanta, visited the Andersonville Civil War POW Camp, explored the Chickamauga battlefield, toured the D-Day Museum in Bedford and finished up the trip at Appomattox Courthouse where the Civil War came to an end.  But this year, nada.

I've planted many perennial flowers in my yard, walked the streets round my house to get some roadway miles in, went to BLM Plaza in the District twice to try to figure out why military troops were patrolling ("dominating" in our clown-in-chief's words) the DC streets, donate blood once, talked to a Kaiser doctor on the phone to try to get the coronavirus antibody test so I could engage in plasma therapy but she wasn't having any of it (of course--I live in America and there are no adequate tests anywhere for anyone except the for the White House and for major league sports) and I read three books including two pulitzer prize winners, but that's a pretty paltry summertime report.

I got my taxes done, that was a big thing for me.  Basically I moved piles of documents around my dining room table for weeks and then on July 9th shoved a disorganized sheaf of jumbled papers in an envelope and overnighted them to my accountant in Colorado (I used to live there).  He was hopping mad, I thought he was going to discharge me but he got them finished and filed on time and I have even received a refund already.  Trying to do taxes drives me into the thrall of lassitude and days pass by with no progress.  After I spent a day trying to get my 2019 W-2, I learned that retirees like me don't get W-2s, they get 1099-Rs instead.  My 401K continues its dizzying (sickening?) decline but I anticipate a change come January and hope it'll come back then.

So what to do?  Stay home and read more books and each day's copy of the Washington Post?  There's no baseball to go watch in person, which could have otherwise afforded me a satisfactory small side trip.  I've thought about taking a short trip to North Carolina where I could be on the coast and take a dip in the ocean but I don't want to get or spread the virus.  The shortness of breath, which makes it so I can't sleep and I have to get up no matter how exhausted I am and sit upright or walk about downstairs or in the cool of  the early morning air outside, occasionally comes back and causes me to wonder if I have or still have or had the virus and my lungs are scarred,  It exhausts me thinking about it.  There's no testing in Trump's America, have I already say that?  So I can't find out in these lonely hours as the weeks and months pass by whether I'm sick or have been sick or not; am I hypochondriac or normal, stalwart in my enforced semi-isolation or depressed by it?  The whole reality of where we are and what we've become is driving me crazy.  Good job, you 63 million reckless voters of four years ago who brought about, predictably enough as to the ultimate outcome albeit not the actual event itself, our disastrous response (151,000 American deaths in five months headed towards maybe over half a million or more) to this predictable enough worldwide calamity.

...So good

I was bad yesterday, it was my every other day to run and I didn't.  I took the day off, after worrying about not running all day as the day slipped away.  I finally decided that I had done a Ti Chi class the evening before so that qualified as an exercise day and I could take the next day off.

I got up early today and hit the trail for 3.1 miles.  It felt great, though I'm still plagued by The Slows and the first mile takes an awfully long time to fall away.  But I fell in for a very brief interlude with the local high school's cross country team on a summertime training run, said hello to everyone I ran by and received a reply every single time, and even kept ahead of a faster runner who was 100 yards back when I hit the W&OD Trail for a quarter mile (he had reduced the gap to 10 yards by the time I turned off).

It sort of felt like old times, when running was enjoyable to me before my injuries and subsequent weight gain.  I sweated off three pounds on the run.  I had exercised and showered and was ready for the rest of the day by mid-morning, a great feeling I had practically every weekend morning when I worked and ran long on weekends.

Not that three miles is running long.  But I feel like I'm getting there, and I'll get there if I have patience and stick to the plan.

Climate change, anyone?

June was the hottest month on record.  July is on pace to be the hottest month yet again.

This week it has, with the heat index, seemed like 110 degrees outside.  My bedroom has become my living cocoon in the house because it has a window air-conditioning unit..  Using the rest of the house, I sit at the dining room table as much as possible, next to a cooling fan.

To go outside is to instantly break out in a sweat.  I took a 3-mile walk the other day on the Mt. Vernon Trail instead of running that afternoon.

I go out with friends for lunch in restaurants which, obviously, have air-conditioning.  Pastrami sandwiches, chili, mussels, it's all good.