Good morning Boys and Girls.

Something is happening with my body. I'm 53 years old and in pretty good health, despite my vice, but something is happening.

All my life I've been able to shave once a day. Now, I suppose that's not accurate, since I had a beard for twenty years from the time I was around twenty-two 'til sometime in my early forties. However, before that time and for at least the last ten years - while I've been clean shaven - the once a day morning shave has been sufficient. And, since I'm one of those guys who shaves in the shower with bar soap, it's never been much of a bother.

But.

About four or five months ago I started noticing that by early in the evening, my beard felt like it usually has in the mornings before I shave. It didn't escape SweetLady's notice, either. I started worrying I'd scratch the hell out of her if I gave her the slightest smooch. So, I've been shaving both morning and evening for the last little while.

Now I don't have much hair left, at least on top and though I'm not quite a cue ball, it's close enough that every damn time I get a haircut the barber or stylist asks me if I want to have the top of my head shaved. I tell them no, that they should just complete the buzz cut with same number one spacer on the shears they use for the rest of my head. They just shrug and do my bidding.

But here's the thing. Usually, I've been able to have a haircut once every two or three weeks - or whenever I notice I'm getting clown hair tufts around the side. But even my haircuts have been required more often of late. I haven't been able to go more than about ten days between them. Add to that, that the gross ear and nose hair that began sprouting on my body about five years ago has also been growing at a much faster rate of late. I had to go out and buy a new "personal trimmer" last week after having worn out the one at SweetLady's house, and this morning I see that the one I have here at home isn't working any longer either. WTF?

I have a feeling that if I didn't keep good track of it, the hair growing on and around my head would allow me to do a world class comb-over in about a month. Hell, I could do a great turban out of my hair in six weeks or so. It's annoying.

Thank goodness I still don't have huge amounts of back hair. Maybe that's next. Grrrrr....

Be good to everyone.

Good evening Boys and Girls.

Once in a while, I find myself wishing I could do life over, or at least parts of it. Oh, I know I'm not alone in this feeling - Lord knows I've read enough books having to do with this very topic. Usually they're bad novels that don't give a clue as to how bad they really are 'til I've gotten too far along in the story to justify giving it up before getting to the last page.

Regrets are what cause these feelings; what else could they be? But the events triggering even minor regrets can send ones personal cosmic carousel to spinning. By time it gets up to speed, the centrifugal force generated can throw off everything untethered in ones life, and with the ease of raindrops flung from a spinning umbrella.

I was eighteen. -Had a good life going, making decent money too. I decided to take an afternoon off. No big deal. The problem was I didn't call a client I'd promised I handle something for that day. I forgot about the appointment - and then I lied about it. I "got away" with it too, but I know damn well the man I lied to never looked at me the same way again, and for a long time, I didn't like the guy I saw in the mirror either. It was so minor. Had I just fessed up to forgetting the appointment, even had the client been angry enough to never use me again, I wouldn't have stolen his trust of me, or mine of myself. The shame of it haunted me for years.

I was twenty-five. I've written about it before here. I got involved in using cocaine for a couple of years. Looking back, I can't believe it of myself. The aftermath of that little foray played havoc with my life and those of my family members long afterward. My kids never knew about it at the time, but a couple of decades later I felt obligated to tell them. My son was shocked I think, but neither of them ever showed any outward signs of thinking less of me. But, they're both kind. I know they had to be disappointed.

I was forty-three and going through a divorce. I simply couldn't function. We'd had what I thought was a good marriage for at least twenty of our twenty-four years together. The last year had not been good at all though, and we separated. When she called off the divorce just days before it became final and came home, I was as relieved as I've ever felt, and I promised myself I'd do whatever it took to make things better for the both of us. Then five months later, when she left again, the disappointment and anger I'd dealt with the first time around turned this time into utter devastation, and for the next three years I wasted my life, succumbing to a self-perpetuating depression I did little to alleviate. Daily thoughts and plans of suicide blocked every good thing I still had in my world, 'til much of that evaporated too - as though I was the first person on earth to deal with that sort of loss. I regret the divorce a lot, but it's the way I handled it that still fills me with shame.

When I think of the regrets in my life, these are always the three that come to mind, and as I said at the beginning of this post, I'd love to go back and have "do overs," if for no other reason than to see if my life - and the way I feel about myself - would be altered in some way had I handled these situations differently.

The first regret; the lie I told to a client and friend; seems so utterly insignificant, doesn't it? And yet, for some reason I can't quite articulate, it wasn't.

