This damned heat wave seems endless and, according to weather forecasts, will only get worse next week. Actual air temps will be around 100, so that will drive the heat index way the hell up. But what the hell, all we can do is run the air constantly, stay in for the most part and say hell with it.

Had the family gathering last Sunday, all went well. At too much, but then I'm prone to doing that anytime. Good barbecue (bought) -- way too damned hot for me to fire up a smoker. Haven't done any smoking in some time, but looking forward to doing some when this evil ass weather breaks.

Made run to Camden Monday, stopped and got new auto registration on way home. With the county additional fee to fund the new 1000-acre lake, ran the fare up to $79. Probably not a lot to some folks living in other states and urban areas, but significant increase over the past around here.

I had intended to vote while at the county complex Monday. But of course, I switched to a new wallet recently and left my voter registration card in the old one. So maybe tomorrow I'll head over to Huntingdon before my normal Friday outing and cast a vote on the last day of early voting. Don't even wanna think of standing in those long lines August 5.

Expecting a new digital camera in the mail in the next day or two. I didn't need one -- have two good video cams and three still digital cams, but Amazon had a deal on one of those Kodak 10 mp, 10x zoom camera too good to pass, at $99 for a bundle. Camera, case, rechargeable batteries, charger. Another $11 for a 4-gb card. I checked the reviews and most folks raved about the thing. We'll see.

Heat wave & more

Got that freaking painting finished up yesterday afternoon. Only problem was the stooping/sitting required; actually, the getting back in an upright position after that was the problem, since the old joints and bones don't work like they used to. But things look much better with a fresh coat of paint. Maybe when cool weather comes I'll do more general painting around the house.

Hot as hell again -- we're under another heat warning and it's expected to continue through the weekend and probably most of next week. As luck would have it, Gwen has a doctor's appointment in Camden at 2:15 this afternoon, so I'll get to enjoy the warmth. My sister and her daughter and family will be in sometime this afternoon about that time. [Change in plan. Gwen called and canceled appointment today, reset for 10:30 Monday.]

We're having a big get-together out at brother Jerry's Sunday, sort of a combined birthday celebration for me and him. Sunday will be his BD, 62nd I think. We're all getting old -- which is what happens if you live long enough. (Inane babble, that.) Way my breathing has deteriorated the last few weeks, figure I'll be damned lucky to see 70.

Life goes on

Just back from town. Had to pick up a gallon of trim paint, gonna do all the bathroom trim and doors today. Ah, the joys of home ownership!

Fairly uneventful 69th birthday passed the 19th. Got about half lit. No. Got completely lit, if truth be told. Hell, 30 years ago I would have given long odds that I would not be alive today. So, no complaints. I've dreamed many times that I live to be 77. Don't know what the hell the basis for that is, those particular numbers, but if I do that would be cool, too. If not, well what the hell can you do about it?

Hot as hell. The heat index was 106 yesterday and may surpass that today. Humidity so dense you can almost swim through it. Not the optimum weather for a guy with breathing difficulties. Christ, I came in from the store yesterday afternoon to find my brother Edd mowing my tall-ass grass. I don't see how he did it, but he mowed the whole freaking yard and weed-ate (huh?) as well. Course, won't take a penny for it either. I'll take him and his wife back to Carmack's Fish Barn again before long as a repayment of sorts. I took them for the first time a couple or three weeks ago and they were impressed by the food and the ambiance.

I see Mike Boyle has shut down Bohobait. I hate that, I dropped by there frequently and always enjoyed Mike's posts. Certainly, this sort of "blogging" I'm doing is a waste of time for the most part, something that would fall under the "who gives a fuck?" column. I don't know why I bother to do it; truth is, I had a blog back in '98 on one of my domains, long before blogging became "the thing" to do. And I did the "Blogmouth" thing on jc.net for about five years before giving that up.

I'll no doubt quit this shit one of these days. But until I do, I'll keep posting such mundane BS. Such is life.

