The rain finally came and washed the pollen off the car, and out of the air.

I feel better now.

I picked up a little book I bought years ago written by St Francis de Sales. I read a couple of excerpts. He evangelized in the Protestant city of Geneva, Calvin’s hometown, and brought thousands back to The Faith. His message was simple, gentle, and unapologetic about Catholicism.

Like this rain, his life and work and words were about cleansing, gently, in a world that needed it.

The Swing Of Yucky


Grinding on, allergies ebb and flow. I feel OK now, but give me a few minutes or hours, the pendulum will swing to the Not OK pole.

I am watching a Russian documentary about a top lieutenant of Stalin, Andrei Zhdanov. Interesting Stalin put him in charge of Leningrad and he led the city when the German besieged the city for nearly 900 days in The Great Patriotic War ( WW II).

Not much else to blog about


How else can I describe how I feel? The energy present during our late lunch/early dinner at Mellow Mushroom has dissipated. I am watching a Looney Tunes cartoon that I have seen countless times, A Corny Concerto. It is still funny and gorgeous to watch. It is a send up of Fantasia with some anti-Nazi imagery thrown in for good measure.

But I am overwhelming myself. More books came today, on important topics, Allen Dulles, and Washington corruption. My concern about public corruption and the morphing of American journalism into propaganda now has a longer reading list, but the reader (me) is lacking gumption.

The next cartoon is on. Can’t recall the title, but the soundtrack just played The Girlfriend Of The Whirling Dervish. There is patriotic imagery in this one too, a cartoon with mice and a tyrannical cat. The little guys (mice) won.

Think I will rest a bit. .

Some Enchanted Evening…. Just Not This One


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I have been waiting on J, since she got home. The dinner I prepared was well received. I thought the corn much more appealing than cornbread. It is hard to mess up slow cooker pork shoulder. The black beans were seasoned well with cumin, coriander, and turmeric. My improvisational Cole slaw dressing consisted of 2 oz of canola oil, 2 oz of apple cider vinegar,dill weed, dill seed, caraway seed, celery seed. Just be sure to stir it up real good so the oil emulsifies with the vinegar.

I am still dealing with the allergies. I want to sleep. I miss the pool but I can’t bear the thought of going anywhere.

So there you have it, folks.

Afternoon Of A Prawn

There’s something fishy about that pun.

J came home. We ate lunch. I had a nice vegetable omelette at First Watch. Then I bought fresh corn and a head of cabbage at Publix. I’m making cole slaw to go with the slow cooker bbq tonight. I also decided roasted corn was a better choice than corn bread for dinner, given I had grits with my omelette,

I’m doing more trainspotting and wishing my allergies would go away. I don’t remember them to be this bad.

Life is good, apart from feeling miserable.

Morning Becomes Afternoon

Sitting here, in my chair, sort of semi-awake, watching a Russian language show on YouTube. I understand almost nothing. I don’t really care. The images in my head are of sex. Nothing new there. I think of pleasure, power, intimacy, love in kind of an amorphous swirl.

No word from J on when her work is over for the day.

There is poison ivy growing in my backyard where I want ivy to grow. There is also an herbicide purchase in my future.

I feel allergies coming back. It is Spring, after all. There is only so much I can take, before I go back to bed. The discomfort tires me.

On YouTube, Oksana, the Russian Brassiere Maven, is holding forth on cups, straps, bands, what have you. She is a Master of the Science of Bra Fitting.

I suppose I should switch over to Daffy Duck, but no, this unintelligible language is so beautiful to listen to. Maybe Adam and Eve spoke Russian in the Garden of Eden. Who is to say they didn’t? I know, some smartypants anthropologist, but what the Hell.

Basketball. The University of Virginia won the NCAA 2018-2019 Men’s Championship. Exciting? Not really. It’s OK though. About as meaningful as The Miss America Pageant, but it sounds important. Maybe they should merge the two events, have the players play ball in evening gowns.

I switched over to trainspotting, just as the lawn mowing guys started outside my house. Feel sleepy. And hungry. And lonely.

Where is my wife when I need her?

Basic Husband Mistake

I just made a basic mistake all husbands make. I told my wife I would be coming straight home, then proceeded to stop along the way. I stopped off at the store to get something for tomorrow night’s dinner, plus strawberries, whole bean coffee and toilet bowl cleaner.

Then I had to decide between the roast beef or the pork shoulder, which brand of coffee to buy and lastly, how I would make this bowl cleaner purchase, I got excited when I tbought I could get something free if I bought two. So I rushed to the front of the store to check out the flyer that had the coupon. There I discovered the item I actually wanted was excluded in the offer. At that moment I saw that getting something “free” meant spending money on items I did not really need in the first place.

Meanwhile, my wife is wondering where in Heaven’s name I was and that the “be right home” statement was just so much hot air.

Bottom line to husbands, spouses, and members of long term dyads. Don’t do this..

Still. Tired.

It is almost 5:30. I have been home about 14 hours. I’m sitting in my chair, waiting for the Northbound Silver Meteor #98 to go through Ashland. I hear the train horn now, see the distant light on the screen. Cars and trucks are moving about the picture as Ashland stirs. The train is actually about an hour late. Here it comes now. The gates go down.  The interior lights of the train are off, except for the dining car.

J is getting ready for work. I will go back to sleep when she leaves.

Home: The Clean-up

Going away involves getting the dirty clothes from the trip washed when one returns home. I am doing that now.

I talked with #1 son last night. He wants to do more stuff with me. No problem there. He is far more emotional than I am and gives me feedback like it’s OK to cry. He told me he has a greater sense of my stepmother in his his life than my mother. Mother died in 1995, when he was 19. Dorothy, my stepmother, has been in the family since 1998, or twenty-one years. so he is right. My perspective is much broader, naturally. His concern around her current illness is quite painful for him. She is the last of the grandparents and step-grandparents in his life. Her passing will represent the final act of the Greatest Generation.

I have a post planned around the billboards I saw on the trip from The Villages through to our first stop in Macon, GA. In short, it seemed the ads for porn shops, liquor, erectile dysfunction treatments, hormone replacement therapy, HIV testing, and pro-life concerns outnumbered the usual exhortations to accept Jesus, once the billboard mainstay of the Bible Belt. Sexual liberation, it seems, is not without complications or limitations.

So I am tired. And hungry. I will have dinner with J when she gets off work at 2:30. I am incredibly glad to be home. I feel like I have been away from everyone here, my cyber-family.



I am home from this trip to Florida. The trip back transpired over two days, stopping in Georgia and North Carolina. I drove through the Durham area, where my deceased ex-wife grew up and where her family lived when we were married. I thought about my failure as a husband in that marriage.

Upon my return, I learned my 93-year old stepmother is in hospital with congestive heart failure.

Also my first wife, mother of my elder son is moving back to Richmond.

My life is taking on the makings of a movie on The Hallmark Channel.

I am tired. Physically. Emotionally I am overwhelmed.