Good morning everyone!

You know what the morning red sky means? Sailor take warning. In our case, it is supposed to rain.
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Time! The one thing each of has just enough of to live a life in. I think it is wild how we try to put our own stamp on time by using arbitrary measurements. The cosmos could care less as it is all there is and is itself timeless in the sense that it probably began and it may end.

People have tried using the bible to measure the age of earth and time, when it really doesn't matter. If it was important, God would have said so. The importance is that it happened.

A person's life is measured in years which is actually meaningless except to insurance companies. The things our lives should be measured in are our deeds, both good and bad.

I believe a life of loving and caring, giving and forgiving, and being at peace with one's self is a higher level of existence than a life of selfish indifference, greed, grudges, and forever seeking a meaning of being. Life isn't "I"; it is "we".
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My morning began with a few sunrise photos, ones I generally bypass due to lazing in bed. Carolyn took her van for a warranty repair, and I followed along in the Escape. After picking her up, I drove to the lake at Devault bridge to see if any photos of note may be taken. Not much there, so we stopped at McWhacks for breakfast, and as usual, they got our order wrong. I do not like cheese on my sausage and egg biscuit; I try to be good to my cholesterol.
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I've had eye allergies the past two days. As Bro Hill once exclaimed upon seeing me like this, "Shoe, you look like an old sore-eyed cat".

Good morning! 'Tis a beautiful but cold pre-spring day. We have more daylight, and are gaining nearly two minutes a day now. The extra sunshine is most welcome.
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Carolyn is well enough to go to her hairdresser this morning. About all that ails her now is a backache from lying in bed so much. Dr. Ken has prevailed once more. TLC Alice; TLC.
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Alice and Nessa, in case you want to see the once beautiful spot where I made this photo, go out Knob Creek Rd. just past Lowe's and turn on Fairridge Rd. at Knob Creek Brethren Church. It is a short way out on the left.
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February looms and it means time to begin working on income taxes. I've already finished Chris' but doing ours as a sole proprietor isn't so easy. Everything has to be meticulously accounted for; tax software sure helps. I will probably sink back into a state of gloomus until mid-April, so don't expect much good news from here.
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Sometime in the next couple weeks, we should be seeing early arriving robins. The males usually come up first for territorial purposes I suppose. Soon, the year's first litters of baby squirrels will be born; just some more hungry mouths to feed this summer. Tree rats generally have two litters each year, making for the purchase of a lot of peanuts. Most of the articles and books I've read about gray squirrels are wrong about some things, one being that they are total loners. In winter, several will share a nest, greeting each other at dusk by rubbing noses. I thought only Native Alaskans did that.
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Carolyn is at work; the house is quiet...

Unlike yesterday, today's skies are cloudy but the temperature is still mild. Speaking of temperatures, Carolyn left for work last afternoon with a fever of 100.1° and when she came home at 10:30, it was 103.2°. She is very ill with a headache, nausea, and all the other symptoms of a ravaging viral infection. I am feeding her extra strength Tylenol and her fever is just below 100° this morning. How she manages to go, I'll never understand. I hope she will retire come September.
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This post will be much like yesterday's; put together in pieces as I find time.
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I just thought of something; I don't own a suit. I've never owned a suit, nor shall I. I have owned a clip on tie since the early 70s, although it hasn't been used since Dot died in 2002. Reckon it may be out of style? Reckon it was ever in style? Reckon I care?
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I am pathetic. I don't know how to operate the coffee maker. I'm off to the Quick Stop to get my caffeine fix.
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While I was at the coffee shop, Carolyn got out of bed and made a pot of real coffee. I brought ger a cup from the store, but poured it out. Her coffee is much better. She made herself a cup and returned to bed.
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Carolyn is feeling better and her fever has broken, but she was unable to go to work. Bless her heart.
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I finally finished the "Tree" poem and is posted on Lord Bubbha if anyone is interested.

