Maybe I Need to Walk There Again...

My doc asked me if I slept well. I said after sleeping several hours I wake up and use the bathroom but get back to sleep easily but then in a couple of more hours I wake for another bathroom break but them I sometimes don't get to sleep as easily and I have to get up and read a book for 30 minutes and then I sleep on till dawn or sometimes after. When you do the math that adds up to 7 or 8 hours sleep which the journals tell us is about enough. 

What I didn't tell him is that second wake up is usually after a very vivid dream that leaves my mind awake and busy. I also didn't tell him because a family doctor seeing a basically well patient that he can get rid of in less than 15 minutes or anyone else for that matter other than a blog reader does not give a flip about what you dreamed.  

A couple of nights ago I woke from a dream like this and carefully sat up on the side of the bed. I kept very quiet so as to not wake Cathy but I wanted to think it over and have good recall since there were many themes at work.

I dreamed I was walking through the French Quarter in New Orleans with someone I knew but it was like the person was a composite of every person I had ever walked through the French Quarter with and also every person I knew that had told me a story about walking through the Quarter. Soon we were out of the neighborhood influenced by the old Spanish and French styles of architecture and entered a darker more slum like area. World beat music with a lots of congas, heavy bass and soulful vocals in an African language carried to us from an indistinct source. It was loud but not overpoweringly so. My composite friend tripped along lightly, almost dancing, occasionally whirling around to see if I was still with him.

We came to what seemed to be fire escape type stairs and began to climb. The steps seemed uneven and hand carved. A tall man in colorful African dress began to ascend the steps behind us and we all arrived at an open air restaurant or bar.

Inside there were quite a few people sitting at a plywood bar on barrels for barstools and it seemed like I knew most of them. We talked about walking down Bourbon Street and after looking at a menu on the wall written in a foreign language that I couldn't make heads or tails of someone told me to order the mosquito plate. "It means something special to them" they told me indicating the waitstaff behind the bar so I ordered. 

A girl sitting next to me who I did not know asked if I always wore a suit. I didn't realize what I was wearing but it was my old grey thrift store sport coat. I told her yes, this color in winter but come summer I would shift to seersucker suits for the hot weather. She asked if I was heading back to walk down Bourbon Street. I said no. I might never walk down Bourbon Street again.

I awoke from the dream and after a period of thinking all this over it occurred that while I've been in the French Quarter a number of times over the past decade I have not actually walked down Bourbon Street since Mardi Gras 2014.  

I never did get that Mosquito Plate. 

               

             

When You Should Pick Up the Guitar But Don't....

 My resonator guitar was leaning on a stand in it's spot in the living room. Cathy's guitar also has a spot in the living room on a stand. The idea is that when creativity strikes instruments are handy and you grab one up and create. It's not always that smooth a process because I played a gig in October using this guitar and had not picked it up since. I played other guitars plenty. I played electric guitar in my room, bass guitar at church for services, a couple of funerals and weddings and of course tuba for a civic band concert, and several Drum and Tuba Christmas gigs. Yesterday I picked the resonator from it's stand, removed the stick on pickup and cord I use when needing to electrify it and said to myself, "self, you need to play something on this." I didn't and then that night I had this dream. 

In the dream I rode a bicycle on an East Texas farm road or isolated state highway shaded by tall pines. I turned on a dirt driveway and went through a cattle pasture gate and followed a rutted track to a small white frame house. I was expecting a party but there were no cars signaling the presence of people and I wondered where everyone was. I entered the house to find a room full of people sleeping on mattresses on the floor. Men and women slept together and some people slept on singles by themselves. I thought to leave but they invited me in and everyone rose from bed. They were all hippies, men with beards and shaggy hair, barefoot women with waist length straight hair, long dresses and plain cotton tops. 

As they got around neighbors, men, women and children from a house next door walked across an open field to join us. On a small rise of ground my late friend Gary, a bandana around his head sat playing his drums. As I think about it there may have been other deceased friends in the dream, all gone about the time cell phones began their rise to prominence and before Standley cups were such a thing.   

Here's Gary at the drums.       