Not much happening

Haven't posted lately, been sort of under the weather with allergies and what is apparently a chest cold. Woman has been sick too, so it's been the blind leading the blind around here. Morning heavy rain has ended and the sun is shining at the moment--all working toward tomorrow's heat warning. That sun will soak all this rain out of the earth and the humidity will be beyond awful.

Expecting another delivery of books tomorrow. Sales have been decent -- one elderly woman from Yuma showed up and bought 12 the other day, 11 of those orders from her friends and neighbors. I need to find an outlet out in the county, one of those rural stores that would stock them. Also need to explore the possibility of setting up a sales booth at the new merchant's mall they have here now. Might give it a try one weekend and see what happens, could offer both novels and the murder book in combination for a good deal. That outfit collects and pays the state sales tax, so that would solve a big problem.

Today is my routine "afternoon out." Banking, mailing, coffee shop chat, bit of shopping. Damn, what an exciting life I lead!

Stormin'...

Sitting on the porch for hours earlier, watching the lightning flash and the rain roll. Electricity went off numerous time as lightning hit this transformer and that one. Damn, it was exciting and we needed the rain more than I can say. We had a mini flood.

Okay, now things are cool. Lightning has moved to south, so has rain. Just another humid night in Dixie.

Nice review

A decent review of Smoke and Thunder can be found here.

Porch is lookin' good, thanks to my woman

Gwen has been sprucing up my sitting area on the front porch. Also I've added blinds and gotten rid of the old plastic tarp I've had hanging as a sun shield. This is a great place to stay when the weather is nice, reading, writing or browsing, watching TV or a DVD. Too damned hot now to do much out there, however, but I'm looking forward to a lot of Saturday and Sunday football view come fall.

Getting close....

Getting down to the nitty gritty now. Just a bit of trim work, shelving and paint tomorrow and it will be wound up. He figures he'll be done around noon or shortly thereafter. Sounds good to me.

Work progressing

Have the new floor in and level and the rolled goods down. Gerald is now working on the shower enclosure--which has proven to be a big pain in the ass because the surround panels didn't fit right. Or, I should say, the cap part around the top wouldn't fit as is. Of course, a little creative Afro engineering can take care of a problem like that and has at this point. Now he has to set the enclosure to the drain and build walls on each side. He'd hoped to be done by tomorrow afternoon but with the holdup and aggravation today, that may not be the case. Whatever, just have to take it as it comes.

Minor change of plan

Woman decided to wait and leave this morning instead of yesterday evening, and drove herself. So, she left about a half hour ago and it's about 20 minutes until workmen are scheduled to arrive. I've done everything but shut off the water meter, which I'll do when they get here.

I made a futile attempt to remove the gas heater, but only had one pipe wrench small enough for the job and couldn't break the union loose without turning one of the pipes. I suppose they will have something to do the job with. In fact, the heater is un-vented and illegal and hasn't been used in years, not since it almost asphyxiated me. Last time dude from the gas company came and lit pilots and checked things years ago, he noted that he was supposed to shut and lock the meter after observing that stove. He didn't, on the condition of our promise not to use it. Also have a 220-volt wall heater, but it burned out years ago, so I just use a space heater in the winter.

Freaking hot again, under a heat warning. Some places nearby got rain and a bit of cooling off yesterday, as will happen again today most likely. But we didn't, and probably won't.

Ah well, gotta have something to bitch about, eh?

Ah, hell

Been busting ass today getting the bathroom cleaned out best as I can. Carpenters coming Monday morning to tear the floor out and remodel the thing somewhat. Gonna lose the old claw-foot tub and put a shower in and also replace the commode, among other things. Also, gonna insulate those plumbing lines real good while there is easy access to them. Job is supposed to take a week, so the lady friend is going home until it's finished. I'll take her tomorrow afternoon.

Book is still selling some copies. In fact, Banner called Friday and they need more, so I'll take a batch Monday morning. Haven't done much writing lately because I've been occupied with other things.

Damned hot. Heat indices in the 105-110 range through Wednesday, according to the weatherman. Not very pleasant and hell, it's not even summer yet.

Checking in

Things progressing along. Woman got out of hospital some weeks ago and has been here since. Doing okay, though has number of medical appointments I must take her to on continuing basis. But no problem. That's part of life.