At my door the leaves are falling
A cold wild wind has come
Sweethearts walk by together
And I still miss someone
--Johnny Cash

This is my favorite Johnny Cash song and is titled I Still Miss Someone. It was on The Fabulous Johnny Cash album I purchased for my mom at Christmas 1958, and was the first Christmas present I ever bought with money I'd earned. I removed it from her house after she died, and still play it at Christmas. Another favorite on the record is Run Softly, Blue River.

Music wasn't so complicated back then; it was relax, listen, and smile (or sometimes feel sad). Before MTV, anything was possible!
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Another Monday is here, which can be good or bad. When I was a kid, it was wash day; not for me, but for a week's clothing for the family. Drawing water from the cistern, heating it on the wood burning cook stove in winter or outside over an open fire in warm weather, shaving lye soap, and rolling the Kelvinator ringer-washer out of the corner. In summertime after the clothes were on the line drying, and if there was money to be had for the store, we enjoyed a glass of fresh lemonade, sometimes with ice. Sigh... It seems like a golden time to me, probably because I was too small to do too much of the work.

To this day, I still don't know how to do laundry. They tell me to separate the colors from the whites, and then they then turn right around and put some colors in with the whites. For the sake of reason, which colors are considered as colors, and which ones aren't? Women!
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Someone a while back remarked that I must like being popular, so I made an attempt to see how well loved this blog is. Technorati has it ranked as the 2,124,856 most popular blog on the net! Wow! Only two million ahead of me. I suppose it is why so many sponsors want to be represented here. Phooey! http://www.technorati.com/blogs/looselaces.blogspot.com
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For the third time in less than a year, I've been blocked by another Flickr user. I told one guy he was an arrogant dick head, and he blocked me. He has since recanted and listed me as a contact, but I haven't done so for him. Another blocked me because I told her in no uncertain terms that I wasn't an administrator for Flickr Explore. Another recently blocked me over an email snafu. Shit happens! C'est la vie!
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It is a beautiful, beautiful day in East Tennessee. The mountains are glistening in the morning sun, the temp is above 50 degrees, and the wind is light. The birds are happy, the squirrels are bickering, and I am totally tickled.

This month is an anniversary of sorts; January 7th marked the beginning of my third year of posting this blog. I've had some very good times with it, and some very bad times; some happy times and some sad times. Overall, it has been very good for me because I kept writing even if I had nothing to write about, such as now. I'll be the first to say I am not very good at writing, but I do sense a lot of improvement over the two years in what I produce, at least in my prose. Poetry is another thing altogether though, and I do not have the soul of a poet. Poets are the true story tellers.

All I can say is thank each of you for reading my material. From time to time I've made a few mad; and other times I've made a few laugh. I've never intended to hurt any specific person's feelings, although at times it may have seemed that way. My greatest hope for this journal was to make myself—and anyone that reads it—think and to take nothing for granted. I want people to examine the the things that affect their lives the most; look for underlying reasons for why things are as they are. If you see something you think is wrong, scream at the top of your voice to bring attention to the bad. The same for the good in your life. Change is good.

My friends—for today at least—I bid you farewell.*

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*Thanks for caring, John and Milly. I shall return!

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BTW, Here is the entirety of my first post: "All that there is; all that there ever was; all that there ever will be."**
-Carl Sagan from Cosmos

** Actually, it is a misquote and it should read: "The Cosmos is all there is, all there ever was, or all there ever will be."

I realize Christians find this atheistic, but they should not do so. Even if God created the cosmos, the song remains the same.

Yesterday was a day I wish I could forget! Just about everything that could go wrong did so. One of those damned-if-you-do and damned-if-you-don't days, and I was damned pretty damn good. But, the past is past, and the old clock of fate rolls on, paying no attention to the wishes and wants of people. We are whom we are.
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Congratulations to John for getting the DSLR he wanted. He is an excellent photographer and artist, and I can't wait for him to get into full stride with the Olympus. Patience, Milly!
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Stopped by the park yesterday afternoon, and as I hoped, the pond was ice covered. Made a couple decent photos using the Olympus. Hoped to see some fish beneath the ice, but they must have been in deeper water.
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I have to go back to Elizabethton today; may try to get some photos of historical buildings and maybe an old farm house or two. Erwin will be my next big urban photo adventure, along with Jonesborough at night.
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I doubt I will be posting any poems or short stories on this public blog in the foreseeable future. Anything new will be placed in Lord Bubbha.