The second is easy. I KNOW that had I stayed away from cocaine, life would have been better for my whole family, not only during the years I abused the drug, but for some time afterward as I picked up the pieces and rebuilt financially something that should never have required rebuilding.

As for the way I dealt with my divorce? -Man oh man. An honest to goodness clusterf*ck. What a putz I was.

And yet? -Maybe, over the years, these gaffs have provided me a tiny bit of wisdom. I know we're supposed to learn more from our failures than our successes, but it's also usually pretty hard to see what we've learned from the events in our lives until some time passes - or it is for me.

-Hah. I had this happen a few months ago while writing a post, but I can't remember what words were involved. This time, it involved the word "years" in the previous paragraph. I typed a "t" instead of a "y". Funny, it still made perfect sense to me.


Be good to everyone.

Good morning Boys and Girls.

Well, I hadn't checked email for a day or so.

I see Yahoo has found 15 more romantic matches for me; this despite my having opted out of that service more times than I can count over the past five or more years. There are $49.00 flights to cities I don't want to fly to from cities I don't live near, and I've won the Irish Lottery again.  My cholesterol may be higher than it ought to be so I've been offered a miracle cure for the condition just in case, and five HOT babes want to meet me, all of whom seem to live within a mile or so of my house. Two of the five offer adult pics of themselves should I be inclined inclined to click the link to look. Then, Staples is having a sale, as are Office Max and Walgreens. I've been offered a $1000.00 gift card to Home Depot too.

An organization I do subscribe to, called "ONE", decided I needed two reminders of their most recent fundraiser and even President Obama sent me an email with a salutation that included my name. I voted for the guy, and like him, but I am suspicious that he didn't write it to me personally.

An old friend wrote me to tell me he thought of me after watching a rerun of a show we used to enjoy as kids, though what channel he saw it on he doesn't mention. No emails from anyone in my family over the past twenty-four hours, but Tiger Woods training is available,  (though it doesn't state exactly what SORT of training he's offering), and should I want instruction to become a nurse, a cop or a badge maker, those offers came in as well.

I received three of the following emails from some guy named wojciech.baranowski:

Greetings
I am sorry to encroach into your privacy in this manner, I found your listed
in
the Trade Centre Chambers of Commerce directory here in Japan, I find it
pleasurable to offer you my partnership in business, I only pray at this time
that your address is still valid. I want to solicit your attention to receive
money on my behalf. The purpose of my contacting you is because my status
would
not permit me to do this alone.
When you reply this message, I will send you the full details and more
information about myself and the funds. If interested, please reply
through my
alternate Email:mrtomosndnori02@w.cn
Mr. Tomo Sand Nori
(Head of Account Dept, Tokyo Mitsubishi Bank,
Tokyo, Japan)

Interesting how the name on the alternate address is so utterly disimilar to the email address the damn thing came from originally, don't you think?

Forget to check your email for a day and you just never know what you'll miss.


Be good to everyone.

Good morning Boys and Girls.

After a nice four days in Orlando, yesterday we zipped over to the east to St. Augustine and walked along St. George Street for a couple of hours shopping - well, browsing really. SweetLady did buy a new pair of flip-flops, which she's been shopping for continuously since early last summer. Her feet give her fits sometimes, and so finally finding some that were both comfortable and reasonably priced made her day.

We stopped at a hundred-year-old tourist trap called Alligator Farms just before getting into St. Augustine, not to go through their zoo, but to use their johns and gander in their gift shop - we just couldn't justify the $22.95 admission anyway. SL had been looking for a stuffed alligator for her seven-year-old daughter since we got down here. The criteria was that it really had to look like an alligator - not a standard cartoon-ish beanie-baby type thing - and yet, it had to be fairly soft. I didn't really think we'd find one, but man oh man, out of literally dozens, or maybe hundreds of styles, there was one that fit the bill perfectly.

Personally, I was a little disappointed in the shops in St. Augustine. I didn't plan on buying anything anyway, so maybe my complaint is moot, but my memory of that town from years ago, was of a bunch of shops run by artisans selling their own work and goods, and I remember being enthralled by seeing so many wonderfully unique and beautifully made items.  Yesterday, I saw a cigar maker rolling his own cigars, and a ring maker cutting initials into pre-formed silver bands. Other than that, it was all... Well, stuff you'd see at any mall, really, just arranged to look nice in the little shops along the half-mile long walk-way. Still, we had a wonderful time.

