Rumbling in the jungle

This has turned into quite a week. The week has seen a rain shower virtually every day. Followed by sunshine. We have had days of mail where nothing is in the box, followed by a day where every facet of the day seems to bring clients with problems and needs. That is good. Now Cindy and I are going to eat supper in Atlanta on Friday, perhaps with the Hopkins. Meanwhile, we are trying to work a Braves game on Saturday, when they are playing exhibitions with the Detroit Tigers. That is my two favorite teams. How about that? Meanwhile, the Megan and Missie show arrives for a three day run beginning on Friday. Can we work a baseball game into the middle of the craziness? We shall see soon. My hair is slipping from my head. I see it in the morning. I feel it in the evening. Oh well, I am 52. Some say that I look pretty young for my age. Both of my parents do, as well (that's for you mom and dad). We think Kate has pretty good genes. Tonight I feel good. Tomorrow brings more rain and depositions. Perhaps a trip to McDonough. And the high probate court of Henry County. Now the Judge has demanded that I run the newspaper citation in the local organ for Spalding County on my adoption, which is silly, since the potential putative father is an unknown man in Viet Nam. I am sure he subscribes to the Griffin Daily News. There is such coverage for the local organ in Viet Nam. As a matter of fact, I understand that everyone in Viet Nam is crazy for news about Central Georgia. Its just a crazy fact. We received a visit from salesmen (actually saleswomen) from a communication company from Marietta. They were trying to get us to sign up by the end of the March, which was Tuesday. But daddy said no. Now child has pulled up some negatives on the internet. Then I met with two salesmen from Atlanta. They were a guy from Buckhead who went to Georgia instead of W&L and a young guy from Ohio, who played football for Mount Union. That was kind of cool. It was a fun morning, but we shall see where it will lead. Kate and I are happy now. We want Cindy to be happy too, but she is sitting watching a detective movie with a dirty dog in her lap. Kissing the feet of the dog. Cindy, what are you doing? Meanwhile, Kate is cracking her nuckles. I guess that is how you spell that. My eyes are drying up, my contacs drying up at the end of the day. We have a quarter of a pizza in the kitchen. I should put it in the refrigerator so Kate can have some breakfast. We are heading toward Holy Week, beginning on this Sunday, Palm Sunday. I love Holy Week. It is the time in Christendom where we emulate the rest of the spiritual world. When we take it seriously. Even when we don't. I love Maundy Thursday service and the little Good Friday service. I don't understand why others don't too. It just doesn't make sense. It means so much. There are so many people who just show up on Christmas Eve and Easter Morning. What does that get them. I know that our faith requires communion with God and with each other. You can't have it without it. It is not genuine. I don't want to seem self-righteous. But there is such a thing as objective truth. It is not all subjective. You can't just skim across the surface. You need to dig into it deeper than the surface. It has to mean more than just a small part of your life. A compartment in your desktop. Kate wants me to include the fact that she has a bacon grease burn on her foot. It was a small problem which is probably more than she lets on. Her mother wants her to go to the doctor to get checked. I think that Kate will survive if she continues to treat it topically. Perhaps that is the time when you skim across the surface. This is how my brain works: now I am thinking about the water in the canals on the St. Pete side of Tampa Bay. Smooth as glass. So beautiful. Can you see the blue-green water on the edge of the water of Eckard College? Can you see the green, green grass leading up to the edge of the water? Can you feel the sun on your face? Can you close your eyes and sit still and see the snow white sand on the beach at Pass-a-grille in the afternoon? Can you hear the moan of the bagpipes as the man dressed in Highland dress plays tunes to the sunset? Feel the wind running from the western sky, blowing the crisp, dry sea oats across the sands. See the orange and pink dying at the end of day. Night sky at the beach is fine. But the morning coming up on the sand with a bowl of citrus fruit and a cup of tea, the wind blowing through my thin long-sleeved teeshirt. Take a shower and deliver your body down to the sea and let the salt water run across your feet and your legs. Until the end of day and another day beginning. The eternal waves running along the sands. Up and down. Forever.

This is how my brain works.