A Hopeful Ending

"The longevity gap between men and women also grew by a couple of months in 2021. American women can now expect to live 79.1 years, almost six years longer than men, whose average life expectancy was 73.2 last year, according to the new data."

Uh-oh.  This is bad news for a lot of my friends.  Who am I kidding?  It's bad news for me.  I guess I should be glad I am fueled by so much estrogen.  

I've yet to hear from our correspondent at Burning Man.  I'd surmise that the majority of people going will be there over the long Labor Day weekend, though.  It would be difficult to stay in the desert for the entire festival.  So we wait for images of exotic drug experiences, orgies, etc.  

"Oh, man, don't try to explain an experience you've never had."

"Are you quoting Jimmy Buffet?"

A friend's wife got roped into taking photographs of her friend's wedding.  They asked me if I had a flash they could borrow.  "Sure," I said.  Yesterday, I went digging through my stash.  I have many, many on camera strobes.  But, horrors, most of them didn't work.  I left batteries in them for years undisturbed, and they were all corroded.  I bought one of those huge packs of fresh batteries and put them in, but that didn't work, so I got some white vinegar and Q-tips and cleaned them off.  In the end, I got one and a half of them to work.  I texted my friend to let him know.  He said they were just going to buy one for her camera.  I felt bad, but it will be better for her to have a dedicated flash of the same brand as her camera so that the two can be automatically synched and her exposures will be correct.  Now my dining room table is full of flashes and parts.  I had spent most of the day sorting and cleaning them.  I'll be throwing most of them in the garbage today.  

I may make one last desperate attempt to clear my big printer today, but I already know it is futile.  What to do?  Maybe I'll just have to live a life without one.  The more retired I get, the more expensive things are.  I need to replace a casement window in the apartment.  Cha-ching!  

"C'mon, sad sack, what's good?"

"That's what I keep wondering."

It may not be a good sign, this talking to myself now.  But. . . I DO find myself better company than most. 

"They're not going to like that one."

"I know, I know."  

Pretty little silhouette flower in my now overgrown garden.  The sun has been subtly shifting back to the south since June but it will become noticeable soon.  The shadows will fall more severely as the days become shorter.  The flowers are already bending differently as they try to follow the sun becoming twisted spirals.  I will need to prune them.  But autumn here is still far off.  We have about a six week window of watching for storms coming after Labor Day.  The shorter days and the longer shadows will tease us here as the temperatures begin to dip further north, but then, when frigid temperatures envelope northern climes, we will once more be paradise.  

"See?  How's that?  A hopeful ending."

"Right.  Would you go to a massage parlor that promised you a 'hopeful ending'?"

"Well. . . at least we've come up with a title for this post."