So it goes, by surrogate

Monday, 7:31 p.m.

It's been a glorious few days, weather-wise. Almost heaven. Highs in the mid seventies and lows around sixty. Great for sleeping.

Got home from work today about three-thirty. Sat down to check a couple of things and... Woke up at five-forty-five.

Last night I fell asleep early too, then was up for two hours between midnight and two. Life is weird.

Okay, so in a tmail OS asked for an update on the All-Around Dog Walker. Here it is: Sales, so far, have sucked. I deliberately haven't done some of the things that need doing to get the word out, as this was something the inventor said - no bragged - that he was going to do. Therefore, as a method of trying to prove that he just plain does nothing, I've given him the rope required to see if he'd hang himself with the money-guy. Rude? Yes. -And I'm quite happy with the decision. Of late, I feel like I've dealt with toooooo many people who's word is just no good, and I'm tired of coddling them. 

So, there it is. I won't do any more til a decision is made as to the make-up of the company. I suggested that the money guy either buy the guy out, and just pay him royalties, or he can buy me out for a dollar. So far, he's done neither, so with regards to that project, I'm just biding my time, and refusing to waste any more of it.

Leaving for Michigan either tomorrow night or early Wednesday. Gonna make this an "extra day" trip and head over to Detroit to see my kids and my mom on Saturday. After that, I won't see any of them til the wedding next month. Should be pleasant.

Thought for the day: Putting is like dealing with a reluctant customer. Even if you miss, you want to leave the ball close to the hole - so the next opportunity is an easy tap-in.

 I stop at a Jimmy Johns at exit 81 in Illinois most of the time on my trips back and forth to Michigan. It's within a couple of miles of being the halfway point. There's a sign next to the cash register there, (and in many Jimmy Johns locations) with this little tale on it. I think about it all time, so a little while ago I Googled a bit to find it. Hope you like it. I sure do.

How Much Is Enough?

The American investment banker was at the pier of a small coastal Mexican village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked. Inside the small boat were several large fin tuna. The American complimented the Mexican on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took to catch them.

The Mexican replied, only a little while.

The American then asked why he didn't stay out longer and catch more fish?

The Mexican said he had enough to support his family's immediate needs.

The American then asked, "but what do you do with the rest of your time?"

The Mexican fisherman said, "I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take siesta with my wife, Maria, stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine and play guitar with my amigos, I have a full and busy life."

The American scoffed, "I am a Harvard MBA and could help you. You should spend more time fishing and with the proceeds, buy a bigger boat, and with the proceeds from the bigger boat you could buy several boats. Eventually, you would have a fleet of fishing boats. Instead of selling your catch to a middleman you would sell directly to the processor, eventually opening your own cannery. You would control the product, processing and distribution. You would need to leave this small coastal fishing village and move to Mexico City, then LA and eventually NYC where you will run your expanding enterprise."

The Mexican fisherman asked, "But, how long will this take?"

To which the American replied, "15-20 years."

"But what then?"

The American laughed and said that's the best part. "When the time is right you would announce an IPO and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich, you would make millions."

"Millions?" asked the fisherman, "Then what?"

The American said, "Then you would retire. Move to a small coastal fishing village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take siesta with your wife, stroll to the village in the evening, sip wine and play your guitar with your amigos!"

(Author unknown)

Friday, 5:25 p.m.

I had an unexpectedly light afternoon, work-wise. Twas nice.

Had a bunch of stuff on my list to do, but the guy in charge of telling me yeah or nay was gone yesterday when I stopped by to make the list, and was gone again today when I got to his place. And? -I... didn't call him!

Oh sure, I probably could have just gone ahead and done what needed doing - he rarely says no to anything I suggest - or, as I mentioned, I could have called his cell, but, (a.) I didn't feel like it, and, (b.) I knew I had a few things to finish at the shop anyway. So? -I blew off the regular work and justified it by telling myself I was being still being productive, if in a manner that was slightly less tangible.

Bad surrogate.

But honest, I WAS productive. I made what looks like (and my apologies to any prudes among us), a short, squat dildo sitting happily erect upon a pine base, that, while it may or may not satisfy a woman, will nevertheless, serve the purpose I designed it for, and rather well too, I think.