So sad... some of the co-eds across from me have moved. Summer won't be the same; not as much short-shorts; not as much washing cars wearing bikinis; not as many smiles and waves at the weired old man across the street. All I can do is hope more move in, or at least, no guys take residence. There used to be only guys there, and they would come over and take the trash can to the road and other odd jobs to help out the old fogies.

The guys had some wild parties, but the women beat them hands down. Oh, the things I've heard, the aromas I've smelled, and the sights I've seen by just sitting on my front porch on warm Friday and Saturday nights; fortunately, they never pulled the shades. It was probably the most exercise my heart has gotten in years.

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I have to get my weekly fix today; I think it's been about five years of taking the injections, plus eight years of the pills before that. Well, they keep me going so I won't complain too much.

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Maybe I'll go to The Cottage tonight for karaoke. I don't participate in the activities, other than soaking down a few suds, but the "singers" are fun to watch. Most are tone deaf it seems, but it doesn't make any difference because it is all great fun. Thank the gods of sanity that the place doesn't have a dance floor. I would probably be stupid enough to to give the old moves a go.

It is cold here with a powdering of snow from last night. I'd planned to go out for a while, but my knees are very sore for some reason. I suppose I am the only person on earth whose artificial knee gets sore. Could be from being down on them so much while praying about taxes. Of course!

I've spent the morning paying bills, using the few cents (sense) I had left after the taxes. But I do feel better; getting the taxes finally completed was much akin to the afterglow of having sex, if I correctly remember about the joys of that institution nonpareil. Out of breath; sweaty; fulfilled... if I just had a cigarette.

I was so elated last evening about overcoming the taxes, I even took a shower; something I never do in mid-week. Don't know that my skin is any cleaner, but the symbolic cleansing of government red ink from my being was worth the time.

The above photograph... I get a very clear message from it; how about you?

Out of BEER! Had to make a run to the service station so I could fill my tank. XX is my brew of choice this evening, but I promise not to drink but three of the twelve I bought...

My old friends from Texas have finally come home; at least Sue has. Bob stayed behind to finish some business things, and will be here for good by the first of February. Bob was a businessman in the Dallas area, and Sue did charity stuff. Very charming and everyday people.

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I still haven't finished the taxes; I get depressed and mad thinking of them. More than fifty percent of this country's annual budget goes to the military while it spreads democracy and peace around the world. Don't get me wrong; I have the highest respect for the working men and women of our armed forces; it is the Washington dogs of war whom I detest.

Update: 06:25 pm local. Got the business taxes all done. I am such a good boy; will someone reward me with a lollipop? Gloom, despair, and misery have been lifted from my shoulders. I shall celebrate with a whiskey sour cocktail. Although I like Black Jack for sippin', my favorite mixer is Jim Beam white label. And a good time was had by all ...

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Today, I created a magnificent piece of poetic beauty. It concerns a range that has its best years behind it.

Ode to Old Smoky

On top of old smoky
A pot was a boilin'
Inside of old smoky
The smoke was a roilin'

Outside of old smoky
She stomped her foot
She knew old smoky
Was making soot

She went down to Sears
To choose a new oven
Hoping for years
Of home cooked lovin'
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At times, I am amazed at my genius.

Not much happening today; got the payroll finished and wasted a few minutes getting soft focus shots of some birds. I detest auto-focus. My auto-focus can be overridden, but I about have to be a contortionist to do it.

Haven't felt well today; still have a hangover from the cold or flu.

My friend John from England left a comment on yesterday's post, telling me how the leader of their great country attained office. Why the hell can't we simplify things over here? MONEY! It is in no one's financial interest to have a short election season but the people who vote. In some crappy, clap-trap countries, the citizens feel like they have a target on their backs. In our crappy country, we each have dollar $igns on our backs. Which is actually worse?

