in the Dead of the Dead of Winter

 Super-agers huh?  I can still do a lot of things pretty well, but I do put things down and five seconds later have no idea where they are.  Complicating this is the fact that often the item has been sitting right in front of me on the table all the while.  I often walk into another room and have no idea why.  Sometimes I can figure it out. and sometimes I have to go back into the first room and almost always the reason becomes clear.  I am terrible with names and words.  I'll be spouting on and all of a sudden the next word is gone.  Just gone.  I could vaguely sense it as I approached it, but when it comes time to say it, it flies away like a little bird.  I know exactly what or who I want to say, but the word or name is no longer attached.  Sometimes I can pause just a little and it comes to me, but most often I have to resort to the embarrassing 'that thing that...' or 'that guy who...' 

It's worrisome.  Will it just continue the way it is, or will it get worse and worse?  Well whatcha gonna do?

I don't know what great authority said that boomers don't begin until January 1, 1946. but I say bushwa.  It goes to at least January 1, 1945.  I wore my Davy Crockett racoon cap just as proudly as the kids in the grade behind me.  I don't know shit about this silent generation, but it is something I can do a little research on, also that Dunning-Kruger Institute, but I'll do that later before I forget what I am writing about.

I was quite the little Christer in my young days.  I remember going up to Frank Shapiro, who was a grade ahead of me, shooting baskets in the Tonti Grade School and cursing when he missed one, and asking the probing question, "What if Jesus heard you say that?"  Surprisingly it had no effect on Frank.  At about twelve I thought about that religion thing, and figured it was all bushwa (My train of thought began with there being no Santa Claus).  I stood up in my bedroom and told any lingering Listener, "I am an atheist," and nothing happened.  So I guess that was my proof that it was all bushwa.

6:42, 5 below.  Watching the river for the ice to appear.  Just fine in my tower, and I know that Old Dog's apartment is ship-shape, but I worry about Beagles out there in the freehold, especially since he is getting snow that Old Dog and I are not.

Hang in there Beagles.