I hope!

It's meant a little jig, or fixture (which is which?) for easily applying one-side-sticky self-adhesive circular disks to rolls of vinyl tape. Slide a roll of tape over said shaft, then a disc, then another roll of tape... And so on. After the sandwich is ten rolls and discs high, there's one more disc, a wooden one this time about the size of an old 45 rpm record, with the same 1.5" hole as the cores of the tape drilled out of it, that's meant to be used as a press to adhere each disc to its adjacent roll of tape. By means of even pressure, goes my theory, they will now all have been firmly mated. (Might as well stay with the sexual analogies...)

My hope is that it'll allow the people packaging my stuff to do so more efficiently than they system they'd suggested, which sounded ridiculously labor intensive, and as such, expensivvve.

Now, I am quite proud of this design, so Kram, keep your damned down-under laughter to yourself. (For those of you who don't know it, our Kram is a master craftsman who no-doubt tolerates my descriptions of the meager stuff I fabricate from time to time with at least a snicker, if not an outright snear, roll of the eyes, a head shake and crisp palm-slap of his forehead. "The bloomin' idiot", I hear him think, or think I do

-Krammmm would have cast this out of some fancy-assed resin after spending time wet-sanding the mold and checking the measurements with a laser micrometer - instead of dry-fitting a couple of the discs and hand-sanding the dowel down til they fit correctly.

 I hope I don't go blind!

Friggen' Australians. They think they're SOoooooo smart.

Thought for the day: I'd really like to own one of those laser micrometers. How cool would that be?

Um... Do they exist?

Thursday, 6:28 a.m.

Gorgeous morning here. Perfect weather.

This is part of an email I received yesterday from President Obama. I always like to think they're written to me personally, but somehow, I doubt that's the case. Still, it's eloquent and I was happy to receive it. I especially like the way he finishes it, since he makes the very point I've always said is most important...

"I've always believed that gay and lesbian Americans should be treated fairly and equally. I was reluctant to use the term marriage because of the very powerful traditions it evokes. And I thought civil union laws that conferred legal rights upon gay and lesbian couples were a solution.

But over the course of several years I've talked to friends and family about this. I've thought about members of my staff in long-term, committed, same-sex relationships who are raising kids together. Through our efforts to end the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy, I've gotten to know some of the gay and lesbian troops who are serving our country with honor and distinction.

What I've come to realize is that for loving, same-sex couples, the denial of marriage equality means that, in their eyes and the eyes of their children, they are still considered less than full citizens.

Even at my own dinner table, when I look at Sasha and Malia, who have friends whose parents are same-sex couples, I know it wouldn't dawn on them that their friends' parents should be treated differently.

So I decided it was time to affirm my personal belief that same-sex couples should be allowed to marry.

I respect the beliefs of others, and the right of religious institutions to act in accordance with their own doctrines. But I believe that in the eyes of the law, all Americans should be treated equally. And where states enact same-sex marriage, no federal act should invalidate them."

Well put, Mr. President. -After all, I think North Carolina, for instance, should still have a right to ban same-sex marriages if the people there are so insecure as to feel threatened by how other people choose to show love to one another. It should be allowed to be a state, where, (as posted so cleverly by an old friend of mine from High School on Facebook yesterday - Thanks, Carol!), you can marry your cousin, just not your gay cousin.

Thought for the day: Baby steps... (Hmmm. I wonder if Barnabus will decide this is Obama proving he's a Communist, or a Muslim? -A Musl-ist? -A Commu-lim?)

Wednesday, 4:59 a.m.

The birds are singing, but it's an especially dark early morning. The "darkest before the dawn" thing, perhaps. Or its extremely overcast. Can't tell which.

So... Evidently, I am partially responsible for a death.

-Didn't know it, or him, for that matter, and I feel bad about it, but what can I say? I hated the guy's work and I never made a secret about it. It's just that I know many talented people who'd have never thought about stooping to the sort of subject matter he made his specialty; that syrupy, sappy, "isn't life a bowl of cherries" thing he perfected so early in life that brought him riches beyond most living artists' wildest dreams.