In the living room of the old house people began setting up to play music. I expected Gary to bring in the drums but some other guy brought in a child sized set and put it up in a corner. While people were deciding who would stand where I sat down on my amp which had magically appeared but I did not have a guitar. I thought if I leave now on the bicycle I can go get my guitar and return by automobile but if I stay for the jam I'll be riding the bike home in the dark. 

This situation never concluded because I woke up to a windy storm. The power was out. I could hear high gusts of wind dancing the chimes on the porch. Those chimes are tuned to an E Major chord which is the very heart of rock and roll. Mother Nature played random never to be repeated arpeggios with the notes on the chimes and I though I heard snippets of "Rumble," "Smokestack Lightening," and "That's All Right Mama." Rain spattered across the metal roof of my house saying, "Wake Up Little Susie!" Get that guitar off the stand!  

  

It Always Happens When It Starts To Get Hot...

 When the weather starts to heat up watch the police report in your local paper. Usually someone get arrested for being in the drive through at Dairy Queen naked. I can see the chain of events that leads to this. It's hot, you are dressed for the weather, very comfortable and decide you want a dip cone. It's easier to forget to put on clothes than you think. If your local paper still carries national news flip to that section. Some ex government official who probably has on clothes has become hot enough to break the story, again, that yes Dorthey, they do have alien spacecraft, alien corpses and more proof that they have been visiting us for years it their possession. 

I wrote a song about this back about 1983 and I've probably blogged about it before but I have this theory expressed in poetry that aliens have been coming here a long time. They initially took cavemen up in their craft and then things got all messed up when the generals, the politicians, the scientist, the lawyers and the Republicans started being the ones to ride. See the cavemen, in case you may be a creationist is a metaphor for artists, poets, musicians, and just generally the good people in the world and I hope you get it because if you are thinking all those others are the good ones then you won't get it. This song goes so far back with me that I know people get it because any girl I every told this story to has gotten it, my kids get it because they know all the words by heart, the best man at my wedding got it because he knows all the words by heart and I have been fortunate enough to have backing musicians that get it because they will accompany me when I play.   

I do speculate that "they" may be breaking us in slowly before they start touring around debris that represent an alien craft destroyed on ground impact like it was some Bonnie and Clyde Death Car. Just remember I have been breaking you in since 1983.  Here's a clip from a couple of weeks ago. 

If you like that tune it's for sale on my bandcamp site for a buck. If you really get it and like dip cones hit the link below: 

https://account.venmo.com/u/Carl-Wallace-23

      

Things That Go Bump in the Night...

I started using one of those cpap machines. I think I've mentioned before that I snore loudly and according to my brother I did so as a child and I don't mean to infer that I've slept with everyone in town but a lot of people know about the snoring. A few months ago on a doc visit he put two and two together and asked me if I snored. When I said yes he asked if I would do a sleep study. He's a nice guy, he askes if you will do things as opposed to when I was practicing as a physical therapist assistant and I would tell patients that if they did not do what I said they were going to die. Smart patients already knew on arrival that to get through the situation they were going to have to do hard things and people that either were not so smart or had a resistance to doing hard things died in piles. I told my doc I would do a sleep study.  

Sure enough the sleep study showed I had what they termed mild apnea. I mean I know people who play gigs with guitars mildly out of tune without ever addressing the issue but they went ahead and ordered my machine. Apparently anyone who takes a sleep study has mild apnea because those machines are in short supply and it takes a bit to get one. 

The deal is that if you use the machine three months for at least 4 hours a night my insurance, Medicare, pays the rent and then I own the machine. They know if I'm using it because I scan it with my phone ever so often. I have driven the machine across the country, flown it on an airplane, slept in the camper under the east Texas pines and used it while cooled by gentle ocean breezes to fulfill my obligation.      

When I check in person with the rental company or my doctor with an occasional issue they check the reports from the phone and say "oh, you are doing so good." Then they write a note in my chart that says "PATIENT TOLERATED TREATMENT WELL CONTIUE TO FOLLOW MD ORDERS AS MEDICALLY INDICATED" and Medicare says , "well good, here's the money." I'm not complaining about this because I did the same thing, got that money and retired early and comfortably. 

