I’m going to strike while the iron is hot and immediately share the meaning of that idiom.
I like to strike while the iron is hot and right now I’m trying to figure out how to take advantage of a travel opportunity with free airfare, which is expiring on June 30.
Striking while the iron is hot can be
adventurous,
effective,
ineffective,
fun,
anxiety-provoking,
smart,
dangerous (ouch! hot iron!)
invigorating, and/or
exhausting.
Let’s strike while the iron is hot and look at my images for today.
On National Logistics Day, I’m trying to strike while the iron is hot to figure out the logistics to make this trip work.
When I strike while the iron is hot on YouTube, this is what I find:
Finally, I’m going to strike while the gratitude iron is hot and thank all who help me create this daily blog, including YOU!
I’m sure I’m repeating myself here when I state that I sometimes have a fear of repeating myself. However, repeating oneself is actually encouraged on National Repeat Day.
Even on National Repeat Day, I don’t want to repeat much more of the National Day Calendar’s description of National Repeat Day, which you can read here. That description has links to 7 Things Worth Repeating (including music, daily affirmations, and recipes) and and 7 Things Not Worth Repeating (including bad haircuts, terrible jobs, and being scammed).
On National Repeat Day, I want to repeat that the USA needs to ban assault weapons, NOW.
Do you see repeats in my other images for today?
On National Repeat Day, there’s kind of a repeat of National Macaroon Day, which was three days ago.
Last night, on the day after the horrific shootings at a Texas elementary school (and the typical, infuriating reactions from those opposed to sane gun laws), I asked a question on Twitter about finding some measure of comfort through music.
Here comes trouble in the form of yet another daily blog post from me, who likes to wear these socks:
Here comes trouble as my hometown of Boston gets rid of almost all mask mandates and social distancing rules today, which is troubling many people I know.
Here comes trouble because major changes in rules and routines, widespread distrust in the media and in political leaders, real and present dangers, and uncertainties about the future are all very troubling.
Here comes trouble as I share all my latest images with you.
.
Here comes trouble: I’ve posted WAAYYY more than 70 days in a row. (Three thousand more, WordPress!)
Here and here come the two songs I mentioned as I was causing trouble on Twitter:
Consider causing some trouble in the comments section below.
As I’ve said to several people lately, “I think I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. I just hope it’s not a train coming in the opposite direction.”
Can you see the light in my photos from yesterday?
I forgot my phone at work last night, so if you expected to see any photos from yesterday, forget it!
I tend to forget:
my phone,
umbrellas,
numbers,
song lyrics,
people’s names,
dates,
details about movies I’ve only seen once,
grudges, and
I forget what else.
Stress often increases forgetfulness. I’m forgetting more than usual this week. If you want me to explain why that is, forget it! I’d rather focus on what I wish I could forget, which includes:
past hurts,
past disappointments,
past illnesses,
past surgeries,
cruelty, and
politics, if only for a moment.
But forget it! I can’t control what I forget and what I remember. Right now, I remember talking to my friend Megan yesterday about the ups and downs of life and how we wished we could remember to ride them, like surfers riding waves.
I’m sure there are recent photos I’ve forgotten to include in this blog.
Here’s one!
I forget why I took that. Actually, I think I took it accidentally.
If you want me to come up with a reason for why that photo is a good match for today’s blog, forget it! I have to leave early because I forgot to get an inspection sticker for my car, and if a cop stops me about having an expired sticker, forget it!
I wonder if there’s anything titled “Forget It” on YouTube?
Forget it! There’s too many Forget Its on YouTube! Here’s the first “Forget It” I found:
Here‘s a song I’ll never forget and which I heard yesterday on my way to work:
If you want me to explain why “Love is the Answer” by Todd Rundgren is unforgettable, forget it!
If you leave a comment, I won’t forget it. And I can’t forget to thank all who helped me create today’s post or you — of course! — for remembering to visit, here and now.
Monday evening, after my discomfortingly long surgery earlier that day, the comforting Dr. Mark Estes visited my typically comfortable hospital room to comfortingly talk about my recovery. At one point, he said:
You’ll have quite a bit of discomfort.
I turned, uncomfortably, to say to my visitors, “When a doctor uses the word ‘discomfort’ …”
And Dr. Estes finished my sentence:
It’ll hurt like hell.
How much discomfort do I have right now, as I’m writing this dis/comfort post?
Well, I wouldn’t use the word “hell” to describe my comfort level. However, I wouldn’t use the word “heaven,” either.
Since Monday’s surgery, several comforting people have asked me to rate my pain/discomfort level on a scale of 1 to 7, 8, or 10. While I can’t comfortably remember the upper end of that scale, I feel comfortable telling you that those pain/discomfort scales include faces of people in increasing amounts of discomfort. I usually feel uncomfortable looking at those discomforting faces and trying to assign a number to my own discomfort.
How comfortable are you with discomfort scales like those?
Has my discomfort decreased since Monday?
Yes.
Am I comfortable?
Not yet.
Will my left shoulder — where Dr. Estes implanted a pacemaker/defibrillator — ever feel comfortable again?
I hope so.
Will I feel comfortable returning to work in four days?
Time will tell.
Yesterday, my comforting friend Peggy visited me at home, bringing this Get Well balloon, which could cause different levels of dis/comfort, depending on where you live:
Peggy and I then took a short comforting walk in the beautifully comfortable weather. Along the way, Peggy expressed some discomfort about how pansies don’t seem to have faces the way they used to. In response, I comfortably took these photos:
Are you comforted or discomforted by the faces in those pansies?
I am much more comfortable with that kind of slush than I am with the uncomfortable slush and snow that discomforted Boston for so many months, this year.
Are you comforted or discomforted by the other photos I took yesterday?
Lately, I’ve been very comfortable with the music of Todd Rundgren, especially when he gives comforting answers like these:
Comfortable thanks to Dr. Estes, to Peggy, to flowers and flowering trees (with or without faces), to flavored slush, to welcoming things everywhere, to Michael for the comfort food last night, to Todd Rundgren, and to all my comforting visitors, including you!
You may have noticed that my posts often include what I’ve noticed the day before.
You will notice that this post is no exception.
Yesterday, on my drive to work, I noticed this license plate I had noticed once before in a different part of Boston:
If you’ve noticed my past blog posts, that “AUTO” license plate has appeared — noticeably and obviously — in a previous post, Day 767: Obvious.
I noticed much more, besides that auto license plate, yesterday:
I am wondering what you noticed in those photos. I noticed, among other things, (1) a budding notice of spring on trees and (2) matzo farfel muffins.
Notice how educational my blog is?
Here’s something else I noticed yesterday:
I’ve noticed that looking younger IS an issue (1) in our culture and (2) for several of my older therapy patients.
Soon after I noticed that magazine cover at work, I noticed an inter-office envelope in my mailbox. I noticed this, inside:
I didn’t notice anybody delivering that noticeably delicious gift to my mailbox and I also didn’t notice how long it was sitting in my mailbox before I it noticed yesterday.
Ever notice how people eat chocolate bunnies?
That bunny got noticeably smaller, noticeably quickly.
Can you notice the difference between these two dinner plates, one for me and one for my 17-year-old son Aaron?
My boyfriend Michael has noticed there are some vegetables Aaron doesn’t like and has acted accordingly.
One more image I trusted myself to notice yesterday:
If you wanted somebody to notice you, what might you say?
You — and Todd Rundgren — might get noticed by others if you say “Hello, It’s Me.”