Stories - FD Thornton

  Staring once again at the blinking cursor gives me a momentary frill cause I never know what the next words are going to be. Staring out into the quiet blue sky, the apartment across the way seems so peaceful. Painted light green with white trim, it looks like a large family home in any modern suburb. With iron fencing around the property with a picnic area and a playground, it looks so inviting. Yesterday afternoon we signed our second year lease with the same apartment we signed our first lease. In between the property was managed and maintained by another company we hardly ever saw. But starting last month our old manager and maintenance man came back after what I could guess was a crappy year of managing. I guess even in the world of corporate housing, good help is hard to find, when wanting to turn a profit. But enough about profit margins and shareholders dividends the world is so much more than greed and return on investment. Funny that for nearly three years of my lif...

George the Duck   Had another hard night sleeping till I woke up around 4:30 this morning. Then around 6:00 the phone kept pinging repeatedly by my “Waljacked Shopper” asking about substitutes on my order. Other than that, I’m not the snotty mess I was yesterday, I think the replenishing of lost fluids did the trick. While part of me thinks it’s way too early to be doing any high functioning thinking this morning, the more cynical side of me reminds me there’s never too much high functioning going on anyway. So with all my Southern Baptist charm, let me extend to you a “Good Morning, Ya’ll!”. I can’t seem to get my mind out of the future tense. Meaning my mind is focused on things that are to take place down the road and not right now. I doubt I have to tell you how that can create mistakes in the moment, much less anxiety about the future. But with my already hyped up brain planning as it does. I can’t help but worry about the logistics of an upcoming medical procedure I am goin...

  After a little too much “Thump, Thump” from the parking lot last night, I finally went to sleep. I was then awakened by the ding on my phone with the bank telling me I wasn’t broke… yet. Getting up did a little manly maintenance then started my day. I thought about heading to the local state park, till I realized it’s the day before Easter and thought better of it. It’s not that I mind hearing little youngins hunting Easter eggs, as much as it’s the glare I get from the parents. All wondering what a old fat white guy is doing in the park all alone staring at their kids. I can’t say I blame them though, cause I would do the same thing. Anywho, I’m sitting here at my desk enjoying the relative quiet of the morning. Watching my neighbors shuffling back and too from the apartment building next door. I just got through posting the last story I worked on, and my mind isn’t really in any headspace. Just letting the noise of the box fan absorb the clutter, allowing these words to flow ...

Adobe Stock   After hours of navigating construction zones and oversized loads, I finally made it home. We signed paperwork for a young woman who hasn’t found herself yet, with a large tabby cat and a boyfriend wanting babies. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that at 64 I still ain’t figured nothing out. So I gave her the same old stick about my overachieving kids, leaving out the parts where I couldn’t help them one bit. Why spoil the life of a bright eyed kid, full of potential and student debt. I remember sitting in classrooms with young people, with so much hope and energy, while me and the instructors would laugh under our breath. Now as my own children settle into middle age, even their overachieving minds can’t help but see the doom and the greed. Just like my grandparents probably thought to themselves, energy and ambition is wasted on youth. So I sit here too tired to even make myself a sandwich or watch my soaps. Busy typing out thoughts that only a handful of you ...

Adobe Stock   Nothing can kill your inspiration quite like trying to pay bills while “robbing Peter to pay Paul”. All day today I’ve found myself playing “Wack-A-Mole” with utility bills, apartment rent, and loan payments. All while trying to squeeze blood out of a turnip, as my Grandma would say. Even now with most every option and angle worked out, I still find my head spinning with the wheeling and dealing I’ve had to do. But to my average reader I ain’t telling you anything you don’t already know. It’s just when you think you’re three moves ahead, something new comes along that drags you back to the starting gun. I hate talking about money, I wish my life by now were comfortable enough that what I made would be enough. But it never is, is it? Light bulbs go from costing $1 a piece to $4 with a promise of costing you least. To buying a pretty new shiny light up keyboard to help the strain on your glaucoma-laden eyes. I know I picked a shitty time to write anything right now, b...

