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 A blog of no uncertain musings. What goes on in my mind is often a source of wonder to me. |
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My mind and my life are wonderous things ... as are yours, I'm sure. I have more slips of paper and pages of notebooks with musings and thoughts than I really know what to do with. Someone, actually several someones, have suggested I start a blog ... or a journal as a means of focusing some of this mental energy. To be honest, I don't even know what the difference between a 'journal' and 'blog' is--or if there even is a difference. Read on, my friends, and you can judge for yourself whether it even matters. And so....  I'm JACE. Yep ... that's me! And somewhere in all my writings my last name may be posted. But I'll just leave it at Jace for right now. I'm 70 years old and heading full tilt to 71. It's strange that while I'm going through some rather serious medical issues, I still consider myself to be in the prime of my life--pretty good shape physically AND mentally, though I don't run for competition anymore  . I love to ... dang, if I put this stuff here, I won't have anything for my blog.Guess you just have to be patient until such stuff leaks out.  Perhaps 2025, having embraced my retirement, will see more participation in my journaling efforts. Well, one can hope.... |
| Not to be obvious, but today is the first day of December, The tenth month in the old Roman calendar, but now December is the twelfth--as if the world isn't screwed up enough as it is. Still December is all we've known to finish out a year. Anyway, we began this final month of the year in south-central Missouri at 20 degrees Fahrenheit (wind chill is 14). Currently it's spitting snow. Which means WE won't get any accumulation here. It's all going north of us. I got to shovel our driveway ONE time last year. I like ... no, I LOVE snow. And I'm in the wrong place for it. Growing up in Michigan and Maine, I didn't want for snow. I loved the sledding, ice forts, snowball fights ... I even liked shoveling snow. In Maine, a good Nor'easter meant reinforcing our meager allowances with some real cash. We lived at the bottom of fairly steep hill which did not deter drivers from trying to get to the top. On a good day our road was pretty busy. We would each get $1 to $3 PER CAR for digging them out of the snowbank into which they "drifted". Cheaper than a tow, I suppose. We might dig out as many as five cars per storm--five drivers who didn't get the memo to stay home off the slick roads. (By the way, ten dollars in the late 60's is worth about $85 today.) It's probably just as well that we'll get no snow. That cold tends to sink into these old bones a bit more now. |
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