I had hoped to have better news by now. The weather is improving, and my stamina has shown some improvement. I tried an experimental road trip to Death Valley, which went well -- but required 3 days of intense rest afterwards.

I can still only do one thing at a time. If I try to do too much at once, critical things do not get done. For example, while I was focusing on preparing for the Death Valley trip, I lost track of the status of my backup credit card and forgot to make a payment.

In addition, the sheer physical clutter that has built up over the months since the onset of my doldrums (on October 15) is now an additional force to be reckoned with. There is quite a pile of WWII-related postal mail and of course a huge backlog of e-mail. So even when I do ever find the strength to resume work, the first priority is going to be dealing with this physical clutter and the e-mail backlog -- both of which are now 7 months of accumulation and growing.

A very high priority when I am up to it again is to see to setting up web space that the Association will pay for. Once that is set up, I am going to have a great deal of work to migrate the web pages over to that web space and to leave pointers for all of them on the existing web pages and to send out notices to the main web sites that are linked to my pages to let them know that they need to change their links. In this way, because the Association will be paying for the web space, the web site will not disappear if I do.

It is clearly also time that I find an understudy for the job of 7AD webmaster. This has to be a very special person, someone with quality historical research skills who is passionately dedicated to the highly accurate and thorough presentation of the history of 7AD and who knows how to create and maintain web pages (and who either has no spouse or has a very understanding one). If you think you have the right stuff for this job description, then do contact me.

Almost all of the balls that I have been juggling are laying on the floor now. It is difficult for me to explain to you just what is going on, since it is outside of the experience of most people, and even I do not fully understand it. I am not sick; there is no "cure" for this. It is just that my body just does not work like most people's. Instead of "Seasonal Affective DiSorder", the more accurate description for me is "Seasonal Affective DiForder" -- not a disorder but a different order (very much like a bear going into hibernation for the Winter). Trying to do things that I can normally do in warm weather becomes overwhelming for me when this sets in each year. I am not depressed, though I am frustrated that I cannot do all that my mind conceives. But when it begins, these things happen.

• I become very sensitive to low pressure fronts that are moving in. I become a human barometer. I can tell a day or two ahead of time when a storm is moving in anywhere within a couple hundred miles. How it affects me depends on the nature of the low pressure front and storm. I can become extremely fatigued, like I am trying to move through thick molasses, and sleep a lot. A powerful storm can also generate extreme pressure in my sinuses and give me headaches, which can make it very difficult for me to even watch TV or do anything at all that requires mental focus.
• For a while, when this annual impact first hits at the beginning of the season, my body's ability to maintain temperature balance can be thrown off. Two or three times, this has been very extreme, and I have had to turn on the furnace and turn it way up. The overnight low temperatures are a significant factor for me, and I have to wear a sweat shirt in bed. I also have to dress warmly long before other people do.
• My strength gradually wears down over the months of cold weather. It just takes a lot out of me to deal with both the lower temperatures and with the low pressure fronts that come rolling in here off the Pacific Ocean like waves each Winter.
• My ability to handle things goes WAY down. I can not multi-task, or else nothing gets done. And if I try too hard to push through ("mind over matter" is a prescription for suicide in my case), then everything completely collapses uncontrollably for months.

As I say, I do not consider this a "disorder" but my body's "different order" of working from the way most people's bodies work. It becomes a "disorder" only when I try to impose expectations (or have other people impose them on me) that I can do what everyone else can do, because my reality is that I cannot do that during the cold months. I have to listen to my body and follow its order and no other. I have to err on the side of my body, giving it top priority.

And this year the weather has been bizarre, with a very early start to our rains, so that I am feeling this annual event about 3 months earlier than usual. I live in the desert, and we do NOT have rain until about mid to late September at the very earliest. But this year, we had an 8-hour thunder and lightning storm in late August, and I have not been the same since then.

So as I say, all the balls have fallen to the floor, and I can only pick up the one single ball at a time that truly is of critical importance -- such as making sure that my bills get paid. That means that all the e-mail that arrived since mid-September when I left for the 7th Armored Division Reunion has yet to be read, much less answered. (And even some of the backlog that I was still working on from the e-mail that came while I was in Holland in May and June is yet unread!!) It also means that all the updates to these web pages have come to a sudden full stop. At some point, I will stabilize and be able to resume more than just the one single most critical thing at a time, but I can only rest now and wait for that to happen. Trying to force it to happen is the best way to make sure that I do not recover.

So this is my reality. So if you have sent me an e-mail since May and not heard from me or if you are thinking of sending me an e-mail now, please realize that I am not going to be able to read it or answer it for some indefinite period that I just do now know how long it will be. My spirit is willing, but my flesh is very weak.