We headed north around six p.m. and by eleven, made it just sixty miles into Georgia. We stayed up and yapped till one or so, and then finally hit the hay. SweetLady is still snoozing as I write, after not feeling well during the night. We'd stopped at an Arby's around nine, and I wonder if she got something not quite up-to-snuff there; a bad jalapeno popper perhaps?

I woke her for a minute an hour ago and she said she's feeling better, but we're in no hurry, so there's no reason she can't sleep another hour or two, especially since later, I plan to test her resistance to fast food again - if she's feeling up to it.

I want to stop at the Varsity in Atlanta. I get a kick out of the place, and I'm anxious to show her the hundred-foot-long counter. Plus? I crave a kraut-dog or two - even if it does mean we're forced to travel with the windows open for a few hours.

What? Too much information?

Perhaps tomorrow maybe we'll write a post together about our fun evening at the Sleuth Dinner Theater the other night, where our whole table of bright, insightful wanna-be detectives failed miserably in properly identifying the murderer. (Clue: the mayor did it.)

Be good to each other.

Good morning Boys and Girls.

Sitting at a little table next to the pool enclosure at our hotel in Orlando at eleven in the morning, wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, plus my bathrobe cuz it's still a little cool. The sun is shining brightly; a few high clouds blocking its rays from time to time.

SweetLady is still in the room playing some crazy game on her iPod touch that seems to marry that weird Facebook game, Farmville, with creating zombies. -And I'm not kidding. The woman is wacky. I expect she'll wander out here at some point. We stayed up too late and slept in 'til after ten. Ah, vacations. Someone want to be my sponsor for life so I can do this all the time? Seems to me I'm pretty good at it.

Speak of the devil, here come's SL.

She just stretched and said she's going back to bed, but I think she's lying.

We're at one of the least swanky hotels along International Drive, but it's still very nice, and SweetLady didn't even complain about what a cheap bastard I am for choosing it. My only complaint is that the internet, while free and wireless, is far slower than I'm used to at home.

We're debating going on one of those helicopter tour rides today or tomorrow, but it depends on whether SL can get up the nerve. She's a chicken at heart, but it's a small flaw.

It's true, I am a chicken at heart - but my flaw has kept me alive so far.  I did manage to sneak up on an alligator at the golf course yesterday in order to snap a quick pic before it slid back into the water.  I told my little one about it last night on the phone and she asked if I grabbed it.  Her birthday is next week and she's angling for a pet.  Somehow, I don't think our cats would appreciate sharing their domicile with a gator.  Then again, if I brought home the reptile, I probably wouldn't have to worry much about feeding him or the cats.  I imagine he'd make short work of them.  As much as I'm enjoying my lazy morning, it's probably time to hit the books.  Yes, I brought my books on Spring Break.  What can I say?  The party animal gene apparently skipped over me, too.

Yeah, she'll hit the books - for about ten minutes - then the zombies will call her back to her iPod.

Well, this is enough for today. I, at least, ADMIT I'm being lazy, but then, as pretty as she is, maybe she's able to get away with the pretense of continuous ambition. Hope she doesn't turn into one of her own zombies, though.

Be good to everyone.

Good morning Boys and Girls.

Okay, personally, I'm not big on this particular health-care bill, but I do see it as a beginning, and have no problems with its passage as a starting point for what I hope eventually is an honest-to-God Universal Health Care system for our country.

Despite the red herrings and spurious threats that this would lead us too far down the road to socialism - and admittedly, Universal Health Care would be a socialist program - I think it would make thousands upon thousands of small businesses far stronger and more competitive, and would lead to a much more productive work force, since people wouldn't have to stay in dead-end jobs JUST because the company offers half-way decent health care insurance.

So... this deal about reconciliation being touted as a "nuclear option" that will blow up the senate, should it be used as a mechanism for a simple majority vote...

Well, I just looked it up. Aside from reconciliation having been used the twenty-two, or twenty-three times since 1980 we've heard about so much the past few weeks, during the history of our country, we've also had 244 tie votes in the senate where the vice-president has been the tie-breaker.

So, even though we've been warned about the dire consequences of a simple majority vote, it appears that we've "blown up the senate" 244 times already - and it's still there; just as august, staid, and inefficient and wasteful as ever.

So don't let the naysayers scare you. We'll survive, no matter what - even if Rush leaves the country.

Meanwhile, I'm going to try to get a job with that nut-job Kim Jong-il. Evidently - well, according to Yahoo - he has agents placed around Europe whose entire jobs consist of finding and buying fancy-assed expensive things to send home to please the great leader.

I could do that job. Hell, I could break his bank.

"What so special 'bout this pencil you send me, surrogate? Why it cost $50,000?"