Now I'm mad again... I'd better make myself a cocktail and settle down. Stirred; not shaken.

Don't Get Me Started

In a blog today, someone "When did running for president get unfair, rude, predictable, tiresome, and most of all patronizing and condescending?" The short answer is; since day one, or at least the election of 1796 between John Adams and Thomas Jefferson. It was nasty, but in a more genteel way; duels were the quick fix of the era.

The real good stuff started with the election of Andrew Jackson in 1828. This was the beginning of today's Democratic Party, but was nothing like the soft and semi-liberal party of today. Jackson was an "anything goes" president as far as his friends and supporters were concerned. To cross him was political suicide; just ask Davy Crockett of Alamo fame. Jackson reigned in the banking system which was good, but he hadn't fully understood all the consequences. Jackson also removed the Southern Indians (Native Americans) from their ancestral lands to reservations in Oklahoma. This was so his big political "donors" could control the lands. Jackson was a Tennessean, but I'm none too proud of his presidency.

Ever since Jackson, things have gotten worse; so much so I have tuned out of the "system" and instead, I do everything I can to pull it down. I refuse to be a part of anything so degrading as American politics.

I could go on with this for pages and pages, but like you, I would soon be bored, and also I would be mad on a beautiful day that deserves better.

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Two months from today will be the first full day of SPRING. Just 62 more days! Politics be damned!

I suppose this is what is called the dead of winter; at least I'm dead sick of it. A friend posted a photo of a robin today which made me feel a little better.

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One year from today a new president will be sworn in. Looks like the same-old same-old political hoodoo. The new Congress we appointed in '06—the ones whom vowed to "change the direction of America's future"—has done exactly squat. It won't change 'til The People really want it to change. Personally, I don't much care. In fact, I would like to see the Republican Huckabee elected and finish steering this once great nation down the road of religious intolerance and to eventual self strangulation. The headline in the Times of London might read "America Commits Suicide: R.I.P & Amen"!

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Took my pocket camera out for a spin and damn near got frostbitten fingers. My ass was warm so I figured my hands would be ok too. I may have average intelligence, but my smarts are way below measurable. The above photo was made with the new camera. About what one would expect from an inexpensive point-and-shoot model.

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I feel a big rant coming on, but I have so much to fuss about I'm having a difficult time putting it into perspective. Of course, not knowing what to say hasn't quelled my caustic quill before. I'm sure you can't wait to read my special insight and wisdom. It is a gift.

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I want to write a new poem or six, but my winter addled brain just isn't responding to stimuli. Sigh...

Fault

I have to stop procrastinating and commence getting serious about thinking of the onset of the consideration of the initiation of leaning toward beginning to get ready to set about starting out to work on taxes. Well, maybe next week... I've twelve more days 'til the reports are due.

I believe thinking about doing taxes is what had me feeling blue for a couple days. If there is such "thing" as Satan, he wrote the American tax codes all the way from local to Federal. They are the most complicated and contradictory tales of woe I have ever seen; even more so than the books that make up the Hebrew/Christian bible. In fact, after our civilization has destroyed itself by eating fast food and breathing foul air, and sometime in the far future, the Federal tax tome may be found in a pile of rubbish and be regarded as the foundation of a new religion. It is pathetic!

The photo is of a millions-of-years-old natural geologic fault in a mountain side.

Daylight has become visibly longer now, especially in the evenings. At present, we are gaining nearly one and one-half minutes each day.

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Ever have days when you've felt alone, even when people and things around you seem the same as always? I've been like that for the past two days, and it isn't pleasant... at all. Given time though, things usually circle back to normal.

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Now we are poppin'! Carolyn just called to say the police were keeping her company on the job. A bank she cleans left the vault open, and as soon as Carolyn entered the building, the alarms went off and the cops came. They are staying with her 'til she or they can contact the manager. Things like this happen about once a month on various jobs of hers; sometimes they are Carolyn's fault but most of the time it is a faulty alarm or someone changing the alarm code and failing to notify her of the fact. The bad part is that she and one or two employees have to wait around while things get sorted out. The employees keep getting paid while waiting.

