Still Down

If one is doing nothing, can one do more of it? If that’s the case, that’s me. I’m doing more and more…nothing. Damn body isn’t doing what it’s supposed to do: heal up — if not instantaneously, then quick like a teenager.

Although I am no longer shuffling around like a zombie with a bad back after ten days, I’m not where I want to be. I’m tentative and still getting the nasties when I bend over Once bent, I’m once again okay. It’s those transitions that are brutal. Likewise, once I’m vertical, walking isn’t much of a problem. I dread a misstep though. The sidewalks here are a minefield of unsteadiness with disguised ups and downs for driveways, general trip hazards and root heaves, and dog bombs to catch the unaware. I’ve stumbled more than once, and catching myself is a wonderful experience that lights up my strained back muscles with the fire of a dozen suns. Positively breathtaking. And not in a good way. I marvel at the people who can walk with their eyes glued to their screen, seemingly effortlessly avoiding pitfalls. Maybe they don’t avoid them all though: I do see a lot of smooshed dog bombs.

Since I’m in a loosely-regulated pharmaceutical haven, maybe I’ll see about getting some muscle relaxants at a pharmacy. I’ll do a little research to see what I should maybe take and see what I can get. Any readers who might want to chime in, I’ll listen.

UPDATE: Upon further review, I’m just going to stick with Tylenol. And make it a regular thing for a bit, rather than once every couple of days.

I do get to the park on the daily to people- and dog-watch. Yesterday I watched skateboarders, boxers, footballers and a belly dancing class in different parts of the plaza. Along the trails threading throughout the park there are these kiosk-looking benches to sit on that provide minimal cover for rain. Yes rain. Anyone who thinks Mexico City is hot and dry is totes wrong. It’d be tropical if it were lower in elevation. I liken the climate to something between San Diego for temps and sun availability, and Seattle for amount of rain. Thunderstorms every evening. It’s considerate that they don’t generally roll through mid day. Much appreciated.

Even though I’m not as mobile as I want, at least I have excellent coffee. The hosts of this Airbnb supplied a brand I’d not heard of before: Blason Espresso Robusto. The mix of arabica and robusta is really, really tasty. And forte. I like it much better than the expensive stuff I tried in Panama, though I had to give that a go, ‘cuz, you know, experiences and stuff, right? Turns out I’m a simple guy who often prefers the less pricey things in the world, though this stuff isn’t Kirkland in a tin. At least I don’t drink Folgers. Friends don’t let friends drink Folgers. (Sorry Dad. That was one habit of yours I’m happy to never have picked up. That and liver & onions. <shudder>)

The new stay is nice especially that I’ve the she-cub here. We spend an hour or more each day playing gin and I’ve clawed my way back to respectability in the ongoing match. In this, the Mexico Set, I’ve reclaimed a couple hundred points so I’m only several hundred down in the overall match. Sets? Match? Yeah, I’m keeping track along the lines of tennis scoring: we play individual games that roll up into a location/date set, and an overall match that is the score since we started a couple of years back in Cairo. And yes, I’ve set up a spreadsheet now with colors and statistics. My dorkiness knows no bounds.

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It’s nice to watch the gang outside daily. There are about five or six individual squirrels I’ve gotten to recognize. I still want to get a photo of Cole though. He’s a charcoal colored youngster. Here’s a photo of a different local.

UPDATE: I got a couple of decent shots of Cole after initial publication. What a cutie. And he’s a she.

Yes, I talk to the squirrels when the she-cub is not here or when she’s still asleep and just me and the gang are enjoying the morning. She’s mostly out with her friends post-noon, but we’re spending mornings together. It sucks that I notice her absence as soon as she’s gone. The quiet is deafening. I need to put on some comfort tunes or a show to fill it. Traffic noise doesn’t cut it, and the squirrels don’t talk back. The transition over the weekend when we split for “good” is possibly going to be rough. I’ll have a new place to take my mind off it, and maybe mi backo (good Spanish, eh?) will behave improved enough to try a run. That’ll help too.

Be kind and take care of yourselves. If you can, care for someone else, too.

Slang, out.

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Recent Decents:

Reading: Here One Moment.

Watching: Ballard. If anyone liked Bosch or Bosch Legacy, it’s the same original author and universe. Harry even pops in for a bit.

Coffee: Blason Espresso Robusto

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