Showing posts from February, 2011

Jailed in a FreeCell

I'm beginning to feel like a mad scientist. Not the mad scientist in the middle of the movie, when he has been overtaken by his madness and is intent on destroying the world. Of course, the cinematic mad scientist, besides being mad, is brilliant enough wreak havoc all over the world. That he never destroys more than himself and his laboratory is because the hero is even more brilliant. You know the hero will triumph because he is younger, sexier, has better hair and doesn't have a sinister foreign accent. There is no dashing young hero in my movie. In my movie, the world is made safe by my ineptitude.

But none of that matters, at least right now. My madness has nothing to do with world domination. And at this moment I'm as sane as the next man teetering on the edge of insanity. I am the scientist when he is still aware that his mind is a battleground and that he's going to lose the battle if the cavalry doesn't show up soon. Late at night, in a corner of his labor…

Let the Sunshine In

Though I have spent the winter whining most of the time, I haven't been whining the entire time. Why just the other day I stumbled upon something I started on almost a year ago. So, I thought it would be wiser to dream dreams of summer than to wallow in the nightmares of winter.

Cuddles is now almost a year-and-a-half old now, and as the days get longer and the sun gets higher, she, too, is anticipating summer.

Let the Sunshine InNot yet a year old, Cuddles the Cat is experiencing summer for the first time. The sudden burst of heat and humidity that dropped by the other day didn’t faze her, although she is none too happy about changes it caused in her routine. The disappointment can be seen in her dreary eyes, her sad countenance and her shuffling gait. Where once there were thrills, excitement and activity, there are now two empty hours in Cuddles’ day.Whether the old Cuddles will reappear in October or be forever lost, a victim of the lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer, remains to b…

Is There a Longwinded Me?

Suzanne, our writing teacher, tells us every week to bring something from our longer work. I don't have a longer work. As a writer, I like to think I'm a sprinter, not a marathoner. I usually give out after two thousand words or so. Then again, maybe I'm lazy and just quit once the initial urge peters out.

There are times when I think I should write about my experience with Multiple Sclerosis. But every time I've tried to keep a journal, even those times before MS entered my life, I've quickly become a whiny bore. If I get disgusted after reading a few paragraphs about me - and I am my own favorite subject, you know - how long will those people who are not me last?

As it happened, Nancy and I were in San Diego over Christmas. The weather was wonderful - we got there the night all the rain in southern California ended. There were a few chilly days, but there were no sunshine-free days. I left there determined to immerse myself in a longer work. But all the enthusiasm …

The AARP Bulletin Came Yesterday

Brother Jim reminded me today that I have been ignoring my blogger duties. The truth is, this has been the winter of my discontent. We got back from San Diego on January 2, and a day or two later it snowed, and we never saw the grass again until the middle of last week. Last night the grass disappeared again under six or eight inches of snow.

Anyway, AARP has been getting the best of me lately, mostly because their magazine is dedicated to celebrities, who are mostly boring and have had so many face lifts their faces look like masks. Then came the January AARP Bulletin, which was all about boomers at sixty-five. It caused a reaction. Whether that reaction can be classified as getting things off my chest or merely as whining is for others to say. For better or worse, this is how I felt about the article at the time. A month later, I still feel that way.

The AARP Bulletin Came Yesterday

The AARP Bulletin came yesterday.
The AARP Bulletin, January issue,
all about Boomers at sixty-five:
busy, …