Alas, he did have many more detractors than just little old me, and just as many ardent fans, if not more so. And so if I always thought of his work as soul-less pablum; as "pretty pictures for those with no eye"; I wasn't alone, and after his death, his brother says that it was this constant criticism of his work that drove him to drink and drugs, and that probably enlarged his heart and, at least partially, caused his early demise. Hell, he was a year younger than I am now, and except by accident or catastrophic illness? -that is too young to go, I assure you.

I'm sorry Mr. Kinkade. It's just that your talent was all too obvious, and to me, it always appeared you took the easy way out. On the other hand, I'm sorry the criticism hurt so badly. Maybe, once you had a few mil in the bank, had you decided that enough was enough, and now you could afford to start pushing boundaries, which is the responsibility of true artists, at least in my mind, you would have found enough satisfaction to either ignore the criticism, or send it scurrying by way of you doing work worthy of the talent God gave you. After all, how many millions WOULD have been enough before you did some... some... ART?

Okay... Perhaps that last bit was uncharitable. Again, I'm sorry.

Thought for the day: I know a thing or two about taking the easy way out. Maybe I'm mad at Thomas Kinkade because he was so successful at it while I have been far less so, while still muddling along in the middle of the road, myself. Oh sure, it's in a different field, and I have zero talent, art-wise, but still... I could do better. -Time for a look in the mirror?

Tuesday, 6:13 a.m.

Pretty morning here. Pink and yellow sky to the east. It's bright already, but the sun hasn't yet popped.

A day off today; sort of. Going up to Ft. Dodge with a friend to help her finish emptying out half a garage. Tomorrow is the annual "we'll take anything you can get to the curb" day for the garbage trucks in that town and it sounds like she's got a lot of "anything" to get rid of. She's rented out her house up there for a few years now since moving to Des Moines, but evidently she's stored tons of stuff on one side of the divided garage since she lived there. She's already made a couple of weekend trips up this spring to haul stuff to the Salvation Army and Goodwill in an effort to give away the stuff she thought someone else could use. What's left now, she says, is crap she had no business keeping in the first place, and it needs to go. So? Up we'll travel. As for my part, I've been promised a nice lunch at a cool restaurant for helping. Told her that wasn't necessary, but who am I to turn down good food? All I know is that I have to be back in time to shower and change for a 6:30 p.m. appointment I'm very nervous about. More on that in the days to come - assuming the appointment leads to something good. if it doesn't? I'll probably be mum about it; at least for a while.

Ah... As I wrote that last paragraph, the sun made it's appearance and the pink has all but vanished, replaced by various shades of yellow and light orange. Looks like a nice day ahead.

Have to call my son later to ask a couple of questions about the wedding. Should have done it last night, but I got involved in other things; duh. Wonder if I should call him at work, or wait til later?

I see Mitt Romney says he should get a lot of the credit for GM's comeback. -That's rich, but it's clever too. I think I'll claim credit for something I've spoken out against that did well in spite of my efforts. Let's see...

Okay, how about this: I really thought that whole International Space Station thing was a dumb idea back in my twenties when it was being planned. It's a good thing I was against it, or it never would have been built.

I'll now take my bows.

This will be an interesting election.

Thought for the day: "The sky is falling. The SKY IS FALLING! -Oh, it didn't? Why, um... You're welcome!

Sunday, 7:02 a.m.

Stormy this morning.

This Spring, I believe Mother Nature has made a concerted effort to mess with my ever-so-important weekend golf schedule; the nerve! My sportscaster buddy and I have been rained out every time we've tried to play this year. Now, to be fair, there have already been three weekends where either he or I have been out of town, but we're 0 for four on the weekends we have tried. Doesn't look promising today either, but who knows, maybe it'll clear up. Funny, I remember some years where you could go most all season without being rained out, while others are like this where all the spring rain seems to occur on weekends. Maybe I'm being told to find another hobby. NO! Say it ain't so.

Roadie has been extra cuddly this morning. She's been dealing with the spring hairball thing as she loses the winter undercoat and it wears her out a bit, I think. Oh well, hope she feels better soon.

