As a young baseball player, my coach once told me that I needed to 'adjust' my bat-swing to hit the ball to the opposite field. I never did care for the word, 'adjust' but I do like the word 'adapt.' I have seen three-legged dogs that have adapted to their limitations as I have observed some blind people who have 'adapted' to their dark world. The difference between 'adapting' and 'adjusting' is one of intentional design.
My children have pointed out to their mother, who in turn inquires of me, why it is that my right-hand tends to tremble at times. Recently, I was in my doctors office for a six-months med-check and I ask the medicine-man why my hand does, at times, tremble. He examined the extremity and said, "You have a 'senile' tremor. Holy crap, I thought, explained in that context (senile-tremor) it ain't gonna-get-better!
My hand does not tremble all the time but I have noticed on occasion that while eating soup, I find myself wiping off my nose once-in-a-while. This carries extenuating circumstantial problems. I must conscientiously consider making some 'adjustments' soon. Perhaps eating soups and consuming drinks through a straw is an option and certainly, the clock is ticking away at those times standing at public urinals. Sitting down on the commode is an 'adjustment' I can make to avoid the embarrassment of wetting on the fellow's shoes standing next to me.
I am headed to the backyard this morning. I purchased a $300.00 three-cushioned swing with a large curved overhead canopy. I must put the thing together. I am anticipating 'swing-weather' around the corner and I wish to be prepared. I notice that I do my best 'pondering 'while' sitting on a swing and especially in a light drizzling-rain. If you are ever in Decatur anytime this summer, stop by and swing a spell with me; we will swap ponder-thoughts.
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