If you are looking for an intellectual conversation -

 If you are looking for an intellectual conversation, this is prolly not the place.

For example:  let's take up the names of the days of the week.  Right there should exemplify my title for this missive.  To save time, I will will list them all now:   Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and, finally Sunday.  I feel certain that our names somehow come from the Greeks.  I don't know that.  Greek or Latin roots seem to plague us.  I know certain females who have dark roots - my tree has dirty roots - then, there was that TV show Roots.  None are related to my conversation.

Question #1:  When creating week names, did they start with Sunday or Monday?  It is my belief that our answer lies in religion.  Most, I say MOST, Christians celebrate Sunday as the Sabbath.  There are those who really like Saturday.  7th Day Adventist have their thing.  The Jewish community use to shut down on Friday night - or was it Saturday?  I'd have to go back and watch Fiddler on the Roof to know for sure.  Then, we have the Catholics who seem to be able to have Mass on more than one day.  To me that seems the most logical.  Have it when it fits your schedule.  Not going to complain - any group who has to go through all that Confessing in a little booth - they have my utmost respect.  I don't think I could ever do that and be completely honest all the time.

God create earth.  On the 7th day he rested.  So, in your mind is the 7th day when?  Okay, let's say that a couple thousand years ago, I am creating the names of the week and I am Jewish.  Sunday becomes the first day of the week?  This is not meant to be accurate reporting on my part.  Frankly it doesn't matter to me right now.

Let's say, this guy Amos said, "The first day of the week is Sunday."   

Then comes Monday.    Why, why,  WHY was the 3rd day not named Tunday?  Wenday?  Thurnday? and so forth.  It makes sense to me.  Spelling is a whole "nother" issue.  Well, of course, part of the answer is simple:  Amos wasn't speaking English - or in my case, Texan.  Maybe in Yiddish these names are listed poetically somehow.

I'll leave you with this.  If dogs had named the weeks, they would be Barkday, Snortday, Growlday, Pantday, Ballday, Wagday, and Napday (this would have been the Sabbath),  It is obvious that dogs would have had an 8th day:   EAT or COOKIE day

You can make up your own cat named days, starting with:   Purrday (derivative of Purrfect - albeit Sabbath).

Lunch time for me.  Later Miss Gator  (bugeyeday)

m3

Tuesday's tidbits

And here we are, past the halfway mark in August.  It is still too "dang" hot to do much outside.   Maybe that is not true for young whippersnappers; but for this older - I want to say older dude - it just doesn't sound right to me.... for this older - oldest - whatever - "for me," it is just too hot to spend hours outside digging in the garden or mowing yards  or painting a fence or you know.  Our weatherman is projecting some rain later this week.  I'll believe it when I see it.

Reading a certain column in the newspaper - a person asked about punctuation after a sentence.  Not the period, but how many spaces follow the sentence.  Her explanation:  if you learned to type in a typing class on a real typewriter, you were taught to put 2 spaces after the sentence, which you might notice, I just did.  It seems that newspapers have always put just one space. . . and the people on the internet adopted that process.  So, as you read my diddies, you will always note the 2 spaces in my work.  I feel uncomfortable putting only one.  Now, friends, that is stupid.  Why should spaces make a person feel uncomfy?  It could be because I expect the ghost of my old high school typing teacher to fly through the window at any moment.  And, frankly, I can tell you from experience, you don't want to cross that 7'9" woman.  {maybe she was a bit shorter, who's asking?}

Disaster today:  Anne or Annie - my daughter's beautiful, noisy basset hound just threw up her cookies right outside my office door.  I turned and saw her standing over the pile with a forlorn look.  Bassets have a natural forlorn look without much training.  I hopped up shooing her out of the hallway.  Guess what I did next.  Guess.

Wrong.  I looked for my wife to help me clean up the gooey mess.  No luck.  The spouse was in the front yard watering the flower bed.  I had no choice but to "dive" in and SLOP it up.  The pile sucked up an enormous number of paper towels.  I hate picking up a gooey paper towel.  Shivers, it gives me.  Of course, I used the very last paper towel from the kitchen.  Wandering into the garage, I sought more.  I couldn't find them for nothing.  Toilet paper, I found.  

I stood by the front door watching until the watering had been completed.  An explanation was made.  She, the wife/spouse walked into the garage and picked up 2 rolls with no effort.  I guess I'm going blind.

