Transitioning the Year

Most people have found the 2020 calendar year something of an adverse experience.  And from a population perspective it was with global civilian deaths, threats to the primacy of the voters in America, restrictions on travel for everyone, and much loss of personal contact.  It was also a time of innovation.  I can attend seminars with the top minds in the world electronically, previously inaccessible to me.  Scientists who understand what's on those posters that I just walk past at meetings assembled to create a number of intricate immunization options in short time with unprecedented ingenuity to distribute these innovations to a global population.

For me personally, I didn't get real sick, but wondered about it for a few days in April when my sleep pattern reversed and a headache took over, reversing over a few days.  I wonder if I was hypoxemic.  That led to a purchase of a pulse oximeter, which I've not had to use.  I feel good for the most part.  My weight records show about a 5 pound reduction in weight, not change in waist circumference, but pretty consistent exercise performance over the course of a year.  I got away for my son's wedding.  I read more than my predetermined quota of books.  As Zoom enables connections to the world I've signed on my share of the time.

Some fundamental relations are different. My emotional attachment to synagogue has withered and probably won't be restored.  Some people and institutions have demonstrated that while they meet the minimum of B'tzelem Elokim, my respect requires more than the lower threshold. My B-list has gotten longer.  And I have enough stuff, almost enough experiences, so my wants have become fewer.  Some Me Time, Family Time, and a few reliable forums to express myself in a responsible way.

So the world moves from one year, a difficult one, to another with the optimism that it will play out as less burdensome than the last.  It probably will.  I can try to make it a more congenial time in my own way.

Early Awakening

After making great strides this calendar year with better sleep, incorporated as a component of healthier living, a notable but consistent setback emerged in the past month.  No matter what preparation I take, my internal clock awakes me at about 4AM.  It is not nocturia, which has gotten less, but failure to pass from one sleep cycle of 90 minutes or so to the next.  Typically the close of a sleep cycle brings people to a twilight rather than wakefulness.  I do very well with the previous cycles but at 4AM I pass into wakefulness without feeling fully rested.  Indeed, I can fall back asleep but the new waking time takes me past the 7AM latest arising that I had set for myself and was so successful for so long.  And my energy dissipates over the day, inducing a nap which may create something of a viscous cycle.

Reviewing classic sleep hygiene recommendations, I do pretty well though not perfectly both in the habit and environmental guidance. There is a set wake time, adhered to until this setback arose.  I have a reasonably set bed time, though without the ritual of relaxation.  Last caffeine is at noon, last alcohol typically a glass of sherry late afternoon or beer as my supper beverage, never both.  I have not done as well avoiding catnaps or avoiding using the bed for things other than sleep, though I cannot figure out why that would play out as a new consistent pattern of early wakefulness.  I could do better with putting a time cap on the screens though, particularly the smart phone which connects me to the world.  I have set a moratorium from 11PM to 5:30AM with mostly good adherence.  

My sleep environment could not be better.  Light blocking shades work well.  The room is quiet unless my wife or I intentionally play sleep sounds, which are mostly effective at creating sleep onset.  Great mattress from IKEA, down comforter, decent pillow options, smooth sheets, space heater for when needed.  No recent changes in any of these.  

Where I might do better, and once did do better, is not allowing myself to stay awake in bed too long.  If I fail to fall asleep I go back to my Man Cave for some TV.  When I awake at 4AM I accept that, stay in bed, focus on the comfort of being there, even if awake, and wait for the next sleep cycle, even if it ultimately takes me past the set awake time.  I don't know if that's the best course.

Next step seems to be avoidance of the bed for reading or napping.  Give that a go for a month and see what plays out.

Next Set of Initiatives

Something that has kept me focused for a while, though not learned until well into middle age, has been to determine long-term and intermediate goals, which for me runs on six month cycles.  I am concluding the last, moving ahead to the next.  Some things went well, particularly those with measurable, finite end points.  One was abandoned.  I waver whether deep sixing it resulted from it not being a real goal, not within my innate character, or just too hard to accomplish.  But it got crossed off with very little attention offered.

This Cycle:

1. Home: Create a home garden
2. Family: Visit each of my children
3. Health: Meet specified weight and waist measurements
4. Frontier: Have first draft of my book ready for editing
5. Mental: Submit three articles to three different publishers
6. Financial: Log my expenses on a specified day each month
7. Community: Engage in two organizations
8. Travel: Visit three historical mansions not visited previously
9. Self: Read three books
10. Long Term: Receive Social Security Benefits
11. Purchase: Engage in two Great Courses
12. Friends: Acquire two new friends.

Specific

Measurable

Attainable

Relevant

Time specified

I think all qualify.  Some are easy, some require tenacity.  The right mixture

Looking Shaggy

Covid-19 has a lot of offshoots, one being grooming.  I've had one haircut late summer, about 4 months ago in anticipation of my son's wedding.  There's not been a lot of incentive to update that, or beard trimming for that matter, which I have done more for comfort than appearance.  In this day of Zoom people can see your head and face, though the default position of my computer camera is to capture me at about the hair line.  I look a little like Wilson of Home Improvement fame who used to approach Tim at the fence separating their yards.  The fence came up to Wilson's eyes and he work a hat so that you could really only see his eyes and hear his advice to his neighbor. 

There are subsets of men who do not cut their hair, most notably Sikhs but also Rastafarians and for the face and earlocks, some Hasidim.  The Sikhs obscure the overgrowth with stylish turbans but typically have chest length beards which are invariably groomed.  The Rastafarians wear knit caps but let the dreadlocks hang loose.  The Hasidim seem to prefer facial shagginess.  

I have no religious justification for excessive hair.  It is groomed with a comb.  And it is far less than what most women accept for their normal scalp growth.  Yet after decades of regular grooming, my scalp hair seems excessive.  I touch it too much, which may be the best signal of needing to get it cut.

Slightly More Motivated

It's been a tough XMas week.  In a funk for a couple of weeks, not irritable but never quite able to get enough sleep.  I have maintained my exercise schedule, substituted one day snow shoveling for treadmill and reduced the speed on the treadmill, though not the duration.

After doing very well with sleep hygiene, my sleep cycle has become aberrant at about 4AM on several consecutive days, not transitioning from twilight sleep to the next cycle but waking me instead.  I get back to sleep but not fully rested by the usual wake time, which I have made a faithful effort to maintain.  

My daily list has a lot of activities, but I find myself focused on the easy ones.  I just don't seem motivated to deal with the more demanding undertakings, whether some scheduled writing or the challenging parts of house maintenance.  There are deadlines, which typically motivate me, or at least prod performance, but intrinsic motivation seems at a lull.  At least today I feel less dragged.

Failing Aerogarden

One among my many horticultural frustrations has been the inability to harvest my aerogarden.  I bought it on sale many years ago, used the seeds and medium that came in the kit along with the fertilizer pellets.  So far so good.  Never got a great harvest.  Subsequently, I have replanted herbs many times, using some potting soil and vermiculite.  Basil always takes root in the hydroponic environment, most other herbs less so.  This time I thought I had it going.  Basil abundant, though tall enough to have the upper leaves singed by the fluorescent light.  Oregano sprouted, parsley OK, dill recognizable, tarragon with full sprouts, coriander failed to sprout.  I watched it, mixed some generic plant food with water in the concentration recommended, and fed the plants.

Today, the dill and tarragon have met their end, oregano less abundant, parsley a little shvok, but basil appeared sturdy.  I assume the additive was toxic, though there might be other possibilities.  Since having optimal gardens indoors and out has a place on the next set of semi-annual initiatives, I will salvage what I can, then after the new year, reassess and try again.

