The Final SALVO

   In  a little over a week, I have renewed my Auto and Homeowners' Insurance, having to find  a new insurer after 20 years with Main Street America as they changed to only commercial accounts. I received  Auto policy, awaiting Homeowners. 

  I had my car inspected including the license plates.

  I arranged for snow plowing, with an insured provider.

I had the problematic furnace assessed and cleaned, am awaiting the statement.

I bought a turkey and wrestled it from freezer to fridge for thawing. Chat GPT  says 1 day for every 5 lbs.

I received notice that Albany Gastroenterology Consultants  has  formed partnership with a company called Salvo Health, which will provide insights to my doctors through Remote Patient Monitoring (RPM) to  restore and develop a supporting framework through  Whole Self Science. 

   I suspected this was a scam, so I contacted Albany Gastro, and they confirmed the partnership. EGAD! A company called SALVO.* A barrage of bullets???  (Could be they were locked out of using SALVA as that name is already in use. That name would have been a good fit. But Salvo?  For your health. I say nay.

* The name may be metaphoric, but strikes me as offputting.

Passed!

 Just when you think you have one test to pass, there are 2 additional tests. Your vehicle may pass inspection, but your license plates might betray you. They have to pass too.

Indulgences

 Many years ago, during my religious era, I learned about indulgences, maybe from the nuns who regularly visited the school to deliver Religious  Education classes, or maybe combined with attending Mass faithfully, even the daily  6:30 a.m. services during Lent. 

  During those years, I would try very hard to accumulate the days and years supplied by indulgences, figuring I could store them up to get an early release from Purgatory. I was quite confident I could avoid going to Hell, not having even the opportunity to commit the deadly Mortal Sins, but fairly certain I'd already treaded the road of Venial Sin, which could be forgiven, even if I happened to die without a timely Sacrament of Confession.

I prayed during my idle moments, building  a cache of forgiveness. I didn't keep track of all the credits I had accumulated. I trusted Heaven would keep that record. I had a lot stored up by the time  I was 10-12 years old. I hope they haven't been accidentally deleted. 

The Fly

 For at least 3 weeks, there has been a fly in my house, a common housefly.

     I can't recall seeing any flies all summer, not even in September, when they can be in abundance. I chalked their absence up to there not being any animals here, either outside or inside the house, and no type of food for birds or wildlife, so no attraction here. 

  So it was out of the norm when I saw a fly in my house about 3 weeks ago, a small and slender fly, and one possessing such speed that it hardly ever alit, and then only for a very few seconds, if that. Yesterday, it seemed partial to landing on the front picture window. Maybe it is attracted to the outside and wants to get out there.  I hurried to get the (rarely used) flyswatter, but by the time I returned, the fly was gone. It landed several more times and, though the swatter was at the ready, it flew off before I could even pick the swatter up. 

  Today several hours passed without my spotting the fly, and I thought maybe the fly was gone; they can't live forever. But then, during V.P. Cheney's funeral service, the fly landed on the window, and I quickly took a swat at it. I was pretty sure I had hit it, but I  couldn't find the body. Just now, the fly buzzed by me as I write this.

 I consulted ChatGBT to see what the usual lifespan of a fly is, and found they can live more than 4-6 weeks under ideal conditions. They like to be warm. I guess they don't often  starve to death.

I am familiar with Emily Dickinson's "I Heard A Fly Buzz When I Died."  Today, I must have dozed off during Cheney's funeral, and not exactly waking up, I experienced  an illusionary state where I felt the warmth of the sun on my back and could hear the heavenly strains of "How Great Thou Art."  I don't really believe a fly would be a messenger though. 

Update;  POST MORTEM 

Familiar Quotation

 Now that Thanksgiving is almost here, our thoughts turn to Christmas. My granddaughter was happy to hear that her church was purchasing padding to put on the pews, so she was looking forward to how comfortable that 2-hour service was  going to be. 

 So that reminded me of Christmas services, specifically the reading from Luke 2:14:  

   "And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in the  manger..."

A familiar and comforting reading, quite beautiful. BUT now in danger of ruining the entire spirit of Christmas for me, and I assume Luke. Some years ago, in order to modernize the Catholic church, the language was changed. I don't mean to no longer use  the Latin language, but to make the Bible readings sound more updated and contemporary, as in: 

           "And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in baby clothes..."

My spirit of holiness flies right out the window.    BABY CLOTHES

Good Grief

 Last week I turned on the TV to see Jimmy Kimmel deliver a moving tribute on the death of a beloved childhood friend who had remained, with his family, entwined  with the Kimmel family for about half  a century, and who had died too young.  He was visibly affected by the  tribute of memories, but mostly retained his  composure in honor of his longtime friend.

  A few nights ago, I caught John Stewart's show, and saw him shedding actual tears. He who covers every event, of tragic or horriffic happenings, with his usual brand of sardonic humor, was openly crying---over the death of his dog. ...I changed channels, and not out of sympathy for him.

 But in calculating words for the November 30,000, I have not kept track  of how many I've written, probably a few thousand, which outnumber my spoken words, of only a few hundred. 

 The other night I dreamed that my car was stolen from my driveway. I had called my family and some were here; we were all calm and collected while we assessed what steps to take. When I woke up, I looked out the front window, and my car was still there. I'm undergoing the process of finding a new insurer, because my long-time insurer, Main Street America, is switching to only commercial coverage, so maybe that's why my mind was on cars. So another car theft image arose. One warm sunny day in September, a couple of years ago, B. called me, as was her new custom. She felt alone and bored in her house, as school had started and the neighboring kids were no longer playing on the street. I told her to come down, and we  could chat or she could watch the traffic go by. So she came to my house and we were talking and watching TV when she suddenly asked me to look out the window to see if her car was still there. I said look out yourself if you're worried. She said her neck was stiff and she couldn't turn her head. I said the chair swivels. So she looked out the window and her car was there, right where she had parked it a half hour or so before. Imagine that. (It's now 3:15, so Spelling Bee will be available. Good night for now.

Fie On You, AARP!

 You, AARP Bulletin of November/ December  2025, have betrayed my trust with  your cover article, "How Older Americans Embrace The Joys Of Living Alone." 

 Foremost, you use the term "solo ager" as if it were accepted terminology instead of something reminescent of a bad Star Wars sequel. Your Cover Story, by Sari Harrar, is titled "Living Solo," 6 full pages of "How older Americans are embracing independence and redefining what it means to age alone." 

Citing a study from sociology professor Elana Portacolone, author of groundbreaking research about the limited knowledge concerning the issues facing these solo agers, and even of the existence of those living alone, AARP takes it upon itself to answer the question of who today's solo agers are.

 To find this answer, AARP interviewed "dozens of solo agers and the experts now studying and assisting them."  That's right---DOZENS!  Old people and those trying to figure them out. But don't fret that this might not be an adequate sample, because the article states AARP also surveyed 503 solo agers from across the U.S. about their feelings and experiences, without explaining how the information from this survey was collected. 

 From these interviews and that survey, the AARP article reveals five, that's right, exactly FIVE, insights into the lives of this growing group.  I'll let  readers draw their  own conclusions, will lend you my copy if needed. 

  Of course, we who fall into the class of solo agers don't have to subscribe to AARP Bulletins, are not forced to read the articles, but are also free to cast aspersions on what is presented as factual and helpful, but reeks of false premises and assumptions. Solo agers, unite.