Whittling Away With Dick Brooks - Routines

I’m starting to like routines.  Routines are comfortable, doing the same things in the same order means that all is well in my little world.  There’s my morning routine, awaken at 7:15, crawl out of bed, head for the bathroom to the tune of the cartilage chorus while my major body parts fight for position.  A brush and flush and back to the bedroom to decide on the attire for the day.  Jeans, sweatshirt, sneakers—good choices, same as yesterday and the day before but good choices nevertheless, jeans are gotten out of their drawer, sweatshirt of the day off the sweatshirt shelf in the closet and laid side by side on the bed.  Clean undies and t-shirt out and on, no problem!  The first challenge of the day now faces me.  I open the sock drawer and choose the socks of the day.  I sit on the edge of the bed, hold the top of the sock in the open position and attempt to lasso my big toe.  I wonder again why it is that as you age and supposedly start to shrink, your feet start to move out of reach.  I remember as a small child being able to put my big toe into my mouth, now I’m lucky if I can see it let alone reach it.  Big toe snared!  Let the wrestling match begin, a few minutes of rolling around and making the proper grunting noises and I win for another day.  This morning sporting event gets my heart started and my blood pressure up to operating level and most of my joints have found the place where they want to be in for the day.

I head downstairs, slowly since my joints haven’t quite warmed to full activity level yet.  We greet The Queen, who arises first (she’s younger than us) and makes the staff of life.  Telly goes and sits near the kitchen door, I put on my hat and jacket, light my old pipe on the porch, hook up his lease and go out to see what kind of day The Big Guy has made for us.  Telly has his own routine.  We tour his favorite unwatering spots, we have to check the gutter down spout, where once upon a time, he saw a chipmunk disappear.  We check it two or three times a day.  He leads me, following the invisible tracks of the deer, squirrels and cats who have passed through since last night.  When he’s satisfied that all sniffs have been sniffed and no strange critters are to be found on the property, he heads for the porch door.  Inside again, we refresh The Queen’s coffee and put a bagel in the toaster.  I fill my stoneware beer mug with coffee.  I’ve drunk my coffee out of it for years, it holds two cups and keeps it warm for a long time.  I’ve tried other coffee mugs, we have a large selection of them but none of them feels right or keeps the coffee warm for as long.  The toaster pops, I butter my bagel, put it on a plate.  I take my coffee and the bagel and go sit in my old recliner. Telly comes and lies beside the chair. I put a piece of bagel between his paws, he looks at it, says Grace, licks it and then slowly eats it and looks up for the next piece.  We watch some of the Today show and stay out of The Queen’s way as she prepares for her day.   Preparation done, we see her off and wish her a happy day.  We tidy up a bit, Telly goes and sits by the door, I get my hat and pipe and out the door we go to face the adventures of the day.  Nothing like a good routine to start your day right.

Thought for the week—“A smile is an inexpensive way to improve your looks.”   --Andy Rooney

Until next week, may you and yours be happy and well.

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