Sore

After some snow shoveling, within my physical capacity, though not done in a while as we've not had meaningful amounts of snow for about two years, I find myself a little achy.  The cars are movable, my upper limbs and back a little less movable.  Interestingly, as I commit myself to exercising on the treadmill two days of three, which may have enabled the stamina to do the driveway as I nearly conclude my 60's, it has been my calves and ankles that have needed the day's break.  Fortunately, chest symptoms, either cardiac or pulmonary, have not limited me, either on the treadmill or on the driveway.

Still I need to deal with the soreness.  After finishing, I took a naproxen tablet, had a small mug of decaf coffee in the late afternoon, took a welcome nap timed to prevent it from extending into a late afternoon's premature sleep, and spent some time in the hot shower at bedtime.  I'm better today, not yet decided on naproxen.  And it's a scheduled day off from the treadmill.

I'm fortunate to still have the physical capacity to do this.  Moreover, there is something a little energizing as I see the various segments of driveway appear with each session, eventually to where I could back up my car into the cleared area to approach an uncleared area more efficiently.  Accomplishments appear tangible, much like washing dishes, less like writing or studying where progress often goes under the radar. Worth the sore shoulders.

Reviving My Snowblower

We have our nor'easter in progress.  Blobs of wet snow have pelted our house and windows for a few hours.  Before it ends, the forecasters predict about six inches of accumulation.  It has not snowed here for just under a year and a half, though I do prep my snowblower early every December.  Last year it didn't start, but being no forecast of snow, I did not make a serious attempt to get it functioning.

As the weathermen gave us a heads up, I gave it another go, again unsuccessful.  But with forecasts never exceeding my capacity to shovel the driveway and walk, my efforts were lackluster.

This cannot go on indefinitely.  Eventually we will receive and amount that I cannot shovel, so I at least tried to learn how to do as much tinkering as I could myself.  Changing the oil was easy, though probably not necessary had I not opened the cap without making the oil reservoir vertical.  A stream gushed out.  I have no good estimate of how much so it was off to Pep Boys for another quart of the lowest priced 5-30W oil on their shelves.  I also bought some Gumout.

It may have been two years since I changed the gasoline, though I try to run the machine at the end of each season until it runs out of gas.  There was still a small residual.  After no successful cranking irrespective of where I placed the choke regulator, I poured in the Gumout hoping the crud will liquify enough to let some gas into the engine.  I waited the hour or two, then the next day.  No luck, not even a successful cranking, so I will need to remove and replace any residual gasoline.  Then the spark plug.  Last year I at least got a spark, though one that did not catch, so this is a long shot, though easy to do.  The next two checklist items bring me to the end of my skill.  I can probably figure out which hose connects the gas tank to the carburetor.  Removing it and cleaning it may be less straightforward I should be able to find the clamps.  Then opening the carburetor I can do, since there are a few screws that can be removed with a socket kit.  I can probe, probably squirt some WD 40.  I'm trying not to make another trip to small engine repair, but depending on how I do with shoveling a small amount and difficulty trouble shooting the machine, that may be where I am headed.

Restocking My Alcohol Supply

My consumption pattern took an odd trajectory.  In the past six months or so, I've taken to a late afternoon's sherry or port, the cheap stuff from mass producers.  At a rate of about a wine glass, or even a tasting glass, before supper, a 1500 ml bottle lasts about two weeks, though really a little longer when sherry and port alternate.  In exchange for that I drink less beer.  The craft offerings have accelerated in price, leaving me to alternate with a few favorite brands:  Moosehead & Squirrel, Molson's, tried Lion's Head which I found too bitter.  And since I never have beer with any other alcohol on the same day, the usual purchase of twelve bottles lasts a while, even though I've abandoned soda other than seltzer from my supermarket cart, irrespective of an attractive sale price.  Spirits last even longer.  In the winter, I will make a hot toddy after supper, though never in the same day as anything else.  I am pretty good at limitation to a single serving in any day except when we have wine with dinner, when I am more generous with refilling my glass at the meal.  Though dinner wine is a special occasion, other than weekly kiddush.

So it came as a surprise when the last drops of several of these things poured all within a week.  Wine for my wife's birthday, Manischewitz at the last shabbos, last bottle of Molson's this week, sherry a couple of weeks ago not replaced since I still had about a liter of port remaining, and even the bourbon emptied in a recipe for coulibiac that I baked for my wife's birthday.

So off to Total Wine, my preferred megastore.  Kiddush wine was first priority.  Usually I get Mogen David based on price but they didn't have any.  I bought Manischewitz plain Concord Grape, the type made from kitnyot that cannot be used on Pesach.  Then more sherry, 1500 ml of cream style.  For beer, I found Anchor Steam variety pack, $15 for twelve bottles.  Interestingly, not only is price zooming, but availability of bottles seems to be giving way to cans, even among the better brands.  Cans apparently have advantages of shelf life, storage, shipping, and production for the manufacturers and improvements in canning have enabled less effect on the product.  I bought twelve bottles.  And for real booze, I started with replacing bourbon.  This has also gotten rather expensive, at least the brands I've heard of.  I settled for 750 ml of one I've not heard but had a pleasant color and attractive rectangular bottle with cork top.  While pushing my cart, I saw some Irish whiskey, something I did not have at home.  Browsing the shelves for the lower priced offerings, again with the brands I've heard of mostly above my willingness to spend, I selected a 750 ml cylindrical bottle with  attractive shiny green label.

Onward to the cashier, credit card debited about $75, then home.  When I arrived, my wife's car was not in the driveway.  Unknown to me she had gone out for her own replacement from a decent store around the corner.  Her wine, my preferred Mogen David Concord.  Since mine is not suitable for Pesach, we'll use mine now, then probably be ready to open hers for Seder.  She also replaced sherry, same brand as the one I chose but a smaller bottle of the dry variety.  And a bottle of dinner wine.

We are now fully stocked for a while.  The novelty being the Irish whiskey, I screwed open the top last night, put a zets of sugar in a stem glass, three ounces boiling water with one ounce of Irish whiskey for a somewhat bitter but relaxing hot toddy while I watched a recorded travel show in my Man Cave.  Decent ending to a mostly busy day.

Been Abandoned

This week it had been my intent to visit the Everglades, a badly needed vacation.  I can see gators online.  I can get food from the supermarket or takeout at home.  I can even make my bedroom warmer with a space heater.  What I couldn't do was access different people.

It's not for not trying.  I sent notes to two friends not accessed for a couple of years.  Neither responded.  I've been shut out of any synagogue planning though some other people have finally taken some responsibility for more inviting programs.  I was supposed to help decorate a storefront but they went ahead and did it without me.  

Even my FB friends have tired of the platform and moved on to something else.  Those who remain are personable enough but they largely pitch their political hardballs amongst each other.  OLLI classes have concluded.  I like the small weekly afternoon group, the closest I get to a conversation.

That's not to imply desperation as I can be pretty productive left to myself.  But I have the good fortune of deriving some benefit when others express what they think when I get to respond.  That's a lot different than typing the 140 character allotment of Twitter or some unilateral thoughts on Disqus when a published article merits my thoughts.  It's just not beneficially interactive, and more often red meat for trolls.

I am left to myself.  I am also ultimately responsible to myself.  Forums for interaction are not absent, just more difficult to exchange.  So Hillel seems right.  If I am not for myself who will be for me?  Looks like nobody.

Not Feeling Groovy

Actually a little sore, maybe even laudable sore calves from attentiveness to my treadmill sessions.  Arms less achy.  Rest of skeleton a little stiff but not painful.  A naproxen pill makes a difference, and maybe I'll take one later.  It does nothing for my mood and disposition, though.  While there are chemicals that can favorably alter that, and I've taken them previously, I came off it for a reason.  I don't plan to resume.