Brooks murder book is selling briskly, if not with the "bestseller" rush I had hoped for. Certainly doing better than anything else I've ever written and getting accolades for the way I told the story--from local people who know firsthand of the story. Course, the vampire book is not doing as well but that is to be expected; the same could be said of the book of short stories and the book of poetry I'm preparing. Few will read them, but that's okay, too. Who in hell can afford to buy books in this economy?

I'll keep writing them anyway, simply because I don't have anything else to do.

Counting chickens...

Well, hell. We all recall that old "counting chicks before they hatch" thing. It's not a good practice--even if you think something is iron-clad. Sometimes, the trickster monkey gets in the works.

I'm talking about my done publishing deal. I thought it was a done deal. I was wrong obviously. Not going into reasons or whatever, but they deal just didn't fly like it was supposed to. But what the hell; the book will be published anyway, one way or the other. I just need to learn to keep my mouth shut until things are a fait accompli, eh.

The woman is still in the hospital, in Nashville. A problem with heart valves, which has been at least partially corrected. A problem with a doctor having one on too much medication, which is now being corrected. I'm not sure how much longer she'll be there, probably a week or two. I talk to her about every day, though I told her yesterday I was going to have to change that to every other simply because of expenses involved with such long distance shit. Sad fact of life.

Fucking lawn mower almost killed me a couple times since I last reported in. Saved by nitro and a plastic bag to breathe in. Panic city. My brother Edd was mowing it when I came in from store last Friday. Told me to keep my ass away from mower, to which I heartily agreed. No wind power left, none for any real physical exertion. It's a damned shame to get old and worn out, but it happens to all of us eventually.

What the hell, cool, gloomy weather. And more storms in the forecast for the upcoming weekend. Tornado season has been delayed somewhat this year. But it seems to be making up for it now.

If not one thing, then the other

Girlfriend is in Nashville hospital. She went home yesterday for a few hours to conduct some business and had a medical problem arise. A stroke or seizure or something of that nature. She was with her cousin at the time. Taken to Camden General and then transferred to Centennial in Nashville. I've talked to her three times, latest couple hours ago, and she seems to be much better. But tests and all that shit. Don't know if I'll go up or not, just depends on how things continue to unfold.

Hell, I'm almost disabled myself. Tried to mow yard yesterday and had breathing/heart episodes that had me taking nitro twice. Fuck it, just fading away it seems. If' I'd dreamed I'd live this long, I would have taken better care of myself. Didn't, and didn't.

Book? Some sort of problem with the printing company apparently. Not sure what. Not going to worry about it at this point. Whatever. It will happen when it happens.

Getting close

Getting close to publishing the book Murder Along the Midnight Road (subtitle: The death of Dennis Brooks, Jr.). Going down this afternoon to go over final details on royalty, distribution, promotion, cover. From the looks of things (and if it sells like it might) I could wind up making a few bucks this time around. All I can say to that is, it's about time.

Been on the wagon since last Sunday, nary a drop of anything. I'd like to be able to report that I've seen some great benefit in the way I feel, but that's just not true; indeed, I felt physically better when I was drinking every day. And, making no great commitment to lay off the sauce permanently. Hell, I may have a drink before the day's over, if I decide I want one. But I just haven't wanted one lately. That is bound to change.

Beautiful day, with a week more of them in the forecast. This after an overnight low in the mid 30s. I still haven't gone fishing, but hopefully in the coming week can work in some time to dip a hook.

No company at the present time -- we decided to wait until next weekend, then she can come over and stay a while. She loves to fish (says she baits her own hook and takes her own fish off), so I may have a built-in fishing buddy.

We do talk on the phone every day. Sometimes twice. I'm somewhat torn between this love I have for solitude and the enjoyment I get from company of the opposite sex.

If push comes to shove, I'll probably take the company.

If it weren't for bad luck...

Got into the old ride yesterday to leave Camden and noticed that the small rock blip in the windshield had turned into a crack about 8 inches long. Dammit. I didn't see when it happened, but I suspect driving through a deep drain groove just inside the apartment complex driveway did the damage. Anyway, I eased through it coming out and managed to avoid most potholes on the way home, because another good rack of the frame might cause the whole damned thing to pop out.