  For us it’s a Red Flag Day, which for us has nothing to do with the coast. But has everything to do with low humidity, high winds, and fire warnings in the area. But looking outside I don’t see anything but low hanging grey clouds and wind. But the forecast calls for partly cloudy skies and high winds, so there’s a risk for fire. Yesterday our youngest child began moving in some of his stuff from his former residence. So by the first of the month we’ll be one packed in family again. I can already see the strain creeping in, the outward disrespect he has for his mother and older brother. Traits that irritated me in the old house and I plan on stopping in the new house. The biggest irritant will we loosing my office and moving all my shit into the bedroom. So no more view of the pecan grove and hello to the apartment across the way. I’ll miss my morning sun, but I won’t miss the glare. It’s just a shame the morning view and opened windows will be lost to black out curtains and sing...

  I didn’t want to wake up in a foul mood. In fact I went to sleep after watching the only show my wife and I watch together. But around 3:30 in the morning I was awakened by the most realistic dream I’ve had in a while. It was so real that I’d rather not talk about it for fear of it coming true. Anyway knowing I had to get up to make a doctor’s appointment this morning, I tried to go back to bed. When I finally did go back to bed around 5:00, I woke up again to another more fantasy based dream. With the weather foggy as hell outside, I have some two hours before the appointment. So I hope by then to clear the cobwebs before heading to another boring 3-month checkup. After putting together my wife’s pill dispensers for the week, I make note of the pills she forgot to take for each day. I know I should keep up better with her pill count, but with that and planning and preparing the meals. Then making sure all of our son’s needs are met, I then have to make room for all of the othe...

  I watch the wind twist the branches of a young sapling embedded in the pecan tree, while the sun brightens to the golden hue of dawn. I hear the calls of a morning dove mixing with the morning traffic and flushing of upstairs toilets. Not everything can be the quiet call of the morning. So things are the compromises we make in order to live in a civil society. But if you exist long enough, those noises become nothing more than the background noise of life. As I sit at my desk the sun’s glow stretches out across the study walls, reflecting off the beige paint onto the black screen. But I don’t mind, it’s all just a part of my morning routine. Today is inspection day, where all the apartments receive an annual cleanliness inspection. Which basically amounts to checking to see if you have any drug paraphernalia or at the very least, see that your apartment don’t smell like weed. Which I feel is kind of silly, since the breezeway smells like a pot dispensary. But the things you put...

  For whatever reason, I’ve gotten into the habit of taking selfies of myself. I know I’m about thirty years too late to jump on the bandwagon of that fad. But I figured, why not? For far too long I had/have such a poor self-image of myself, I figured what a better way to break that taboo than to take a selfie. So above the story is my latest selfie, wearing a favorite pink shirt, comfortable teal T-shirt. Although you can’t see them I’m wearing grey sweats and my favorite tie on sneakers. If you notice on my wrist are two bracelets, one I made with my kids initials and another that tracks sea turtles. I normally don’t wear the bracelets much anymore, they usually stay on my desk. But today with the sort of island vibe my clothes were giving off, I figured I’d put them on. Even though I’m some 100 miles away from any ocean. I don’t swim, I have a primal fear of water. Something I’m sure I’ll carry till the day I die. I respect the water, and I’ve ridden a many a mile on transport...

Google Gemini Here we are again in the middle of the night. Buried beneath the covers of the bed, with my bride gently snoring by my side. After a day of quiet tension I did my best to keep myself hidden. Away from the glaring lights of reality for most of the day. But after the lights went out, I buried my head into the conclusion of an audio book. That unexpectedly triggered some past and present trauma I thought I could avoid. I don’t blame the book, a recent autobiography that deals with a lot of physical and mental abuse. But still I kinda thought I had gotten over most of that, but listening to someone else’s truth showed me a mirror into some of that trauma still hidden within me. Still I pressed on and finished the audiobook knowing it had an encouraging ending. It’s just interesting to see how the seeds of your own dark past can be replanted from just a reflection. But like I said, I can’t blame the book for all of it. I walked into this situation already watering those seed...

  What spiritual power, if any, pulls the soul down to the lowest of lows? Some might say your sign is in retrograde, or that God Almighty is just teaching you another lesson, or that your chakras are out of alignment once again. Each one would entail that you as a person are weak and fell out of grace with whatever you believe. But after 27 years of being diagnosed with chronic depression, GAD, and a myriad of other mental illnesses, I choose to believe that it’s more than just another bad day. Or that somehow the gods are upset with me. Being the cognitive creatures that we are, we love to find a label for everything. But sometimes even the deeper sciences can’t explain the mental warfare going on in our heads. Is it environment or genetics that causes us to be bat shit crazy sometimes? But why can’t it be both. I feel the environment along with inherited physical traits have brought me to this point in my life. And before you start to pity me and say, “I’m glad my genes aren’t t...