There are some non-pharmacological approaches to ennui, mostly by doing something meaningful or for me being interactive.  Covid has restrained the latter but I have a Zoom session with the Philadelphia Endocrine Society upcoming where I can engage in some chatter.  Meaningful may be more challenging. Access to the spectrum of the world fits in my shirt pocket.  Today's Task List has two columns of worthwhile activities from house upgrades, to preparing my snowblower for its next use, to semi-annual planning to reading what the masters of journalism have presented.  And I have total control of which I select.  While I control how I approach upgrading my current downcast outlook, there is probably something very intrinsic about moods.  But doing something offers a better prospect than doing nothing, so I'll immerse myself in a few worthy activities as the day progresses.

Rediscovering Herb Tea

While the rest of the world consumes tea as its primary hot beverage, in college I took a liking to coffee.  Our cafeteria offered a bottomless cup for 10 cents, which I would typically pair with a bow tie pastry and eat either alone or with a friend should one come by before my first class.  Later, as exams or other deadlines approached, I learned that I could stay awake and attentive with coffee at night.  I got an electric percolator, a bright orange one, that served me well for many years.  Once I started residency, living on the Harvard campus with my own money to spend, I expanded the flavors of coffee available and the means of brewing it, a treat that captivates me to this day, particularly since the varieties have expanded and can  be made in small quantities by k-cups with no waste or spoilage, though with some sacrifice of ultimate flavor.

In high school, maybe even junior high, I would brew tea bags, usually tinged with bottled lemon juice, more so when ill than other times, but also at night, though soda was the primary beverage.

Once married and living among Harvard students, which I was not, herb teas entered my palate.  I liked the ones from Celestial Seasonings, which many decades later let me tour their factory near Denver.  It had some advantages over coffee.  Consuming one cup at a time, it could be purchased a few tea bags at a time, lasted forever, came in endless varieties, cost less than soda per serving, and tasted good, though it lacked that jolt that drove me to coffee.  So when I went out to The Coffee Connection on Harvard Square or a pastry shop, I would get a specialty coffee, often in a French Press which was also a novelty at the time, and sample varieties, though at home I learned to brew supermarket coffee, no longer in my electric percolator but one serving at a time filtered through a plastic cone, which I still have.  Herb tea became a special diversion, though not a staple beverage.  We still kept some in the pantry, eventually using it up.

, 

Other brands like Bigelows and Twinings would go on sale, all with flavor enticements that exceeded their reality, while Celestial Seasonings had a higher price, no strings or individual sachets, but a better tasting blend.  Still, coffee not only dominated but with the availability of k-cups that allowed variety though mediocre sensory experience, it largely took over.  More recently, I have rediscovered herb tea.  Caffeine had started getting out of hand, causing me to restrict myself.  Specialty beans, purchasable loose in small amounts for home grinding got rather expensive and unlike my mill grinder that allowed one cup at a time, my burr grinder had a hopper that had to be kept filled.  Definitely an opportunity to give Celestial Seasonings a second chance.  They obliged with a sale and to expand the repertoire, included coupons in some of the packages good for later discounts.  

Now I have about a dozen boxes at my right hand on my kitchen island.  I'm starting to show preferences.  Zingers have always been my favorite, the spices other than peppermint less so.  I got a terrific Bengal Blend which seems to be dominated by cinnamon and cloves.  The ones intended to change my mood: Sleepy Time and Tension Tamer, usually don't.  There are also variety packs, which I have but have not opened.  So the Zingers in their various forms dominate.  But after the daily coffee ration has been attained.

Transitioning My Year

My respite to the Everglades was prudently cancelled.  I could use some time away, particularly time to fulfill one of the twelve initiatives for the half-year that I set five months ago.  My annual concept of time has a few demarcation points:  The New Year, the two planning sessions that command my attention in June and December, and Rosh Hashana.  Interestingly, my birthday, the landmark for myself has never been one.  There has also been some lifetime fluidity, with the start and conclusion of each school year in the fall and spring, and later with medical contracts that typically begin and end July 1.  But Auld Lang Syne has long since dominated.

I learn that it's not that easy to predict in December or June what I will find myself intrinsically motivated to perform six months later.  The finite, those with deadlines get done, for me this cycle, my son's wedding.  The visit to the National Park could have been done, but found myself risk averse, or at least foreseeing irrevocable regret should Covid-19 devastate my household over a mere personal pleasure.  I allocate a reading target and always fulfill it.  And I made my three intended day trips, with a day's pleasure at each, sometimes getting there and back offering more gratification than being there.  My bedroom, or at least my half, has become navigable and a reasonably attractive destination for sleep, which has also improved with dedication to optimal sleep hygiene.  I did not meet my weight goal, but exercise on schedule with negligible lapses, eat better, and shop for groceries in a way that assists weight control.  I bought and read two subscriptions.  And with some effort, I pay more attention to the progress of my finances.

What has gone less well are the interpersonal upgrades, the acquisition of new friends and engaging in two organizations in a meaningful way.  Covid-19 has posed a real barrier here.  In June

I assumed the worst was behind us, Osher Institute would resume, I could become more of a raconteur at kiddush, or be a presence at the Christiana Care senior physicians group.  None of that happened.  I access electronically, but there is a gap between a screen and a handshake.  I've been there before, of course, we all have.  College and medical school had big lecture classes followed by lonely reviews after sundown.  We also had communal meals, lab interactions, clinic interactions, some small classes.  I never had to watch a lecture on TV but contemporaries at big state universities got their introduction to Psychology or Economics that way.  At Endocrine Society Annual Meetings, we enter a cavernous ballroom with thousands of easily movable, not very inviting chairs while we watch the presentation on the screen nearest our chair.  We trickle in individually, sometimes recognizing somebody we know as we select our seats but never meet anyone new.  At the conclusion we head to our next destination, a mass of people individualized by name tag, but really only part of the aggregate.  It takes a lot more than personal presences to generate friends.  In college or in the workplace that happened by partnerships of various type.  At Osher it happened by random conversations with people seeking out a chair near yours in an open gathering location or by the accident of table seating in the cafeteria, rarely by individual classes.  Covid-19 has really imploded all of this.

Among my books for this half-year was Deborah Tannen's You Just Don't Understand, written about thirty years ago to offer a perspective between the underpinnings of male and female use of language.  She included a chapter on interruption of one person's speech by another.  Sometimes this is highly unwelcome but often it is the essence of connection.  Zoom imposes a formality to speech, much like school where you raise your hand and take your turn.  It is not interactive speech where ideas exchange spontaneously as they would among the informal connections that generate friendship or personal loyalty.  Those initiatives did not materialize, though only in part because of the new reality of verbal exchange.  

Over the years I have paid dues to many organizations, mostly professional, but contributed to few.  It is those few that I value the most and identify with.  Often I am designated as spectator, even with my synagogue, something not very inviting.  I've been to receptions where everyone knows everyone else, usually not eager to add a newcomer or even be on the prowl for talent and willingness to chip in.  I would say our local Democrats function this way.  The workplace was very different.  Everyone there was needed, though not everyone received the appreciation for what they contributed.  Some of our volunteer organizations would do better if they functioned more like the workplace.  Mine have not.

My semi-annual month of review and setting of directions for the next half-year has returned.  Semi-isolation will not change this cycle, perhaps as prevention of severe illness becomes available with immunization, it will the next cycle.  As I look at the twelve categories that comprise my projects, most of my big efforts are completed.  Health maintenance perks along.  My finances into retirement are stable, my family has small transitions, I'm into a reading and learning steady state, I don't need to purchase any more stuff.  I'm short of the interactions with other people, the immersion in the group, moving from spectator to participant.  Covid-19 has been a barrier, for sure, but not an immovable one.

