Do you have a dog waiting for you to come home–and goes wild with joy when you come up the sidewalk? My stars, you can’t beat that!
Sometimes our cats would run to the door when we came home. But cats are less excitable than dogs. And iguanas even more so. I think our turtle was our biggest fan.
Thank you, “Thewhiterabbit,” for suggesting this–Days of Elijah, sung by a mess hall filled with US Marines. I wonder if they had this song when my Uncle Ferdie was a Marine.
I don’t want to be one of those old men who goes on and on about his various ailments. But if I disappear suddenly, I’m sure some of you will want to know why.
Tomorrow I go to Dr. No. 6–or is it 5? or 7? Can’t keep track–and the next day, another one.
I’ve got to get my hip replaced. Several people who’ve had it have told me it’s no problem, I’ll be fine when I wake up, bob’s your uncle.It’s hard for me to believe this. I have a superstitious fear of dying.
And our internet has been on strike most of this morning, so I went out and had a cigar. There won’t be any cigars, where I’m going.
My afflictions got the better of me today, so it’s a skimpy blog. No Joe Collidge. Nothing in the way of nooze. Maybe I should have posted more hymns.
If I could just get a good night’s sleep!
Next week I’m scheduled for a chin-wag with doctors who are going to install a new hip. Supposedly that’s a relatively easy operation, but I’m not sure there’s any such thing. Then they have to schedule it. And all of a sudden it’s December.
This is getting me down. Please pray for me.
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My grandma died in the mid-1960s: lived just long enough to be a Mets fan. She was wise, she was gentle, she was good. She raised six daughters (including my mother) who grew up to be good. And one night, her family having just watched the Lawrence Welk Show, she announced, “I think I’ll go to bed now.” And that was the end.
I was only a boy when she died, and it was a long time ago. But yesterday, from out of nowhere, it hit me like a truck.
No Grandma! How could that be? Can she have any idea how much I miss her? I had no idea until just then!
Okay, I’m sick and my emotions are brittle. But dammit, where is everybody? I want my grandma. I need for her to know that.
I don’t know how much I can do today, I had a bad night… I am badly out of focus this morning.
I think I ought to take it easy today, if it all possible. Let’s see if I feel any better. Pretend I’m staying home from school.
WordPress has just informed me I have 666 views for the week. Ai-ya!
Quick, more views! That “666” gives me the willies.
The sooner we get rid of it, the better.
A FEW MINUTES LATER: Whew! Close call, eh? But now we’re in the 670’s, out of the woods, all’s well.
People keep saying I look better. But I feel like a boulder rolled downhill and squashed me. I can’t imagine any reason for friends, family, and casual acquaintances to say this if it weren’t so. All I can say for sure is, I’m still sick.
And I have to wait till mid-August just to have a “consultation” about my no-good broken him. They’ll fix it… someday. Meanwhile, it hurts all night, all day. What I wouldn’t give for a good night’s sleep!
I will try to work today. Please pray for me and wish me luck.
“Eeyaaagh….!”
Just to give you a little glimpse into what I’m up against, these days–
Last night I dreamed I was desperately trying to get back to work on my novels. First I couldn’t find the manuscript. When I did, all the pages were out of order and had to be sorted. And then I finally found the title page:
THE MORASS
By Lee Duigon
Holy cow! What is this? I never wrote anything about a morass. The only morass I know is the one I’m stuck in. I can’t remember the story line. I don’t know where the rest of the novel is.
I am glad it was only a dream.
The working title of this novel is Ozias, Prince Enthroned; and I have it all scrawled down in longhand.
It’ll be ready when I am.
A hyena’s breakfast
Gee, it’s been a long time since I’ve heard from the Perky Publicist. Is she still out there pushing “fantasy literature” that would make a jackal retch?
Here’s one of the monstrosities she tried to unload on me in 2016:
I used to get these come-ons in my email all the time, and usually I just deleted them. But every now and then they came up with something so truly horrendous that just had to be booed and hissed off the stage.
Have they stopped pushing crapola? That would be nice. Then maybe we could move on to erasing dreck disguised as politics.