Once again, I am suffering from the effects of sleep deprivation after being denied a good night’s sleep. I don’t understand what that’s all about, but at least I’m getting some value from my Netflix subscription. And in the meantime, life goes on.

My big news is that tomorrow morning, I’ll be heading out for La Union, where I will participate in a weekend Hash event–The Haggis Bash. I attended once before, and it was an enjoyable Scottish-themed gathering featuring bagpipes and various competitions between the Hashers, including a beer-drinking contest, sack races, and a tug-a-war. There will be Hash runs on Friday afternoon and Saturday morning as well. I paid several weeks ago, but with my recent ill-health, I was wavering on the wisdom of attending. Now, I deem myself sufficiently recovered to participate, although I will exercise discretion in my selection of activities and trails. Wish me luck!

The Wednesday Walkers group took a 5K stroll through the back streets of Subic-town, which proved to be quite enjoyable. Only three of us (Scott, Gary, and me) participated this week, but we all shared an appreciation for a flat walk on a hot day, and we were not disappointed.

It was nice to be out and about. Eventually I’m going to have to challenge myself with a hill climb, but for now I’m content with just getting my steps in.

I stepped on the scale this morning and was pleasantly surprised to see that I’m down to 232 pounds. It’s disappointing that I’m not seeing a reduction in belly fat yet, but I’ve another thirty-seven pounds to lose to reach my goal. The belly is always the last to go, it seems.

The Wednesday Hideaway feeding was a simple success:

There were two other customers at the bar who were friends with manager Griff; everyone but me had a thick English accent. Each of them, in turn, bought me a beer, which is always a nice gesture. Of course, it costs me because Joy gets a lady drink when I get a beer. Oh well, it’s the thought that counts. Before I left, I reciprocated by getting each of them a drink. Good times.

Swan had attended an afternoon Mass at the local Catholic church. She messaged me when the service was over, and we met up at BarCelona and enjoyed a nightcap on the rooftop. Once we were back at home, we sat out on the patio and enjoyed another drink before heading to bed.

I woke up three hours later and could not get back to sleep. So I once again spent the wee hours of morning feeling “Shameless.” It struck me today how this American family struggling below the poverty line lives so much better than the majority of Filipinos. The Gallaghers call their house a “slum,” but it is far nicer than most of the slum villages I walk through. I guess it’s all relative.

Packing for my weekend excursion is next on my agenda. Later, I’ll be taking Swan out for dinner at Mango’s. Stay tuned for whatever happens next!

And everything in between. Here’s how I filled those hours yesterday.

An uneventful shopping excursion to Royal allowed me to fill my pantry and empty my wallet simultaneously. Just like magic.

Shortly after I arrived home, a worker installed a new mirrored sliding door on my master bedroom closet. So much nicer than the curtain that previously hung there.

I took care of my blogging chore and then finished watching Season 3 of “Shameless.”

Then I was off for some me time. I’ve sorta penciled in the floating bar as my “go-to” venue for Tuesday nights. Much quieter and laid back on weeknights, and I like that. Had a nice chat with the bar owner and another guy. I found out later the other guy was Swan’s brother-in-law. Small-town living at its finest!

After disembarking from the floater I walked across the beach to Da Kudos where I had the bar to myself. And my ex, the lovely Jessa, was tending bar and we had a nice chat. When heaven gives me some do-overs, I’ll try to make things right with her.

I got a trike from Da Kudos and had every intention of calling it a night, but when we reached the National Highway, I impulsively asked the driver to drop me at Whiskey Girl instead. I hadn’t been there for a month or so and figured it was overdue for a nightcap visit. My favorites, Jenn and Kim, were both very happy to see me, especially because I was the only customer when I arrived. One lady drink each and a nice tip, and I was out the door after two beers.

Not much to do with those wee hours in the morning but plant yourself in front of the TV and follow the travails of the shameless Gallagher family. Hey, it could be worse! And I was up and about to witness the dawning of a new day:

I’d call this the means to an end:

Today’s song is something a little different. I came across it for some unremembered reason several years ago, and Facebook memories shared it with me again today. Wikipedia says this:

“Jaan Pehechan Ho” (“Let’s Know Each Other”) is an Indian rock & roll Bollywood song, sung by Mohammed Rafi, composed by duo Shankar Jaikishan, and with Hindi-Urdu lyrics by Shailendra.^[1] It was produced for the 1965 Bollywood film Gumnaam, directed by Raja Nawathe, produced by N.N. Sippy, and starring Manoj Kumar and Nanda. The song has been widely “remediated” in North American circulation.^[2]

Anyway, I don’t understand a single word of the lyrics, but it has a very catchy tune and the dancing in the video is fun to watch. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did:

Well, damn. That’s never happened before. Give it a watch on YouTube instead.

It’s Hash Monday, so I’m gonna dash off a quick post about yesterday before heading for the hills.

I had it in mind to do a Marian Hills/San Isidro/Govic Highway/Santa Monica/Barretto solo hike that would have taken seven kilometers or so to complete. But once I got started, I knew I was having an off day. Just lacking energy and feeling winded, despite not doing any hills. I considered bailing and catching a trike home, but instead, I cut out the Govic/Santa Monica portion and finished my journey in a little over 4K.

Back home, I engaged in the usual afternoon routines. I also changed things up by baking a dozen banana-nut muffins instead of brownies for the Hideaway feeding.

