Check Out The Checkout.

This is an exercise in writing a post very quickly.  So quickly that I've no idea what I'm actually going to write.  This exercise into the unknown sentence after this sentence, is another way to see if I can work through this ridiculous fatigue that I've been experiencing.

Got into my car.  Started car.  Drove car to the supermarket.  Parked car.  Strolled towards supermarket.  I pass by somebody I don't know but recognise their face from all the others times I've passed by then but don't actually know them. They don't know me either but recognise my face. This means we give each other that slight recognition head nod that people do who don't know each other but recognise each other's face.  We both very quietly whisper "hello."  It's always a whisper to somebody you don't actually know but recognise their face.

I'm now grocery shopping.  Milk, cheese, eggs, pasta, juice without sugar and sparkling water from some Scottish mountain stream.  I see the kid riding the front of the shopping cart.  I see his parents pushing the cart and think what f**king idiots!

I notice the one checkout open is devoid of shoppers.  By the time I get down the aisle, the checkout is no longer empty.  It seems that everybody was hiding at the end of the aisles waiting for the opportunity to get to the one checkout that was no longer devoid of shoppers.

The store manager realises that another checkout needs to be opened.  As soon as the checkout beside the checkout I'm at opens, I insist that the lady in front of me with only one item, goes ahead of me to the the newly opened checkout.  She thanks me.  As soon as she's about to head to the checkout, some asshole with his full shopping cart, swoops in front of her and proceeds to put his stuff on the conveyor belt.  In my mind, I meet the dude out in the parking lot and beat the crap out of him.

I patiently wait for my turn at the original checkout.  I go a bit ballistic when I notice that the basket I'm about to put on the stack of other baskets will not go on properly because some idiot has left the handles of a basket inwards.  I re-stack the baskets and mumble something about it being one of my pet peeves.

My turn and I have a nice chat with the lady cashier.  She states, "Judging by your accent, you've been a broad."  I reply, "Nope, as far as I know, I've always been a male,"  She giggled and I realised she actually meant "abroad."  "Where does your accent come from?", she inquired.  "Well, it starts at the bottom of my throat and works its way out of my mouth."  "Very funny!", she replied, "Where are you from?", she then asked.  I actually got to tell her it's a Canadian accent.  Rather different from the number of times I've been asked what part of the States am I from!   "How long have you been here?", she asked.  "About ten minutes.  Oh, you don't mean how long have I been in the store.  Okay, on and off, since October, 1987."

Took my groceries and wandered past the self-serve, so-called, express checkout.  The queue to use the self-serve made me glad I used the checkout where you can converse with a human.

Put my groceries in my car and headed back home.

I look at this sentence and notice that this has taken twenty minutes to write.  Should I check it for tipos, um, typos?  Nah, just publish the darned thing and see what happens.....Take that, fatigue!!!

Gutter Balls.

As I continue to challenge my fatigue, try to discover the underlying cause, I thought it might help if I travelled back in time.  Back to a time when I was one of the greatest athletes in the world you have never heard of. 

Oh yeah, a bit of reminiscing, way, way back in time, back to the early 80's.  And I mean the early 1980's.  

I was a five pin bowling star.  A game rather unique to Canada.  A game that takes some adjustment if you are used to ten pin bowling.  You try five pin bowling after ten pin bowling and five pin makes you feel like you are in some kind of a marbles competition.  

For more insight into five pin bowling you can always visit Jo at: JO ON FOOD, LIFE AND A SCENT OF CHOCOLATE

Here is our five pin bowling team.  Been so long that I cannot remember all the names of the team members.  I can tell you that the incredibly good looking guy on the back right of the photo with the tacky green spotted shirt and 1970's porno movie type moustache, is, yes, actually me!  Of course, I've never seen a 1970's porno movie.  I assumed the reference to my moustache must be correct. The young lady I'm placing my hands on her shoulders is the young lady I ended up marrying. Maybe she divorced me because I was a better bowler than her.  Moving on to the next photo.....

I realise it's difficult to see, but this is the trophy I received for being part of the Varsity Ridge, Vancouver Bowling champs, 1980-81.  This brings back some fond memories and will be a catalyst as I continue to battle this chronic fatigue.

I recall the first time I went five pin bowling.  I was about fourteen.  The person trying to teach me told me to, "Try to avoid getting gutter balls!"  I was curious about that statement.  I had a very long shower when I went home.

From Ten Minutes Away To Fifteen Minutes Away.

