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Becoming Mr. Aces

Jan. 31, 2020

I awakened to a dreary, cold day in Florida. My phone was off (thank God!), although I didn’t realize that when I woke up from a fantasy and beat the passion out of myself. I took the flag outside since sunrise had passed and the country was in the middle of a crisis of conscience.

I pulled off my night clothes and stood stark naked staring at the phone, which, again, thank God it was off. The naughty side of me doesn’t ever see eye to eye with the “real” me, the one who won’t speak up until he’s suffocated.

I had been waiting for this day for a while. It was the day where the Senate would have to take a stand on a moral issue that had been plaguing America perhaps since its founding, when George Washington warned us about how political parties would be the end of us.

After fumbling through a few login screens, I settled into my blue chair with an Irish tea and Nestle creamer to watch a cute blonde woman pounding on her piano, some furry creatures watching her every move.

My furry creature was resting in the chair beside me.

It was now or never, I thought.

Now, the Spirit urged me. It’s time.

To Jam.

[FTR, this is my cat Libby. I sometimes like to put sunglasses on her to trick her out. Because that’s just what I do.]

I remember that stuffy room above the gym. We danced with a pregnant lady and bantered about things that ring strangely true today. I remember cramming in reading assignments in the hall and all of us arguing about the value of meat and potatoes. I miss those days and yet I don’t think I’d want to go back to them except in a dream. Or maybe all of it was a dream ...

Larry Hogan Votes for Reagan

The Maryland governor wrote in a dead President rather than vote for Donald Trump.

Laugh or smile?

I’m a big country kid who grew up in small cities. Living near the water has opened my eyes to how I think God experienced life, and looking up at the stars like this image (from NASA or ESA) helps open my eyes to that beauty. … Beauty and wonder for me was escaping my house and escaping into the woods. For my brother it was much the same. He went farther than I did. He always does. 

Greetings and salutations

Good old-fashioned letters and greeting cards were keeping me company during the quarantine, pero ahora dije me que no puedo to send them because they might have coronavirus. So I just sit in the den and try to hold my breath. I refuse to give up my dark sense of humor, lest I become a dreaded Heather!

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…

Once the quarantines are over, make sure to find a music store (i.e., one you can visit) or attend a concert!

Cupid’s arrow

I’m missing my grandfather this morning, so I’m watching “Sanford and Son.” That show and “The Jeffersons” (and any old western) were his favorite shows.

Back in the day, these were my jams. (And I had a pair of ugly, ugly shorts that were actually called JAMS. Go figure.)