The feeding was uneventful, but the girls did seem to enjoy the muffins. After Hideaway, I paid a visit to Oasis and then finished my night at Alaska Club.

And once I was back home, things went south. After a few beers, I have no trouble falling asleep (last week, the problem was waking up after a couple of hours and not being able to go back to sleep). Last night, for whatever reason, sleep wouldn’t come. Plan B is to watch some Netflix (I’m on Season 3 of “Shameless” now), but for whatever reason, Netflix wouldn’t load on the TV. YouTube was working, and one of the movies on my “recommended” list was “End of the World.”

The characters were so shallow, and the storyline so stupid I wondered if this was supposed to be a comedy. Except it wasn’t funny, either. It even failed at boring me to sleep. Well, there’s an hour and a half of my life I’ll never get back.

I went back to bed after the movie but still couldn’t sleep. So, I watched some vloggers sharing their experiences in the PI and other assorted YouTube crap. I’d doze off periodically in my easy chair for a few minutes at a time, and that was the extent of my sleep last night. We’ll see how that affects my Hash performance this afternoon.

Almoranus is the Hare today, and the inside scoop is he’s prepared an 11K monster up on Kalaklan Ridge. Nope, that ain’t happening for me. I’m meeting up with Pubic Head and we are going to do our own “sane” trail. On Home is at Johansson’s today. Wish me luck!

Nothing like a seasoned ship:

See you here tomorrow!

I am happy to report that I once again feel almost normal. I was beginning to have some doubts that I’d ever recover the strength to engage in the lifestyle to which I’ve become accustomed, but yesterday, I felt like I’d turned the corner on the road to recovery.

The day didn’t start out looking so positive. I had a near sleepless night, and the pain in my side was back, although diminished. I did an abbreviated dog walk and then began to doubt the wisdom of participating in the Friday group hike. Ultimately, I decided to join with the caveat that I’d bail out as circumstances warranted. So, I took a pain pill and headed out.

Only four of us were in attendance, so the decision was made to trike out to the end of Sawmill Road and commence our hike from Bridge #6. Two trikes at 200 pesos each had us there twenty minutes later. Then, we commenced with the mostly flat 5K walk back to Barretto. It was really enjoyable for me to be off the streets for a change, and the route we took was one I’ve rarely traversed. The hike went surprisingly well for me, with only one minor breathing issue near the end after our only climb. I had debated taking a longer route to avoid the hill but ultimately decided I needed to challenge myself. No regrets.

I have lots of photos to share, including the usual contributions from Scott as well as some from the newest member of our group, Bhel. Let’s get to it, shall we?

It was so good to be back on trail again. Sorry for the overload of pictures, but it was great being back in the embrace of mother nature.

A nap, some blogging, a shower, and then I looked outside.

I had decided not to attend the SOB competition this week. Once or twice a month keeps it fresh for me. And with freshness in mind, I plotted a bar crawl featuring rarely visited venues beginning at my end of the highway. My plan was two beers per bar with a finish no later than 8 p.m.

The next “bar” on this side of the street is Johansson’s. While it has a bar and serves alcoholic beverages, it has more of a restaurant vibe about it. Again, nothing wrong with that, but I got bored before I finished my first beer, so I moved on. I’ll be back on Monday for the Hash On-Home.

Then it was Alley Hideout, aka Alley Cats, my old dart bar. Lots of turnover in staff with only one familiar face amongst the waitresses. A dart tournament was in progress, and I recognized some of the players. Jim came in as part of his own bar crawl, so I had someone to chat with as I downed my beers.

I moved up the highway to the next venue, Rosies. This is a bar I might visit twice a year. Before the scamdemic, it employed dancers, but those days are now over. Rosies now has more of a pool hall vibe. There was a pool tournament taking place during my visit. The waitresses were friendly, and one in particular was pretty aggressive in seeking my attention. So, I answered the usual questions and heard her sad story (her boyfriend makes a baby and then leaves, so working in the bar was her last best option). Still, she was pleasant enough to talk to, and I rewarded her with a lady’s drink.

And that was the end of my crawl–five bars, nine beers. Another sign that I’m back to being my old, hardy self. I headed to the trike stand at the Maze and stopped at Sit-n-Bull for the pecan pie I missed on Thanksgiving to bring home to share with Swan and Teri. Home and in bed before nine.

And here is maybe the best news of the day:

There you have it–back to my walkaholic and alcoholic ways, with the added ability to sleep it off and start over again the next day. Life is good!

Yesterday’s joke was older than I realized and had been used here twice previously. So, let’s try this one and see what happens:

On a bus two men with strong accents begin a conversation. The lady next to them is eavesdropping.

“Emma come first, the I come. Den two esses acoma together. I come once-a-more. Two esses, they comma together again. I come again, then pee twice. The I come one lasta time.”

“You dirty bastards!” the woman exclaims. “We don’t talk about our sex lives in public in this country!”

“Hey, whattsa matter with you?” the man asks. “I’m justa tellin’ my friend how to spell Mississippi.”

I have a date night with Swan later. I’m going to take her to the floating bar and then we will have dinner at Treasure Island. It’s good to be alive!

Yesterday was a day to be thankful for. Come along while I share the highlights.

I had a reservation for four at Sit-n-Bull, having invited my driver, domestic helper, and Swan to join me for a traditional Thanksgiving feast.

My driver picked us up at noon for the short drive to Sit-n-Bull, where our table was waiting.

