I Was Proud Of Myself For Putting On This Tie At Age 10 Or 12. (This Was Back When I Had A Full Head

Up all night

Too bad there’s nothing on here. Remember the days of USA UP all night?

There goes the dogs!

I’m ahead of schedule for once, so I’m posting this extra mix. We’re all in need of a boost these days.

Wrote this before my #cancer diagnosis. It still seems relevant -- a day can make all the difference in the world! (This book and the second installment are also available at smile.amazon.com.)

More cards soon

Had to limit myself to my own property this past week. The nausea got really, really bad, but it may be under control now. (Prayers, por favor!). Looking forward to some TLC in MS this weekend.

Watching life go by

My thoughts written down as I continue watching... The first time I teared up watching the patriotic documentary was when you got the call from a nice lady who gave you bad news. (I won’t tell you how many times tears were shed after the call lest I be compared with John Boehner.) I did sing along, but I’m also taking my morning medicinal toke before breakfast, which may or may not be eggs, so my voice is weak. (I plan a gym visit later today after it cleans out.)And now I’m pausing the documentary because I want to take it all in and post my thoughts online like a good little millennial (even though I’m taller than most millennials and I’m actually Generation X. Can you tell that I’ve heard many a Baptist preacher – and have adapted their tendency to drone on and on and on? 

I’m eager to let you experience the other side of it all, where it’s OK not to be perfect but neither of us has to like being imperfect. As a kid I would throw temper tantrums when I couldn’t get something just “perfect.” When the lines weren’t straight enough in the fictional Southern city I was drawing, I went to the office supply store and bought a ruler. Straight, clean lines are the best. To this day I prefer writing with pencils because you can erase it cleanly.

I insert my foot in my mouth even faster than my brother Peter could ever think about doing. It’s a gift and a curse. It helps, though, when you just see your previous words in the context of a new truth: cancer. The next time I teared up in the documentary was when I heard your mom has cancer. That’s a truth that hits me hard, too. I’m surviving it so far, but it makes me long to wander the wonders of life. Preferably with a few hippies and someone to love. Someone who doesn’t mind being the “good” one, since we all know I’m the bad kid. (My brother compares me to Macaulay Culkin in “The Good Son.” He’s one to talk! (Hello, pot. This is kettle. …) It's hard to turn the other cheek, especially when you know you’re in the right (or at least not in the wrong), but that’s what we have to remember to do. As Sheldon Cooper likes to remind us on perpetual reruns, haters gon’ hate. Players gon’ play. And the best woman will win every time. 

***I’ll probably clean up most of my social media feeds today. I need to get more real instead of live in the clouds, and we all know that tweeting one’s stream-of-consciousness does not suit anyone. Ever. For myself, sometimes I like to put out my raw thoughts to test the waters. But the hit hurts every time. And for the record, boots hurt like hell.

A few good dance-hall tracks to kick off your Spring Break. Enjoy!

Rhetorical ?

Why are parents so nosy? I understand it at a young age, as you’re molding a child, but a grown adult? Are Boomers that bored? (The last part wasn’t rhetorical.)

A mix to start and end your weekend!

Posting this on behalf of my father, who is just dumb. #rstales

Dear future spouse,

I cradle every word as I write it; I don’t want to let you down in any way, but time is not on our side tonight and so I must say what I’ve longed to say as long as my memory holds. You are the craftswoman that captured my heart when my head wasn’t working the way it used to. Your voice calls out to me when I lie still at night. My breath is altered with every syllable that rolls off your tongue. I cling to your every word and wonder if you feel the same emptiness I feel when I’m alone.

I’d like to hold you in my arms tonight, and if I had a saxophone, I’d play it for you, although I suspect I’d quickly realize I can’t impress you with a sax in the way I’d want to — in a perfect way.

You know my bumps in life and roll over them neatly.

I listen over and over to your fellowship until I realize who the fool really is. (Hint: It’s me, for the record.)

And I know that I’ve fallen hard and just want to ask one question…