Excessive Food

Between Thanksgiving and my wife's birthday, we have a lot of food, milchig and fleishig.  Had we a full contingent for Thanksgiving, six of us with two returning home after dinner, most of Thanksgiving would have been consumed or packaged, with a little remaining for us for shabbos.  As it is, recipe writers and food manufacturers have not really adapted well to the reality of people living alone or as empty nesters in ordinary times, made even more obvious by restrictions that Covid-19 safety has imposed on most of us.  I've not adapted to scaling down recipes or preferentially selecting those where excess can be frozen.  I'm not even sure I really have the cookware to make individual or double portions.  For my wife's birthday I made coulibiac which goes in a pie plate which seem pretty standard in size.  The almond torte goes in a springform pan, where I only had one designated milchig, though that I could have cut the ingredients and maybe baked it in an 8-inch skillet with parchment paper instead of a springform.  At least for the glazed carrots I took out the right amount.

Thanksgiving was harder.  I bought a half turkey breast which is easy to prepare and leftovers freeze well.  Soup could have been scaled back if I used fresh beans, which I did, but canned beans usually only come in one size.  Large cans of diced tomatoes can be portioned in plastic bags or they now come in small cans with some spice added.  Tomato paste can be used in the amount needed, the rest frozen in a sandwich bag and needed amounts broken and thawed later.  While the ratatouille excelled, it needs a variety of vegetables and therefore big quantity.  Better to make single vegetables and limited amounts of salad.  Stuffing can be scaled or frozen.  Cakes are hard to portion, either as partial recipes or finding smaller baking utensils.

I will likely have to send a lot of food to waste this time.  I enjoy the preparation and output, but need to reconsider portioning more appropriate to my circumstances.

In a Fog

Or perhaps in a snit.  Not taken Shammai's advice to greet everyone with a pleasant face this week.  Been achy, a little irritable, not quite hostile, and generally feeling imposed upon, though without justification.  It's been easy to create a list of what I want to do each day the evening before, not successful at all approaching the big projects.  As I read the synagogue offerings for December, I judge myself left out of any input to planning.  The decoration of a storefront by the Jewish Historical Society proceeded without me.  I've neglected most of my writing initiatives.  Filing papers from the living room remains half done.  

My sleep has settled into a new pattern of 4AM awakening without resumption of sleep, leaving me more tired.  Exercise gets done as a priority, though the benefit and intensity has plateaued.  I can start what I set out to do but not finish.  And I've been struggling to avoid responding in kind to those who annoy me.

Probably just need a vacation.  As my vacations from work got a little overdue, my disposition would deteriorate as it seems to be doing now.  Unfortunately, travel which was planned for next week seemed unwise enough to cancel the trip.  I will need to replace that, or maybe just spend next week doing different things from my customary activities.

Wrapping Gifts

Hanukkah approaches.  I try to maintain family traditions inherited from my in-laws though not successfully adapted by my children.  Each person gets one small gift to open each night. That way we avoid the extravagant.  More importantly, we have to think a little about the recipient and what things promote a small amount of pleasure.  I know who likes cats, regional sports, travel, some kitchen time, and some libations.  All easy to accommodate with four gifts each to my daughter, daughter-in-law, and son, with a double portion to my wife, who will also seek out four per child and eight to her spouse.  That's forty presents, and even with a $10 limit, it can add up, though I usually purchase well below maximum.

As children, and sometimes as college students who return home for winter break, I could just wrap each and hand it to them as each candle on our menorah is lit.  I still can for my wife and she for me.  If they came for Thanksgiving, I had all prepared to be toted back to their city.  Between distance, marriage, and Covid, it's all dependent on shipping by mail or other conveyance.

I have not included shipping in what I allot for each present but does affect the selection.  Things made of cloth, small jewelry, and textiles are light.  They don't break.  Edibles travel easily as well but the cost of transport sometimes exceeds the cost of product.  But with a little ingenuity, I've gathered what I need.  Only one poses a breakage risk and weight concern but it's so perfect that I'll just give it extra attention.  Some stuff can go in boxes, others better in gift bags which can then go into a corrugated box.  I harvested more than I need.  Have scissors, tape, plenty of Hanukkah and non-holiday wrapping.  And today I have motivation.

Sleeping Twice

Sleep improvement with better daytime restfulness has challenged me for a while.  I know there were benefits to accrue with more daytime energy and a willingness on my part to do what I could to bring that about.  Retirement has enabled better attention to this, though it could have added to my function at work too.  I've been exercising, grading myself to a proper type and amount with more success than I've enjoyed in decades.  

While exercise is something I might make excuses to avoid, sleep has more of an allure of the now with payoff later.  I want to sleep well and have no barriers for avoiding it.  Optimal sleep hygiene principles are readily accessible from many sources.  Unlike exercise, which for me requires a reward incentive, the behavioral changes for better sleep seem minor, mainly avoiding the bedroom for activities that can be done someplace else.  Other than reading in bed, which I could eliminate now that I've captured two good lounge chairs, I've accomplished that.

Yet sleep depends on cycles that I don't control very well.  Getting up at a fixed time can be committed with an alarm clock, going to bed at a fixed time can be enforced with a light switch.  Being asleep from lights out to alarm on and not beyond does not automatically incur from best intents.  Physiologic cycles don't adapt very well to clocks.

Despite the challenges, I've done well, nearly 100% on the arising time without the use of a device, less well on lights out times or smart phone deprivation times, but not as well at actually being asleep.  

I bought a watch with a sleep tracker module that has some tabulating mechanism that I don't understand other than to figure out its inaccuracy.  I'm frequently not tired at the assigned lights out time, or even the somewhat later smart phone off time.  In keeping with principles of sleep hygiene, I go to another room.  Food is off limits from 8PM to 6AM for another reason, but it has also helped eliminate getting up due to heartburn.  And there is nocturia once nightly, for which I am unwilling to resume a medicine that on two attempts made me dizzy.  But generally I have no trouble returning to sleep following the interruption.

Last night brought something different, maybe even of more concern.  In effect, I slept two half nights instead of one whole night.  At about the midpoint I suddenly found myself wide awake, a little achy as well.  It was not a bladder awakening but I took advantage of being up, taking a naproxen tablet for the achiness, and returning to bed with an empty bladder.  Still awake though, but I do not know for how much longer.  Since I've not needed an alarm clock and the usual wake time was just over two hours later, it remained lights out and under blanket.  I did awake, though an hour later than usual to glance at the clock, followed by a mostly involuntary final sleep cycle for another hour, when I figured I better get on with the day, two hours later than my usual daily starting time.

In effect, those natural sleep cycles of 60-90 minutes divided into two half night's sleep instead of one whole one.  After some feeling of teeter with morning hygiene, I feel well now though my daily activities are time shifted by two hours.

Cancelling Vacation

Covid-19 has taken its toll on travel, though this Thanksgiving a lot of people took their chances to see trusted relatives in person.  When I went to pick up a few items at Total Whine for my own Thanksgiving, a lot of other shoppers had full baskets that they could not possibly consume themselves.  I felt a need to get away too, and began to act on it.

 

It's been a confining time.  I went on three small day trips this fall and air travel over Labor Day weekend.  My son's wedding was worth some prudent health risk, though far fewer attended than originally planned.  I went virtually nowhere, getting food at a supermarket on arrival and having two dinners, one outdoors, the other in a tent.  The hotel had closed its pool.  In lieu of a buffet, it offered a doggy bag, which I declined in favor of the munchies from the supermarket.

