I spent a short while this morning admiring hats worn by women during Royal Ascot Ladies’ Day at the Ascot Racecourse in Ascot, Berkshire, England. The hats, elaborately designed, deployed, and decked-out millinery, range from beautiful to grotesque, with a fair sprinkling throughout the spectrum ranging from good to evil. I happened upon photographs of hats as I was skimming the website. Though all the hats I saw in pictures were women’s hats, I have grown appreciative of men’s hats. Lately, I am particularly intrigued by Panama hats with wide, black hatbands. I might look slightly goofy wearing one, but I have decided everyone looks a little goofy when the light is right, so what the heck. I may have one someday. Or not. I have a few hats and caps, but I rarely wear them. Probably because I think I look goofy in them. Catch-22 thinking.


A couple of days ago, when my sister-in-law came over to wait out the workers at her house, she turned on the television. The television was confused, as it had never before been turned on during the day, but it adjusted. My SIL began watching a channel dedicated to old Johnny Carson Tonight Show episodes. I stopped in and watched for a few minutes. Carson’s guest was Eddie Murphy; both of the men looked much, much younger than I imagine them today. Murphy’s stand-up routine was excellent; hilariously funny, a mix of silly stuff and provocative material. My first experience with “daytime” television in many years (I know, there is no more “daytime” or “nighttime” television; it’s all “all-the-time television.”).


My office/study is fully usable, though some of the cabinets are full of disorganized masses of paper. I still have things to do, but for the time being it is completely serviceable. What a relief. I have a desk that has a bit of space on top. I can move around without a high probability of tripping over boxes. I do look forward to getting the garage sufficiently empty so that both our cars can fit; I do not admire the look outside my window when it is marred by big, hulking automobiles.


Two hours from now, I’ll drive to my primary care doctor’s office for a consultation. Suddenly, a couple of weeks ago, my feet, ankles, and hands (but especially my feet) began to swell. Aside from looking rather unsightly, swelling can be a symptom of conditions ranging from dismissably minor to frighteningly major. I am counting on the former, with an added bonus; not only do I want it to be of negligible importance, I want it to be easily and instantly resolvable.


My thoughts this morning are scattered. I will gather them. Perhaps later I will write about what’s on my mind, beyond the obviously frivolous.

About John Swinburn

"Love not what you are but what you may become."― Miguel de Cervantes
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