"Well, see the bright yellow paint? That's the proof. It's a #2; a Ticonderoga #2! -The very best pencil I've ever used."

"OOOhhhhh. Very good, surrogate."

"I'm glad you're happy, sir. I got you a whole box of them."


Be good to everyone.

Good morning Boys and Girls.

This past Saturday, for the third week in a row, I attended SweetLady's seven-year-old daughter's Upward Basketball game. It's a "Christian" basketball league for little kids, where learning the game is stressed far more than winning, and as such, everyone plays. Yes, yes, I have some real issues about the way they shamelessly and harmfully, to my mind, indoctrinate the kids, but that's another post. The kids love it, and we adults who get to watch are continually entertained by their enthusiasm, effort and, dare I say, antics.

The games are divided into two eighteen minute halves, each of which is broken down into three six-minute periods. One of the most fun aspects for me is the little ritual they go through just prior to each of the six periods, which is when the substitutions are made to ensure each child gets as much playing time as possible. The four kids from each team who will play during the period stand side by side and across from the four from the other team. Then the coaches from both teams rearrange the players so the the match-ups look about right. Usually the coaches look to pair the kids up by size, but ability seems to be taken into consideration as well. This process is necessary because only man-to-man defense is allowed; no zone; so once the shuffling is complete, each child will be responsible for defending the person directly across from them. It's kind of neat to watch, but the real fun comes just afterward, and just before each period starts.

I think it has a two-fold purpose. One, and probably the most important, it's meant to encourage good sportsmanship, but two it clarifies for the kids exactly who it is they're suppose to defend. Whatever the reason, or reasons, this is when the kids walk to the middle to shake the hand of the person they will be responsible for defending for the next six minutes. It's a hoot. The girls look straight into the eyes of their personal opponent, and shake hands, but the looks some of them get on their faces during this five-second affair are absolutely priceless. They all seem to be trying to say - without words mind you - "Look, you may be a fine person and all, but my job is on the line here, and, as such, you are NOT going to score on me. Do I make myself clear?" Or, as is the case with SweetLady's daughter, who is cute as a button and getting to be a stronger player each week, but is still pretty small compared to some of the girls, "So you're trying to think back, did she fire six bullets or just five? Well, do you feel lucky? Do ya?" I mean, honestly, Dirty Harry has nothing on her.

When she furrows her tiny little brow, and squints a bit, I think to myself, well, whether or not she makes it on the hardwood; whether or not she'll ever be able to dunk a basketball or move to the hoop with Labron James-like agility; she definitely has a future as an action hero on the screen. Oh yeah, she'll need stunt doubles, but the close-ups will be all hers.

I can see her now, probably lighting a big cigar while sitting on a Harley in a leather jacket. She briefly looks back over her shoulder toward the evil encampment that will blow-up any minute now as she rides away, which will be shown behind her in the shot. We saw her drop the stogie onto a stream of gasoline that will travel quickly to ignite the charges she set just minutes ago to cap the film's plot. She smiles that same evil smile she learned at Upward Basketball and says for us, her audience, "Hasta la vista, baby."

Be good to everyone.

Good evening Boys and Girls.


All I want...

All I want for the next ten years
is to enjoy my life, no strife, no fears
-want to work and play and love and write
-to feel good feelings and see good sights

I want health, and wealth, and peaceful dreams
-and profitable endings to all my schemes
oh, and assurances that my kids are well
before I'm off to heaven or hell

I think that's all, that's all I need
I'm a simple man, without much greed
But I guess if there's time - I'd hate to be a bore
I could list for you, just a few things more...

I'd like one fast car, and two cool houses
-I'm a polygamist - so at least three spouses
I want diamonds, and rubies, and my own fire-trucks
and a small jet plane, and a couple billion bucks

I think I'd like an island - no, let's make it two
but they don't have to be too big, medium will do
a castle with a moat, and some turrets, and a bridge
and power to go with it, well, at least just a smidge.

Maybe a small army? A navy with some ships?
-Some laser guided missiles with poison on the tips?
To get this done in just ten years, I'll set a record pace
Come to think of it, I think I need some weapons up in space

I need to own something really big that no one else has ever had
I'll kill anyone who's in my way, then sneer if they call me mad
But I've thought it through, and made my choice - and wow, this will be fun
Before die, I'll get it too, -I'm going to own the sun.

But this is it, I need no more
I'm not greedy, well, not to my core
and if you think my list is crass
well, please bend over and kiss my ...

... What? 

Be good to everyone...