I am complaining that I have not consistently slept well for several months now. I look at the clock and do some quick tuba player math on when four hours is up and then if I awaken and I've done my time the mask comes off.  Usually it's by then what Chuck Berry called the "Wee Wee Hours" which for me is between 2 and 6 am. I often have trouble going back to sleep so I get on up. Cathy, who has her own sleep problem of not being able to go to sleep says that the machine does keep me from snoring. A gag probably would also and might actually be more comfortable and a possibly a little bit sexy.     

Finally to get around to what this is really about is while I am up during those wee wee hours I hear things bumping around on the hot tub deck right outside my bedroom door. I have heard it before usually in the cool months of the year it seems. It's a sound like running, jumping, or scampering. I went out with a flashlight as I have before and I didn't catch anything in the act. Last night after a check I came back in and the noise started again after 5 minutes. I slipped out quietly, stood in the dark waiting and eventually flicked on the light but still no sighting of the perp. 

So what is it? Possum? there have been some sightings lately. Coon? Occasionally I see one out here. Rats? There is evidence that the cat is controlling this population. Cats? He does have friends. Aliens? I'm not saying it's aliens but it could be. 

So I don't know what goes bump in the night out on my deck. If I stay awake enough maybe I'll see it. The doc did ask if I thought the machine was helping me, making a difference. I am not sure at this time. I guess helping could be helping to catch a critter of some kind.

There is a show business story about the great singer song writer Roger Miller. When a band member was asked how long Roger had been awake he replied "I don't know, I've only been in the band a year."  

When I retired I thought about how life would be if I just slept when tired and got up when awake. Since I babysit grand kids who take an afternoon nap I usually join them so I guess I am kind of doing that.  

 

A Dream...

 I woke up about 5:30am after a dream. 

In this dream I was standing in the nurse's station of a hospital where I used to work. I was there as a physical therapist assistant to treat the patients in deficits of strength, balance and mobility. Before beginning these tasks I needed to see the charts and check for new doctor orders, the diagnosis, any medical precautions, discharge planning and the physical therapy goals to continue any treatments other clinicians had begun. 

The nurse station was absolute chaos and I could not find a patient chart anywhere. I asked a nurse where they kept the charts and she seemed incredulous that I did not know. I told her, "well it has been 11 years since I worked here and I thought things might have changed." 

Before I worked in hospitals and then nursing homes and as a home health therapist I had a career working at a paper mill. It's been 18 years since I last did that kind of work and I occasionally have a dream where I'm wrapping rolls of paper. About six months ago I told an old co worker I still dreamed about the mill. He said, "you too?" 

So once I was good and awake and thinking about these dreams I wonder is this some kind of anxiety dream? Some kind of striving to improve or something not found or attained? These thoughts led me to examine Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs which I have not thought too much about since Psy 101 and all those boxes seem to be checked off  

Maybe there is a patient progress note floating around out there that I have not signed. Since I'm retired and technically not even a physical therapist assistant anymore because I let my license expire good luck getting me to do that. 

         

When the First World Gets Too Much Take a Nap...

They say that in the USA alone over the past few years there has been over a million people die from Covid. You and I both know some of them. May the Eternal Light shine on them. I have Covid right now and thanks to science, doctors, nurses, vaccines, medicines, the government and many others it's pretty mild. A first world problem and inconvenience that mostly makes me want to take a nap. I like to take a nap. 

Given a bad case of the FOMO I'll skip that nap but I guess years of late nights playing music, shift work at the mill and early morning rises to drive all over East Texas to treat rural nursing home patients has left me the ability to sleep pretty much when or where I want to. Probably one thing you should know is that if I'm sleeping and you are not you might not because I snore loudly.

 I don't recall what the event was but 40 years or so ago I went somewhere with a group of folks, some married to each other, some brothers and sisters, some unattached and one girl's mom. Now that I think back that mom was probably 20 years younger than I am now. We gathered around a campfire, there was some beer drinking and at the end of the evening there was something like an old military barracks or summer camp bunk house with the kind of beds you might expect in a facility like that and we all claimed one and went to sleep and I slept well. 

Next morning several people mentioned how loud I snored. Maybe those unattached women were kind of sizing me up to decide if I was a keeper or not. I guess I got thrown back maybe because of the snoring but the mom did tell them, "ladies, at least you will know he's in the house at night." Sounds like the voice of experience. 