No complaints about the food; it certainly filled me up. I was disappointed there was no pumpkin pie or other dessert offered with the meal. The logistics of eating in a restaurant seem to emphasize that the traditional Thanksgiving feast works best as a family gathering at home. I know I like loading up my own plate with all my preferred favorites. And going back for seconds. I also thought about the side dishes my mama would make–like a green bean casserole and candied yams. Damn, I miss that!

We all enjoyed a heaping helping of my Aunt Pat’s Recipe World Famous Fruit Salad when we returned home after our dinner.

Another Thanksgiving tradition is the post-meal nap. I took a much-needed one after my nearly sleepless night on Wednesday and felt somewhat refreshed when I awoke. Swan was busy with her tutoring gig, and I was craving some San Mig Zero beer, so I headed into town. My first stop was Sloppy Joe’s, and it was about as busy as I’ve ever seen. I was seated in my preferred streetside table area, but the only available chair was near the music speaker. And for whatever reason, they had the volume set at blaring. Troy was there and joined me at my table, but it was hard to carry on a conversation with all the noise. I finished my second beer and departed.

It had been a very long time since I paid a visit to BarCelona (two floors above Sloppy Joe’s), and I remedied that by climbing the stairs and taking a rooftop seat in the nearly deserted bar.

BarCelona has pne of the best bar ambiances in town. Open air inside features a large bar, several big-screen TVs playing music videos (at a reasonable volume), and a pool table. It’s all very clean and comfortable. I enjoy sitting on the rooftop in the late afternoon/evening hours and taking in the views (not so much when the sun is shining overhead or during rainy season). Why don’t I come here more often? I’ve had multiple incidents of lousy service in the past, and with so many other options available, I just stopped coming. That wasn’t a problem last night. My waitress was a gal who used to work at Whiskey Girl (she remembered me by name; I didn’t recognize her at all). We sat and talked and my impression is that she was the head waitress (or at least she was training one of the other girls serving). I shared with her some of my past experiences, and she assured me that it was unlikely to happen again, at least as long as she was working. Fair enough. I can see myself enjoying some beers here more frequently.

I decided to stay in the Maze for barhopping purposes and went downstairs to the Green Room for my next venue. It was also very busy, but I had a coupon good for a free beer and then 50% off the remainder of the night, so I put it to work. I usually enjoy watching the pool games when I’m here, but no one played last night. After my second beer, I was feeling bored, so I moved next door to Wet Spot (my coupon was good there too). As usual, I sat at the manager’s table (popularly called the backslapper’s table) and enjoyed some chat with my fellow tablemates. Two more beers, and I called it a night, arriving back home at 7:30.

I enjoyed a little time with Swan on the patio; then I got ready for bed. And lo and behold, I finally slept long enough for my Fitbit to track my sleep performance.

So, I fell asleep at 8:36 and woke up at 1:09 in the morning. Of course, I wasn’t able to go back to sleep, so that meant spending more time binge-watching Netflix. Almost through with Season 2 of “Shameless” and I’m still enjoying the show. My normal sleep is usually at least five hours, but I guess last night qualifies as progress.

Facebook memories reminded me of a walk I took six years ago:

And today’s dose of humor:

A priest offered a lift to a Nun.

She got in and crossed her legs, forcing her gown to reveal a leg.

The priest nearly had an accident. After controlling the car, he stealthily slid his hand up her leg.

The nun said, “Father, remember Psalm 129?”

The priest removed his hand.

But, changing gears, he let his hand slide up her leg again.

The nun once again said, “Father, remember Psalm 129?”

The priest apologized “Sorry sister but the flesh is weak.”

Arriving at the convent, the nun went on her way.

On his arrival at the church, the priest rushed to look up Psalm 129.

It said, “Go forth and seek, further up, you will find glory.”

Moral of the story: If you are not well informed in your job, you might miss a great opportunity.

And that’s all I’ve got for today. I did my first group hike in too long this morning; look for a full report and pictures here tomorrow.

Happy Thanksgiving to all who celebrate this holiday.

I’m feeling especially thankful this year to be amongst the living and presumably on the road to improved health. The visit to the radiologist in Olongapo for a gut ultrasound came with the typical frustrations (waiting time), but in the end, the procedure was accomplished successfully. One difference this time was that they wanted my bladder full, so I was instructed to drink water while I waited my turn and that I should not use the comfort room (toilet). When I finally got on the table I needed to take a leak but gritted my teeth and toughed it out.

Later in the afternoon, I had an appointment with Dr. Jo to review the ultrasound results. The good news is that I’m not retaining fluid in my abdomen, and my liver and bladder both appear normal. I have some small stones in my left kidney but they aren’t related to the bruising and pain in my side. So, that issue is likely muscular, and I was advised just to monitor the condition to see if it worsens. This morning, the bruises appear to have faded some, and the pain when I cough is not nearly as severe.

Regarding the cough, Dr. Jo said several other patients have similar problems, and the cough has been more persistent and longer lasting than usual. She advised me to continue my antibiotics and to come back in a week if I’m not better. Dr. Jo also suggested tea with ginger. Her hubby, Dr. Chris, who sits in on the consultations, chimed in and said, “And put some ginger in your beer.” I responded, “Sounds good, which bar does Ginger work at?” They laughed, and Dr. Jo said that I am her funniest patient. See? Bad puns have some value after all.