That vacation overdue feeling had arisen, emphasized by a goal I had set for myself to visit a National Park by year's end.  I could have driven to Great Smokies, probably a reasonable  Plan A.  It would take a lot of driving, but offered detours to either Asheville or Knoxville. But there didn't seem to be all that much to do at the park itself, maybe hike or drive on trails.  It is also the most visited of the National Parks, so undesired crowds might be expected.  As an alternative, I looked at the Everglades.  By travel standards, this looked too good to be true.  Airfare less than regional intercity train fare in the Northeast.  Hotels about a third less than I usually pay for a chain hotel.  Rental cars seemed something of rip-off with Florida gouging its visitors as best it could, but as a package, it could not be beat.  Reservations made, with a modest penalty for canceling the car.  Looked forward to getting away until the reports of accelerated infection rates starting making the news.  Most of the trip would not have been that unsafe.  Air travel requires masks and we would sit together.  Hotels and cars also leave us by ourselves.  The hotel district can be accessed on a variety of internet maps.  There is a cluster of them near ours, at the edge of a shopping center district with ample takeout.  And the Everglades have assigned roads and open spaces, far larger than any of the parks near home.  However, to see what's in the Everglades, the National Park Service franchises tour concessions who take tourists around in some form of land or watercraft.  The State of Florida has been a little loose about protecting it's inhabitants, with far more people than we have rejecting infection control precautions as infringement on their personal or economic liberties.  That part is not a prudent risk.  As reports of illness, hospitalization, and mortality disseminated, responsibility for the health of my wife prevailed.  Son's wedding, take a chance.  My amusement, no way.  I cancelled it all, forfeiting an auto rental deposit, accepting an airline credit good for nearly a year, and perhaps staying at a different hotel in an area where the people have a better level of regard for each other.

Congregational Vote

As I look at my institutional affiliations, many have deteriorated with Covid, few have strengthened.  For a lot of reasons, I have felt particularly disaffected from my synagogue, a worthy refuge from another unfortunate congregational experience more than two decades earlier.  What was a place of growth opportunity with talented, though sometimes abrasive, clergy has greatly atrophied.  Skill, knowledge, and inquisitiveness have long since yielded to the mediocrity of inbreeding or paths of least resistance.  I am no longer a Giver, even have reason to think that prickly intrinsically challenging people are targeted for exclusion by the Officers, the Nominating Committees they appoint, and a languishing collection of committee chairmen who fill schedules on calendars with no interest whatever in the processes of Continual Improvement and Reflection that we experience in our professional lives.  They've arrived at the Promised Land of Undistinguished with no serious aspirations of offering a more exceptional Jewish experience.  It's hard to say if the talent has departed, easier to say it has been devalued.

Judaism has been a culture of forging ahead in prosperous times and in challenging ones.  Sometimes to forge ahead, you have to exit where you are,  whether that be Ur Chasdim to Canaan or Poland to NYC.  It also means that congregations that languish will become smaller, as most people really are willing to invest in their advancement.  Thus we are smaller.  There are a lot of rationalizations for this and no shortage of fingers to point, but as a congregation we now have little communal relevance and diminishing internal attractiveness, at least to me.

Yet, my personal assessment aside, I remain a member of the community, often a candid one or a person of discontent, but still a presence, though less loyal than I once was.  As we diminish in numbers, we diminish in money.  We also enter a phase of congregational senescence.  Our building where we congregated for fifty years has been cashed out.  We only own one piece of residential real estate, which may prove our security later, and have Torah scrolls of financial value.  But we have given up some or our independence.  Until Covid-19 kept us all home, we at least gathered in one place for worship, mainly for shabbos, nominally for daily minyanim, and squeezed by on yom tovim.  There is a governance which met on its appointed times, there were committees, though none large, none really advancing us as a synagogue with activities and meeting places perhaps a little under the table if they met at all.  It is possible to be a congregation of cyberspace, as Covid has taught us, but we would have a better future, already pretty precarious, if we had a mailing address, land line phones, and chairs.  It is here that paths of least resistance emerge with exploratory committees looking at other Jewish agencies with buildings rather than looking at rentable space as a more abstract concept.  We latched onto the local Conservative shul, not a bad shidduch, though we were always the stepsister to a congregation that started about where we were ten years ago but made decisions that moved them forward.  The disparity could be seen pretty much anywhere in the building that we would share.  I expected to hate being there, having departed for cause, but that was not the case.  I found those detestable machers who would swoop on the vulnerable and give a hint of credence to those anti-Semitic conspiracy theories, pretty invisable.  The people I met seemed personable.  I imagine they had some sort of agenda, as they could not have advanced themselves without one, though as a visiting tenant I never felt threatened.  Then again, I didn't run the place and did not have to appeal to them for anything I wanted.  Within our own governance I perceived some discontent, which didn't surprise me.

Then Covid shut down buildings.  They accept streaming on shabbos, so their worship continued on schedule.  Ours did not.  Our titled class has many delusions that repackage over time.  When our new Rabbi arrived, the Executive Committee proclaimed that if people could just come and see what we imported, they would want to be one of us.  Until they came and saw a very inexperienced but nice young man reading his Rashi notes for a sermon.  If we enhanced kiddush, more people would want to pay dues.  Not true either.  Congregational dwindles ensued, never a mass departure, but the actuarial realities of people getting older without replacement, people relocated for employment or retirement, some religious decisions more attractive to the inbred people than to anyone else.  So we find ourselves looking for what is likely to be our final space, with a race to see if we deplete our money or our people first.

While my observation detects the recessive genes of relentless inbreeding and formation of dysfunctional cliques, to be fair, those among the in-crowd have been diligent to task.  They desired space, found space, and negotiated terms.  Being a by-laws democracy, sort of, some key decisions cannot be implemented by our elected representatives but need the approval of a majority in attendance at a pre-announced Congregational Meeting.  While I had the shul on FB style Snooze, I signed in, watched and asked my questions, then voted with the majority to sign a lease on the proposed space.

I did not know how I wanted to vote.  One fellow was adamant about staying where we were, despite the fact that our current landlord really doesn't want us there indefinitely.  So once I understand the proposal, should my vote reflect what I want or am I an agent of the congregation who should allow what's best for the group override my own preferences?  It's not a bad financial deal, though I don't know how sustainable.  Two downsides, one for me, one for the congregation that nobody brought up.  I don't want to drive that far to attend shabbos services, let alone an evening meeting or activity.  Covid will end, either by vaccine or like all other epidemics from the Black Death to cholera to the 1918 flu, by the infection running its course.  There is always an endpoint to an epidemic, though some diseases remain endemic in lesser forms.  We have reasons to assemble.  If I don't want to drive there or find the location or even the room not to my liking, there are other locations to observe shabbos.  That affects me and I set it aside.  What affects the congregation is the capacity of the chapel where we would worship.  There was a time not that long ago when our usual attendance would easily overflow that capacity.  We would fit now, not really a tight squeeze but the room would appear amply occupied by our recent attendance levels.  Unfortunately, our recent attendance levels need to be boosted.  Accepting this as our worship space pretty much closes the door on expanding our congregation's worship attendance.  It's the current reality.  But I think it unwise to accept that as our destiny.

I voted in favor, as that takes a lot of pressure off the congregation and enables decisions going forward.  Whether I return when the space becomes operational remains unsettled.  I'm a worthy agent of the congregation when I need to vote, much like I tend to vote for candidates who support my vision for my country, state, and locality even if I might take a little hit in the process.  I can stand a few setbacks, not everyone can, so I vote for what I think would be best for the group unless the harm to me is unacceptable.  Having an address and on-site worship and not being subservient to other Jews is important enough for me to not impede the project with my vote.  But a building does not make the congregation viable.  The same officers have been in place with few changes since we sold our building.  The message that there was a decline for a reason that it is their responsibility to address in their official capacity, even if a few Sacred Cows need to be  schected in the process, never fully registered.  Having new space, particularly one contrary to any aspiration for growth, only reinforces our time limited trajectory.

