Some Replies

 

With today being my extremely long day of big-voice lecturing this week, I am plumb tuckered out and have no more creative thoughts.  I am HOPING to go swimming with my wife a bit later, to try to rejuvenate my mind and get some energy back into my demeanor.  Being this tired.... would also have been a time where I would traditionally reach for an especially big-bowled pipe and slowly and deeply indulge in the luxurious saturation of my neurons with one of my more potent pipe tobaccos.  And, if it were a Friday....  undoubtedly I would in the past be heading to visit my father in law for a few stiff drinks, a number of pipes, and a great amount of fun discussion and banter.   

So.... I have no thoughts to expound upon.  I cannot think of anything... so instead I will use the prompts of some recent comments to guide my discussion and writing:

Margaret asked about the time of the passing of my Dad relative to my sadness.

My father passed away in the month of March.  A disproportionate number of my relatives and loved ones have passed away in that month.  There are so many who have died in that month that I tend to dread March's arrival each year.    So, my current thoughts of my Dad were not spurned by that.  Instead, I believe a part of it was really due to the Labor Day weekend.  Both of my parents were (like the also instilled in me) very ardent unionists.  My thinking about Labor Day specifically relating to unions brought up a large number of memories of both my parents and the discussions we used to hear regarding unionization.  So, I think just a flood of pleasant memories gave me feelings of melancholia.

  

My friend who goes by "Unknown" asked if my abstaining from my pipes affected my ability to write.

My initial reply was.... "Hah! Truth be told, writing is IMO much more of a chore without the nourishment of my pipes. It is hard to quantify or qualify if I am better or worse sans pipes…. but it is harder and less “enjoyable” (if that word can be used for the sort of didactic writing involved in grants) to write without my beloved pipes at my beck and call."

And I believe the above is accurate too.  Writing is never an "easy" task.  But... during my education, I always associated the pipe with my writing.  And writing while smoking a pipe is something I always had done. 

But at some level, I also have to state.... I am not sure I actually "write" per-say like a good writer actually does.  At best, I can strew words together.

 

Jenny-O mentioned in a well developed comment, my lack of ability it appears... to feel hunger.  She suggested it may be a possible difference in sensitivity.... perhaps of my stomach.  

Your idea has merit.  It does SEEM odd to me that I do not have (recognizable) signs of actual hunger, even when I try to force the issue.  I have known about this for a long time.... having wondered if my prior very heavy weight (~300 pounds back at that time) somehow had me show no symptoms of hunger at that time as I simply metabolized my own body fat.  BUT.... with me now at a completely normal weight for my height (165 pounds)....  even with fasting, I do not feel what I *THINK* hunger should feel like.  So I remain perplexed.  

The above are the comments I could find recently that posed questions that I could answer.  I do like doing this, so I will attempt to make this a bit of my writing at least once a week. To do the commenting on the comments justice, however, I will have to answer them on the computer.  Trying to answer with my thumbs on my phone....  not likely to get any meaningful discourse.  But, I think this is a good thing for me to try to do at least weekly.  

• Was on the trail by 4:45 am.  And.... TODAY I did run in "Sasquatch" mode!  It was 76 degrees ~ 24 C) at 4:45am and it was very humid.  I ran 10.1 miles (~16 km).  I think I got a bit of heat rash in my armpit and groin area, unfortunately, from the temperatures and HEAVY sweating the runs resulted in these past two days.  Even though I probably scared the hell out of the three turkeys I ran by today (birds, not humans).... it was far better to run "Sasquatch" than to run in the sweat-drenched t-shirt this morning.  
• I had a beautiful dream last evening about a memory of when I was a kid, and I was sitting out in a tree in the woods smoking a pipe when I was a young kid.  I was reading a dog-eared copy of Huxley's "Brave New World".  This was something I did do back then (reading and smoking my pipe while sitting in a tree)... but to see it in a dream was interesting.  My mind showed me from a variety of vantage points like it was a film.  Very pleasant... but odd "seeing" my actions "cinematized" into a film my mind's eye viewed.
• Probably tomorrow will be a likely day for me to have a bit of time to write down some of the thoughts I have been thinking about regarding my Dad.

PipeTobacco