Abstract On Abstracts

What type of painting do you like best? For me, there are two: Impressionism and Abstract. I've been a fan of the impressionist's works for many years; since I first saw a photo of Claude Monet's Impression, Soliel Levant or better known to the English speaking world as Impression, Sunrise.

However—especially in the past year—I have become an admirer of abstract paintings, and abstract art in general. Let's just say I have been influenced by an immovable force. I can't explain why I like any particular style of painting, except to say the ones I do admire make my spirit soar in some way. Be it a well placed object or unusual color combination, or the subject of the work in its entirety, it leaves my soul sufficiently but momentarily fulfilled and soon desiring more.

Abstract to me is all the complications of a subject rendered to its simplest and most understandable and expressive form. Pablo Picasso was one of the founders of cubism, which in turn lead to modern abstract art. (Just for a kick sometime, look up Picasso's full name.) His drawings and canvasses seem simple in their absence of a completely depicted subject, be it still life ot a portrait. But when you study the works, their fullness and beauty become obvious.

Abstract doesn't necessarily mean simplicity of form and function. Artists such as Wasilly Kandinsky and Jackson Pollock made some of the most complicated visual experiences my eyes have ever beheld. In fact, Pollock is still the master of saying little with the most effort.

Whatever style of art you like best, always make room for other genres. Take time to breathe in the the beauty of the world depicted by hearts and hands of the talented creators.

A Summer Evening

Let me tell you about a summer evening, an evening of long ago; before Camelot* and even before Sputnik. This was before pollution from "security" night lights fouled the skies; a time when one stepped outside, the darkness was dramatic in its intensity. A time before youthful innocence had been replaced by the cares of caring; before tumultuous teen years when hormones draw attention from the world of one's self to the enchanting but confusing charms of girls.

A night in early July; a warm night when no air moved to make leaves dance. Scents of country stillness filled the nostrils with delightful memories to be. The grasses from the hillside where I lay and the small wild flowers strewn about added a slightly musky but sweet aroma to the ambiance. Lingering dust from the nearby dirt road lent its poignant smell to the surrounding air. No cars bounced along the rutted lane because it was nine o'clock and farm folk were getting ready for bed.

Overhead in a moonless sky, the Milky Way shimmered a path across heaven, and myriad stars twinkled an invitation to reach up and touch. Lightning bugs blinked their messages di amore, and a whip-or-will blessed the world with his own love calls. The sounds of the night were as beautiful as the stars above.

On the western horizon and over a far ridge, a thunderhead was building, flashing its power with sheets of lightning. Then the most awesome exhibition I had ever laid my young eyes on began in the northern sky. It was the first and last time I've seen such heavenly beauty... the northern lights were paying a visit.

For several long, breath abated minutes, shades of red, orange, and pink played and sang amongst the stars. The sounds around me disappeared from my mind as my entire being was mesmerized by the cosmic display before me. The stars in its midst seemed to dance to the melody of an unheard symphony. Then as quickly as it began, it ended. I sat and wondered about the miracle I had witnessed; being alone, I had no one to share a moment that has forever haunted my memory.

A summer evening on a hillside in Tennessee... a time and place where nature poured the essence of her soul into the heart of a young man. As a dear friend would say of such an occasion: Perfection!


*Camelot—for anyone not from the US—were the presidential years of John F. Kennedy.

I've just been made aware that Europeans don't know much about road kill, or better, they don't know how to prepare it. In Tennessee, the law encourages people to take their road kill home and eat it. First, the kill shouldn't be more than a few hours old. Anything found along the road that still has some body heat is fair game, and it doesn't have to be killed by you to enjoy this bounty. In cold weather, meat several days old is ok.

