Monday I did nothing.
Tuesday I wrote bicycles with Brian
Waldrop. We drive to Money and braved the crazy wind. I did a total of 17.44;
he did a little more. We went out the road that crosses the bridge and goes
west. He stopped at the turn around to wait on me. When I got there, the look
of fear on his face was most disturbing. He did not say any words, but his face
said, I am afraid you will die. I was afraid also.
Brian was out of pocket Wednesday
and believe it or not, I went out on my own. My pitiful legs could barely turn
the crank for a miserly 7.22 miles. For the rest of the week, it seems I was
running to and fro trying to put out fires, but for the life of me I can’t tell
you what I was doing except one thing. I finally got my tax stuff to Bob
Knight. He was one of Dad’s old friends and besides my siblings, he was the
first person I called after Dad passed in 2013. I did not want him or any of
the Taylor, Powell crew to hear it word of mouth. I may have called David Lott
that day also. Dad and David were big fishing buddies and I felt his friends
should hear about his death from the family. I hope I made that happen.
Now on this Monday morning, it is 37
degrees and windy. Outdoors looks like spring but feels like winter. For a
couple of decades now, our springs have been getting colder and colder. The
cotton planting date has even shifted by sixteen days. I still have to pick up
my tax returns, and I need to do some visitation. In addition to all that,
tonight is Over 60s at Itta Bena Baptist. So maybe I will exercise tomorrow. We
have another eating Thursday. Sigh. Then date night Friday: more eating. I am
trying to regain some fitness and an appropriate weight before I die.
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