Winter Cold Moon
Tonight was a Sheepshead night. The cards ran my way all evening, evidence, Bill Schmidt said, “That the card gods have not died.” I owe them a joss stick or two. It was a good night for me. And fun.
(Beham, (Hans) Sebald (1500-1550) Fortuna . Engraving, Representing Fortune)
Bill and I ate at the St. Clair Broiler before hand. It’s a joint from the 1940’s and still has that 40’s feel. A neighborhood place with neon flames on its sign and just plain nice people working there. Our waitress was sweet, a gentle, caring vibration about her.
We talked about life, about his transition to life without Regina’s physical presence, and he noted that, “We’re all always in transition.” So true.
Roy Wolf, in whose home we play, said, “I’m 78. The median age for white men in America. Half are younger, half are older.” Amazing. Heartening to this 65, soon to be 66 year old.
On that front. I had my brush with a blood glucose level of 112, in the above normal range for the first time. Tom Davis, my doc, said I needed to watch my intake of sweets and starches. I have. I took it one step further and have begun counting carbs. Not quite as seriously as a diabetic, but pretty seriously.
Result: blood glucose this morning of 101. Very reinforcing. I’ve lost a little weight, too. Not much, but some.
