PS ...

... when I wrote It's Not Easy Being Me earlier today, I neglected to mention a main point that I had wanted to raise, which is a problem that I sometimes have: getting carried away with thoughts that I forget my original intent — at least in part.

The new thought that has struck me is that some of my nighttime excursions into the realm of sleeplessness may be related to the napping that I referred to in the post below. I think what may happen when I go to bed for the night, sometimes at least, is that I doze off (as in a brief nap) for a certain length of time be it five, ten or twenty minutes. But on some occasions I do not fall deeply asleep and come to after the doze. And that doze might have the same effect as a nap — just enough to re-set my sail, so to speak. I don't know; it's just a new theory, but it sounds plausible to me.

I am thinking that I might doze lightly fairly often before falling more deeply into the arms of Morpheus, but every now and then, I experience sufficient rest to become quite wakeful if I happen to roll over and come to.

Well, as I said, it's a theory. Perhaps it will help me to become less frustrated to know that I've had some sleep, and I might feel more inclined to turn my head and hand to some sort of productive task.

Perhaps not.

It's Not Easy Being Me

Cuppa reminded me of this picture this morning after I revealed my latest nocturnal escapades and told me that I should press it into service again. I posted it about as year and a half ago in Dreams of Yesterday after yet another bad night, which in that instance was largely caused by some sort of miserable little virus.

Yesterday, I was whinging about being tired after a near sleepless night on Sunday and wondering how I would fare at linedancing last night. So, I did something that I hardly ever do: had a wee kip before I went out. I pretty well knew that would revive me for the evening. About once a month or three (seldom in other words), I do this: nap during the day. Even at that level of infrequency, it's never for long, but anywhere from ten minutes to a half hour is generally sufficient to revive me enough to function — more or less anyway.

So it was that I lay down for a half hour yesterday and would judge that I dozed for perhaps twenty minutes. I'm sure you would agree that isn't a whole lot and shouldn't throw me off my sleep seven hours later. But it did! Or something did. At one o'clock although I was lying in bed, I was still rather perky and knowing what that could presage, I took a sleeping pill. It kicked in about an hour later, giving me about seven hours of decent sleep. Which is enough most of the time.

I prefer not to use the pill although it really helps by times. When I do choose to pill myself, however, I tend to plan it out and take it earlier because it does seem to take the best part of an hour for it to kick in. But my point is, yes there is a point to be made somewhere in this piece, is that when I am tired due to genuine lack of sleep, a twenty minute nap should not wire me up seven and eight hours later.

But wait, there's more. What the pill also sometimes allows is for me to sleep more deeply and get up to visit the loo less frequently. On a typical night, I might get up four times or about every two hours on average. Last night I made it through four and a half hours before getting up — almost like a normal person. I think I'm caught in a vicious circle. Bladder realities cause to awake and go more frequently than most but it also seems to me that I feel such frequent need because I am sleeping lightly.

So, do you agree that the picture is appropriate: that it isn't easy being me?

The Day After the Day After the Night Before

Yes, it's the day after the day after a night of little sleep. For no apparent reason such as worry or stimulus, I had one of those nights for which I am so famous on Sunday. It just happens every few weeks or so. I gave up my efforts at 2:30 AM and switched on the telly. I seldom do that but couldn't figure out how else to pass the time that night. Thought I: the telly will put me to sleep. Alas! is was not to be. I watched George Stroumboulopoulos on The Hour from 2:30 to 3:30 followed by Peter Mansbridge (with scientist Bob McDonald) until 4:00.

Then, I went back to bed, not that I was terribly sleepy, but I have noticed in the past that my mind and body often seem to calm down around that time. However, I was still pretty restless for the best part of another hour. I had a few good hours of sleep then and tried to stay in bed until 9:00 AM, but the last hour was almost fruitless as Cuppa stirred and rose and light poured through the window.

Last night I had a normal night's sleep but nothing extra. Now, it's the day after the day after the night before, and I am feeling the after-effects. Don't you find that it's often two days later when you feel the most exhausted? I don't think I'll accomplish much today and wonder if I'll be able to remember any steps at linedancing tonight.

Meanwhile, I hope you all enjoy Pancake Tuesday/Shrove Tuesday/Fat Tuesday/Mardi Gras (are there any other names?). Personally, I'm a Shrove sorta guy although I hardly claim to be either Lentish or shriven, I'm afraid. We'll have Thesha and Smudge over, but Smudge will have to be content with the usual mush, I'm afraid.

(For those who want to know a little more about it, Ms Cellania blogged about Shrove Tuesday today and I posted about it two years ago. My, how time flies.)