Now, I'm debating whether I should go to a junkyard and try to find one and then fight the physical battle of trying to get the son of a bitch in and sealed good, or just hire a windshield outfit to come replace it; I think the latter would cost about $250 judging by some Google research. I could probably get a junkyard replacement for $50 or so.

I'm not going to do either one right at the moment. I stuck a piece of transparent Scotch packaging tape on the inside that will do for the time being. Course, the crack is long enough to be illegal, but it's real fine and not noticeable at all unless you're up close to it, so I don't think a passing cop would spot it.

Nice Easter weekend otherwise. I got hammered Saturday. Must have been a positive thing, because I didn't have a drop yesterday and don't plan on having one today.

When I get out on a sidewalk preaching to people I don't even know (or hell, KNOW for that matter), you gotta figure I've gone around the bend on the sauce. What the hell, had a great conversation with some black dude, who seemed to dig what I was laying down.

Jeez. Maybe I should change my name to Billy Graham Cracker. Start a TV ministry. Buy myself a Rolex and a Rolls Royce.

Nah.

When the house is rockin

I'll be heading out in the morning to Benton County to spend the weekend with the lady friend. Supposed to rain and storm, but what the hell. I won't melt. And maybe some foul weather will deter those THP roadblocks they're bound to throw up everywhere, although it's not unusual to see those dudes with their yellow raincoats and Smokey Bear hat covers stopping cars in a flood.

Fuck 'em. I may be hauling something, but it won't be open and I won't be drinking. And the pistol and cartridges will be in separate compartments. Won't be packing Condition One in my rear pocket as was case last time I was busted. I tried to get a permit years ago, because of anonymous death threats. Somebody left me messages that I was going to "disappear." Said they would grind me up and put me in Big Buck Bottom. And, they mentioned a few things nobody would know if they hadn't been following me. Made a believer out of me. And the chief of police, too. He heard it on answering machine and thought it was serious.

Course, my crime writing offended a lot of people back then. Being threatened wasn't out of the ordinary. A couple time, I invited the "threatener" out to the beer joint parking lot, if they were really intent on settling scores. They declined, as those who are all talk and no action usually do.

I paid my money to the TBI for a records check and all that shit. The idiot at the sheriff's department couldn't get a decent set of fingerprints that the fuzz would accept. He smashed my fingers down on the card so hard there was nothing but a black blob. So much pressure it actually hurt.

"Here, let me do it myself," I said, rolling on a perfect print. The TBI would have loved it. Hell, the FBI and Interpol would have swooned over it. "See, that's perfect."

"That ain't allowed," the idiot replied. "I have to do it myself 'cause I'm in charge of prints."

So, after three trips over there, I gave up. As the sheriff at the time told me, "Hell, just stick one in your pocket. It's better to be tried by 12 than toted by six." That's a notion I can get behind easily enough.

Next thing I have to buy is a large keyboard, Casio or Yamaha. Gwen had been telling me she played the piano, but I didn't pay much attention. I figured maybe she played it about like I play the guitar. Lots of people claim to "play" instruments when they know just about enough to get in trouble.

But I broke out the little Casio board I have last weekend and she wasn't shitting me -- she plays great. I've screwed with that thing for years and can barely plunk out a little half assed tune on it. She played the fucker like Liberace or somebody and in all styles. Gospel, rock, blues, whatever I mentioned.

Course, I had to break out the guitar and, after a little tuning, we were getting down. And I had to croon a little too, coming across a bit like Leon Russell with terminal throat cancer, or Little Jimmy Dickens with an old cold tater lodged in his windpipe. AND, I can play guitar like Clapton, too -- IF you beat on his fingers with a four-pound shop hammer for an hour beforehand.

What the hell, it's all in fun. If you ever get too old to have fun, might as well lie down and let somebody cover you up.

Not to beat a dead horse, but. . .