Watched Michael Moore's "The Big One" last night and this morning. I think it's the only one of his films I hadn't caught at some point over the years. It was made for the BBC back in the early nineties and features lots of his ambush stuff, which he's darned good at, but it's got a lot of humor in it too and he pokes a lot of fun at himself. In the film he did a good job of warning us of what we'd have to look forward over the next decade or two if we didn't stop corporations from downsizing Americans out of their jobs with impunity. In looking back, he was spot on, of course, as what he predicted has indeed come to pass.

I know the right likes to paint him as a just a blowhard nutty lefty, but to my mind, he's simply brilliant and rarely wrong, even if what he says and how he says it is tough to hear sometimes.

There's a neat segment in the middle of the movie, (which chronicled his book tour for "Downsize This"), where he's doing schtick with Gary Burbank on his syndicated afternoon radio show in Cincinnati. I got a kick out of it seeing that, since I used to write for the show back in the eighties. Gary's long retired now, but there he was along with Doc and some of the other folks. It was fun to see.

Man it's really coming down right now. Lots of lightning with the accompanying booms. Zowie.

Thought for the day: "The rain in Spain stays mainly on the plane." The rain in Iowa? Hell, it's everywhere.

Saturday, 9:51 a.m.

Back in Des Moines after a strange trip home. Left around five p.m. Michigan time, and stopped four times to rest for periods of one to four hours. As such, I feel pretty good. My last stop, just an hour and a half back, was the longest. Silly, perhaps, since I was so close, but I slept sound and hard.

Don't think I'll do regular work today. Have some stuff to do for my own project. Promised the company manufacturing for me that I'd have a list for my initial order prepared by yesterday morning and I haven't yet gotten to it. They don't work weekends anyway, so it's no big deal, but I did say I'd have it ready and I don't. Did email them to let them know I was running behind, but still, not a good precedent to set on my part.

Listened to a few podcasts on my way home. My son's a big fan of Marc Maron's "WTF" podcasts and got me hooked a while back. I used to listen to Marc Maron during his short stint as the morning man on Air America and I've been aware of his wild stand-up comedy for a long time. The podcasts I listened to on the way home were two-hour long conversations/interviews with David Cross and Jeffrey Tambor, both of which were incredibly entertaining and funny. Was fun listening to stories of the early days of both their careers. I loved Jeffrey Tambor's Hank Kingsley Character on HBO's Larry Sander's show, and David Cross has been a favorite for twenty years. It was a nice break from audio books, though just a temporary one.

During the last hour of the trip, I listened to my brother's band's, "To Shatter All Accord". Today the band, Discipline., is performing at the Rites of Spring Festival (Rosfest) near Philly; just a couple of miles from Valley Forge. I'd planned to be there, but with my son's wedding next month, decided I couldn't justify the time off for the trip east. A bummer. Still? I'm there in spirit, and I do so love this new album.

So it goes.

Thought for the day: Choices. I'm not great at making them, but some are nice and easy.

Friday, 2:42 p.m. Michigan time.

Cloudy and sprinkling right now, which is why I have time to sit and write this. It doesn't look like it'll last, so I'm just waiting out the rain. It's been threatening all day, but it just started about a half-hour ago. Even if it keeps up, I've probably accomplished enough for this trip, though I suppose I can squeeze out another few small jobs if it stops.

Some crappy goings-on in the lives of one of my closest friend's family members right now. Heard the most recent chapter in a story about a woman about my age who abruptly left her husband as he was becoming very ill with cancer about a year and a half ago, and now as he lies dying - (likely today is his last on the planet) - she, after getting remarried on the sly in January and pulling all kinds of stuff during the interim, has now done some things to her adult children over the past thirty-six hours that sound absolutely friggen' unbelievable. The selfishness is so over the top, it makes me want to puke; a sentiment shared, evidently, by the woman's children. -Not enough, evidently, for them to have to deal with the imminent death of their father. Now they have to witness a spectacle probably even too nuts for one of those "Real Housewives" shows.

What is it about some people that require them to turn their lives into bad soap operas? In this case? Sounds like greed is a major factor. I don't get it.

Wish I did.

Thought for the day: When love is just a "feeling" and not an ongoing action, this is exactly the kind of shit that happens.

Monday, 6:03 a.m.

Cloudy. Cool. ...Monday.

