Mirror mirror on the wall are you a friend after all?

Yes my fair lady you appear to have melted a few pounds.

Success feels best when I can see it – no matter what the scales say.

Scales are fickle and yes mirrors lie. And I still do believe that all my mirrors are fat ones, but who cares when it’s the fat mirror telling a skinny lie? Ho Ho Ho. Merry Christmas!

Yesterday was my father’s death day. He worked me hard, but the result of a new apartment via the rearrangement of everything in it made me happy and organized. I got a ten-hour continuous work-out.

The first thing the priest said when he eulogized my father was: You will never forget December 5th 1998 and we will never forget Tom Davies. The year of the elephant I mused in my mind, as I knew that my mother when meeting with the priest after Dad died brought with her Dad’s greatest artwork – a wood sculpted elephant, that Mom told the priest Tom would have wanted him to have. The wood he used was the same wood that Savage Arms used for their sporting rifle butts, usually walnut.

Though he was a tool and process engineer at Savage Arms till retirement – a self-taught or more accurately a natural-born engineer – he didn’t hunt, nor did he own a gun. He spent the last years of his life sculpting animals and giving them to people he knew.

Although he didn’t hunt, he did fish since he was a kid and in his later years, let go the fish he caught.

So on this special day, knowing my father was in the house, in addition to the ten-hour move-the-furniture from room to room, I walked the building floors, up and down, then the stairs up and down. All it equalled was .88 miles and 8 floors. Yet my total for the day in miles was 3.1 miles. So in moving-the-furniture I walked 2.22 miles in a small apartment. I also cleaned while I moved – you know, under where everything was – made repairs as need, spackled the tiny nail holes in the walls. I did a little walk with Lilly, did my cords, weights, stretches, balance exercises, isometrics.

When I was done, my father said, go out and get yourself and the old man a beer. He got Beck’s though prefers Stella, but the convenience store stopped selling Stella in the big bottles. So what. Beck’s beer is as good. There’s a key on the bottle. I didn’t notice that before. I got an Old English 24 oz. and enjoyed every gulp and swig. No sippin’ tonight. Down she goes.

All for the tusks of an elephant. They kill the body to take the bone.

Next downed elephant takes it’s master down too. So it is written by the hand of Tom Davies’ daughter on the day after he died.

Happy is with us all.

Thank you.

Thanks-a-million or two or three or more. Always counting the pennies till one day they magically turn into the mirror of the wish.

And yes, I will have a great day as I remind myself as I sit on the edge of the bed in the early morning writing his soul that I already am having a great day.

I think I’ll put my corduroy slacks on. They’ll fit. The mirror told me so.

It’s going to be a cold one – with Canadian Cold Air rushing into Cleveland – but a great one.

I bought a new used coat. Bugaboo. Three in one. I love it. Perfect fit – and warm, for this quick to chill body of mine.