I planned to head over to Hideaway Bar after my appointment for the Wednesday feeding. I had baked a batch of brownies for gal’s dessert, but instead, I gifted them to Dr. Jo and Chris as a Thanksgiving gift and a thank you for liking my jokes.

On my way to Hideaway, I ordered a pizza (a 16″ thin crust Hawaiian) for delivery from Shamboli’s, then I stopped at Dunkin’ Donuts and got an assorted dozen to replace the regifted brownies.

I left Hideaway a bit before dark and made Oasis Bar my next stop. I was the only customer upstairs, and the vibe was dull during my brief stay. One beer, and I moved on. And then, in a moment of impulsiveness, I climbed the steps up to Cheap Charlies.

It’s been a month or so since my last visit to what used to be one of my favorite bars. I stopped coming because of what I considered rude treatment from two of my long-term regulars there, Alma and Nerissa. That was the night the big-spending bellringer (who appeared to be Korean, not that it matters) was repeatedly ringing the bell and buying a round of drinks for all the girls. My issue was that “my” two weren’t sitting with the customer (which I would have understood), but they still acted like I was invisible.

As usual, when I took my seat last night, both Nerissa and Alma sat down on either side. I made some smartass remarks along the lines of, “Ah, now that the big spender isn’t here, you like me again.” They both insisted that it hadn’t been their intent to ignore me (Alma was adamant that she had, in fact, greeted me when I arrived) and explained why they hadn’t joined me–I had come in with three guys that night, and they didn’t want to intrude on our group gathering. Hmm, that’s plausible. Anyway, enough water had flowed over the dam since that night to carry my anger and disappointment away, so I opted to choose the path of forgiveness.

It wasn’t quite 6:30, but given my lack of sleep the night before, I was ready to make my next stop home. I invited Swan to pour a glass of wine and join me at the Cool It patio bar (the Rite Spot rooftop bar will be opening soon). I turned on the Bluetooth speaker and picked a playlist Spotify had created for me called “Rock Songs.” And damned if I didn’t like every song that came up. I threw together some cheese nachos with salsa and headed to the patio.

I went to bed early, and once again, I was suddenly awakened by an intense dream that felt real. And once again, I was not able to go back to sleep. So once again, I engaged in a “Shameless” viewing marathon of several Season 2 episodes. If this inability to get a full night’s sleep continues, I may have to consider sleeping pills, something I’ve never taken and would prefer not to use. I’m curious how long I can get by on just a couple of hours of sleep every night before I collapse in exhaustion. Although I don’t want to find out by doing it.

I’m treating my helpers and driver to a lunchtime Thanksgiving feast at Sit-n-Bull. I’m also making my Aunt Pat’s Recipe World Famous Fruit Salad to enjoy when we return home after the meal. I expect a LONG afternoon nap is in my near future.

And one more for the road:

And that’s all I’ve got for now. I’ll post pictures of my feast here tomorrow. Enjoy the blessings of life and be thankful for the time we have been allowed.

I saw Dr. Jo yesterday afternoon to discuss the bruising and pain in my side. I was pretty confident it was something muscular causing the problem, but Dr. Jo agreed with my commenters and said there were multiple possibilities, including fluid retention, and she said these could pose serious health risks. She sent me for an ultrasound of my innards, and I’ll be back to see her again this afternoon.

I finished the doctor’s appointment at 2:30 and decided there was no point in returning home only to return to town an hour later. So, I decided to take a stroll down Baloy Beach and visit the floating bar even though it wasn’t beer o’clock yet.

As I’ve mentioned before, I enjoy the ambiance of floating on the bay and taking in the views. Yesterday’s experience was less satisfying than normal. My regular waitress wasn’t there, and despite there being at least a dozen GROs aboard, none of them deemed me worthy of a chat. That’s okay; it saved me money on lady drinks, but there was a different vibe about it. I was also disappointed that the floater still doesn’t have San Mig Zero available. SML is fine, just higher alcohol content (3% versus 5%), and since I was drinking an hour earlier than usual, I had to pace myself accordingly. When I finished my third beer, I paid up and headed for shore.

It had been a long time since my last visit to McCoy’s, so I strolled up the beach and popped in for a beer. They also only had SML. They’ve remodeled, and there were no longer any bar stools, so I sat at a table.

No one was singing when I arrived, but a few sips into my beer, a younger Filipino fired up the machine and did the worst rendition of “Hotel California” I’ve ever suffered through. When I finished my beer, I had heard and seen enough, so I took off down the road and made The Snackbar my next stop. It was pretty quiet customer-wise, but my two favorites–Jenn and Roseanne–were ready and waiting. And thirsty. Still, we had a nice catch-up chat, and they laughed at my jokes, so the lady drink commissions were well-earned. My ex popped in for a quick hello, hugged me, and then disappeared. Just like old times.

My watch told me it was “only” six o’clock, but my body said to get my ass home where I belong. And so my beer binge ended and I grabbed a trike. Swan was waiting when I arrived and she fixed me a quick dinner of hamburger patties with cheese. I was feeling tired and went to bed shortly after I finished eating.