When me and Cathy were first married we slept intertwined and very close. We were young, in love, skinny and once when an overnight guest peeked in our room to see if we were up he thought one of us was out and about because the huddle under the covers seemed so small as to be one person. Now we look like two big skint mules each on our side of the bed. If you don't know how big a skint mule is you have never skint one. 

We are still in love, skinny enough but Cathy does not want that snoring in the ear anymore. You know how it is. After time everyone needs all the sleep you can get because of the job, the kids, the money and so on so nobody wants to be wakened to start worrying about all that stuff and a poor night of sleep just means another nap.

And nap I will. If the grandkids nap. I nap. On Sunday afternoon I might nap. Basically if I have nothing to do I will nap and with this mild case of covid I feel a bit achy, have decreased activity tolerance and a nap is about the best remedy available. For my physical therapy peeps in case you are worried about the old man staying in bed too much and blood clots and stuff like that I am doing my ankle pumps so when recovered I'll be in fine shape.  

So I'm back here in the back bedroom quarantine suite. It was effective a few months ago when Cathy staked it out and I never got Covid from her. It's quiet, cool and has a bathroom. I can sprawl out taking up all the room in the bed like she says I do anyway and if I nap for two hours then sit on the side of the bed for 5 minutes and then nap two more hours no one is the wiser and it does feel good at this point though I think I'm in for a boring week. 

I doubt anyone can hear me snoring but I'm not sure about that. 

 

Macho Mockingbird and Other Spicy Stories...

 I though I would flesh out the story of the Macho Mockingbird a little more. I have been thinking about a new tattoo and this certainly is a candidate because it does hold some transcendental meaning. It has a back story and could be related to events that may or may not or could or did not happen. Or maybe they did. People tell me stuff I said and did all the time. Like the facts involved here I don't always remember. Maybe I did, maybe I said, maybe not.

Some years ago before blogs and internet influencing, before conspiracy theories and when global warming had not come to the attention of certified YouTube researchers me and Scott Smith (yes that's his real name) came up with an apocalyptic sci-fi novel idea. It started when Mr. Smith saw a mockingbird, the State Bird of Texas, eating habanero peppers from his garden. That was a macho mockingbird for sure and when it came time to bottle hot sauce Mr. Smith got his artist friend, Jon Stuart Anderson  to draw a logo. I was proud to receive a bottle. I love hot sauce.

Now we know how much trouble it is when something that is so much fun and we love so much happens to be illegal. Like say, catching as many fish as you can or driving as fast as you can. Fun stuff. Pick your own poison. What if hot sauce was made illegal? 

So from these events and ideas the story of a near future where an evil government has outlawed hot sauce. A good old boy is growing banned peppers deep in the pine forests of East Texas. To spread the freedom of the burn to the word he must avoid the authorities by stealing down the Neches Rive in a 12' flat bottom boat powered by a 1954 five and a half horsepower Johnson outboard motors. His destination is a shady connection at the river's mouth near Beaumont, Tx.

In addition to the atom bomb metaphor of peppers and hot sauce being illegal other murky environmental events, wars and domestic terrorism have rendered the river back to it's free flowing state and made many technologies such as modern outboard motors with computer brains that require fancy gas, oils and lubricants useless. 

With the relentless rain and flooding we have had lately I doubt you could find your way down the main river channel so you are probably getting the idea by now. A good, honest man takes on evil, injustice, and global warming. The animals are his allies and are led by the Macho Mockingbird. He wins by being the spiciest guy around.

Actually I think a rough draft or first take on this idea exists on paper somewhere. It's probably in a pretty crude state but it might be an idea that comes to maturity one day. 

In the mean time keep an eye on lawmakers. You never know what they are thinking. 

If I show up with a Macho Mockingbird tattoo maybe you better get one too.             

   

 

Reading Suggestion While Stuck at Home...

I used to read a lot. I think in the 4th grade I read 145 books that year. Only person who read more was a girl. I kept this reading up for several decades till life seemed to get busy and the internet came along so I only had time for things read quickly online or in magazine articles. Over the past year I have picked up the pace for books.

I do the Amazon Kindle thing, reading the free books offered on Prime. A forgotton password and a possibily imagined conflict/persecution by the powers that be have locked me out of that avenue and that may be just as well. It's forced me to return to the many shelves of books we have collected up over the years. 