Good Times Remembered

Of course, posting the previous photo of The Bonnie Wee Smudge on my shoulder reminded me of these two when I was twenty-six and Thesha was one. So, she was only a few months older that Smudge is now. Can you see the exhilaration on her face and the delight in mine? What fun we had together. While I maintain that the best time of your life is always now, if any time could change my mind, it was then when the kids were young and brought so much joy into my heart. Ah, the old guy is getting wistful and a wee bit maudlin. But that's what old guys do.

At Least Grampa's Enjoying It

Hmmm ... I seem to be flooding this blog with Smudge pics lately. So what's another between friends?

She's doesn't seem to be totally secure and happy up there on my shoulder, but I think she's trying to like it. I remember carrying her mother around like this. She loved it, but I may be recalling times when she was a bit older. Her mother always liked being tossed and bounced about, but as we discovered with Thesha's sister, Althegal, not all babies are quite so keen.

I don't quite know how to describe grandparental love, not even almost ten months into the role. It's not exactly the same as parental love. I'm one step removed, which is how it should be, but I experience a warm pleasure at what I watch unfold. Perhaps, I actually feel more sheer delight in both observing and partaking.

Digging Out

The storm is over, and we're digging out this morning. I don't know how early Good Neighbour got out to attend her good deeds, but it must have been hours before I stuck my head out the door. I'm sure she cleared many driveways before she got to ours, ours being the end of her circle of goodwill. While I shovelled the walkway to the front door, she blew out my drive. I should say our drive, for we share a driveway with the neighbour in the white jacket. There were all sorts of us out there this monring, the guy you see across the street and many others, including the Un-Selfless Neighbour with the tractor and plow. He still just takes care of his own self and nobody else.

I had prepared a picture of him on his tractor, but I couldn't find my saved version and figured that The Universe was telling me to go easy in my judgements, so I'll back off a bit. However, such apparent unselflessness tends to anger me, and I was trying to figure out why because it has no bearing on my life or shouldn't. Maybe it's because I expect more of a guy in my age cohort who's lived long enough or should have lived long enough to learn a bit about life and develop some sense of otherness. While I don't know the guy and can't judge about the rest of his life, I am highly suspicious that it is more of the same, and I see it as a sad waste. I think that's what makes me angry, the notion of wastedness.

But I'll leave that and not mention it again because it's fruitless speculation that benefits no one. However, I will leave you with this picture. Do you know what it is? I'll tell you below.


It's simply a photo of snow and tire tracks on the road, run through a few filters. what can I say? It was something to play around with. I think I'll have to postpone my first artistic photos exhibition for ... indefinitely.

Done and Done

It's been a stormy day and night here in Ottawa. I've been out shovelling once and Good Neighbour has also been by with her snowblower. But it's still snowing, and then it could rain, and won't that be an utter mess? But maybe it will just snow here. Let's hope.

This was to be our final day of babysitting while Thesha helped out at work, but the weather forced her to cancel, and we all stayed inside in our respective domiciles. I am waiting to hear whether fiddle practice will be canceled tomorrow, but unless there is a great change by then, I won't venture on a 45 minute drive into the country even if they don't cancel.

In my previous post, I bemoaned the fact that I was way behind in my blog printing. While I am technically still way behind in printing, I have imported all of the blogs that I want into Word, and they are ready to print. Hence the title, Done and Done. However, I don't want to start the actual printing process yet because I will likely run out of ink partway through, and I don't have a refill lying around. It took awhile to catch up on more than two years of posts, but I don't choose to print all of my blogs, so I was able to eliminate quite a few. Once they're in Word a few macros and styles help me to do the formatting without too much trouble.

So, what else does one do on a snowy day? Cuppa and I did catch up on a few tv programs that we had I taped. I know we don't tape anymore, but you all know what I mean, and I like the word. The main program that we watched was a two hour episode (really two one hour episodes) of Silent Witness (yet another British mystery series). We also tried to get into Waking the Dead, another favourite, but we get that from PBS Boston on Saturday night, and the times always get weirded out. We miss ten minutes every time, and sometimes it's too much bother to try to fill in the gaps. They're re-runs for us anyway, but most are so good, that we wouldn't mind watching them again. There's another PBS program that we tape on the same night, however, Vicar of Dibly, which is a very funny program indeed. I recommend it. Rather than trying to describe it, refer to the BBC website if you're interested.

If we're housebound again tomorrow, perhaps I'll read more of Pillars of the Earth. I could be reading it now, but it tends to grab me, and I don't want to be grabbed when it's almost time for bed. I've done that too often: checked the clock at midnight or later, and said, "Well, I only have a hundred more pages to go, so ..." Except I have a lot more than a hundred pages remaining in this one, so I truly don't want to go there tonight.

Cuppa crashed early tonight, so I have been puttering and putering, and I'm not sure what to do next, but I don't think I'm quite ready for bed yet. Meanwhile, I've run out of chat for now. I don't do this type of aimless blogging too often, so I trust you'll forgive me. Maybe I'll actually have something to say next time. who knows?