And then it happened again. I woke from a dream, and then my racing brain refused to let me go back to sleep. I looked at my watch and said, “Fuck. It’s only nine o’clock.” I fooled around on the internet for a bit, then moved into the living room to continue watching “Shameless.” And I binge-watched the remaining eight episodes of Season 1, finishing around 4:00 a.m. Now that I’m familiar with the characters and the plotlines around living at the poverty line in Chicago, I’ve gotten to enjoy the series more. But with ten more seasons to go, it’s going to be a challenge to see them all, especially if I figure out a cure for insomnia. Oh well. As of now, my plan is to complete the journey I have begun–or die trying.

Here’s the preview clip from Season 1 that gives you the flavor of the show:

What the clip doesn’t show is that some of the scenes are on the racy side, if you consider tits and ass racy.

Needless to say, the lack of sleep has made for feeling miserable so far today. I got back from Olongapo, where I had my belly organs scanned via ultrasound. Now I’m fixin’ to head back to Dr. Jo’s office so she can review the results. I share that outcome tomorrow. I’m hoping to have something to be Thankful for.

Here’s your daily dose of humor:

Today’s song is one of my old favorites. I hope I feel lucky after talking with Doc Jo.

Little by little, step by step.

I made it all the way to Hideaway Bar from my house yesterday afternoon. The best part of that is I didn’t experience any severe breathing episodes along the way. One technique I’ve been implementing is pursed lips breathing while I walk. I know it works because I tested it with my oximeter (that thing you clip on your finger to measure blood oxygen levels). I started with a reading of 92, engaged the pursed lips technique, and raised the reading to 95 in just a couple of minutes. I used to purse my lips for kissing; now I do it to breathe. Man, old age is a bitch.

I’m still coughing, although not as frequently. The big problem with that is I get an extreme stabbing pain in my left side.

Still, I’m better than I was and not as good as I hope to be soon.

So, the feeding went well. I carry my portable nebulizer with me now when I go out, and I fired it up once at the bar. I cut my visit a little shorter than usual and started making my way back up the highway. As I passed the Annex bar, I spotted Chris and his gal, and they invited me to join them. Chris has been dealing with some health issues, too, so we exchanged stories about our plight, just like a couple of old men. Which I guess we are.

I headed for the trike stand at The Maze next but decided to do a nightcap before I departed. I went into The Green Room, but it was packed, so I moved next door to Wet Spot and secured my regular seat, and was served by my regular waitress. My bar stamina is still not at full capacity, so I headed home at an early, a little before 7:00.

I hadn’t reached my beer capacity as yet, so I grabbed one from the fridge and sat outside on my patio, enjoying the nighttime view. Swan joined me with a glass of wine, and we shared some quality moments together. I was in bed at 8:00. I had a strange and vivid dream that woke me at midnight, and once again, I was beset with sleeplessness.

In keeping with my new custom, I moved into the living room and fired up the television. For some reason, Netflix wouldn’t connect. So, I tried YouTube, and it worked. When I started scrolling the offerings there, one of the first films on the list was Junior Bonner, a movie starring Steve McQueen as an aging rodeo star. The movie has special significance for me because it was filmed in Prescott, Arizona, where I lived from 1978-1983.

Nothing like a stroll down memory land in the wee hours of a sleepless morning. I happened upon a post I wrote in 2015 about some of the connections between the film and my life in Prescott. The most notable being the song “Arizona Morning,” which was featured in the opening credits of the movie. The song was written and performed by Rod Hart, a Prescott musician. I learned to country dance while his band performed in the local bars.

I tend to agree with the summary of reviews for Junior Bonner included in the Wikipedia entry for the movie. It wasn’t as good as I remembered it to be; it didn’t seem to connect the dots or have a lot of meat on the bones. The movie was also a box office flop. I hadn’t really followed the life and career of Steve McQueen, who was never one of my favorite actors, but damn, the man lived a fascinating and varied life. After reading McQueen’s story, I have a lot more respect for his lifetime accomplishments. McQueen died at age 50 of lung disease.

And that’s today’s example of putting insomnia to productive use. Still, I’m hoping to get back to a full night’s sleep soon.

For you pun addicts, here’s today’s fix:

And it is Hash Monday. I’m not even going to attempt doing the trail–I don’t feel ready for a climb. My plan is to try and walk from my house to the On-Home at One Three Resort in Calapadayan, about 4K by my reckoning. It will be all on the highway, which sucks, but hopefully I’ll be good to go next week.

Of all the places I lived in the USA, Prescott was my favorite. Perhaps that is why this song resonates with me so much.

Morning, Arizona morning
Almost sets me free
Makes me glad to be alive
Wondering, why I started wandering
Should have stayed right here
Underneath the clear blue skies

Sadness, changing now to gladness
With the rustle of the breeze through the pinyon trees
Where I lay
In the morning, Arizona morning
A place where I can smile
And see a hundred miles away

The birds are flying high above the morning
Singing to the colors of the dawn
And in my mind I hear a gentle warning
You’ve been a wrangler and a rambler
Much too long

And a rover. Wishing it was over
All my battles won, resting in the sun this way
In the morning, Arizona morning
Coming home today, wishing I could stay
Wishing I could stay.

If you want to see the full movie, here you go:

And so the saga continues. I attended a birthday party at Snackbar last evening. Once again, the short walk to the highway took my breath away. I made it, though, and camped out on a barstool for the rest of the evening. It was a little strange to see my ex loving on her new guy/fiancé, but that ship sailed for me long ago and the pain is gone. My sincere hope is that the path she has chosen will lead to the fulfillment of her dreams. It was nice to have Swan by my side for the first hour or so as well.