This week I picked up a John Brummer novel Children of the Thunder. It had a book mark from a used book store tucked inside and I don't think I have read it. These are the works of his I own that I could lay my hands on and I think there are others around.   

Brunner who died in 1995 was a Englishman and probably best described as a sci fi writer but I like to call his work speculative fiction since it often takes place in the near future not too many years after it was written. Wiki gives him credit for predicting computer worms and virus, online encyclopedias, genetic engineering, same sex marriages, pot legalization and Viagra. All these old books describe a world not too much unlike the one we live in now. In Children of the Thunder there is a paragraph, just thrown in, where the characters are rushing across town but are delayed by a passing protest of the pro dog vs. the anti dog people incited by the discovery of rabies in a certain area of the country. There is no more detail than this but it sets a feel for the society of the novel and for current events in our times.

Brunner, being an English man received criticism for being too Americian in his writings but these books have many references to English life that will not be read through or apparent to the average American as a book you might pull from the New York Times Best Seller List.

Two of my favorites, not pictured here but probably in the house somewhere are The Sheep Look Up and Stand on Zanzibar. I think in the last scene in The Sheep Look UP characters stand on the shore of the British Isles and say "What's that smell?" Some one replies, "It's America, burning."       

  

The Christmas Possum and Other Stories...

Miguel Sr. is still in the hospital. He might look a little better today after his surgery yesterday but things are still very serious. Please pray for him. Even though he is sick and lies unknowing in a hospital bed for the time being life goes on around us. 

This morning I plunge through the door at 6am headed to work. On my door step doing it's best baby Jesus imitation is a possum in a wire cage.Instead of wrapped in swaddling clothes it's wrapped in a Dallas Cowboys blanket. It has this note:

Seems in the middle of the night at the Zamora home a very large possum in the attic crosses the pull down steps and the steps sink down to the the lower level, the people part of the house and expose possum to people. An hour long chase ensues, possum ends up wearing Mary's boots but Miguel nets possum like a Greek fisherman nets squid in the Aegean Sea. Possum ends up at my house. I am in a hurry, work awaits and I am busy there. No time for possum so I release him right there in the garage. Possum runs in flower bed and hides. Here's what hiding possum looks like:

Shortly we will be gathering for Christmas. We will draw names to see who brings the Christmas possum next year. 

As I mentioned I am busy at work. I will see patients at two different facilities both days this weekend.  Some one told me I would be bored with nursing home work. I'm not. There are plenty of challenges. Cathy is also working a 7 on 7 off at night and we have been passing each other in the doorway lately. That's ok. Work is a good thing. 

On the guitar making front I sold another guitar. It was the Big Ben can guitar. Use the blog search feature and you can find it. I have another very sweet one that I think is the best I have made. Pictures to come soon. 

Tomorrow is Selena, Miguel's sister's 14th birthday. Friend her on facebook. Maybe you will get invited to the big Quiencera to be held when she turns 15 next year. We will be playing the music for the Mass. 

So there you have it. All this uproar almost has me night screaming and I did not even relate the dream I had last night. It was a pretty good dream but a little strange and I'll save that for later. 

As I say, life goes on. I know this is mostly the stuff about me but I know it goes on around you also. 

Put a Political Sign in My Yard...

You know how some people are stocking up prior to the coming election on guns, ammo and canned goods to be well prepared for the end of rational times and the beginning of renewed night screaming? Well I been doing that too. Only thing I had not counted on was using up my supplies before the first ballot was cast. I was glad that the kids were here this past weekend as they helped me stave off an assault on the political yard sign I put up. 

First photo has Katie nailing the first one that tried to take my yard sign. 

Second photo is Peter getting him some. Peter reportedly had never shot a gun. He caught on quick. He only needed Rose's help to finish off a few cripples. 

Remember how I mentioned stocking up on canned goods? They are gone in a good old East Tex blaze of gunfire and popped tops. 

Last Photo Peter lowers his draw to check if there is anything still moving in the bush. Mary says "did you see that last one jump!"  

Mary Studies...