The media made a big to-do about threats to Democratic lawmakers who passed the health care bill. But when a Philadelphia man is arrested after threatening the life of the number two Republican in Congress, it doesn't get a mention on two of the four major networks.

If this doesn't show media bias, I don't know what the hell could.

Changes

Woman left today around noon. I just figured up that she's been here 24 days this month, but what the hell, we had a good time. I'll be going over to her place either Friday or Saturday (probably Sat. morning) to spend the weekend and have Easter dinner Sunday. Nice ham, which is always good. That was her idea, since I normally don't celebrate Easter. But I'll eat a good baked ham anytime, holiday or not.

Got about half of my tomato garden spot spaded up this afternoon. Started turning up so many earthworms that I went and found my worm bucket. It used to be a gallon ice cream bucket, but it works well for keeping worms. Have to sprinkle a little cornmeal in occasionally, and a sprinkle or two of water when it gets too dry. Temp is going up near 80 the last 3 days of the week, so I may hit the fishing hole. I intend soon to get on revision of the vampire thing, but I can throw in a little fishing before that gets too serious.

Bought a new laptop since my last entry. I've been checking reviews and found this 17.3" Acer that seemed to be a good machine; I've had an Acer laptop for almost 4 years and never had a moment's trouble with it, it's just too small and underpowered for my current needs. The new one has lots of hard drive and RAM and a lot of bells and whistles. Built-in web cam and mic, wide high def screen (video looks fantastic on it), HD TV connection, Dolby sound system, card reader, Bluetooth, lots of USB ports. I no sooner had it out of the box and turned on until the wireless found my network router, so getting online was no problem. (I'm having a problem on my router firewall, however. Got Port 21 forwarded, but the son of a bitch won't let me FTP. I thought it was the domain provider's server blocking me, but I gave login info to a friend in a distant town and they were able to open my server on 21 with no problem. I'll get it figured out eventually.)

I don't like Windows 7 worth a shit, but I'll get used to it. Amazing how they left a mail program out of it, not to mention Movie Maker. But they do have enhanced security and a DVD burning program.

The Lying Left

Progressives are such crybabies. A few people say nasty things about them and suddenly they're whimpering about being threatened and harassed. And certainly the media jumps about and makes mountains out of molehills, with blaring headlines designed to make the opposition look like ogres out to do in the good health care providers.

We've seen an article about a coffin being left on the lawn of one Missouri democrat. As it turns out, that was a lie; the protesters took the coffin with them when they left. The coffin was representative of all the dead babies to come because of the recently passed legislation. Yeah, sure, Obama signed an executive order. But executive orders can't override legislation.

A Seattle paper had a big deal about someone throwing a rock through the office window of one of their representatives. Some major league team needs to find that rock-thrower -- the woman's office is on the 30th floor, so that was a pretty good toss.

Oh, and we've heard all about the abuse heaped upon legislators, many black. as they ran the gauntlet of evil wingnuts while walking (parading) back to Congress. Big headlines about being spat upon and forced to listen to racist chants of "nigger!"

Odd, that one. There were a number of cameras covering that piece of constructed drama, private and professional cameras, and yet not a one thus far has recorded the word nigger. And, the only thing close to a spitting incident was one protester with his hands cupped around his mouth screaming. Apparently, some spittle hit Missouri Rep. Emanuel Cleaver -- who described the incident as a man "who allowed saliva to hit my face"

Sounds real evil, eh? The guy he described that to, a black columnist, sounds a whole lot more racist and violent than the crowd, as you can see by reading this.

The Left seems to have a short memory when it comes to violence and threats. George W. Bush lived through eight years of malignant outburst from these kooks. Here's just a small sample of the calls for his death. There are thousands more.

The old pot calling the kettle black cliché comes to mind with all this. If you wanna read some nasty, violent shit directed against everybody but progressives, just check the forums at places like MoveOn and Huffington Post. And a lot of other leftist boards and forums. Nobody could equal the nastiness displayed by these pea-brained thugs.