My personal favorite is opossum, or just plain possum. Yes, they are a bit greasy, but this is offset by the fact that their fur isn't real thick and can be easily removed before cooking. I prefer not to do anything to the deceased but boil him and scrape off the fur, toss him in the freezer and slice as needed.

I like my possum rolled in flour, fried, and served with a French sauce called roux, which is made from critter fat, flour, and and real butter. I don't like the sauce to be very dark; over cooking kills the flavor of the possum lard. Some do like it darker, though.

We usually fry okra and make coarse hominy to go along with the feast of meat. Buttermilk biscuits and honey are always savory with a fabulous meal such as this. For breakfast, replace the hominy with grits, and the okra with fried potatoes.

The best part if you are lucky, is to find a female possum with young in the pouch, or at least very small ones riding her back. It is better if they aren't dead, because they make a pleasing squeal and "pop" when they hit the grease, and they are delectably tender. Be careful though; they do have very sharp teeth. They don't go to the skillet without a fight.

What do you folks in Europe and especially England do with your road kill? I'd hate to think it is wasted by being improperly disposed of.

To my dismay, Carolyn has discovered the internet; more precisely, she found youtube.com. She's used the net to check weather and read the paper for years, but nothing more than that. Doesn't sound too bad from where you're located, does it? She likes country music. After all these years of trying to bring her up the right way—the rock-and-roll way—she turns out to be countrified. Forty-three and one-half years of tie-dyed, long haired, pot smoking, rock concert marriage, and she goes over to the dark side of the force. The tough part is that her computer is in the same room as mine. I seldom turn my speakers on, but now I have to listen to nose twanging, redneck, cry-in-your-beer-or-you-ain't-a-true-southerner, skin crawling, hair falling, nose picking, butt scratching caterwauling. No wonder I'm ill tempered these days. I now have to grab the laptop and head to the crapper for some quality time. Phooey!!!

I am tired, I have a headache, my nose bleeds, and I feel like a gut with the shit slung out of it. I am going to bed.

Finally felt like going out and trying to make a few photos today. Probably didn't get much, but damn, it was fun.

Now I'm feeling a little poorly again. May have a sinus infection. Rats!

Pooped! Just finished employee W-2 and W-3 forms. I didn't screw up as much as usual, so it took only two hours.

Thanks John and Milly for stopping by and giving the blog a look. Hope you like the new van and that it serves you well for many years. I also hope you didn't harm Milly's car.

I'm still snotin' all over the place; this cold will be difficult to get over.

As for yesterday's post... some of it is true... maybe more than you think... or not.

March 27th will be the twenty-fifth anniversary of the day I quit smoking cigarettes. As a college lad of a mere thirty-eight undisciplined years, it was traumatic. I'd tried several times before, but I always had the pluck and enough will power to go back to the evil weed. But then, something even more traumatic caused me to quit for good.

It was sex. In 1983, I gave up having sex due to medications. Not my medicines, but Carolyn's. She developed hypertension, and her pills caused her to lose her sexual appetite; at least that's what she told me.

Smoking and sex are inextricably linked; why have sex if you can't have a post-coital smoke? Why smoke if you don't have sex as a reason for smoking?

I was desperate for sexual intercourse and nicotine. After due thought, I decided I should don the habit and enter a convent. I could make myself pretty enough to pass as a woman; everyone always said I favored my mom anyway. I already had long hair, and a good razor with plenty of blades would take care of leg and facial hair. In the convent are women, and where there are women, there are horny women; celibacy only counts when someone is looking.

After making preliminary plans to enter a convent near Pittsburgh, PA, a problem arose; they don't allow smoking. You can sneak and screw, but you cannot sneak a smoke. Mother Superiors and their lackeys have keen noses, I was told.

Why enter a convent anyway? There is sex to be had about anywhere, especially for someone as suave and charming as was I. The reason was availability of the resource; I liked to consume as much of the ladies favors as I possibly could. I was too old to enter a girls-only school, and a convent was the next best place.