A recurring scene from my childhood... Why it comes to mind every now and again, I have no idea, but it hit me this morning as soon as I woke up...

We're at Aunt Ethyl and Uncle Joe's house; the two oldest people on the planet. I'm perhaps six or seven years old; my sister, two years younger.

They rent their house because Uncle Joe doesn't believe in owning property. (Why do I remember this factoid? -no idea.)

It is our monthly visit to see them; a chore even to my mother, I think, who has dragged us here once again.

Now it is time. It is one-thirty p.m. My sister and I must sit perfectly still on the couch for the next half hour so that my mother's aunt can watch her hideous show.

There must be no talking. I can see my mother rolling her eyes at this unspoken edict, trying to let us know that she has had nothing to do with it.

Uncle Joe leaves the room with a derisive comment about the upcoming program. Why can't I go to wherever Uncle Joe is going? Why doesn't he have to sit here and endure this... this...

Now the grainy pictured black and white screen shows a cheesy spinning globe. A Hammond organ glissando flourish, and the announcer makes his daily and oh-so-dire proclamation. "And now, for the next thirty minutes, As THE WORRRRRLD TURRRNNNNNNS"

God, how I hated those words...

Why does this awful memory pop into my head every now and again? Maybe I'm afraid there is a hell after all, and that if I go there, I'll be forced to watch that show for eternity. -A reason to be a good boy, that's for sure...

Sunday, 5:07 a.m.

A little warmer this morning than the last couple. Hope it continues.

Took a drive up into north-central Iowa yesterday afternoon; up into Carroll County. It was very pretty up there, terrain-wise. Thousands upon thousands of rolling hills, all cleared into pretty grid-works of corn and bean fields for miles and miles and miles. Trees seem to be a luxury and are clustered around most of the farmhouses as windbreaks, but have been cleared away almost everywhere else, so valuable is the farmland.

An anti-choice group with deep pockets and a "life begins at conception" philosophy, (well, really, before conception, evidently...) has cornered the market on signage up there, with smallish billboards scattered about designed to look, and placed as though, they're official road signs. It's a little weird to me, seeing those signs which, honest, DO look as though they're provided by the state or county, as though the position is "official" as opposed to being the sentiments of the group or individual who paid to have them placed there long the roadways every few miles.

I did have a specific destination in mind, and as such I was often looking for upcoming road signs as I followed the directions mapquest provided, only to find that once I got close enough to the next sign to read it, that it was, in fact, just one of these road-sign green propaganda pieces (on which even the font and word placement mimicked the expected state road signs). "Is that Highway 71 coming up?" -I asked myself as I approached one of these. Yet, as soon as I was close enough to read the verbiage, it read, "In God's eyes, contraception IS abortion." -A clever double-edged condemnation, from, to my mind anyway, people with very hard and judgmental hearts - mostly men, I'd guess, and whatever weak-minded women they've managed to brainwash over the years.

Yes, this kind of stuff really pisses me off, and it took a lot of luster off the day. I'm all for free speech, but I'm NOT big on deception, and these signs were nothing if not deceptive in a number of ways. How about starting off the language with, "This is not a real road sign and is just my opinion." Or, "My religion teaches that..."

Oh well. I understand Rick Santorum did very well in Carroll Country a few months ago in the Iowa caucuses. Now I understand why.

Thought for the day: I MUST get over my intolerance with intolerance.

Friday, 7:05 a.m.

Wow. As nice as it's been the last few days, today it feels like early March. Cold, windy and gray. Wore shorts the last couple of days, but today, I almost think long-johns are in order. Haven't check the forecast for the weekend, but if it's like this there will be no golf, alas.

This past week I received the formal invitation to my son's wedding in June. Like both he and his fiancee, the invitation itself is unique and funny; printed on paper that looks like weathered wood. Perfect, since the wedding is to be held in a large barn north of Port Huron, Michigan. It strikes me they're determined to have it be a rather informal affair meant to be more of a giant family and friends get-together as opposed to what I usually think of when I think of weddings. The reception will be right there too and directly afterward. 

Should be fun. The invitation insists that there be no gifts, but that any donations to the Michigan Humane Society in their name would be welcomed. Pretty cool. -As the Dad? There will be a gift of some kind, though I haven't yet decided what it should be. I'd had something in mind, but maybe it's not appropriate based on their expressed wishes. I'll figure something out.

