The Amaryllis, given us by a friend a couple of weeks ago at Christmas, has one stalk in full bloom and the second about to trumpet its ‘life springs from a dull brown clump’ message to anyone who’ll pay attention. With my life expectancy somewhere around 82, I have about seven years left. That means I have two more extra days in my life. The first of those is the fifth Monday of next month. That’s something to give me pause, five days in any February. But we are taking off into a leap year, so we get an extra day this year, next month. I’ll have another one in 2020 and that’ll probably be the last.
Let’s not get morbid though, dwelling on having but two extra days left. It is much more engaging to think about how exciting it is to have an extra day so soon as next month. Just think, no appointments that fall on a regular monthly basis. In fact, nothing on the calendar except for the handful of pills to be taken qd; that’s an abbreviation my retired RN wife uses to mean ‘every day.’
Since I’ve already spent 18 of my life’s extra days oblivious to their gratuity and opportunity, maybe I should think a bit, maybe plan how I shall spend Monday, February 29, 2016. I don’t know how many of these freebies you have left, but you might as well come along and join me in thinking about how we’ll use the day. OK, so it isn’t exactly a freebie since the world does go on as though that Monday does not differ from the previous. It is not our fault though that the world of commerce and government has not planned meaningfully for an occurrence that has been a regular feature of our days since the Julian calendar was abandoned in 1582.
If you, as one of my readers, are living in Paris, we hardly need to chat about where you’ll go or what you’ll do with this day on which you’ve nothing scheduled. You’ve got so many things to do. It’ll take most of your day being tousled by camera-toting tourists who are also trying to see that small-framed marvel known as ‘Mona Lisa.’
Probably, my planning should not aim at so lofty an activity. My aforementioned wife isn’t looking over my shoulder as I write this, but she need not for me to know that she would prefer that I simply hack my way into the study to order the debris-strewn field that until recently served as my computer desk. This laptop has served very well to prompt my avoidance of that project.
I know! Neither of us have indulged in our hobby and favorite activity for some time. She’d enjoy it if we could add a species to our Life List. We can take our binoculars, spotter scope and lunch and drive to Ohio’s Lake Erie shore. To paraphrase Thoreau, everyone believes in something, I believe I’ll go birding.
check out our friend Cindy’s beautiful photography
Sanchismos 
you are a wonderful writer!
May your ‘tribe’ increase, Lara, i.e., may there be many more of those who think I’ve some ability at the craft. I put that explanatory tag onto the sentence because I do not want any suspicion that using that word is meant to disparage the original North Americans. Hope you find peace amidst your grieving.
Aren’t you counting your leap-days before they hatch? Happy New Year to you and Jane.
Yes, but at my age I’m only counting a month in advance. Do you have any ripe bananas, I don’t buy green ones?
Yes, but they are frozen…. :>)
Haha – I was going to say “nice shrike!” when I realized it was mine! Thanks for the plug. Seven years, huh? It sounds so scary when you put it that way.
Seeing those beautiful western pix, I would think you would head west. Suffice to say, we remain among those who are for the birds. Gotta go – and strap on my holster.
RGP,
I, too find myself increasing attempting to embrace mortality creatively with a wee bit of courage, even faith [as trust], being sought. While we are both working-on or at least playing-with such a weighty matter, albeit in varied ways, I’ll wax bold and suggest that, for sheer fun and a possible opportunity for much delightful bull-shitting, you consider taking at least one of your currently myriad weapons with you to Lake Erie on the 29th. Thus armed, if humane Judie will allow entrance and dear Jane will ride with either an open or concealed-carry guy, the near to Lake Erie, cute, ring-eyed critters will scatter in mortal fear, like that red fox which ran into the nearby Sagendorf woods in fright over a clawless Judie-cat, while you and Tom wax eloquent, as two wonderful, quite patient women sip tea and shake their heads in wonderment that even on the 29th their beloved hubbies are still like they were on the 28th, both in 2016 and 1963, except way back then they were existentially cognizant of the different uses guns enjoy as over against rifles or other weapons of any type. Perhaps a blog that clarifies the NRA’s confusion on same might penetrate on the 29th. We need a leap forward desperately. Hopefully, before three ‘radical change agents” back-in-the-day [not] fall-off the twig? [Bogie’s image for his impending death.]
CJS
_____
Appreciate your dropping by to read and comment! Probably won’t bear any arms though. A blogging friend has coined a new sobriquet ‘Ammosexuals,’ those guys who have to holster their penises for public display. I’d rather not be so identified.
Life sure is an ever-changing journey. Beautiful photography by Cindy.
Cindy does a great job! Thanks yet again, Bob, for taking time to look at what I write.
Ron, Looks like you are finding your groove again…like riding a bicycle. Skip
Thanks, Skip; it is good to know that the stuff I write actually gets read. I’m thankful for loyal friends.
Yes. You just made that “extra” day something to note and look forward to!
(did Thoreau have anything to say about ending sentences with prepositions?)
Ending sentences with prepositions is one thing up with which I will not put.
LOL!!!