Disappointed, I gave up smoking, and I haven't had the pleasure of a female body under me in all those years. Even though Carolyn finally changed to pills that didn't steal her desire, it was too late for me. I refused to take up cigarettes again, and I can't bear the thought of having sex without a follow-up smoke.

Now you know the reason I write and make photographs; neither one requires me to stick any part of my body into anything else and neither takes much effort and isn't messy. I don't need to smoke.

Part Deux

Ok, Robin and Alice, I am back doing what I love to do best..., making a fool of myself with my own words. I expect to see your eyeball prints on this page each and every day.

I was supposed to go to the creek and have my biannual mid-winter bath last evening, but I became so busy exchanging emails that I forgot. Is tough; may have to wait 'til April. One thing I do need is a fresh supply of lye soap. I don't do any hog killing nowadays, so I have no fat to render and mix with wood ashes, which are the source of lye. Suppose I will order some off the net.

I bet most of you have never used lye soap, especially you young city slicker whipper snappers. The one thing I remember most about making the stuff is the amount of work involved. Mix the ingredients in a large kettle and cook over an open fire. That part is easy enough. Then comes the work; stirring and stirring for hours on end with a large wooden paddle. When the gob becomes thick enough so that the paddle will stand alone in it, it is done. Pour in a container such as an old cake pan, and allow to cool and harden for a week or so. Cut into hand sized blocks and have a ball in the old galvanized tub.

Granny made three different strengths by varying the amount of lye. The mildest was for washing clothes. The next was for washing grownups. The third and by far the strongest was a special creation for washing me. I am a natural born dirt attractor; I can walk within twenty feet of someone working on a car and I will get greasy. Mud holes seem to jump all over me. I get within shouting distance of soot and I resemble Al Jolson. Polecat stink can travel for miles just to settle on me.

Bath or no bath, I suppose I could change my bloomers. I've been wearing these since a week before Christmas, when I took my last shower. I generally wear them 'til they get yellowish-brown all over, except the very back which tends to get nearly black with caked streaks.

I need to got to the smell-well department at Wallyworld and get some deodorant. I've been mixing some of Carolyn's perfume with Vaseline and sticking it on thick, but it doesn't last more than a week 'til I have to do it again.

Being a native born and reared Tennessean ain't half bad.

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

The photo is of my sweetie pie...

Thoughts

Before I reduce my use of this blog (if I do so), I want to remind you to smile...; a lot.

• Stay as content as you possibly can without becoming complacent
• Try to learn and remember something new each day
• Be happy by seeking nirvana. Nirvana exists for all of us, but each of us must follow individual paths to inner peace
• Share your life with someone that cares about you
• Share your lunch with a stranger
• Sharing is happiness
• Make a friend; be a friend
• Take nothing for granted for tomorrow it may be taken from you
• Love with all your might and all your heart
• Accept love as wonderful gift
• Always know whom you are and whom you want to be
• Forgive
  
• Dream dreams
• Live!

For a full and personalized list of my philosophies for living, send $19.95 to the number on your screen. SMILE!

• The photo is dedicated to my favorite abstract artist.

I will continue posting to my writing blog as quickly as creations become available. I am not much of a creator, though.

Yesterday was the sixth anniversary of my mom's death. Doesn't seem that long ago when she would come through the house fussing about this or that trivial thing. Miss you...

I have no brothers or sisters, and for the first eight years of my life, I lived in my grandmother's home. My mom and two uncles also were there to spoil me, and the only one that didn't try to ruin me was my grandma.

I suppose grandma had more to do with my basic rearing during those years than did mom. Mom worked day and night trying to make it so I would have a better life than she did when growing up. My dad was working in Detroit, and I hardly saw him during that time.

Still, I sometimes feel so alone...

Slow day. Still sniffling and sneezing, but I feel back to almost normal. Hope everyone else is getting better from the miseries.

Watched the Lady Vols put a whoopin' on Notre Dame today. I think the loss to Stanford was a wake up call. This was the second top twenty team they've spanked this week. Still don't think they are as good as UConn...

Haven't made any photos to speak of since well before Christmas. I know the shot I want to get, but I haven't figured how to get it. I will think of something because I hate to lose. At anything...