Yesterday was the second busiest day of the year so far, for me, but today looks to be pretty relaxed unless I get some calls late in the day, which does tend to happen on Fridays. Don't think I'll mind them as much today since my schedule looks pretty easy. I don't enjoy the, "I'm delivering the car in an hour. Can you zip on over?" calls at the end of already tiring days, but since that shouldn't be an issue today, I'll do any of those jobs with a more sincere smile than I usually have on Friday afternoons. -A nice thing.

Thought for the day: I've decided I'm not an old fart after all. -I'm just not in High School any longer.

Thursday, 6:39 a.m.

Man, what a beautiful couple of days. This is the kind of weather I love; warm, but not hot, not too much wind and sunny as all get out. Thanks Mother Nature.

There's now a plan to begin mining Asteroids. Interesting. Um... Why? I mean, maybe there's an important reason, but I haven't heard it yet; just some jokes about the uber-rich guys behind the idea.

Did anyone see the thing on yahoo last week about the "Best joke in the world"? It's a decent joke, but the best in the world? Maybe... I guess. Supposedly it's funny in any language and no matter your age or how it's told.

Here it is:

..........

Two hunters are in the woods when one of them collapses. The other calls 911. "Help! My buddy is dead. What can I do?" 

The operator says, "Calm down sir. First, let's make sure he's really dead."

(Silence... Then,  BANG!)

"Okay", says the hunter. "Now what?"

...........

-It's not bad, and it made me chuckle, but the best in the world? Really? -I like this one better, also found on Yahoo...

............

For his birthday, Little Johnny asked for a 10-speed bicycle. His father said, "Son, we'd give you one, but the mortgage on this house is $280,000 and your mother just lost her job. There's just no way we can afford it."

The next day the father saw Little Johnny heading out the front door with a suitcase. So he asked, "Son, where are you going?"

Little Johnny told him, "I was walking past your room last night and heard you telling Mom you were pulling out. Then I heard her tell you to wait because she was coming too. And I'll be damned if I'm staying here by myself with a $280,000 mortgage and no bike."

............

Thought for the day: Make sure what you hear is meant to mean what you think it means...

Wednesday, 7:10 a.m.

Goooood morning.

Incredibly nice morning out here. Wearing a t-shirt and shorts at seven a.m. Pretty cool - or warm.

I have absolutely no complaints today. -Worked hard yesterday, but everything went so smoothly I still got done early and did absolutely nothing of value last night - and yet enjoyed myself immensely.

I've been making small though regular contributions to a few different charities of late; trying to be better about making it part of my life as opposed to just doing it when guilt gets the best of me. I used to do it all the time, but since my divorce, it's taken a back seat to everything else going on in my life. Not sure how I feel about it, and it's been extremely difficult to decide where to spend my paltry bit of extra cash, but it's been kind of fun. I started it about four months ago and so far, I haven't even been inundated with further requests; something I worried about. Maybe they've figured out the obvious; that since it's only a few dollars at a shot, that they'd be trying to squeeze money from limestone - which it would be. One of these days though? I plan to be rich enough to give almost five dollars a decade to each of all four charities!

Last night, a friend and I grilled some incredible porkchops, (here? "Iowa Chops"), and three mushroom and brussel sprout skewers that just made the evening. We made it through just one of the two chops but the veggies all disappeared. I cheat when grilling brussel sprouts. First I trim them a bit, then throw them in the microwave for about two minutes. Then? Skewer them along with the mushrooms, coat 'em with olive oil and a bit of sea salt and grill 'em till they just start to get grill marks. I swear, they melt in your mouth - and this from a guy who couldn't stand them as a kid.

Lots to do today. Best get to it.

Thought for the day: Oh oh... it's clouding up. Move!

Monday, 6:41 a.m.

Cold-ish morning here, but Fractal Mom said they're expecting snow in Northeastern Ohio, so I refuse to complain. Eight inches, she said. Zowie. -Here in Iowa, we have highs in the low seventies expected today and the low eighties tomorrow and Wednesday. If we see snow around here it would mean a major change in the way things work in the physical world, and I haven't read anything to make me expect anything like that til mid December - when the world ends. Is it the 21st? I think that's the prediction.