At My Screen

As I review things I want to do today, or should do today irrespective of whether I really want to, a lot of categories allow shuffling of items on this rather long list.  They are sorted by color with home, medical, financial, and personal divisions.  Some have a colored hilighter designating whether they contribute to the initiatives I set up at each half year. Some have a dash, indicating a finite identifiable end point that allows crossing off as done.  None of these really direct my day.  What does offer direction is a little letter designation: D=downstairs, U=upstairs, C=computer.  There's a lot of stuff that pretty much has to be done over my screen, things from an Osher Institute class, seminar, nearly all my writing projects, my professional medical activities, finances.  I really need not get up from my very comfortable swivel desk chair, though some fairly important items like exercise or house chores displace me from my desk.  But rather than look at what I will do, maybe it will be more efficient to look at where I will be, clustering the computer tasks, the downstairs projects and the upstairs ones.  It my be preferable than my more customary shuttling from place to place.

Thanksgiving Week

 

This Thanksgiving will have a different form.  I've been alone before.  During my medical school years, I lived far from everyone else.  A classmate who observed kashrut would arrange a caterer to make dinner for his extended family and include me, though when he departed for a year in Israel, that invitation no longer came.  I made a turkey tv dinner from Sol & Ely's Kosher Butcher.  My aunt who usually made the family dinner would mail me some edible, though ironically via my mother's will which my uncle actually wrote, they were in fact stealing from me at the time.  As a resident and newlywed, I would try to make it to my in-laws for their dinner, succeeding two years of three, linked to a scheduled week's vacation.  

Thanksgiving, alone or amid family, always marked a landmark on my calendar.  School would suspend for a long weekend.  As a college student, I could take a bus or train to my father's house while those attending college from farther away stayed on campus.  Because of the extended weekend, and therefore classes earlier in the week underattended as some kids had to take a day or two off to travel with their families, those classes earlier in the week were often a review or catchup of less intensity than the rest of the semester.  One set of exams had been completed.  Pre-college midterms were a way off, college finals loomed with a few study breaks incorporated into that class free hiatus.

While Thanksgiving Day marked the apex, it was really a week's change in direction.  Returning home from college meant friends at other colleges also returned to their homes.  Old friends usually found a way to get together, usually informally.  We didn't think of college or pro athletes having the same entitlement to time off.  Some collegiate leagues had completed their schedules but others were making their final push for a bowl invitation or preparing for a bowl already secured.  Pros scrambled for league position, We watched on TV as they played.  For those with a yard, we were expected to pitch in with leaf disposal.  And those dinners would have extended families in attendance with somebody else preparing the meal.

Time brought me to adulthood, more responsibility.  Since I covered the hospitals for Christmas, I could count on Thanksgiving Day or even the extended weekend off from my medical duties.  Now I had the house, children in school with their Thanksgiving schedules, leaves to rake but for a long time dinner deferred to other people, though driving to the dinner assigned to me.  I worked pretty hard, the early days of the week just as intensely as any other work days, meaning I could use as much recreation as a few days away from work would allow.  It was not always that way.  Eventually as the children became adults, the generations turned over, and geography took its toll, Thanksgiving week changed.  Somebody could be paid to do the leaves.  I had taken a liking to cooking elaborate dinners so I became the caterer, transporting dinner to my in-laws.  Eventually it made more sense for people to come to me, which they did, though fewer of them as people became less willing to travel or ideological differences became unacceptable animosities.  I still watched football.  And the time remained more of a week with days of preparation, execution, and anticlimax of dishwashing and shabbos which always followed.

With some pandemic reality, I am back to my medical school and residency days, just me with my wife.  One child has his new family to absorb him as my in-laws absorbed me.  The other opted for the safe route, staying on America's other coast.  One regular guest decided to adhere to her state's Coronavirus control restrictions and stay home. But I'm still the caterer who thinks of this time more of a week than a day.

It's still a week delineated by a day.  Food acquisition early in the week, preparation with enjoyment Thursday, dishwashing and shabbos Friday and Saturday.  Indifferent to football as the teams have their own coronavirus restrictions which has detracted from level of performance for most and from hype for everyone.  Leaves again contracted out.  Osher Institute on intercession with no anticipation of return after the week concludes.  Less festive for sure.

Hard to Find

We used to have 5 & 10 Cents stores, WT Grant, Woolworths, Kresge's, all gone or absorbed into larger entities.  If you needed something, they had it.  The closest we have now are neighborhood hardware stores, perhaps, but most of our errands get done at mega stores, from groceries to home maintenance to big discounters.  They have a lot of things on display though rarely those petty items you buy infrequently or at low cost.  I needed, or really wanted more than needed, a few items this week, either not finding any or struggling to find something ideal.

Being a newly dedicated treadmill walker, my ankles and calves started getting sore.  I cold use some soothing liniment, maybe a generic BenGay. Lidocaine infused potions with markups reflecting their medicinal value appeared regularly.  At one time I could get a tube of muscle rub with just oil or wintergreen or menthol at a Dollar Store.  No more.  Not even the more chemically supplemented standard BenGay.  The best I could find was a juiced up generic BenGay with a lot more than pleasant fragrance for a lot more than a dollar.  I bought a tube.

I have two grooming locations, the bathroom next to my bedroom and the powder room downstairs.  I keep hair preparation at each, though not the same stuff.  They come as aerosols which I have as plastic bottle sprays both places but metal aerosol only upstairs.  Some require wet hair, which I keep upstairs as that is where I shower.  For the dry hair, there are cremes like Brylcream, greasy kid stuff like Wild Root, and liquid Vitalis.  Ointment stuff downstairs, liquid upstairs.  I wanted to get an ointment for upstairs but those classic cheap hairdressing like the barber offers at the end of a haircut don't seem to be on anyone's shelves.  There's expensive stuff like Crew or Panama Jack, those trendies, but not a bottle of Wild Root or tube of Brylcream to be found.  

I bought some hand sanitizer, a liquid rather than a gel.  It came with a pour bottle but would do better as a spray.  So I looked for a couple of spray bottles.  I know they exist, because the barber uses them, home cleaners like 409 have them, they are used to spray plants with home designed nutrients.  But none at the Dollar Store or a few other places.  I could have bought some spray cleaner at the Dollar Store, emptied and cleaned out the bottle, and then I would have one.  I found an old one in a closet at home, already empty, and used that.

Facial tissues used to be more commonly used than they are now.  I have a crushed box at home.  Hotels offer tissues in dispensers, sometimes part of a wall unit, sometimes as a free standing metal or plastic container.  No luck finding one of those.

All these items exist at Amazon.com but since they are small purchases, the shipping cost exceeds their value.  I will just use the final dry hair dressing downstairs.

Tracking My Activity

Periodically our regional Department Store Boscov's runs a promotion that gets me spending a little more than I ordinarily would.  They have a partnership with non-profits which enables a designated charity to receive 5% of sales.  On the most recent of these, I bought myself something useful, an iTouch activity tracker watch for $30 which is a whole lot less than the more popular fit-bit costs.  I assume it is not one of those brand fakes that funds terrorism in remote parts of the world.  I trust Boscov's.  Being hi-tech challenged, setting it up meant reading the instructions line by line, but now it functions, if not flawlessly, in a way that gives me useful information.