Sneaked this photo of Mary studying for a test the other night. She is taking a nurse aide course at the local JC. Her clinical rotation will be at a local nursing home/rehab facility where some of my patients go on discharge from the hospital. Should I help out here? Maybe give Mary some tips or tell the patients to watch out for her? Hard to decide whose side to be on, might have to go with the patients on this one.

Anyway seeing her study brought back some memories from my days at school. I just renewed my licence, already been two years since I graduated. As I reminisced back and and she studied I thought about some of those blogs I wrote about night screaming. There were folks who got a real kick out of that. They thought I was being funny. I don't think they knew it was real. I was scared. After my job layoff I was close to being nothing.

I haven't had to write about night screaming in a long time.

Not Really Night Screaming, But...

I did have a strange dream. In the dream I was at work, (I did not relate this dream to any of my co-workers) and I was necked in the whirlpool room. Not exactly necked, I had on (my head) a camo trucker hat from the Rusty Hook Bait and Tackle, a 24 hour bait shop that (pre- Ike) used to be out on the west end of Galveston Island and a pair of brown (on my feet) crocs. I do actually own the Rusty Hook hat, it hangs on the hat rack, but I do not own any crocs.

Usually being necked in the whirlpool room is not a problem. If a doctor has ordered a whirlpool for a patient, that patient has to be necked in the whirlpool room. After the whirlpool, the patient gets dried off and gets a fresh gown. Only thing, in the dream there were no gowns and towels stocked where we usually keep them.

So I was kind of stuck. I peeked out the door, saw none of my coworkers, maybe a good thing, maybe a bad thing since I needed some help. Seems there were a few people around that looked to the door when they heard it open for my peek but things get hazy here in the dream and seems like they did not spot me or maybe just acted like they did not see anything. My wife says people do that a lot, they act like they don't see the things I do.

So anyway that's the dream, I woke up before anymore damage could be done. May be you folks can help. Seems like when you tell someone about your dream they might have a second person sight that sees some meaning you cannot.

Cleaned out real good...

At least that's what the Doctor who performedmy colonoscopy said today. Funny how just a little bragging on a person like that can make you feel so much better.

Anyway it was no big deal. The cleaning out the night before was not so bad. At the hospital I dressed in a gown and was warned to remove wedding rings and piercings. I rolled to my side and watched a couple of injections go in my IV. Next thing I knew I was sitting in a chair and my wife was there. She said the doctor said there was a lot of twists and turns. I was glad it was interesting for him.

Sometimes people worry they may say stuff when they put you under. You know, embarrassing stuff. Click on the labels below and you will have an idea how it went for me.

Dream Away...

Those old night screaming days seem long past. I sleep quite well in fact sometimes never even waking up. That's pretty good for an old guy. I take that as a sign of good health, you know the plumbings work good and the blood sugar must be controlled. I do dream though.

Couple of nights ago I dreamed I was looking at my other other self in action. I was myself in the dream and I was in some sort of symphonic band setting with my tuba. I looked essentially like me. Not this other other self, he looked kind of like me and I was able to recognize that on some level that I was watching myself. I don't know if other people in the dream knew it was me but they were watching this version of me too.

This other other self had long hair, past shoulders flying in the wind. I have had hair like this before. He was chubby, in the face and in the belly. I mean I am kind of fat, but this guy was bigger. He had those spectacles that turn dark when you go outside. He was grinning seemingly having just pulled some humorous stunt that everyone was watching. The grin was a big tooth hungry grin that reminded me of an early 70s concert poster I saw in an antique store, a reproduction I am sure, of a young, shirtless Elton John with a hungry look on his face, the poster being in the chitllin circuit style you might see posted on telephone poles and grubby quick stops advertising a performance by Bobby Blue Bland, Chick Webb or old Candy Likker. Please don't Google Elton John if you don't know who he is. You won't find this poster. Don't Google Chick Webb or old Candy Likker either for that matter. People ask me all the time how I know about these things like this and I don't have time to tell you.

