Is this the cold and flu season already? I don’t mean to jump the gun by galloping over hill and through dell shouting, “the flu is coming, the flu is coming!” like a virtual Paul Revere, but a couple of friends seem to be coming down with something. However, this is where it gets complicated.

Is it the flu bug, or is it the coronavirus? Or both? That would be ghastly. The powers that be are predicting a twindemic for the cold and flu season. Get it? The flu plus COVID-19?

In any case, New Mexico’s health department has a list of suggestions you are probably already well-versed in. It’s a pretty long list of do’s and don’ts. Or, if possible, find some cave in the Magdalena Mountains and see if the bear in there will share his hibernation space with you. ‘Course you could always just get vaccinated for both.

Case in point, just week before last at the VA, I was given my Moderna booster shot in one arm and a flu shot in the other. What you might call a twinjection, if we’re making up more new words.

I mentioned this last year and it still holds true. If October is the month for candy, November is the month for food. By the looks of things at the supermarket, everybody is planning out that big meal and looking for bargains on frozen turkeys. Turkey is to Thanksgiving as candy is to Halloween. It’s our American tradition. No matter where you go, even if you’re in the service stationed in some hostile foreign land, you’ll get turkey on Thanksgiving, whether it’s an MRE, C rations, or at the chow hall.

Babbling on here, somebody sent me an article that said people who talk to themselves must be geniuses. It says talking to oneself helps your brain work more efficiently, clarifies your thoughts and helps achieve your goals.

I don’t know if that’s really true, but if so I must be an Einstein, walking around mumbling something about the reason I’ve walked into a particular room or where did I put down that cup of coffee.

Apart from that, my impression was that mumbling to oneself was a sign of the dreaded Early Onset of Grumpiness. You know, when you find yourself with an impulse to complain about “these kids” nowadays, with their hip hop and their hoodies and their skateboards. It’s akin to the Get Off My Lawn Syndrome and the Back In My Day Disorder, two afflictions for which scientists have found no cure.

Symptoms of Back In My Day Disorder include talking about all the things kids today take for granted; things like remotes, central air, dishwashers, call waiting, frost-free freezers, coffee shops and satellite or cable TV (including the subset of black and white TV). Not to mention ear-pods, tablets, Apple watches and Wikipedia.

If you talk about your favorite cowboys like Paladin, Matt Dillon, or Hoss Cartwright, you’ve got it.

If you remember what you were doing when President Kennedy was assassinated or watching men walk on the Moon, you’ve got it.

If you reminisce about when people didn’t lock their front doors or when men always removed their hats indoors, you’ve got it.

If you bought a new car with no seatbelts or a just-released album by The Beatles, you’ve got it.

If you know what “sock it to me” means, or have said “dang fool kids” at least once, you’ve got it.

Digressing again, my high school in the sixties had a strict dress code where girls couldn’t wear pants and their dresses had to be something like an inch below the kneecap, and boys had to have short haircuts and wear shirts with buttons and collars.

In the height of the goofy bell bottom and polka dot shirt period, I did succumb to owning one pair of bell-bottoms and one polka dot shirt. And, yes, one pair of blue suede shoes.

But no more, now that I’m all grown up.

One thing, I never wanted to dress like my dad. My mother and father were very stylish in a fifties sort of way; he with his wide-legged trousers and Father Knows Best pipe and she with her white gloves and pearls. It was the era of Eisenhower and backyard bomb shelters and people were listening to pre-rock and roll like Patti Page and Frankie Laine, singing songs about doggies in the window and walking in the rain.

Anyway, here we are a week away from another Thanksgiving and I’m sitting here still sucking on leftover hard candy from Halloween. And Smarties. Can we ever have enough Smarties? We buy so much of it that I daresay it could be used for stuffing the turkey next Thursday.

If it’s not all gone by then.