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Few routine experiences give me as much joy as a warm shower in the morning.
I've been known to say: This is the best.
What a miraculous system it is - all the components nicely working together to deliver a wonderful feeling.It's readily repeatable, with consistent outputs, a great deal of the time.
And when a nice, warm/hot water shower is not handy or convenient, well, the day comes up a little short.
perhaps to be continued...
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I don't beilieve I ever knew how to spell 'alleys'/'allies' by which I mean marbles.
As a kid, a grade schooler, all I ever called them or the pastime was alleys.
Know what I mean? The small ,spherical (less than 1cm diameter), variously coloured glass objects.
Some seem quite delicate, but boy can they take abuse. They operate just fine from 200 degreesC to minus 50C. Drop them on concrete - no problems. Take a bunch of them, put them in a regulation purple Crown Royal flannel bag, and smack 'em together vigourously - no problems. Throw them up against a brick wall - no damage.
All the boys I knew, best I recall, had marbles at one time or t'other.
For a stretch a boy's alleys were the most obvious signal of wealth or status.
It was how many you had, how unique some were ('beauts' we called them), how good/lucky they were in games, and what their pedigree was (perhaps claimed in a game from the bully down the street).
Guys sought them out, usually buying them or getting them as gifts, or trading them at fluctuating values, and they learned the arts of collecting.
Teachers didn't much care for them.
Invariably they caused a commotion or at least a distraction.
On the other hand they also operated as a placator - sort of like TV - at their best transfixing whoever was within range.
And of course there were Rules about Marbles near or in the School.
I recall playing two types of games.
Each boy played with his own alleys. This was no team pursuit.
In one game players gently tossed a marble towards a brick wall, close to the ground.
The alley would bounce off the wall with a pleasing sound, jump forward and roll on the ground.
The ground in front would have been smooth and level, but for a hole (depression) tennis ball size or so, carved from the ground a pace or two from the wall.
Now that ground could have been sand or gravel in the warm season, or packed snow in the cool season.
The object was to get all your alleys in the hole first - each player taking turns, one marble toss at a time.
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Quick note for something that ought to be much fuller.
I think we are at an inflection point - on a number of societal dimensions - a key one being how our societies have been responding to the Covid phenomena.
Consider this. Covid arrived roughly Jan 2020. The western media got the memo around March, a couple of months later. The media frenzy grew, and kept growing - outpacing the case counts even, which counts were front page, above the fold, news day after insufferable day - for near two years.
(nota bene: case counts as a thing are on the down slide in the media consciousness these last couple of weeks, a byproduct of the Health Wizards declaration that they will stop counting cases - if I understand correctly. How prescient, I say (perfect timing with skyrocketing case numbers which counts/numbers are of no apparent significance .) This factoid may be considered a data point for timing.
Now, a full year into the hysteria, my recollection is that I did not know, personally, anyone who had died from Covid. Heck among people I would consider acquaintances - measured in hundreds, I did not even know of someone who had the virus - symptoms or none.
Eventually I did come to know of some cases personally. But if memory serves, without exception the symptoms were mild or modest.
Things have changed, recent like.
I can not put a precise date on it. But after a chuggy start, the last 2 or 3 weeks (or could it be 5 or 6?) has seen a big uptick in the number of people I know have gotten the viral infection. Son Jay. Then twin Maureen. Then Jay's missus Michele. This is a small sample to be sure. It is also highly relevant. Mark my prediction.
The end is at hand.
