It was a gloomy morning, or maybe it just felt that way because I slept poorly.
Weird dreams and plenty of ’em, with lots of abrupt and unscheduled wake-ups. I didn’t check the clock because I didn’t want to know. What little remains of my mind was churning like a Samsung clothes washer on the brink of catastrophic failure.
My restlessness could’ve been due to seasonal allergies, which have been unusually fierce this spring. Or perhaps it was the upshot of two consecutive nights of Sarah DiGregorio’s chipotle-honey chicken tacos. I did opt for two sizable chipotles in their preparation. And I did eat two of those fat tacos both nights, topped with diced avocado, accompanied by a large green salad.
Maybe at 70 it’s time to reconsider the spicy foods?
Nah.
I’ve been eating chile since I was 8 and it hasn’t killed me yet. And if it ever does, I’ll depart this vale of tears with a smile on my face and the bedclothes floating a few aromatic inches above the rest of me. I can sleep when I’m dead.
• Editor’s note: Speaking of my mind and how it works (or doesn’t), when I went to Radio Free Dogpatch for the Samsung-washer link I was reminded that it’s been a year since I recorded a podcast. So here it is, a rerun from April 16, 2023.
Mad Blog Media 
I noticed that your excellent podcast gave the US Army Blues Band a credit for a performance at the Blues Alley Jazz Club in DC. That’s the place where Eva Cassidy worked her magic in 1996. I may have been in DC during that time on a business trip. Bad karma I didn’t catch her performance. I was being punished for something and did’t know it until last year.
Strange, these little connections made and missed, amirite? I remember hitching through Missouri, finding myself under that marquee in St. Louis — “Tonight Only: The Rolling Stones” — and cursing the gods because I had missed them. Gods be all like: “See? See what happens? There will be more of this sort of thing, so sack up and shut up.”
Reminds me of a story my better half laments. She was in London with a good friend having dinner in a restaurant during a driving rain and listening to Pavoratti over a speaker. Only later realized that Pavoratti was singing live a few blocks away and she could have been there to see him in person.
Oh, yeah, that was Pavarotti’s Hyde Park concert with Princess Diana in attendance. Talk about my loving wife missing the boat…..
Sometimes not going to a music performance can be due to economic considerations. In 1968 I refused to see The Rolling Stones at their concert at Colorado State U in Ft. Colllins because of the exorbitant price of tickets: $6. I had just seen Simon & Garfunkel for $2.50 and wasn’t going to spend more than twice as much on some short-lived British pop band.
Gosh-darned Limey highwaymen. And where are they now? Toiling in obscurity, in punishment for their relentless profiteering.
Or one could save all their money and climb the rocks behind the stage at Red Rocks and watch the crowd as they rock out to the Grateful Dead. One can’t see the band but the music was pretty good and the night sky over the mountains was mystic. And of course one should not forget that they’re rather high and gravity can hurt.
Here’s hoping (to hoping?) that your snotbox is freed up of irritating allergens in the near future. Our weather this year has been a little cooler and this may have affected my thus far light reaction to various airborne pollens, etc. hanging around. I’ll reserve my opinion for another month or so regarding whether it’s been a light allergen year in our neck of the grassland woods.
On what I wonder if may be a relatable phenomenon to the weather and associated climate change, I’ve noticed an increase spread of tribulus terrestris in front of our property. I keep the rascals excavated to a minimum to limit the occurrence of dry goat heads presenting in later months.
We had a brief rain Saturday evening (about 0.16 inch) and it seems to have tamped the dust and pollen down a tad, which is a relief. Herself was all red-eyed and sniffly the other day and I thought I was in deep doo-doo for some crime I didn’t remember committing. Happily, it was just allergies.
The goat heads, like the poor, are with us always. I pull a few out of my running shoes after every outing.
Dear POG:
Whatever you seek out for your seasonal ailments, please be sure to scrutinize those in your area with sharp objects.
https://www.npr.org/2024/04/29/1247739040/cdc-women-hiv-vampire-facials
Yikes !
It sounds as thought one could almost make a living pulling their bicycle trailer elixir wagon around and selling Flint, MI Fountain of Youth water.
Cheers and Good Riding today !
I always liked Bill Burr’s take on “having a little work done.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being 52 and looking 52. … Which would you rather be: 52 and look 52, or be 52 and look like a 28-year-old lizard?”