What makes a dog throw up like that?  She is as perky and vocal as ever.  If'n I had done that, I'd be in bed moanin' & groanin'.

For those why are paying attention, I have ONLY 27 more days of radiation treatment.  It really is a wonder why I'm not all A-Glow.

I thought, when I began the treatments, that the waiting room would be filled with the exact same people daily.  You walk in and see the same faces at the same time of the day.  That has not been the case.  I cannot think of one person that I have seen more than once at my appointed time.  Only the technical staff - nurses - doctors and receptionists remain the same...and the receptionist do change frequently.  I have absolutely NO IDEA what this is costing.  I could ask.  Nope.  We'll just wait and see.  Maybe Medicare pays for it all.  Who knows?

In closing, I should mention that our new Sleep Number King Size bed 360 whatever is nice.  The head lifts up and the knees can be lifted.  I sleep with the head slightly elevated.  They say this helps with snoring.  Of course, I never snore.  Never have.  Never will.  The bed takes up a large portion of the bed room.  I believe it looks nice with its Walmart special cover and sheets.  I worry about falling off this bed - it is a long ways to the floor.  gonna stop.  

later love, 

m3

Monday - #34

 Monday - the 8th.

Not much to report.  Just returned from the radiation treatment...only 33 more to experience.  I don't know if I have mentioned it; but, the treatment process is the same - day after day.   I arrive 15 minutes early (usually I'm there about 20 to 25).  The lovely lady at the front desk asks my name and date of birth - why they do this is, not sure.  Why would anyone walk in and use my name or date of birth?  Maybe it is to make sure the techs don't zap my liver instead of the prostate.  I'm not sure.  Answer:  it is part of the procedure.  The front desk lady has learned my name.  Now, I just have to verify the birth date. 

I sits in de waiting room.  Me name is called - slowly, I am educating the staff that the "E" on the end of my name is silent.  It really doesn't matter.  I put my cell phone in my bag and follow to "the" room.  Once I have arrived, I climb up on the skinny table.  You'd think, as much as this radiation machine cost, they could afford to make the table 4 inches wider.  But, no.

I do have a question.  They have great big doors that close when the radiator is generating.  I wonder if the walls are made with the same heavy metal stuff - what about the floor - and, then, there is the ceiling.  If radiation could go through a wall and zap the tech staff - couldn't it go through the roof and zap a low flying airplane - or, a bird?  Just wonderin".

Once I am on the table, they throw a small cloth over my groin area.  I pull down my garments to thigh level.  They strap my feet together on the table and adjust me on the table.  Little green lasers are everywhere.  I am moved to meet their specs.  I am given a 6 inch ring to hold with my hands on my chest.  When nobody looks, I pull my mask down in order to breath.  The rest of the story is below in one of the other blogs.

When finished, I get up and leave.  They try to be upbeat and say goodbye,  All over till tomorrow.

I have quit drinking carbonated beverages and using a straw.  They say these are the two biggest culprits for admitting gas to my intestines.  But, then, they have not seen me eat 2 big bowls of beans.  Friday, this week, I plan to cook beans and cornbread for supper.  ?The Instant Pot is terrific for that.  Let the petroleum products flow.  Not eating beans and drinking diet coke - these are lifetime changes for me.  33 more sessions and things will revert back.

-----

We bought a new Sleep Number bed back in early July.  It is to be delivered tomorrow.  Do I know the exact time of day?  Of course not.  They implied I would be contacted early.  That didn't work.  Delivery type folks do have a problem, generally speaking, in being punctual.  Go ahead.  Tell me I'm wrong.  This will be a brand new adventure for us.

-------

non-local people may be unaware about our Texas weather - hot streak.  It has been a miserable summer.  Thank your Deity for A.C.  When I lived in the Panhandle as a kid, we did not have central air.  Instead we had swamp coolers.  A big machine which blew air over water soaked panels.  The air was cold.  A window had to be open somewhere to let the airflow escape.  We truly slept with a window open every night.  Nobody tried to sneak in the house and steal all our jewelry.  Well, we had no jewelry to start with.  Those were good times.  We didn't even know we were handicapped without central air.  My father bought a 1957 Chevy 4 door and installed a floor air cond unit.   It was the first air cond. car we ever had.  Glorious.   It was still unbearably hot in the car - but we had air.

----  

Almost time to feed the dogs.  More rambling soon.

m

60 years, a ....

 shortest entry yet.   today is our 60th anniversary.  No, I was not 60 years, a slave.

😆