I hate it when I am cranking out great works of literature and Windows decides to restart my computer because I “need” updates. I hate it when I think that my Vonage phone bill should be near twenty bucks, like I thought that I signed up for, but it is closer to forty dollars. I also hate it when Vonage charges me ten dollars to change to a less expensive phone plan. Come on y’ all why don’t you make it an even ten? Or twenty? Or two thousand?? I mean you have me under contract and can throw me to the floor in just about any manner, at any time, that you like.
I need coffee.
It’s four thirty a.m. and despite these minor inconveniences, I am glad as hell to be alive. The dogs, cats, and turtles are still asleep. They keep more regular hours than I.
I opened my comments box at OpenSalon.com to find this,this morning:
“Mikel, My dream is to personally meet at least some of the people who pass around lies like “writing matters” and “writers are paid” and beat them until they’re unconscious with a two-by-four filled with nails.”
Got to love sharing your experience, strength, and hope with the mass of man; remind me never to post my mailing address in this column, and gosh, oh my, I was hoping to hustle Christmas cards from you all.
I said, “Happy Holidays, or Merry Christmas…whatever you celebrate to a usually friendly lady, and she she practically screamed at me, “I CELEBRATE CHRISTMAS; THE BIRTH OF JESUS CHRIST.”
The song lyrics that come to mind here are,”Once there was a way to get back home.” I’m not sure why those particular lyrics come to mind as I recreate this event in my head; perhaps I yearn for simple times, times when I wasn’t aware of the hatred that people have for each others’ holidays.
On the other end of the spectrum, a few weeks ago, I said, “Happy Thanksgiving,” to a lady. She harumphed me, and said, “HAPPY HOLIDAYS,” letting me know that SHE knew full well that ALL the Indians had been killed by Columbus on Thanksgiving. I also got the impression that she was not thankful for anything. I’m sorry as hell that The Indians got fucked, but in my life, I look for things to be thankful for.
My computer has taken a dive, again; once more telling me that I need to turn to AC power when I am fully plugged in. It does this every so often(too often), and I am sick of it interfering with my writing. Can anyone buy me a laptop for Christmas, or whatever holiday that you celebrate?!
Henry and Anna are visiting us, again, today. Henry and Anna are the great, Great Danes who live next door. Henry is addicted to trying to involve you in a game of tug o war with his stuffed toy of the minute being what is tugged. Henry is one and a half years old and is full of life. He is playful like a little kid. Anna is nine and a half, she is the queen of the scene here on Vedado; she spends most of her time in bed, but really likes to eat.
I remember when I first met these two regal beings, how large they seemed, like mini-horses of some sort. Now they are huge in personality, but seem like Anna and Henry to me.
I made the mistake, recently, of following my Primary Care Physician, otherwise known as my Doctor, over to Kaiser Permanente. I was glad to stay with this woman who had kept me healthy, and hooked me into such a great network of doctors over twenty years years. KP wants everything; they won’t let you stay with your old doctors, you HAVE to come under their fold.
I hate being told what to do; I hate being coerced, and I am going to have to let my old doctor go, but that is what I am going to do. I’m not sure how to undo the mess that KP, and I by joining them, have created, but I will figure it out. I look upon “problems” as challenges, these days; nothing is going to bring me down, nothing is insurmountable.
Is it love when a woman vacuums your carpet for you?
Tune into The Daily K tomorrow to possibly find out, and to hear about how The Wayside Riders gig in Tucker, Ga. went down.
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