Again nature taking over, but this time a personal one.  Of course this bachelor didn’t own a thermometer, but I got one – the old fashioned under the tongue kind – not those fancy digtal ones for nine-ninety-nine.  Never sick often and abhorring the E.R., I awakend to soaked sheets earlier this week.  Feeling chills to the bone in a room full of heat was a good indication that all was not right within my body-nation.

Ever notice how people get ill and sometimes die just before and right after their birthdays?  I have, even  my Dad went just  before his eighty-first birthday, and that is why I’m especially carefull right after my birthday, with the hand-washing and all each and every time I come in from errands; this year it didn’t work though.  When you have a fever as an adult, every joint that you have ever injured through sports or accident aches.  My hips that I fell upon while roller speed skating “derby-style” thirty years ago, my shoulder that I jammed slightly in an auto accident; the base of my neck which suffered whiplash when rear-ended by a NYC taxicab while sitting at a stoplight; the  other shoulder on my “weak” but overly harmoned side which cries-out just from too many dumbbell reps, and of course my surgically- repaired Achillies tendon from basketbal and distance running competition days..  Then there is the middle of my lower back – no answer for  that one…I guess when they finally give all of us health insurance, I’ll get a “physical” to find out what is on the way.  Now in my late fifties, those results will carry the day.  I guess the theme here is the power of nature, whether it be the “Mother” kind or our personal ones, the great equalizer, to shut things down with ther ultimate “reset button” upon our increasingly distracted, and blindly technologically dominated lives.  Thee “chill pill”.

Every year around my birth anniversary, I stop my one vice – wine drinking – for a month or whatever; a kind of sabbatical.  I was just in the beginning of that yearly ritual when the fever struck; my personal “nature” taking over and shutting me down physically and mentally – except for some great dreams which included the words you’ve just finished reading.

pickhitt: President Obama deftly dances like Rogers and Astaire or Emmit Smith on “Dancin’ With The Stars” during his State Of The Union Address last night.  He poked, prodded and cajoled the Obstructikans, who sat on their hands for the most part like the mischieveous side of the class who cracks wise and would rather shoot paper clips, spitballs or paper airplanes instead of listening to the message in the name of unity. They represent the left-over “angry white men” who still have a problem with a man who’s skin is brown “telling [them]what to do”.  I thought he touched all based with at least three home-runs, humor and thankfully avoided the tempting metaphor “we are on the one yard line” while pitching the continuted committment to health care reform.

Now back to bed.