Daddy was a most unsymmetric man. His arteries didn't match. His eyes didn't match either, oh the color matched but one was noticeably larger esp in the pupil. I inherited his eyes and he warned me to be aware because if I ever got hit on the head and went to the hospital with different sized eyes, the docs would think I had a brain injury if I din't properly explain that no they were supposed to be like that. I wouldn't be surprised if I inherited an unsymmetric brain from him too, while I was at it. I laugh so hard every time some sculptor starts raving about symmetry = beauty, because Daddy was considered a real good looking guy in his younger days.
Happy Father's Day, Dad. I done the Lawyers Have Heart 3K walk today for you and Ma. Got up at 6:30 am on a weakened to do it too.
Changed a bunch of things in my life last week. I feel like I'm detoxing. I wish I could say it was pleasant and I felt all full of zing and vigor. Actually I felt like hell most of the time and had the lousiest most unproductive work week in recent history. Combination of missing my bad habits and having to feel all the things I was burying under them. It's getting better now though. Maybe I'm finally "in recovery" like I've always felt I needed to be, except I never got far gone enough to have a problem people would see as being a Problem and I don't really want to start. I just wish there was someplace people could go to get some Support without having to turn into diseasey drunk druggie compulsive spender gambler doper smoker bulemic wrex, first. I used to make the mistake of trying to get it from my "boyfriends", all of whom with the exception of Ted (who is not and never really was something I'd consider a "boyfriend" due to the near complete lack of em0 angst in our joint life) were about as useful to lean on as wet spaghetti. Most of those idiots couldn't support their own weight out of a paper bag, much less help me with anything in my life. Not that I ever really expected much out of dudes. I sometimes wonder how Mom coped with spending 20 years with a guy who in that span of time managed to almost die three times and get paralyzed twice, the second time for good. Now I understand why she always had a rosary glued to her hand.
I feel bad for Mr. Russert's wife, even though part of me is thinking she had it easy.
Btw, if you have a problem with prayer, fcuk off. If you have a problem with old people, fcuk off and don't die, get old and deal with other people having a problem with You. I've been meeting way too many people who have "Problems" with the above lately, or "Problems" in general, and I don't want to meet any more. Yes, I'm a Believer like the Monkees, and I still pray. My Old Boss is 92, my Mom is 83 and Retired DP Partner has got to be in his mid-late 70s at least. They all still drive when they have to. Yeah.
Oh, yeah. We lost the death case. Not surprised. Meh.
I am so totally in a different head lately than most everybody else. Want to be a betterstrongerfaster physicalspecimenofa lawyersculptormetalworkermusicianwriter.
Other than that, you know I'm all right.