Day 2847: Deep inner feelings

Last night, after I performed my original song “I’m Mad About You” at a remote Open Mic, Joe the M.C. mentioned deep inner feelings, which I had feelings about.

I have deep inner feelings about sharing my songs with you here on WordPress, so here’s “I’m Mad About You.”

Do you see deep inner feelings in the images I captured yesterday?

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I overcame my deep inner feelings about trying something new and posted the ending of “I’m Mad About You” on TikTok this morning. We’ll see if anybody has deep inner feelings about that.

I encourage you to express any deep inner feelings in a comment, below.

My deep inner feelings always include gratitude, so thanks to all who help me share my deep inner feelings in these daily posts, including YOU!

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Day 352: Snow (It’s safer than I feared)

Well, yesterday was an interesting day, fraught with anxiety about WordPress AND about snow.

The WordPress anxiety was probably not necessary, since this was NOT a life-and-death situation. All that happened was this: In the morning, I finished a post that I had worked on for about 90 minutes, published it, and then discovered (after I got to work) that I had inadvertently left open a “New Post” window, which resulted in the last 30 minutes of my efforts being wiped out.  (I assume I’m not the only one amongst those reading this who has experienced  something like THAT.)  Actually, the work wasn’t technically wiped out, because people who get my posts via email got the completed version. However, anybody accessing the post any other way, saw the incomplete version. (And by the way, I restored the post to most of its former glory, after I got home.)

Confused?  So was I.  And I fixed things, throughout the day.  And it definitely did not kill me.

Now, regarding the snow anxiety … was that necessary?  Well, I think it was probably more understandable than the WordPress-related anxiety. That is, once I got to my car, I had to navigate home, during rush hour, in some pretty treacherous driving.  It took me three times longer than usual to get home. The extra time didn’t bother me, though. What scared me were the parts of the trip where:

1. I was having trouble seeing, because my windshield wipers were icing over repeatedly and my rear window defroster apparently gives off the same amount of heat as a refrigerator light bulb.
2. I was on the verge of skidding, practically every moment.
3. I was driving on unplowed streets, some very populated and some very deserted.
4. I was often afraid that I would lose control of the car and skid into people who were walking in the road.

So, that DID feel like a life-and-death situation.  But I got home okay. And I didn’t kill anybody. Or even harm, in any way, another living creature.

Here’s the portion of the post where I explain the title (if I haven’t explained it already).

Back in April, after the Boston Marathon bombings, I wrote a post called “Here and now?  It’s safer than you fear.”

Yesterday, before I started the arduous journey home in my car, I walked the 0.9 mile’s distance to where I park it. And it was snowing, quite a bit, during my walk.

A few days  ago, I posted here about my fear of walking in the snow and ice, now that I’m on anti-coagulant medication.

I overcame that fear yesterday.

How did I do that?

1. I had the equipment (that is, the boots, the coat, and the other winter accoutrements).
2. I had the support (my sister-in-law, Linda, who also works where I work, walked with me for part of it).
3. I had the music to cheer me on (because of my beloved ear muff/headphones*)  after I parted ways with Linda.
4. Therefore, I felt safe to dance and sing, all the way down this snow-covered street, near the end of my walking journey:

And it was FUN.

Okay!  That concludes our post for today, ladies and gentlemen.

Now, I just have to save this post and make sure that I close all windows that I may have opened during the creative process (because that which does not kill us, helps us learn).

Thanks to Linda, to all who are feeling various degrees of safety (and fun) today, and — of course! — to you, for reading.

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•  Apparently, according to Amazon, most people think these ear muff/headphones suck. I still love them, though.

Day 226: Parting is such sweet sorrow.

I’m writing this on the morning of the last day of my son’s and my trip to London and Edinburgh.

To honor the wonderfulness of this trip, and to allow myself more time to enjoy our last day here, I’m going to include just one photo, which some short comments.

I took this snapshot of the Greyfriars Bobby statue very quickly last night, as my son and I were on our way to one of the venues of the Festival Fringe in Edinburgh. We were going to see Greg Proops, from one of our favorite TV shows, the American version of “Whose Line is it Anyway?” Before the show, we also wanted to stop at a Patisserie recommended by somebody at our hotel before the show. Because we’d had a stressful 10 minues in London, earlier during this vacation, when we were late for our third show in 28 hours (“Phantom of the Opera”) after stopping at a Patisserie and having difficulty finding that show’s venue, I didn’t want to linger on our way to the show last night.

So I noticed the statue and the little girl, but I barely aimed my iPhone while I took that photo. I didn’t stop and think, at all.

Later that night, after we returned to our hotel room (by the way, after we WERE about the same amount late for the Greg Proops show as we were for “Phantom of the Opera” in London), I took a closer look at that photo.

And since then, I’ve looked at it again. And each time, I’ve noticed something new.

This is what I’m noticing on this last morning in the lovely UK, as I look at that quickly-snapped photo of a statue commemorating the loyalty of a dog to its owner after death:

1. That little girl looks so happy and secure, perched on high.
2. One of the creatures in that photo seems like it’s looking right at me.
3. The sign in the background reads “Established in 1772,” which brings to mind one of the first things I said to my son when we decided to visit London and Edinburgh this summer, “You may think that buildings in Boston are old…wait until you see the buildings in London and Scotland!”
4. Directly above that sign, there’s an olde-fashioned bicycle on the wall, which reminds me of another one of my (much earlier) favorite TV shows:

I’m sure if I look again, I’ll see something else in that photo.

For now, though, I’m going to finish this post, so I can bid a proper adieu to the United Kingdom.

Thanks to Patrick McGoohan, Greg Proops, the little girl in that photo, improvisers everywhere, loyal pets, and to you, for reading today.