Let's not even get started with some of the horrid things voiced by the Hollywood in-crowd. Certainly, it's okay for someone like Sean Penn to say he hopes all his critics "die screaming of rectal cancer" because, well, because he's Sean Penn. There are many more such examples of verbal diarrhea from the Hollywood Left, but why bother, nothing will convince a dyed-in-the-wool extreme Dim-o-crap.

I actually had no intention of getting into political shit on this blog. But I get so sick of reading some of the crap I've been reading, comments that bear little resemblance to the truth.

There's nothing wrong with having a strong opinion and voicing it. Hell, there's nothing wrong with saying you'd like to see some folks screaming from cancer of the asshole, if that's what you believe; I'd probably like to see/hear some of that myself.

But don't do it and then pretend to be some pristine, reasonable fellow who takes all the abuse from the other side.

In short, don't be a fucking hypocrite.

Book done

Cold, rainy morning with talk of the possibility of a little white stuff. Crazy. It was in the 70s a couple of days ago, bright and sunny. I sat on the front porch enjoying a few Greyhounds in the good air. Now, soggy and miserable again, but the nice weather is alleged to be on its way back later this week.

Finished the murder book last Thursday. I'd originally planned to immediately leap on another project. Change of plans. I'll kick back a while before tackling something new. Not sure what it will be, but I've changed my mind about never again writing a nonfiction book. Have an idea for one in mind, but not ready to talk about it. Just a thought.

My lady friend is back. She left Tuesday morning and came back Thursday afternoon. Not sure how long she's staying this time, but it doesn't matter. We have a good time together and I enjoy the company. Had the best pot roast last night that I've ever made. . .or eaten. Browned it, put it in the pressure cooker for 25 minutes, then into the crockpot for about 4 hours, with a gravy made of mushroom soup, mushrooms and onions. You could cut it with a blunt fork. Throw a pile of that and mashed potatoes on bread, cover it with gravy and go south. And I did, long and hearty.

What the hell if I eat too much and get sick. We have socialized health care now, don't we? Well, almost. I'm sure an old guy like me can get a new heart on somebody's nickle if I need one, right?

Yeah, sure I can. What a bunch of shit. One funny thing: all those young flaming liberals who voted for Obummer will whimper and whine now when they're forced to buy insurance that, in most cases, they don't need. Poetic justice.

I suspect the real justice will come in November. These dudes have changed all the rules, apparently believing they were going to stay in power forever. They won't and they'll whine and cry when the same tactics are used against them in the future. And they will be, you can rest assured of that.

Old poets die

I see Todd Moore has died. All the poets are writing about him, as poets are wont to do when some popular figure passes the scene. Well, if they identify with his slant on things. But not always.

I published some of Moore's stuff over the years. We had a bit of contact over the years, always cordial and friendly. I was sorry to hear he was gone and he was a very good poet. But I won't be writing any elegy poems for him because we weren't that close.

I did write such a poem when Ben Hiatt died. I had a close connection with Ben, who went way back in the little circus. Ben was a trailblazer in that world in the way most of us are not--I know lots of poets but none who reaches back as far as he did. Ben hung with the real Beats, the ones everyone today tries to emulate.

Ben didn't get a mention in these circles. So here's one for him.

Elegy to a Tall Man Gone

(for Ben Hiatt)

I was sorry to hear that you
had dragged up, old friend,
packed your bags for that
long last trip.

We had a lot in common.
Same age, both of us
rural redneck types who
somehow found the urge to write.

We both came from
families torn by strife,
had fathers who could become
monsters in the shade of alcohol.

Men rattled by the Depression
and the War, men who never
learned to love enough to
equal the hate they bore.

We grew up rough and tough,
lived life hard and fast, out on
our own young, learning
all about survival.

Too much booze, too many women,
it all became a circus
with descending rings, emptying
faster than it refilled,

A reservoir drained through
all those broken rifts, the
run-off of time spilled
out the broken edges of life.

You lost your breath finally,
after years of breathing from a tank,
the heart gave up, couldn't carry
the burden any longer.

Put you down to silence, where
the mountain winds and
the spring sun you loved
never find an entry.

We all go finally to dark quiet.
Some call it eternal rest, this
withdrawal from the quest
to find our place here.