I am considering cutting back or even closing my Flickr account this coming April. Some other opportunities are developing. I may close this blog, too, or move it to a different location. Only three or four people read it anyway, so I really don't see much use in keeping it as it is now. We shall see. One thing though; I very much appreciate the people who do read about my corner of the cosmos.

Beginning to feel better. Rough morning, but afternoon found me improved enough to do some work. Finally got back to the bank; did spreadsheets for the payroll; worked on some taxes; answered my lone email of the day.

For those of you who thought of me and wished me well by leaving nice comments on my Flickr photo, a million thanks. I hope soon to get back to commenting on your photos. Also, I very much appreciate the four emails I got asking about my health. Thanks, Robin; thanks, John and Milly, thanks, James; and thanks, Peter.

I don't get down like this very often, but when I do, I make up for when I didn't.

Later...

Dammit, I'm still sick. Worse, in fact. Got up, got a cup of coffee, lost it somewhere, got another cup and the first one magically appeared on the desk in front of me. I guess getting out in the cold last evening and trying to help didn't pay.♫

I'm feeling a little better but very lethargic; probably too much medicine. As a matter of fact, I feel flat as a plate full of piss...♪

At least it isn't supposed to get quite as cold tonight as first predicted. Shoot, I have the thermostat cut back to sixty at night anyway; I can't sleep in a stuffy room.☼

Damn, isn't it spring yet...?

Seems to be a lot of colds and flu amongst my online friends and contacts. Hope all of you feel better soon. My cold is progressing nicely. I think it has peaked, and I am a little better today. Just another small challenge.

♥

I have to go to three different banks today and the temp is 18 degrees. That's the way it is when one is an important business executive like me.

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Went to one bank. Colder than a tax collector's heart out side. Have to go out again tomorrow, anyway.

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Feeling bad again. Some nausea for the first time. Think I may have a mild case of flu. I've had my flu shot, but they aren't 100% effective. I was bragging to a friend just a few days ago about not having the flu in more than 20 years. Should have kept my flapping trap of a mouth shut.

♥

If anyone wants to know how to make the little hearts (♥) like I'm using here, and if you are using Windows OS, make sure the NUMLOCK is on. Hold down the ALT key and press "3" on the numeric keyboard. The ☺ is ALT+1. Play around using ALT+ other number key combos.

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Had to go and help a little with the work this evening. The bit of snow has everything messed up. May have to go out tomorrow evening also, as temps are supposed to get near zero. Try to get everyone home asap.

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I'm feeling bad for any of you who are sick with the flu. Liquids and rest is all the advice I can give.

Not the best way to begin a new year I suppose. My cold seems to have peaked and I still feel bad. Other things are going on to make me feel even worse. One thing for sure, most of the time it doesn't pay to be me.

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For the first time in probably 20 years, I was up and about when the ball fell. I didn't care, though; I stood on the porch and watched the sky and clouds for awhile instead. Pretty meaningless is the celebration on this date. It should have been celebrated on the solstice, December 22, 2007 or at earth's closest approach to the sun—perihelion—which will be tomorrow evening.

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Napped and watched the TN vs WI football game. Two fairly inept teams playing to make their colleges some cash and get contract extensions for poor coaching. Mediocrity pays very well in big time college football.

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I trust everyone is having a good New Year's day. Hope you get well soon, Robin.

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While lying awake last night, I thought of something that might make a good poem, but by the time I got up this morning, it had escaped my pea brain.

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I also had a dream (nightmare?) in which I was walking in public while jaybird naked. Although I was the only one in a state of undress, for some reason it didn't seem unusual; people would look, then go about their normal business.

I've had similar dreams before, but in the others I drew an enormous amount of attention and derision. I'm afraid I will sleep walk one night and wake up in a crowd of people along the street. If I do, I'll have to change my name and move out of state. It's embarrassing enough just dreaming about it; in reality it would be traumatizing for me and most anyone who is unfortunate to see such a figure.