A ten minute walk from home became a fifteen minute walk from home. The steps outward, tentative.  Each step, delicate, unsure, nervous yet inspired with the knowledge of a further adventure. The pathway beckoned downward.   A beckoning for another day.  Just to the right, a hidden route, obscured by overgrowth.  I headed right,  An eager dog scurried ahead.

An open field of golden grass filled my eyes with hopeful vision.  

Houses in the solitude.  Rolling hills in the background.

We circled around and backtracked to the left, to the west, to view the north.  And to the north, two picture views of The Roaches.  Rocky ridges of such contrast with the surrounding countryside. 

Continuing back westward.  See how the greenery has become more pronounced.

Even more greenery.

A couple more panoramic views as we continue back westward.  Can you see the wind mill on yonder hill? 

We are nearly back to that original pathway.  An adventure that lasted two hours.  Two hours in my progress of getting back out there as I battle with ongoing exhaustion.  

Spot, the dog.  No, not a dog named, Spot.  Spot the dog?  Yep, somewhere in there is Penny the Jack Russell dog and modest internet superstar!  Can you spot the dog?

Looking For That Spring In My Step.

I'm still struggling with a relentless fatigue.  At least I'm trying to do something about it.  The effort is daunting.  The visualisation of  better times ahead, creates the catalyst.  The catalyst to have the determination to get out from under the duvet cover.  The duvet or doorway dilemma continues.  The doorway to the outside, to the possibilities of an energised spirit, embracing the great outdoors. The "klahanie", shall make me rise above the clouds of confusion.

I'm eating better, taking supplements, trying to get more exercise.  Although my blood tests have still not given a conclusive result, just maintaining a healthier lifestyle has got to pay dividends.  I admit that I've not been taking care of myself.  There's nobody to kick me up the butt.  Which means a virtual kick in the butt, from you, my kind friend, will most certainly inspire.

The past eight months have been months of great upheaval on so many levels.  Maybe, just maybe, part of my exhaustion is psychological.  I'm no longer in the role of single dad.  I feel useless and miss the times when my beloved son relied on me.  I suppose I'm experiencing "empty nest syndrome."  When the pain of such loneliness is at its most profound, I sit here as the sound of silence screams at me.  May the screams become a gentle whisper.

In my attempt to work through the exhaustion, I decided the purchase of a new camera might get me out there again.  I share with you a few photos of locations within ten minutes of where I live.  It's a start and may I photograph further afield.

It started with a ten second stroll down the hallway in the building I know live in.  The above view is of Leek, Staffordshire, England from a hallway window.  I shared the above photo on the Leek, Staffordshire Facebook page.  I'm amazed at the positive reaction I got on that Facebook page.

Across the road from where I live is Brough Park.  Just beyond the edges of the park is this pathway. A pathway, just ten minutes from home.  

There before me, just to the west, a vision of green, pleasant tranquillity.  

A farmhouse off in the distance.

More views to soothe my soul.

The sun began to set.

Time to turn back around.  Time to feel good about going out for an hour.  A significant event for this reluctant recluse

I realise you may be involved in the A to Z Challenge.  Thus, bearing this in mind, I have switched off comments.  I just want you to have a few moments to absorb the wonders I have begun to see through the photographs I share.

Back in my new place.  I gazed out the bedroom window and noted the moon.  The gentle breeze swayed through the trees.   Off in the distance an owl hooted its haunting song.  The creek roared below.  I'm getting there as the senses return.....

After The Blood Test.

Yes indeed, I'm attempting to make some sort of triumphant return to the wonderful world of blogging.

I've been struggling with constant fatigue.  Fatigue that lingers around like a bad smell.  I've been like this since before Christmas. I knew I needed medical consultation. 

Through the wonders of our universal health service, I got my situation coordinated, hopefully for the betterment of my well being.  Saw the doctor two Thursdays ago who arranged for me to have three blood tests with the nurse on the Friday.  Blood test results were ready last Wednesday.  I saw the doctor on Friday to go over my blood test results.

One blog test, sorry, blood test was to check out my liver and kidneys.  All was fine with that test.  Another test was for my thyroid.  All was fine with that test.  The third blood test was for my blood sugar levels which were a bit too high.  

This means I now have to go on a low-fat, low-sugar diet and see how that goes.  In the meantime, I shall be discussing my lifestyle on April 2 with a "Practice" nurse.  This has me a little worried because I'd rather see a real nurse.  It reminds of the time I was working for a mental health charity.  I was introduced to this one lady.  I asked her, "What's your job?"  She replied, "I'm a complimentary therapist."  To which I responded, "Okay then, pay me a compliment!" 

