“I usually take a two hour nap from one to four”
“No day is so bad it can’t be fixed with a nap.”
–Carrie P. Snow
“Set aside half an hour every day to do all your worrying; then take a nap during this period.”–Source Unknown
I reached a point in my life where I was tired all the time. I would sleep from 8 to 12 hours, wake up, take the kids to school, come back home and sleep until it was time to pick the kids up from school, and then I would sleep until it was time to go to work; and no matter how much I slept I was always exhausted. I also snored a lot, and I snored very loudly, and very deeply. One night, I woke up in the middle of the night to see my gal sneaking out of the bedroom, holding her pillow.
“Waaaaaaaaaaah,” I said, “Where are you going?”
“You snore too loudly,” she said. “I can’t get any sleep.”
The next morning, over toast, my gal told me that she thought that I might have Sleep Apnea. I had never heard of Sleep Apnea, but I was very tired of being very tired all the time, so I called a Sleep Doctor, and made an appointment.
After consulting with The Doctor, he sent me to a sleep lab, where I spent the night, my head hooked to a multitude of wires. The result was that I did indeed have Sleep Apnea.
From that point on, over a decade ago, I have slept with what is known as a CPAP machine. I wear a mask over my nose that shoots air down my nostrils keeping my breathing passage open. Besides being a bother to the woman, or man, that you love, Sleep Apnea is also very dangerous; it can kill you.
My CPAP machine has made an incredible difference in my life. These days, I am well rested, and don’t snore like a volcano about to erupt. God Bless America.
You can read more about Sleep Apnea at this Wikipedia link, and by Googling it: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sleep_apnea
Dude is visiting, and I hear a skirmish between my cat Kobain, and Dude. Dude is half rotweiller, the large half, but Kobain is hissing at him like he don’t care what breed Dude is part of, or how big he is.
Usually, Dude is the guilty one, in these little fights that the two have; he follows the cats about the abode like they are long lost friends. Kobain wants no part of Dude’s friendship, but, right at this moment, he wants part of Dude’s breakfast, and I have sanctioned Kobain’s raid on Dude’s meal, unwittingly, calling Dude to task because the cat is hissing at him.
Kobain has his fill of Dude’s food, and walks off. Dude follows him; he seems slow to learn that the cat wants no part of him. As the two walk off, my other cat, Jaggar, strolls up to Dude’s bowl, and starts eating. Dude comes back to his bowl, and Jaggar starts hissing at him. It is not until Jaggar has left that Dude can start to eat his breakfast. And here, all along, I thought that it was the dog picking on the cats that was the problem when Dude visits.
I was up at 7:30 a.m., this morning, to find that Bundy had knocked out all the electrical cords, in one outlet, so I had no internet, and couldn’t figure out why, for a minute. Bundy likes to sleep on the cords; poor dog, maybe I should buy him a bed.
Some guy, on the internet, read what I wrote about buying Bundy a bed, and left what I interpreted as a sarcastic comment, of sorts; he said, “All good dogs deserve a bed.”
You raise your dogs, pal, and I’ll raise mine. A funny thing happened though, as I was walking home from Yoga, last night: my neighbor, Lisa, was out on her porch, and I hollered hello at her from the sidewalk. She hollered to come in for a minute, and said that Jackson, their loaner dog, had gone back to the farm that he came from to breed other dogs, and did I want his bed for my dogs?
Bundy has a bed, now, and is sleeping on it this very minute. Things mostly work out the way that they are supposed to, if you let them. I give praise to my Higher Power who has kept me sober for 19 years on February 5. It is truly a gift to be alive. I have to take the dogs out now. Have a great day.
K Pics Below: Top Row is all Clark Vreeland. Second Row Left: Beth Vreeland on bass Middle: Mr. and Mrs. Vreeland Right: Drummer Bob Rice. Together, Clark, Beth, and Bob, as a musical group are known as Spanky and The Love Handles. 3rd Row: Left: The Fabulous Sue Wilkinson Middle: The Fabulous Art Linton Right: The Fabulous George Trotter. Sue and Art played a set for the event. Bottom Row: Left: Artist Jane Elliot Reis Middle: Mikel K & Beth Right: K joins the Vreeland / Wilkinson Band to read some K Poems. It was a great night!
On my bulletin board I have a picture of a friend who got shot in the jaw, and lived; and I have a picture of a friend who did drugs,one night, as he often did, and died. I have pictures of my kids on the bulletin board, and I have a picture of my grand kid. Each one of the pictures serves to remind me of how beautiful life is.
Someone stole my wooden giraffe, off of The Love Porch, and they left the head to my cookie jar pig sitting next to the pig’s body, which means that they opened the pig up hoping that there would be something of value in there. There wasn’t. And there was no money left on the grocery store gift card that they took, either; I had used the card to scrape snow, and ice, off of my neighbors car.
Do they really think that I am stupid enough to leave cards with value out on the porch?
The porch has not been violated, before, in the 2 1/2 years that I have lived here; but I was warned by The Landlord, when I moved in, not to keep anything of value on the porch, that homeless crack heads sometimes wandered the neighborhood.
What the hell does a homeless crack head want with a wooden giraffe?
Atlanta painter, and blues/rock artist Clark Vreeland turned 60 on Saturday, January 29. This is no small feat; Vreeland lived the hard style rock and roll life for much of his life, consuming enough drugs, and alcohol to have certainly put him under at a young age, but Vreeland is a survivor, and he gathered with friends, and fans, to celebrate his 60th at The Railroad Earth Recording Studio, where Vreeland has done much production work over the years.
Every Picture tells a story, don’t it?
Clark’s Website: http://www.clarkvreeland.com/
My kitchen is not as nice as your kitchen
but when we get to Heaven, or Hell,
our kitchens won’t matter.
I love the crispness of the air in winter
it seems clearer to me somehow.
It seems easier to breath
the heater nearly suffocates me
steals most of what I have from my wallet.
Please help us keep the lights on, and food
in the refrigerator, at The Daily K, with a donation
to The Mikle K Tip Jar at: http://www.mikelk.com/
You can buy an E copy of one of my four memoirs, “The Delivery Guy,” “Did You Write the Book of Love,” “Baking Banana Bread from Scratch,” or, the one that I just finished, “I’m Glad To Be Alive,” by putting $10, more, in The Mikel K Tip Jar.
I can send you a chapter of each book, or of whichever book you like, to help you make up your mind. Thank you, in advance, for your purchase. You can also buy a paperback copy of, The Delivery Guy,” and one of my poetry books, by going to: http://stores.lulu.com/mikelkpoet
Free Spay for your pet if you live in Dekalb County:
I always want more of Mikel K. 🙂
Sue G., I love your ominous sound.
“Work It Out”!
Thanks for Reading!