Coincidentally, Mary, the eighteen-year-old I briefly dated, turned nineteen yesterday. We exchanged some messages, and she told me she was drinking alone at McCoy’s on Baloy. I invited her to stop by Snackbar, and I would treat her to a birthday drink. It turns out she was walking to the highway from Baloy, so she was passing Snackbar anyway. It has been several months since we’ve seen each other, so having another birthday girl at the party was nice. A guy friend of mine got introduced to Mary, and to hear him tell it, it was love at first sight–at least for him. They exchanged Facebook info, so maybe they’ll get together again.

I headed for home about 8:00 and was in bed before 9:00. And then I woke up at midnight and couldn’t get back to sleep. So, it was back to the TV for me. I needed something to watch to pass the hours, and a short series called The Watcher looked interesting. And so I became one, binge watching through my sleepless night.

By morning time, it had gotten tedious, and I found myself closing my eyes and dozing for a minute or two and then looking back at the screen to discover I hadn’t missed anything new. I guess it served its purpose, but it was not particularly entertaining.

This inability to sleep through the night is frustrating. I’ve never experienced insomnia, and I’m not sure how to deal with it. The weird part is that it isn’t about the coughing or the breathing–it’s in my head. I can’t seem to turn off my brain. Maybe this has something to do with the prescribed medicines I’m taking. Hopefully, I’ll return to normal sleeping habits soon.

In the making progress department, I did the regular dog walk this morning, and then a bit later, I gave myself a walk here in the neighborhood and didn’t experience much discomfort. I really, really want to get back to hiking soon. I miss it!

I reckon I’ll try once more for an afternoon nap. It’s feeding day at Hideaway, and the walk to get there will be challenging. But I need to make the effort–Never surrender!

Yesterday was spent in pursuit of better health, and hopefully, some progress was made in that regard. The morning began with a bit of a surprise when a taxi showed up at the house instead of my regular driver. It turns out Danny had a conflict in schedules, so he sent his nephew to ferry us about. A heads-up would have been nice, but no big deal.

The first stop was Baypointe Hospital to make arrangements to see a pulmonary doctor. The one I had seen previously was out of town, but I was able to sign in with her replacement and was second in line under the first-come, first-served scheduling system used here. Of course, the office hours for the pulmonary doc didn’t begin until 3:00 p.m., but by God, I was on the list!

My “appointment” with the cardiologist wasn’t until 10:30, so I filled the time with some errands around SBMA. I hit the ATM at BPI, then visited a surplus store and a large hardware store. I’ve been looking for some furniture for my covered rooftop area and was hoping these venues might stock what I needed. That proved not to be the case, although the hardware store had a couple of things I could use.

My next minor surprise was when it came time to visit the cardiologist; we left SBMA and went to her private clinic in Olongapo City. My helper had made the arrangements, and these office hours were the only ones available during the morning. Whatever works. Alas, I didn’t have an “appointment,” but I did manage to secure third-in-line status. Since the doctor was scheduled to arrive at 11:00, I went and sat in the aircon taxi to wait. I got in a quick nap before my helper was tapping on the window, telling me it was my turn. She had somehow managed to get me advanced to the coveted first-in-line spot!

But the efforts to conclude the objectives with the cardiologist were for naught. My helper had brought the electrocardiogram results, which was supposed to be the last requirement before getting the doctor’s sign-off that my surgery could be scheduled. However, the doctor said she could only sign off after reviewing my entire paperwork again; all those documents were at Baypointe Hospital. So, this trip had been for nothing, but the cardiologist did at least agree to see me first when she began her Baypointe hours at 4:00 p.m. The fact that I had to be back at Baypointe for my 3:00 p.m. with the pulmonary doctor made this news a little easier to bear.

So, it was back to Barretto, and I paid the taxi driver 1500 pesos and made arrangements with him to pick me up again at 2:30. That gave me enough time to do my daily post here, but I had to forego my regular naptime. I got a message from my regular driver that he was now available and would provide my afternoon transport. So, it was back to Baypointe Hospital.

I had a very productive meeting with the pulmonary doctor. He suggested a different antibiotic and altered the content of some of my inhalers. He agreed that until I had recovered from my current state of breathing difficulties, surgery was not in the cards. I came away with five new prescriptions and some good advice on process and scheduling my meds for effectiveness. He wants me to return next week to see the regular pulmonary doc, and he thinks my chest congestion will clear by then. Here’s hoping.

Next up was the cardiologist revisit, and true to her word, she reviewed my paperwork and signed off on everything within five minutes. So, at least I’m done with her for now.

My driver dropped my helper at the pharmacy in Barretto, and I had him drop me at The Green Room, this week’s host for the SOB. I questioned my judgment in doing so because it required a three-hour commitment (and a 750 peso entry fee), but life is for living, right? I felt a little “off” all evening but made it through until the conclusion at 8:00 p.m. Triked home and was hoping for a better night’s sleep.

Alas, it was not to be. I managed less than three hours of slumber. I’ve felt like shit most of the day today. Coughing a little less frequently perhaps, but each cough comes with a stabbing pain in my side. My blood oxygen levels are in the acceptable range for me (the pulmonary doc said I’d be alright at 93 or above), so there’s that. Still feeling lightheaded and having difficulty in the prone position. Most of sleep I managed last night was upright in a chair in my living room. On the plus side, I did finish watching “Beef” on Netflix and overall enjoyed it.

