"He ain't got rhythm! He ain't got rhythm"

 "I lost my rhythm! He ain't got no rhythm .... I lost my rhythm ... I could ask for something more ... but (at least) nobody showed me the door."

The deeper into this Last Quarter I get, the less my internal clock behaves. My Circadian rhythms seem to be different ... sleep is interrupted ... Oh! And while the organizer of yesterday's meeting allocated three hours minus a break for me to talk about relationship, I couldn't get it done ...  I stopped when it was time and was cordially told that I might finish next time. (They're gonna invite me back! Damn, that's good!) Ah, well! As I noted above, nobody showed me the door and it was a wonderfully accepting audience, more than half of whom are Last Quarter Players, themselves. You may have heard that we're a growing population ... we who were spawned by the soldier boys (and girls) after they marched home from WWII.

Anywho, embrace yourself, Howard, and embrace your skill set. You rake leaves well ... can still do most plumbing jobs ... your brain still works even if its CPU (Central Processing Unit) has slowed down maybe due to all the deposits (cookies?) left there by alien websites and their cyber-cobwebs ... and even if your internal clock is off by a good 20%.

After my last posting on "receiving," I did try to be more in tune with all the kindnesses directed toward me from the participants in this half-day workshop. Drove home with one of the participants ... my youngest child who was one of the workshop participants ... and she helped me process this, quite well, after taking a call from one of her younger kids demanding that she get home.

Oh! And there are no mice in the office, this morning ... or none coming out to wiggle and wriggle and show me how much rhythm they got and I? don't got!

Blessed are you, God, King of the Universe who has created mice and has (at least) kept them still and quiet, this morning.