Last year around here we had to deal with that one religious nut's prediction of judgement day; complete with billboards, a radio station that dedicated it's programing to the premise for more than a month and a half-dozen over-sized vans with full graphic wraps showing these folks' idea of what hell would look like accented with dumbly worded dire warnings of our impending doom at the hands of their vengeful God.

Snore.

Yesterday afternoon, a friend asked me how the book is coming along. This is someone who, after I finished the first draft ten months ago, I'd asked to be ready to do a critical read-through and red pencil job for me. I'd told her to expect it to be ready for her perusal by last Christmas. So? Around the first of the year she called to ask if I was ready, as she had a week off and could easily make time for me. I confidently told her that no, I wasn't done yet, but that in another month or so, I'd send her the finished second draft.

Then Easter.

Now? I wonder if I'll ever finish this one. Last week I spent a good amount of time writing, but only about two hours on the friggen novel. What was I doing instead? Roughing out another idea that's been buzzing around my brain. And why? Out of fear I'd forget some of the nuances that had come to mind every time I - without wanting to - thought about this other story.

Dumb.

Thought for the day: A man who can't control where he puts his energies is like a dust devil bouncing along an empty plain.

(Well, see, I've been listening to this western book, so it only makes sense that the first analogy that popped into my head was.... Oh never mind...)

Friday, or Saturday... Starting this at midnight.

Rainy day... And because of that, a long day. Didn't accomplish half of what I needed to, so I'll be here all day tomorrow too. Maybe I'll be able to head back by late tomorrow afternoon.

Arrived back here at AC's around four-thirty with some Chinese food, which we happily devoured. AC and I have a real quandary every time we want Chinese food around here. There's a little China Town down this way with some great restaurants. We especially love two of them. One makes a chicken dish we can't get enough of, and the other, always crowded with locals on weekends, makes wonderful Dim Sum Saturday and Sunday mornings and always has the best Hot and Sour soup I've ever had. The rich broth is so full of finely chopped goodies that it makes a meal all by itself. Alas the other place; the one with a truly great Mongolian Chicken (jammed with that concentrated flavor combination of fresh ginger and garlic); has only so-so Hot and Sour, so it's always a difficult decision. I almost stopped at both places today, to get the soup from one and the chicken from the other, but I was too lazy.

Anyway, after we ate, I had some work to do on the puter and so sat down to get started. Then, feeling tired, I decided to give myself a half hour of relaxation first. Hah. Fell asleep by five or so and didn't wake up til nine-thirty. And guess what? I still haven't done any of the work. Bad surrogate.

Was touched by the retirement of Pat Summit yesterday. What a woman. -Friggen Alzheimers... Sucks. 

More later...

Thought for the night: Hmmm. I'm not usually in town Saturday mornings... Maybe Dim Sum is required. I'm thinking an order of char siu bao will give me the right enthusiasm for a full day of Saturday work.... maybe.

Thursday, 4:28 a.m. Michigan time.

Just arrived at Dot and Terry's. Dot's not home yet and Terry's upstairs making sauce for a spaghetti dinner that seems to be in the offing here in a while. Don't know how it'll taste, but if the aroma is an accurate harbinger? Mmmmm.

As it happens, AC got home yesterday, so I did end up spending last night at her place after all. She was wiped out from her trip, and me from my drive, so we chatted a bit, but not as much as usual. I don't know about her, as she was still in bed when I left this morning, but I sure slept hard. Hope she did as well.

Very busy day. Got the two projects done by one-thirty and then did six regular jobs. Ended up not playing golf yesterday morning before I left Des Moines since the weather looked damned iffy and neither of us was in a position to get soaked before doing what we had left to do yesterday. I certainly didn't want to start my drive here with wet clothes on, so? We wussed out.

As such I spent another hour and a half working on one of the projects for today before leaving, which cut down my time on the one by at least that much time. I'd planned to do most of the work on-site, but as it happens? -Glad I didn't.

Tomorrow looks to be just as busy, then half-a-day of work on Saturday and I'll head back to Iowa.