First step is the watch, three display faces.  It stays visually muted unless I request to see the time.  I can ask it to convey messages from my cell phone to which it coordinates.  FB is really a form of life clutter, so I don't want those notifications tempting me passively.  My text messages never justify interruption.  That module stays off.  It calculates my steps.  I know that is in error, since it resets automatically every midnight.  If I get up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, which is most nights, I will often return to bed having taken zero steps.  There are more steps recorded on my treadmill days, but since I hold the handrail while exercising, there's likely a lot of steps that do not record as the watch remains stationary while I walk.  Over the years I've been given a lot of promotional pedometers with organizational advertising.  Those clip to my belt so should be more reliable at counting steps.  Never did a comparison.  While some authorities regard number of steps taken as a marker of physical activity for which goals can be set, I find my current measuring devices inadequate for this, including my new iTouch.  Similarly calories and distance are calculations from that primary activity.  I know how far I've walked on a treadmill session.  The calculation on this sports watch rarely coincides.

What I find most intriguing is my sleep time, reported as total time on my wrist but subdivided into stages of sleep on the synched smart phone.  Typically it will record about eight hours but I don't know how it determines when I am actually asleep.  It could detect darkness as a surrogate, time when I am horizontal though probably not since I often recline during the day without receiving a sleep measurement from the watch.  It cannot measure sleep directly.  Maybe motionless time.  Doubt if something on a wrist will record breathing or eye movement. Most likely not terribly accurate but maybe a way to experiment with my sleep times.  Wake time has been very consistent, bed time very inconsistent but I still get very little variation in the cumulative sleep duration calculated by the device. And I never know from the clock when I actually fall asleep, as I am typically awake after lights out.

It will synch with my smart phone camera but I don't understand how to do this.

P and Oxygen saturation should be easy, but again, my heart rate on the iTouch does not accelerate much at the end of a treadmill session.  Oxygen saturation is supposed to be constant.  Mine has been.  

There are some sports modes and a stop watch.  What seems missing is a count down timer.  A lot of sports, including some pictured on the sports module, have their duration based on counting downward from a starting time.  I have been successful with my treadmill this year by setting a duration, then watching my cell phone count down instead of watching the timer on the treadmill count up.  I would have expected iTouch to include this option.

Worth $30?  Keeps me focused a bit more on my sleep and my relative level of activities on different days.  It's absolute accuracy remains questionable.

Almost Done

As I outline each upcoming day at 7PM the night before, I make some task notations.  A dash means I can complete it that day with a finite end point, a T indicates it requires less than ten minutes, a circle denotes a task that once done will not reappear for at least a week.  Most projects are bigger such as reading a book or replacing my bedroom curtains.  It is those segments that trip me up.  Appointments are usually fulfilled.  Making friends in a Covid environment is more amorphous.  Keeping in contact with old friends is very doable but not well focused.  More often it becomes an intersection of us each commenting separately to somebody else's FB posting, which post election have become tiring to me.  And a lot get worked on without a finite end point where it can be declared completed.  That leaves me with a lot of intentions not quite done, most significantly an article where the final paragraph before submission has shifted many times.  

I've wanted to join two organizations.  Got one of two.  Second never gets explored.  I have a trip planned to a National Park.  Don't know what I am going to do once I get there, though all reservations made.  I might even forgo it at a small financial loss if too high a medical Covid risk.  I am absolutely determined to not access social media today.  So far so good.  I've actually completed my fourth book for this half-year.  Quota of three done previously, but one more already started and probably another ten sessions until completion.  I do my two TED talks each morning, tackle my quota of two articles from The Forward with a comment on one.  I'm not as reliable at reading one article daily from The Atlantic, but once I start, I finish it.  I take my medicine and check on the indoor plants most days.  BP no longer needs measurement daily, though it is on my task list each day.  Weekly weight and waist measurements are Monday appointments, and my treadmill sessions are treated like appointments.  As much as I want to learn the harmonica, draw pictures, color with my colored pencils, go fishing and do some watercolors, those rarely get started.  

And then there is the house, a repository of partially completed efforts.  Currently I am filing and shredding papers, which relaxes me in a way. I emptied a box of papers, sorted into financial and other, and even made some folders.  Big project but seeing the once crammed cardboard box empty gave some satisfaction.  It's a milestone, but not completion.

One characteristic of ADHD's, which I might be a reasonably compensated but untreated one, is that we tend to have a lot of simultaneous projects but not a lot of completion.  From the review of my focus list, the end points need to become easier to identify.

Too Irritable

Most things have gone my way of late, better than for others it seems.  I feel well except for some nagging lower thoracic discomfort.  I sleep pretty well.  I don't miss the groceries I stopped buying.

But I've also gotten restless of mind and of physical position.  Things irritate me more than they should.  I snoozed my synagogue in protest, asking nothing in return from them.  My FB friends have gotten a little out of hand with not moving on from what for most were disappointing election results.  One OLLI course bores me a little, though I remain polite.  I want to go somewhere else, but not where I actually drive to.

Obligations get fulfilled very easily, though.  I make dinner, have been doing my scheduled treadmill session increasingly early, get up at the appointed time, tend to my indoor plants without fail. My scheduled reading proceeds to expectation most days.

But as much as I want a better level of connectedness, maybe even some appreciation, it doesn't arrive and its absence annoys me, and I probably don't deserve it.  

Amid the irritation, though, the screen and where it connects remains my loyal friend.

Sorting Papers

It's not yet been the first anniversary since closing out my storage unit, a repository for the unwanted that drained a fair amount of money that was wanted.  I thought I would have all worldly goods from that haul removed from my living area to other storage areas within my house, and I've made progress.  Contents of my wife's boxes have been mostly moved to interior Gehenna designated as a place in the basement in front of my work bench.  I still have a line of boxes in front of my stairs that needs a better home, preferably a recycling center, though a landfill will suffice.  I bought a shredder to replace my broken one and began the daunting task of sorting.  Anything more than ten years old except key financial documents gets shredded.  Sort of fun to do that.  I've dumped two bags of confetti into plastic bags.  Though paper, they are not eligible for recycling.  There are basically two filing piles, one of financial statements less than ten years old and the other various consumer filing of credit card statements or confirmation of charitable donations.  There's a lot of paper there, but I will make an effort to have it all done by the end of the calendar year, that anniversary of ending my storage unit rental.  The project seems more tedious than it really is.  And when I am done, I will be able to make that hallway space more navigable.  Worth the effort.

Pursuing Wellness

This may be the best I have felt physically in about four years.  Within the last year or so I have regimented a few things where benefits are emerging.  My treadmill schedule has become fixed to essentially two days on, one day off, with an adaptation to transition of months.  I set a time and speed with a cool down time and speed.  Days missed have been few.  If anything that has created the biggest payoff.  Sleep comes next.  I reviewed current recommendations for sleep hygiene with fixed bed and not bed times.  I've done very well with arising, rarely lolling in the morning seeking more time.  The evening has been more problematic.  Among sleep hygiene recommendations is not to toss and turn for more than a half hour or so but to get out of bed and go someplace else.  My recliner and big screen TV in my Man Cave have come to the rescue.  I usually return to sleep and get up at the fixed time feeling rested.  Staying out of bed at the times other than specified sleep has been harder, as I like to read there.  The overhead lighting is ideal, the temperature better than anyplace else, and reading reclining rather than sitting has been a habit dating to college.  I rid the bedroom lounge chair of clutter and should try that as an alternative to the bed.

Eating and weight control have responded to a few shopping decisions. Snacks are minimized, or at least selective.  No chips or national brand cookies.  No squishy bread.  No soda other than seltzer.  I glass of sherry or port each afternoon.  Coffee more rigidly rationed, with additional liquid via hot spiced apple cider or herb tea.  I've started buying portioned fish which can be taken out of the freezer the day before and made into a quick low fat, low carb meal.  Some starch control still needs attention but this is serious progress, probably contributing to my current well being.

I've given up some medicines, most notably citalopram which I used to be more restrained when among people.  I'm not really among people.  Flonase is gone.  Omeprazole went on an unsuccessful holiday, though.  And I am faithful to daily use of what I should take for cholesterol and for blood pressure control, each with reinforcement when the lab results and home BP readings confirm efficacy.

