After some serious stormage yesterday, the sunset was impressive, though my camera is not.

Speaking of sunsets, I’m getting to that stage of life where you conjecture about hypothetical trajectories of paths not chosen.  All the pointless “what ifs”.  I know, oy.

If I had accepted my parents’ preferred goals for me, whatever they were (they weren’t always clear, just assumed and expected), would I be better off?  Who can tell?  There are so many moving parts and unexpected forks in life, no matter how well you plan and drive yourself.  Taking the “safer” conventional route isn’t a guarantee of anything these days, any more than is the road less taken.

My own meandering path, full of misguided choices and predictable consequences, eventually led me to here.  I can’t take any of it back, I can just accept responsibility and make the most of the time I have left.  I’m not always sure how to do that within the confines of these consequences, but I’m learning to own reality and accept it.  And to let go of what’s not within my control to hang onto.

Having hopes and dreams and purpose seems to be a luxury of the young and inexperienced.  Then you wake up one day to cold waves dashed in your face, and it’s all you can do just to stay afloat.  If you’re fortunate or resourceful enough to make it back to dry land, you learn it’s something just to find yourself still alive.  Don’t fight the hands that may be there to rescue you from drowning.

Being Not Dead is underrated.  Having a roof, a friend, some health, one or two family members who still accept you, even a little income—these are bonuses not to be taken for granted.  Many people don’t even have that.

Sometimes you just have to start from where you’re at, assess the damage, and reorient yourself with true north.  If your compass doesn’t work, fix it or get a new one.  That’s part of being Still Alive–not giving up.  Living to see what another day can bring.

My squirrelly friend was back basking on the ledge this morning.  It’s a nice secure place to dry off and sunbathe.  He knew I was lurking, but funny-squirrel don’t care.

Here in a town mostly without modern conveniences like storm drains, the roads turn to lakes when it floods like today.  The deteriorating, unmaintained building is like a leaky sieve in the rain, but upstairs we’re mostly dry.  Funds are tight, but we manage to stay afloat.  See what I did there with the watery metaphors?

Speaking of high and mostly dry, here is a lovely Founders session IPA, guarded by Chloë the Fat Cat.  (Also an old-fashioned skillet cornbread I made yesterday.)

I was going to make a peach pie in honor of my son’s birthday (“we really do like pie”), but it seemed wrong to have to eat a whole pie without him, so I ended up buying one instead.  The logic is impeccable.  I was glad my DIL baked him a blueberry one.

Speaking of the weather and my son, I’m sad he’s been under it, and hope he can get on top of it soon.  😉  When he’s down, I feel more Eeyore-like than ever.

Squirrelly-pants appears to have taken off for the fourth of July, so no news from squirrel-land.

All I can see out the window is The Black Lagoon—a large above-ground pool taking up most of a tiny, weed-and-dog-infested yard behind us, left neglected all year to become a disgusting cesspool.  I keep expecting bodies to float to the surface.  Even on July 4th weekend, the herd of fat people weren’t out there cleaning up the mess to use the pool.  That’s the mentality here in the Midwest.  No self-respect.  It’s the Midwest American way.

We do get to see fireworks, as the locals have been setting off explosions all around us for days.  We just watch from the windows, avoid the ignorant crowds and smoke, and hope the rednecks below don’t burn us down.  And gaze wistfully at the moon reflected in The Black Lagoon.

There’s not much in national news to feel patriotic about, or in local news to give us much hope for the human race.  It’s hard not to live for the day when we can simply hole up in a small private retreat of our own, which will seem like a luxury.  This state has not been good for either of us, but we make the best of a bad situation, and try not to kill each other in the process.

My biggest regret right now is once again not being able to spend my son’s birthday with him, especially with all he’s going through.  All I can do is wish him the happiest day possible, all things considered, and happier days to come, once the dust settles.

Happy erev Birthday cheers!  To a better future, with bourbon.

We were headed to Glen Helen, one of our favorite (private non-profit) parks, but now there’s a $5.00 parking fee, which may not sound like much to someone with disposable income to donate to worthy causes, but it eliminates us.  So we moved on to John Bryan (state park), where the bridge and other features are disintegrating, I guess due to lack of funding.

There are such intriguing native foliage and textures, not necessarily in bloom, this time of early summer, if you take time to look.  One thing we poor retired types have is the present time.  The future can look bleak and uncertain from our standpoint, so we try to make the most of the time and resources we have.  Hence these snapshots of the natural world that is still accessible.

Afterwards, we stopped at Peifer Orchards for some fresh local veggies.  The very large old dog is real, not a statue.  His two settings are sleep like a log, and roll over for petting.

On this morning’s squirrel-cam…

After recent storms, the cliffs at Indian Mound along the rushing river had sprung little leaks, rivulets, and water fountains of their own.  And of course the huge falls was thundering.  There were some interesting bright berries and subtle delicate flowers in the woods and growing wetlands.  The field of corn, at the entrance to the park, is typical of Ohio right now.

This squirrel returns every morning to sprawl out, bask and snooze, occasionally adjusting position for the best exposure.  Sometimes he regards me out of the corner of his/her eye, as if to say, sheesh, are you still there?

Squirrelly says, “Get the hell off my windowsill!”  He has a point.

Happy July.  Declaring independence from the trump Empire sounds pretty good right now.