So, what’s next? Honestly, sometimes it feels as if I’m knocking on heaven’s door. I know that is melodramatic, but I don’t recall ever feeling this vulnerable heathwise in the past. I’m not sure how much the lack of sleep is exacerbating those feelings, but it can’t be helping my recovery. This morning I said, “fuck it” it’s on me to regain some control, so despite feeling weak and unmotivated, I did a short dog walk. Yeah, I was puffing on the street, but I felt better having gotten some steps in. I managed a two-hour nap this afternoon, which also seems to have helped clear my head. I’m going to tentatively consider that progress and hope that full recovery is only days away.

A friend is celebrating her birthday at Snackbar this evening and Swan is going to join me there for a bit before meeting up with her sister. And life goes on. Until it doesn’t.

I’m going to keep thinking positive and hopefully find some peace and comfort in a good sleep tonight. I’ll let you know how that goes tomorrow.

The Beef I’m talking about is my latest adventure via Netflix.

So, during this current bout of whatever it is I’m going through, it was my destiny to finish watching Manifest and also to Keep Breathing. I finished the sixth and final episode of KB in the wee hours of my sleepless morning.

I read a couple of reviews for shits and giggles, and the audience score at Rotten Tomatoes was a paltry 37%, so it appears I wasn’t alone in my assessment of mediocrity.

I’m enjoying Beef a lot more so far. It has a USA setting but a Korean tone about it. Here’s a taste of the meat from the trailer.

The current state of my health precludes hiking and prevents sleeping (I have coughing attacks when I lie down). So, I’ve watched more TV in the last week than I have since the scamdemic lockdowns.

The only walking I did yesterday was a late afternoon stroll to Sloppy Joe’s. At least I made it, but it was a close call. Once again, I was breathing hard before I even made it out of Alta Vista. The shortcut I usually take to town requires an uphill path, which is about the equivalent of two flights of stairs. The way I was puffing on flat ground, I knew better than even to try the up and over. I figured when I got to the highway I could grab a trike if need be, but I sucked it up and hoofed it all the way.

Erik, Jim, Ken, and Simon also showed up at Sloppy Joe’s to start their evening bar crawl. I knew I was not going to leave the relative safety of The Maze, so we went our separate ways. My next stop was The Green Room, where I entertained myself watching some pool games. I also shared a batch of fresh-baked brownies with the crew. I finished my night out with the Wet Spot crowd. A trike driver called me by name as I left the bar and safely delivered my tired old body to the house.

I only managed about three hours of sleep last night, and I’m feeling it today. I’m scheduled to see the cardiologist this afternoon to finalize the surgery clearance, and I’m also hoping to revisit the pulmonary specialist for guidance on improving my lung capacity. I know it would be a miracle if that works out, but we shall see.

I’m as tired of feeling this way as my faithful few readers must be hearing about it. I’m hoping for better news soon.

Alright, I’m going to keep trying to maintain a positive attitude. More to come tomorrow. Hopefully.

Welp, I guess yesterday qualifies as a step backward. Or maybe a leap. Whatever progress I thought I was making on the road to recovery reversed itself. Or so it would appear based on my inability to walk the 2K from my house to Hideaway Bar.

But before I was even out of the neighborhood, I was huffing and puffing so bad that I thought I was going to have to sit on the curb to catch my breath. Then the rare trike came by after dropping off a passenger and asked if I wanted a ride. And for the first time ever, I accepted.

I was equally distressed and depressed when I took my seat at the bar in Hideaway and ordered a beer. This is getting downright scary. Luckily, I had the foresight to bring along my portable nebulizer.

I loaded it up and went outside to fill my lungs with sulfate bromide. That did the trick, and soon, I went back inside to commence with the feeding. I knew I’d be making it an early night, though.

I had an SOB coupon to use at the Green Room, and the walk there from Hideaway went without incident. Jim joined me for a couple of beers, and then I got a sandwich from Sit-n-Bull to go and headed home.

Another rough night sleep-wise–lying down exacerbates the shortness of breath. This morning, I had my helper order me a pillow something like this:

I recall a long-ago visit to Monticello, the home of Thomas Jefferson in Charlottesville, Virginia. His bed was designed in a manner that required him to sleep sitting up.

But it turns out that was just one of Jefferson’s healthy lifestyle choices. “Jefferson slept five to eight hours a night in a semi-reclining position since his bed was too short for his height. This position facilitated his habit of reading in bed. “I never go to bed without an hour, or half hour’s previous reading of something moral, whereon to ruminate in the intervals of sleep.”

There is no mention of boinking the slaves, but he did live to be 84. Anyway, that’s enough history for today.

Dr. Jo’s advice is to continue using the nebulizer every couple of hours and the oxygen tank in between. The antibiotics she prescribed will hopefully clear the mucus that is causing my hacking cough. We’ll see. I’m also going to try to do another consult with the pulmonary doctor at Baypointe Hospital tomorrow.

I’ve been resting and napping all morning (I had the helper walk the dogs). I took advantage of the downtime and completed watching the Netflix series Manifest final episodes. The fact that I was motivated to see it through until the end is probably the best review I can offer. The religious overtones were lost on me, but the story of an airliner returning after being missing for over three years was pretty compelling. And there was some pretty tasty eye candy to enjoy:

Scrolling through the Netflix offerings for “What am I going to watch next?” this morning, I felt compelled to give one called Keep Breathing a look for some reason. I mean, that’s my goal, too. I’m on episode two (there are only six), and I’m not grabbed yet. We’ll see.