Smoke rattles in
my lungs this morning.
I have no tank-yet-but
I am not far behind.

I raise a cold beer to you,
Tall Man, one a head above
most of the crowd in
more ways than one.

You now know the answer
to the mystery. Soon, I
shall know it too.

May we laugh in heaven
or hell, or in the blank space
of nothing, if that is

our destiny.

The late Ben Hiatt

Next couple of weeks....

Woman coming over later today to spend 10 days at the Jazzbo abode. I'm looking forward to it, needless to say. I enjoy the company.

Today's one of my "coffee with the boys" days, so she's meeting me at the store around 4:00 so we can do some grocery shopping. She'll stop in Bruceton on the way over and pick up a couple jugs of my favorite libation. I'll stock up on grapefruit juice today. Hold 'em tigers, boys!

I am now a member of the local VFW post. My brother (who's an officer out there) put my name up for membership last week and I was approved; that never would have happened had one enemy there not died some time ago.

The old dude hated me because I wrote about his son's DUI arrest, and then wrote about it again a year later when the son never had faced the charges in court--the "fix" had been put in by a local big shot, according to what the guy's wife told someone. My call to the assistant DA and article about the talk we had greased the skids and he received the regular mandatory sentence a week or so later. The squeaky wheel gets the grease.

As I told the DA, they put my ass in jail twice for it and nobody waited a year to do so. That "it fell through the cracks" shit didn't fly with me. It was stuffed through the cracks and then covered up. For a while, anyway.

I don't plan to spend a lot of time at the club. Too damned expensive for one thing -- I can buy a whole jug for what 4 or 5 drinks cost out there. But it's good to have an occasional place to get a mixed drink, and, with the exception of the country club, it's the only place in this part of the country where that's possible, short of Jackson.

AND, I'll only drink out there when I have a ride home. I've learned that lesson the hard way.

Pointless update

Spent the weekend in Camden again, came home yesterday. She'll be coming over here Friday for a few days. I think it's supposed to get up into the sixties this weekend, so I might fire up the smoker. Probably won't, but it's a thought I've had recently. Might be pushing it a bit, because Monday is predicted to be rainy and that might move in early. Storms, too.

Speaking of storms, February was the first since records began when no tornadoes happened anywhere in the states. Locally, it was our third coldest on record.

Waiting to get the edits back before I can progress in that direction. Damn, I'm sick of that book. Think I'll take a considerable time off before starting a new one, or finishing one of those already started. All work and no play....

Hardhead

I fell full length Friday and struck my forehead on a commode rim. It didn't knock me out, but it did stun me somewhat. I've only been knocked out once in my life, though I've carried some mighty blows to the head and face. I was stunned once in similar fashion when I slid a motorcycle off into a ditch at about 75 and was ejected. Over the handlebars. Over a fence. No helmet. I landed about 50 feet out in a field, on my face, and for about five seconds I was addled. I always figured the only thing that saved me was the fifth of Johnnie Walker I'd consumed in the couple hours before the accident. Limber and all, you know.

I don't count the time I was knocked out by electricity. That was aboard ship. I grabbed an electrical connection while we were washing down the ship. I was soaking wet and standing in about two inches of water. It was a 440-volt cable. I was out several minutes after that mishap. Had weird "visions" or something during that time, like a strange dream. I don't know why it didn't kill me, it should have. But then, lots of things I've done should have.

Anyway, had a great weekend visit with my lady friend. Even found the time to finish the afterword; well, not finish it actually. What I did was shitcan what I had written, about 2,500 words, and wrote a new one. About 1,100 words that say what I needed to say.

So, taking it easy for a few days, until I get the next edits back. May do a little housekeeping; God knows, it's due. Or, I could sit here and look at this fucking 35-degree gloom outside the window.

This weather is wearing me out. I'm yearning for those first warm days of spring, so I can unwrap the smoker and fire up some hickory. Maybe pop a beer or three. Wet a fishing line. Just sit on the porch and breathe fresh air, instead of this lung-clogging fog of smoke I'm perpetually surrounded by in here.

Oh well, all things come to pass. And that's good.