Anyway, the other other self had on an off white button up shirt with wide green vertical stripes, worn outside the waist band. It was the kind of shirt that makes you look at your own shirt just for an affirmation that you are ok. When I looked at my shirt in the dream it had horizontal green stripes. May be I'm not ok, maybe the message here is that I'm going to be sick, real sick.

other other self had on off white khaki shorts, knee length. He had on those leather shoes, kind of a woven deck style, brown, without socks. You have seen middle age guys wear shoes like this, with a woven brown belt to match, no socks, usually a polo shirt tail tucked in and denim shorts purchased at Sears or JC Penny. Their legs are usually that fake golden looking tan teenagers get at the tan getting place and are not very hairy. I always stare and just cannot tear myself to look away when I see a Guy dressed like this, kind of like when I spot a dog taking a dump on the road side. I must look. And keep looking. I know it makes them uncomfortable, ( not talking about the dog any more) but it's not sexual. I am really trying to cipher out some man thing I don't understand that says this style of dress looks good. It's as if I came on a centaur, he's man from the knees up, but down below is some androgynous thing.

With that picture, I awake. Pretty vivid, colors remembered real clear and everything. I ponder all these things in my old head a few days, what does it mean? Then I post. They will know.

No emails this morning...

I woke this morning to an empty email inbox. The King of Nigeria snubbed me last night. He failed to require my help with the family fortune. My classmate who always sends me a card that can be viewed at the linked page must have dumped me.

So I rose from the computer. I went to the door. I stuck my head out just enough to feel the first breath of the dawning day's August heat. I hollared:

"Whoa, ya'll come through here. Hey, ya'll come through here. I said ya'll come through here. Ya'll come through here. Whoa, ya'll come through here. Ya'll come through here. I said, ya'll come through here. Hey, ya"ll come through here..."

Serious Night Screaming...

I studied all weekend for my board test this coming Thursday. I am really nervous, night screaming is in full force. The neighbors seem to be gone on vacation, maybe they knew it would be like this. Seems like all I have done is toss and turn and sweat. Don't know what kind of shape I'll be in on the actual day.

Took a bit of a break yesterday as Anne, her kids and her grandson from Australia came for a visit and spent the night. We went to the ball park and watched Morgan's softball game and during it I became antsy thinking I should be home studying. Cathy wants to go fishing today after I get off work, but I just don't think I could enjoy myself think about study when I should have fun. Just not capable right now.

I have taken about six practice exams since the beginning of May or so. I have passed 3 and failed three. Some grades real good, some not so good and that worries me that the performance is spotty. I can think that, well I took that one after work so I was tired or I studied all day and then took that one that night so I was burnt out and stuff like that but at the rate I tossed and turned last night I might be pretty tired by the time I take the real test.

Maybe work will relax me today. I have not seen my patients for three days so I wonder how they are. Might be good for me to think about someone else beside me.

Goofy grad pictures...

Got these from a company that snapped shots as we walked across the stage. They want me to buy them.

Pose 1, if you can read the caption, shows me shaking hands with some one that never lectured in any of my classes, never had to hear me cry and help me wipe my tears or has any idea what night screaming is all about. Notice the tassel swinging out jauntily.

Pose 2 was found posted on one of those terrorist web sites that they use to whip other wise normal folks into a frenzy over one thing or another. I forget which side it was on. I was advertised as either the new secret weapon or the new secret weapon for the other side, I forget which they were claiming. Note the tassel. Stuck in my whiskers. I was aware of this at the time, all I could think was "blew that shot."

By the way, I scheduled my board exam. It's June 14th in Tyler at high noon. Don't worry, this is not an invite to be there, just keep me in your prayers that day.

Two More Weeks...

One week at the clinic and one week in the classroom in Kilgore and the nightmare of the last three years will be over. Time for the new nightmare of the National Board Exam. There has already been a bit of night screaming going on concerning that.

Maybe I am a little tired. I worked this weekend and it was the easiest weekend this year. I came home early and took a big ugly nap Saturday and Sunday afternoon. I guess night screaming is taking it's toll. Sometimes you just hit a brick wall.

Looks good for this week at the clinic. At least three free meals are on the books, a vendor inservice with lunch provided, the employee picnic and they plan on taking me to lunch. After all the years of shift work there is nothing like day shift workers going ape shat over free food. Despite the smell it creates a very festive atmosphere.

I think Mary should be home from the band trip. Been awful quiet around here without old Bear Wallace. Maybe there will be some pictures to post here, provided they won't get her kicked out of band or something. Me, I understand what musicians do on holiday.