Look at me, revisiting my passion for American history and spending time in front of the television, both in the same post! What am I thinking? Well, don’t worry; I’m going to attempt the walk into town again tonight and hope it goes better than yesterday.

Seriously, though, I do want to be back into my hiking mode as soon as possible. And I look forward to scheduling some trips, both inside and outside the Philippines. That will be especially nice since I have a traveling partner now. Swan has been an angel in her efforts to comfort me during these troubled days. I am blessed to have her here to care for me.

Life goes on until it doesn’t, so I tried to get some living in yesterday. I picked up my electrocardiogram results from the hospital in the morning, but there is STILL no cardiologist available to review them and consult with me for my surgery clearance. Truth be told, though, I’m not sure now is the time to go under the knife. I have a hard time sleeping at night because lying down exacerbates my cough. What happens when I’m unconscious on my back with a tube down my throat?

I restocked the groceries for another week with an excursion to the Royal supermarket. Then, I got a long overdue haircut. Back home, I baked up a batch of brownies, and at beer o’clock, I walked to Baloy Beach for my weekly floating bar experience.

A pleasant couple of hours chillin’ on the water. Erik joined me shortly before I departed for his first experience on the floating bar.

I did my nightcap at Da’Kudos and enjoyed chatting with Jessa, who is now the bartender there. When I first moved here, I lived on Baloy, and Jessa worked at Treasure Island. She was my first Filipina crush as a resident, and we dated a few times before I fucked things up by being me. Still, sitting and reminiscing with her about the old times was nice.

I made it until almost 8 p.m. before catching a trike for home. Got in nearly 10,000 steps yesterday, which ain’t bad for a no-hike Tuesday. I felt like I had taken a big step forward on the road to recovery. And then I experienced a sleep-deprived night because of coughing while prone. I’m using my nebulizer and oxygen on a regular basis, but alas, I just now checked my blood oxygen level, and it is lower than ever.

Oh, well. Nothing to be done but keep on keepin’ on and hope for the best.

I’m going to attempt the Hideaway feeding later this afternoon. I’ll do my best to pace myself when I’m steppin’ out.

What a day yesterday turned out to be. I never left the house, not even for the dog walk. I was just running on empty energy-wise and had seemingly zero lung capacity. Walking to the toilet and back would leave me practically breathless. Previously, even my worst breathing attacks would pass relatively quickly once I sat down and rested some. Not this time–I was wiped out all day and all night long. Laying down seemed to exacerbate the situation, so I sat on the couch in front of the TV, finally moving to the bedroom and getting a couple of hours sleep around 4:30 a.m.–my usual wake-up time.

I don’t want to be overly dramatic, but in the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but think, “Is this how it is going to end for me?” Of course, I’m still in the fight, but I hope I never experience those feelings of helplessness again.

I’d been using my usual devices throughout the day, especially my nebulizer, but to little effect.

When beer o’clock rolled around, I decided I should get tanked.

I’d never used bottled air before (except in the hospital), and I was relieved to see my oximeter hit 97 after a few minutes of breathing in some imported air. And then, a few minutes after I stopped the ingestion, I’d drop back down to the low 90s. So, I was sucking air off and on all evening, and then Swan noticed that my just-purchased tank was running low. She said I needed to get a larger tank. Well, yeah, but it was now midnight. My helper, Teri, who is a certified caregiver, suggested I take an ambulance to Baypointe Hospital’s emergency room. I told her there was no way I was going to do that as long as I was conscious. Suffice it to say, I’ve not been inspired by the competence I’ve witnessed at that institution, and I wasn’t willing to sit around in an ER at o’dark-thirty waiting to be cured. And actually, other than ingesting oxygen, I don’t know what else can be done for this situation.

Anyone, Swan got on the phone and called a friend whose husband uses oxygen and she said they had an extra tank available. Cool, I was impressed that at this late hour they were even willing to be bothered trying to help. I guess the plan was to have their private trike deliver the tank, but Swan came back a bit later and said the tank was too large for the trike. Oh well. So, I was surprised when about thirty minutes later a pickup truck pulled up in front of my house and two guys rolled this into my living room:

So, I survived the night, and I feel somewhat better today. I still haven’t left the house, but I’m ingesting air now whenever I have the urge. Dr. Jo is supposed to make a house call later (they live in the neighborhood), and I hope to consult with her about what might be causing this flare-up (is it an exacerbation of my COPD or something else?) and whether there is any magic formula that will allow me to breathe freely.

The day wasn’t a total loss, though. I fired up Netflix and binge-watched most of Season 4 of Manifest. I viewed Seasons 1-3 early last year, and then Season 4, the final season, was released last November. I saw thirteen of the twenty episodes yesterday. I was amazed that I never got sleepy. Even when I finally went to bed, I didn’t feel tired; I just knew I needed to get some rest. Coming from someone like me, who is famous for being asleep a nine every night, that’s pretty damn miraculous! Still, I prefer my customary daily rituals. I will breathe easier once I know I can be out and about spreading pesos in the bars again.

I’m hopeful the girls at Hideaway won’t be going hungry tonight. That will be contingent on me having the lung capacity to walk to the far side of town. I’ll let you know how that works out tomorrow.

Check back here tomorrow for the latest updates.