Despite the physical improvements, my quest for wellness still has some loose ends.  My mind wanders, which has its benefits but I often abandon tasks short of completion.  This is especially true in some of the reading and expression initiatives I've set for myself.

Connectedness languishes, my most serious deficit.  While independence of thought and to a lesser extent of person have been virtues, there are limits.  I assign myself a quest for organization affiliation, never achieving the acceptance I seek.  OLLI has gone virtual.  FB has people but considerable attrition for good reason.  Events like birthdays or my son's wedding get a lot of responses, presentations of ideas and initiatives don't.  Twitter and FB have lost their potential, places that people carry their placards for which others present some slogan as a poor surrogate of responding in thought.  KevinMD rarely has two responses to any article.  My synagogue has become the USY Clique transposed in time with inbreeding and not a lot of curiosity among those of title or the Rabbi on how to maximize engagement.  There are more substantial forums like Disqus where people can respond to articles in a substantial way and others can respond in kind.  I've basically shut them off, except for KevinMD as the responses of strangers too frequently are more hostile than enriching.

If I have a deficit of connectedness to people, I have compensated a little with connectedness to places, and even to things.  This month I've ventured to a few new places, Harford County, MD. the Philadelphia Italian Market, Laurel and Millsboro DE.  Each place has its visual impression, reinforced by wandering around there and peering from my car window en route.  I purchase very little, but early in Covid-19 I went to stores a lot as that was the only venue open.  The novelty has worn off but at least there are people around.  And I drive around the neighborhood or to a park, mainly for scenery.  It's not connectedness but a boost to my spirit, which can often benefit from that boost.

I've given up toxic food and overt sloth with good effect.  I should redirect to a little social butchery perhaps.  FB has attrition because it deserves attrition.  Ditto for my shul. But as my loss of squishy bread acquired a pumpernickel replacement. and undesired wakefulness led to TV time as replacement, I don't have a good replacement for shul or for twitter that would serve a better purpose.  Until that happens, wellness, or at least its social component, remain unfulfilled.

Next Holiday: Thanksgiving

My two favorite holidays, Pesach and Thanksgiving, center around elaborate dinners.  Most people think that it's the people gathering around the tables that make the festivities, but the last few years have posed a few challenges.  Toxic divisive public figures promoting confrontation bring people seeking confrontation to those dinner tables.  The holidays reflect a different view but the people who I would ordinarily invite are steadfast, so like many of us I have to choose between people and holiday.  For Pesach I've chosen people, for Thanksgiving I've chosen holiday.  While animosities can be set aside, justified disrespect has this aftertaste.  The purpose of gathering around our table must advance the holiday.  When it undermines it, the holiday stays, the people are sent into exile to repackage their own holidays.  Not a whole lot different than Hagar and Ishmael being unfriended or Lot selecting Sodom for its bounty.  They'll claim their turf. I won't challenge theirs but I will defend the sanctity of mine.

Covid changes the reality as well.  The risk of travel, particularly by car, may exceed the risk of hospitalization or death from the virus.  Travel we are used to and accept the risk, a lethal virus in our midst seems less acceptable.  My dinner table can be adapted to fewer people very easily.

So I'm back to food, though not exactly food as much as the pleasure I get from designing the meal and assembling it.  I've been through recipes, some familiar, some a new adventure.  That glorious roast turkey which can be eaten to gluttony, segmented for guests to take a portion home for shabbos the next evening, with a remaining carcass for soup later has given way to the more practical half turkey breast.  It is easy to prepare, though this year I think I will use a thermometer instead of depending on my timer.  I like crock pot stuffing but my crock pot lid needs replacement.  A barley kugel looks like the way to go.  For a salad, red cabbage and pears.  I hesitated on my preferred recipe as it calls for small amounts of port and red wine, but I can drink whatever we have leftover a little at a time.  Sweet potatoes have not yet gone on sale.  I have a recipe for a baked givetch vegetable medley.  And my synagogue assembled a cookbook about 20 years ago that offers a few cranberry options.  For dessert, something I've made before, a cranberry apple oatmeal torte.  And I think I'll try making some minestrone soup.

So the people have lost their centerpiece, replaced by my creativity and dedication.

Unexpected Repairs

There is a reason why we retirement geezers find our fondness to our homes and communities fraying as we age.  In my home, I work at my desk and sit in my recliner next to the desk essentially daily, watch the big screen TV most days, though my interest has been waning.  I use about half the bedroom and the adjacent bathroom.  In the living room I recline on the couch.  Fleishig is eaten at the dining room table.  The Family Room has a nook for my treadmill, to which I have been faithful to a set schedule.  I do my laundry when it needs to be done, use the powder room when I am downstairs, and regard my upgraded kitchen as a destination.  Parts of the house that I don't use comprises a lot more floor space.  Could duplicate all with 2 bedroom condo, though a little tight with a mobile home.  Stuff not used goes to yard sale.  I'm not the first senior to think of this.  And then there is where.  I like where I am.  State of Delaware may need to rename itself from The First State to Conscience of America as our voting pattern was one of the few to reflect concern for Derech Eretz and kindness in a meaningful way.  But having driven through Trump pockets of three states this month, there is something appealing about their spread out nature with space between neighbors. Rhetoric about protecting us from those neighbors, or from the people like me from elsewhere has less appeal.

But changing housing and location by seniors also suggests that time to be Lord of the Manor has come and gone.  I have a nice yard, but it wouldn't be a nice yard without a lawn service.  I do the garden myself, never taking a disappointing harvest that could have been improved with better attentiveness as a personal failure.  But as my FB friends nudge themselves to city condos or planned 55+ communities, it seems less about space and more about divesting themselves of maintenance responsibilities.

Got an unexpected jolt of kitchen maintenance last night.  To manage a Kosher kitchen amid my interest in using the kitchen, I needed more easily accessible storage space than my cabinets had available.  Many years ago I found a pair of wire grids at a small department store, long since defunct, and installed them on a dominant wall.  Using S-hooks one became fleishig, the other milchig. It remained static and trouble free for decades.  When I remodelled the kitchen I took them down to enable new wallpaper, but the brackets back in the original holes and reattached the grids.  It took minutes.  Suddenly my wife comes upstairs late at night to inform me that the fleishig side had collapsed, scattering pots and pans everywhere.  On inspection, there was surprisingly little serious damage.  One of the screws holding the upper left bracket had dislodged.  I figured an easy repair, just insert a plastic anchor and screw the bracket back on.  However, the plastic anchor did not go into the hole evenly.  When I tried to hammer it in a little farther the bracket that held the grid snapped so I would need new brackets.  Finding one proved impossible, both at local big box and hardware stores and and online.  Instead I got a new set, one with premade drywall anchors and installed those, but in order to do that I had to hunt my basement for a drill and a 0.25 inch bit.  Not as easy as it looks but done and should be adequately secure.

And it's leaf time.  The bane of my existence in my young parent years.  Delegated in my empty nester years.  Need to clean gutters too.  Reputable contractor came, gave an estimate for about twice what I think it should cost.  Thanked him for coming by then got more estimates, settling on one from somebody we hire for other outdoor things for $200 less.  

And there is all that stuff that will one day find its way to a clean-out service which parcels some to an auctioneer for the estate sale, the rest to landfill, and the structure to a realtor, all to do what may have been better to do myself while I still had the vitality to do it.

The rack has been rehung.  Not exactly what it was before but serviceable.  There is some cleanup in its wake to restore the kitchen to its previous function.  Just need to set my timer to the estimated time needed and do it. 

The question of setting an endpoint for these responsibilities drifts along, to be reconsidered at the next event.