“Our own life has to be our message.”–Thich Nhat Hanh
None of the Local Fitness Centers, that I called today, nearly 13 in all, have the Regional Sales Office phone number, or so they say. I was calling fitness centers in New Jersey, and at one location, I wound up talking to a guy in California, who mispronounced my name, but assured me that the information that I had just given him would get to the people who I wanted it to get to.
Sales is a funny game. Nobody really wants to talk to you, until you convince them that there is something in it for them; then, the bonding is immediate: you have a new friend, and both of you are happy.
My head isn’t quite right, yet, this morning; it is groggy, foggy; refusing to come to a waking state. I am hoping that a large cup of coffee, a BC Powder, Martha Argerich, and a walk with the dogs will change this.
The Monster Fitness Club is giving me strong resistance to putting our swimming lessons in their pool. The last person I talked to, a woman in Membership Services, at a number in Sacramento, Calif., where The Corporate Office is located, said that we would interfere with their customers’ use of the pool by giving swimming lessons in it.
I handled her objection, by saying that we would be completely unobtrusive in the one lane that we would use, to start, during off times. The women then gave me what she said was the corporate office p.o. box. Imagine that; a huge corporation making millions of dollars, and they get their mail at a p.o. box. Life never fails to amaze me. The woman would not give me the corporate office phone number. I guess these corporate officers don’t want to talk to anyone!
Lousy thoughts sometimes want to push their way into my mind, when my head has awoken full of love. There is an art to keeping these bad thoughts out, that I have nearly perfected: shoo bad thoughts; shoo.
The dogs are needy this morning; they all gather about my desk, instead of doing their own thing. They seek snacks when I go into the kitchen, pats on the head when I sit at my desk. Henry had Morisson’s new toy in his mouth for much of the time, the time when he is not barking at me for attention, or heading to the water bowl, or the toilet for a drink. Morisson seems to be sharing his new toy well; he is like that.
I love the fact that I have, yet again, woken up.
What do you do when you have only two hands, but there are three dogs demanding your attention?!!
Kitty Kobain will eat peanut butter mixed with oatmeal off of my knee; he won’t eat plain ole peanut butter off of my knee though, but Henry will, so the peanut butter on my knee is all gone.
The dogs are napping, after our 39 minute walk. I accidentally disturbed them by mistakenly turning Rush Limbaugh on. Dear Dogs: I am most heartily sorry!
Up at 8 something: gagged on grounds at the bottom of my coffee.
Know it alls know it all; I am amazed by how self-righteous some American males get when it comes to politics: they think that they know it all, when, really, probably, none of us know anything.
I know that I have brought Henry over early to visit this morning. He was barking a tad next door, in his apartment, letting me know that he wanted to come over; and since I have no business phone calls to make this morning, I am glad to have his company. Henry fits right into the scene, here, with myself, my dogs, cats, and turtles. He is a joy to have about; except when he starts barking at people who pass by the abode, and butterflies who are sleeping.
K Pics Below: Top row left to right, Kyle Caldwell and Mikel K; Art Linton; Art Linton and Clark Vreeland, jamming together more, and more, they are.
Middle row: L to R Beth Vreeland playing bass by the fire at Kyle Caldwell’s Oakhurst Birthday Bash; Artist Lake Sirmon & Mikel K at Lake’s Art Opening at The Coffee and Bagles Co.; Artist Jane Elliot Reis, taking in the beauty of it all.
Bottom Row: Ginger Murchison and Mikel K at Ginger’s North Georgia Poetry Reading(The Johns Creek Poetry Festival); K on the mike in a Woodstock Studio, and Billy Fields in the same recording studio with K, doing what he does.
My dog, Bundy, probably could have used stitches, recently, after being attacked by a neighborhood dog, but I didn’t have the money to go to a vet, so I just prayed that his wound would heal. My prayers have been answered; Bundy’s bottom lip is almost completely healed.
There are so many things that we think that we need in this existence; and then some that we really do. It is nice to have the things that we really need, and, also, nice when we realize that we do not need everything that we want.
Are you crazy if you sing Tom Petty songs to your dogs, and cats; and prance about the abode like you are Mick Jaggar? And why does the site of a pretty girl often make me want to break out into a Van Halen song, one of the ones that the band played when David Lee Roth was still in the band?
We’re all Huge Superstars when we are cleaning the kitchen counter, and the animals are a captive audience, because they think that I am in the kitchen to get them a treat!!
I’m not sure if I should take my nap, and then take my bike ride; or if I should take my bike ride, and then take my nap.
Sloan Rainwater: Ride the bike. Take the nap.
Pigpen S House: If you had a stationary bike you could take a nap while riding the bike…
I decided to take the nap first, and I feel most excellent, now, for having done so, but I am going to go to the Yoga studio for practice, before I ride my bike; before I do that, though, I am going to drink this huge cup of coffee that I have made me.
All my exercise has made me tired, but the beauty of the day makes me want to stay in it, though I know(hope and pray)that another day awaits me tomorrow.
I am trying not to overeat the chili that I made this afternoon. It is a great batch, so it is a hard thing to not eat it all. I love to overeat, and then pass out on the bed, but I, now, know that that is not good for me, so I try not to do it. I think that I should walk the dogs in order to get away from the kitchen.
If the world is about to end
I don’t want to watch it end on the television
I don’t want to listen to it end on the radio
I don’t want Rush Limbaugh or Sean Hannity
or Al Bore or Obama
to tell me that it is going to end.
I want to die feeding my cats,
or taking my dogs for a walk,
oblivious to all but what I can see in front of me.