My phone screen and my iPad are both cracked in the bottom right hand corner. Both still work, though rather unattractive in use. Kind of like me.

I was contemplating this aging business and how things break or crack or just poop out. I’m currently riding it out, limping along with the imperfections. The inner workings are still there, thankfully. They do need a little updating now and then, allowing things to purr along for awhile, until the next major episode. Which will be, of course, the visit to the dermatologist!

Pre-cancer cells will be made visible and erased and I will be in quarantine from the sun’s rays and any screen time for a few days. Shrouded in my scarves and hats I hope to clean out the basement storage room and possibly paint a room down there, and receive no visitors. It will be an ugly facade next week, reminding me of my aging technology.

I think we all need a little updating once in awhile, in one way or another.

The article on Pope Francis’s fourth encyclical brought joy to my soul. If I weren’t already Catholic I would convert!

The excerpt from the newspaper, still delivered to my door… This man has my number!

All it takes is a drive through the city to understand this one! Or perhaps wending your way through the aisles of Wal-Mart. We are a silly species at times.

This was my smile for the day, in honor of all those companions who tolerate us. A toast to Buddy and Frosty!

Perhaps that was the title of the cheer we did in high school? (Believe me, we had some nonsense encouragement for our teams.) This one came to mind as I awoke at 4:30 this morning to thunder and then hail. Yes, hail in late October.

Yesterday I had a premonition I suppose. I brought in the begonia I intend to over-winter, even though temps were mild. It just seemed like the thing to do. Aside from an inane chant, that was the other thing that came to mind as I pondered the hail pinging on our new roof.

Oh, it was more like sleet when I ventured out to look at 5:30 a.m. Kind of fun for a Monday morning, as I listen to the rain returning at 6:30 a.m. Well, we certainly needed moisture!

For years I have noticed how Shaquille O’Neal promotes so many products and companies. The ones I easily recalled were “The General” insurance, Icy Hot, Gold Bond lotion, some printer company (Epson?) and now Carnival cruise lines and JCP. As I watched the Broncos play last night I saw those last two and shook my head. (Btw…Broncos won)

So I decided to check out what Shaq endorsed and found, “The Top 50 Companies Endorsed by Shaquille O’Neal.” You mean there are more?

I learned he owns JCPenney! Well, he’s the second largest individual shareholder in the company which owns JCP. Huh? The commercial I saw last night with Martha Stewart also endorsing JCP may be helpful in reigniting the company’s image, I assume. I shall hope so, as I have an outdated JCP card. Anyway, I was superficially rewarded in knowing that I had recognized Shaq was endorsing a bazillion things. I can’t wrap my head around this kind of availability to invest….and yet he is working it! And well. 50 plus companies.

Obviously, I need worthier causes to investigate. Any ideas?

Today was “National Handbag” day. I’m pretty sure TJMaxx invented this, however it would have been a great excuse to go shopping for one!

My sister and I haven’t forgotten the theme-of-the-year, and we are hot on the investigative trail for next year’s guiding light. For now, we shall enjoy the lovely satchels we own, and if you happened to purchase a new purse today, congratulations! You can help pick next year’s theme!

If I had the time and wherewithal during this election season I’d create a new app. “Crapchat”. Kudos to my bridge buddies for inspiring this name.

Thankfully, I have some little bunnies hopping down the trail this morning and do not have time to invest in this potentially successful app, which would probably be taken to court by the Snapchat application.

We’re getting there. 20 more days of these campaign ads and their negativity. Ooh! Bunnies are here!

There was a recent news report on a study regarding urban life and its effect on people’s health. One of the finds was the thought/idea/assumption (I didn’t listen that closely!) that we no longer are digging in the dirt and we are suffering for that.

It’s possible our bodies need to get dirty, like our rural ancestors. I’m guessing it’s more for the mental joy that comes from digging in the dirt, getting that soil under your nails and seeing your labor come to fruition, rather than obtaining new defenses against disease? (Once again, I should have paid a tad more attention to detail on this one.) However, I had a blast yesterday for about 20 minutes when my grand and I repotted a plant.

Gardening gloves don’t work for me. I do need to feel that earth. Well, guess what? Mini-me said “I love to get dirty. Can I help?” We both dug in and I even found holes in the parched backyard for her to dig in. She kept showing me how incredibly dirty her hands were. She even eschewed the spade for just playing in that dirt. It was a joy to behold.

It’s at this point I offer an apology to my brother for feeding him mud pies when he was a baby. Apparently I already knew dirt was good for you?

Peering through my rain splattered windows I am privy to many gossamer threads illuminated by Autumn’s play on light. I could see a spider’s work across the backyard between two trees, hanging and sparkling in the early morning. Beauty and strength in those fine threads.

Well, of course I thought back to college and my study of Mr. Whitman. I even did a project on him for an advanced degree years ago. However, I truly forgot why I loved this poem so much. But here I am, oh my soul, ceaselessly musing and spewing words, always seeking some anchor. A noiseless spider, not always patient.

A Noiseless Patient Spider

BY WALT WHITMAN

A noiseless patient spider, 

I mark’d where on a little promontory it stood isolated, 

Mark’d how to explore the vacant vast surrounding, 

It launch’d forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself, 

Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them. 

And you O my soul where you stand, 

Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space, 

Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them, 

Till the bridge you will need be form’d, till the ductile anchor hold, 

Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul.

My husband was so proud. He caught the trash guys and gave them $20 to take the old hail-ridden hot tub cover. I applauded him. It was not a problem for them, though probably not a legitimate pickup. We love to catch our guys when we have “beyond weekly” needs.

We do not have easy access to anything in our ‘hood. In the past I have put the trailer at the end of the drive loaded with tree branches and a white envelope with cash. Our disposers take care of it. I have placed a cash envelope for the newspaper delivery driver at the top of the driveway – an out of the ordinary place to deliver – just to show appreciation.

I know it’s not much, but cash speaks. It speaks to me even in my singing and accompanying for weddings and funerals. If I am paid in cash it makes accounting easier. Although cash may be losing some of its weight in this era, I always appreciate it. It’s been paid for.