I'm having a heck of time with this fatigue.  Yet, getting something done about it makes me feel that little less exhausted.  I'm grateful for the emails and the private messages on "Farcebook" checking up on how I'm doing.   It's most heartening and I'm truly grateful.

During my absence, I still find I've got blogs on the brain.  Did I mention I went for a blog test?  The test determined I was going to have to reapply for my blog license.  This means I'm back to "Learner" blogger status and will be monitored by the watchful eyes of Penny the Jack Russell dog and modest internet superstar! 

Somebody asked me for directions the other day.  I forgot I wasn't in North America and gave the English dude directions in North American.  "Could you please tell me how to get to Stoke on Trent?" he inquired.  "Sure thing", I said.  "Go four blogs down and make a right turn.  Proceed another three blogs and make a sharp left.  Then again. considering that Stoke is about eleven miles west of here, you might be better off to Blog Hop onto a bus."   Did I mention I still have blogs on the brain?  

Irritable Blog Syndrome.

I've got loads of blog postings still lurking around in my draft section.  One sentence there and a partial sentence somewhere else.  I think the only finished draft is the one blowing in the echoing cavern between my ears.

I've been feeling exhausted for several months now.  So much so that I'm struggling to even formulate this blog post.  Even with what I thought would perk me up with the acquisition of a new computer that actually works, has made little difference.

A lot changed at the beginning of August, 2014.  A new home and a new reality.  A new home without my son who is now getting on with his life in his first own home.  So much upheaval. So many extreme variations of emotion to contend with.  If it wasn't for the sharing of both our homes with our beloved dog, Penny, I would be crying and hiding away under my duvet cover.

I'm finding it difficult to cope with.  I reflect in my house without anybody to share directly the mixed sadness and hope that "empty nest syndrome" has cast upon every fibre of being.  If it wasn't for the lifelines of my friends and family via phone chats, I'm not sure I could have been able to take it.  The lifelines have been a vital support in my ability to move on from this.  My gratitude can not be measured in mere words.

On March 10, I have an appointment with my doctor.  Day after day, I can barely get out of bed.  Day after day of having flu-like symptoms.  I think I may have chronic fatigue syndrome.  This has left me frustrated and flustered that I've been so much in the background within the blogging world.  I hope that with the doctor's help, I can get back on track.  Feeling like this and being all alone in my three dimensional reality has left me wondering if I can ever get the momentum back.

Although many have told me they understand about my absence and my lack of commenting, I, nonetheless, feel terribly guilty.  Guilt, an unneeded emotion that I must not let fill me with negative energy.

As for the title of this post, "Irritable Blog Syndrome", that's just me being satirical.   If I can regain the satire, the tongue-in-cheek and the irony of my writing, then I know I'm on my way back.

Because of the relentless exhaustion, I'm switching the comments off on this post.  I would rather attempt to have a go at commenting on other sites.  I hope you understand.

Thank you for your time.

The Talking Feral Fridge.

This will be the last post I ever publish on this computer. A computer now so slow that I find myself trying to will the bloody thing to load up by spinning the wheel on my mouse.  A mouse as in a computer mouse, although both can be rather fond of wheels.  

Trying to get to your site and comment has become a frustrating, flustered futility.  

So, for no apparent reason whatsoever, I shall publish one of my coolest posts ever to end the usage of this computer.  

I'm sure you have observed that fridges do indeed "talk."  I mentioned the uniqueness of each fridge's "voice" in a previous post.  The above fridge is my old fridge.  The above, old fridge now resides at my son Tristan's new place.  The old fridge makes a sound like a squealing pig with a rumbly tummy.  That sound can now continue to delight my son.  

My new fridge, which I've been told is classified as a "domestic appliance" doesn't seem domestic at all.  I would consider it, if anything, that the screeching sounds are more reminiscent of a wild animal than a domestic appliance..  The noises emanating could, however, be considered the sound of a "gross domestic product."

My new feral frost-free fridge fluctuates flatulence factors forebodingly.  Yes, in other turds, in other words, it can sound like a gurgling fart.

It also has this uncanny knack of sounding like Penny the Jack Russell dog and modest internet superstar in one of her whining moments.

I heard that whining noise the other day.  "Are you okay, Penny?"  I inquired.  Only to suddenly realise that Penny wasn't with me and I was talking to the talking feral fridge.

A Fridge Too Far

How very polar

Fridge on the River Kwai 

Um, nice try

A Fridge over Trouble Waters

It never falters

No surprise

The Fridge of Sighs.