I have two P.O. Boxes. One here and one in Iowa. I rarely get a lot of junk mail in the Iowa box, but for some reason, the one here in Michigan is always jammed full of crap. -Catalogs from companies I've never heard of, let alone ordered stuff from, flyers up the wazoo, some bills, or rather duplicate bills for stuff I pay online, and once in a while, a check or two. I only bring it up, because I almost threw away a check today that was jammed into the pages of a garden supply catalog. I only noticed it by accident when it slipped out as I was tossing the rag it was tucked in along with so much other detritus. 

Made me wonder... Of all the trees cut, processed, printed, sliced, stuffed, mailed as junk then received, wonder what percentage is tossed or recycled without ever being looked at?

Has to be over half, doesn't it?

And what percentage of mail we think has been lost by the Post Office was really delivered just fine, but made its way into the junk menagerie we all get and was thrown away by accident?

Has to be over half, doesn't it? 

Thought for the day: I'm hungry!

Tuesday, 5:23 p.m.

Sunny, windy; about 55 degrees. Nice Spring afternoon.

It's been a busy couple of days. Tomorrow I'm off to Michigan til Saturday or Sunday.  Everyone in my little world here knows my schedule, so of course over the past hour, I got two invitations for golf tomorrow. One is at 1:50 in the afternoon for eighteen. Had to turn that down flat, damn it. The other was from my sportscaster buddy who texted me to see if I could play nine in the morning before he goes to work. He doesn't go on the air til four, but he tries to get down to the studio around noon for show prep, (which means, I'd guess, sitting around reading sports sections from newspapers all over the place and watching ESPN for an hour or two.) I told him to call me tonight after his show. If we can play before nine-thirty, I can do that. If I'm on the road by noon tomorrow, that's good enough. AC is out of town anyway, so I'll just get a motel room - and it certainly doesn't matter what time I do that.

Thursday and Friday will be killers, work-wise. I have two special projects, each of which will take me a number of hours, plus my regular work. And? It looks like the weather will be crappy - which won't help.

Sure loved PastorDave's post today. Big shift for him and one that sure made me smile.

Meanwhile, I am about as sick of Barnabus' bullshit as I can be. Wish I could ignore it. You know, a few years ago, he lost his password and couldn't log on for the longest time. We all know what kind of support there is around here, but I went to bat for him and tracked down the powers that be and helped him get his blog back. -My biggest mistake since joining good old tblog. Should have told him to stick it in his ear and to go play on his myspace page - which, by the way is full of more of the same copy-and-paste cat-piss. Yes. I did say myspace. Of course, it's under his real name instead of barnabus, but it's there and proudly full of hate. Barnabus reminds me of that guy Ezekiel who shows up here from time to time, only older.

Weird post, huh? Had a strange thing happen earlier that twisted my psyche. Saw another example of many wasted hours of my time, and it got to me.

So it goes.

Thought for the day: Impossible. I can't not despise... haters.

Saturday, 7:02 a.m.

Well, I spent all of yesterday.... ready? Hold on, now.... sleeping.

After writing my post yesterday, I went to the office to get a couple of things ready for the day. As I got the stuff organized, I felt a weird weakness come over me. Then a headache. -And this was all within a fifteen minute period. I decided to sit down on the couch and just rest a minute. First I grabbed a couple of aspirin and took them, then? I awoke at noon, still didn't feel any better and made a few calls to beg off for the day. Woke up again at 4:00 and called a friend who drove to my office and picked me up - I didn't even feel like driving - and I slept here at her place off and on from six p.m. till about a half hour ago. So about twenty hours + over the last twenty-four. She took my temp when we got back here yesterday and said I did have a fever, though not too high a one, (101.9), and she insisted I eat some chicken noodle soup just before going back to sleep at six. From six I slept straight through till three a.m. when I woke to empty bladdy the bladder, then right back to sleep till about six-thirty.

And? I woke up feeling just fine. Weird. 24 hour bug? I guess so. I did wake up sweating my brains out after being cold for most of yesterday, and I immediately showered to get rid of the sweat, but it seems that after the mini-fever broke, I'd gotten through any bad stuff.

I'm convinced our bodies are nuts.

Thought for the day: Appreciate feeling good more than you do.