  The sun takes flight above a sea of grey thunderous skies, while the tornado warning of the past few hours fades away. Opening the windows to my study I see the wind swirling in the branches, while birds come out to sing their songs. I’ve lived through tornados and hurricanes and the feeling the air presses on your chest and ain’t feeling any of that at the moment. So I guzzle down my witches brew and focus my ears on the sound of the field birds outside. Other than that it’s eerily quiet for a mid-week morning. The highway hardly makes a sound as my bride unloads the dish washer into the cabinets and drawers. Still an unfamiliar routine I have trouble wrapping my head around, considering the shotgun shack we lived in for ten years. But I do miss the openness and the backyard still, while the modern conveniences of hot running water more than compensate. It’s funny how life changes, yet often stays the same. My backyard now consists of a boundary fence overlooking a field of ...

 I didn’t realize until this morning that we had two Friday the 13 th in a row this year. I knew something was wrong with this year; but that doesn’t matter, this morning it is sunny and chill and outside life is just humming along down the Golden Isles Parkway. Also with the light breeze I can smell the scents of Spring after the pollen got knocked loose. With its aroma of freshness  that Glade or Febreze can’t quite copy. I’m sitting here in my frumpy old baggy golf shirt and sweatpants. The obvious uniform of a retiree with little money for new clothes. But wearing these things brings me some joy in the fact that a mere 10 years ago, I stretched this shirt and these pants to their load bearing limit. And while I have gained a few pounds back, let’s say the digestive issues did their job. Other than that, I’m in a pretty good mood with the sun shining and the world not seeming to be too bad around here. But it’s easy to isolate yourself when you live in such a work-driv...

  I‘ve been writing a shit ton lately but none of it I’ve felt much like publishing. While I’m usually not afraid of exposing myself in word, lately I’ve been more inclined to just keep things to myself. I suppose most storytellers go through that, especially if you run out of things to say. But to be honest, it’s not like I’ve run out of thoughts. As much as those thoughts I’ve been thinking might be a bit disturbing to some people’s ears. So I’m doing what my Grandma Thornton taught me and just keeping my mouth shut.   Living in a world of psychobabble and instant answers, we tend to drift towards the easy answer. But sometimes smarts aren’t the answer to your pain. So what can you do? You could search for answers to the pain yourself, which is what I did. For years being the troubled person that I am, I kept all that pain to myself. Without even a companion to truly confide in. So I wondered the desert till I stumbled upon the teachings of a selfless little man. That taug...

  After drinking my witches brew from my World’s Greatest Grandpa coffee cup, I chewed my gummy vitamins and typed these words. While somewhere in the back of my mind, the dreams that awoke me early in the morning were still swirling   in my head. They were images of friends long ago, that gave me a place of refuge; still buried in my memory, but gone for me to see. But it’s those memories that shaped my future into the now, where I live today. Dressed in the dullest of colors, grey with just a splash of spring. I venture out into a world that no longer knows me. Typing out lines of self-defecation and woe to all that care to read. Just a lost man in a lost world of instant gratification and 10 second blips of fake charm. All chasing that almighty dollar so they can afford to make their own blips of self-gratification. I don’t mean to sound so angry, I’m just grieving over the losses in my dream. Now facing a world not nearly as innocent as I was back then. So what type of...

  My mood of the morning pretty much matches the scene outside. All foggy and damp with all the stillness you’d imagine, after a good horror movie the night before. When you get troubling news, it hits you a certain way. Even though you are not the one affected. I took a shower and put on my stoic face staring intently at the frown lines I developed over the years. They’re the same ones my dad had along with most of that side of my family. Dressed up like it’s springtime with my secondhand   Izod shirt and Wal-Jacked shorts and t-shirt. Looking like I want to belong to the yacht club on Jekyll, knowing I ain’t worth the money of a dockhand. But it’s my fantasy and I’m sticking to it. No different than some Biker and Redneck want-a-be’s I know. But we all got to stay in our lane, don’t we? Or at least that’s what we are told. Like the stoic that has to be strong when on the inside they’re about to fall apart. So while my skin is way too pale to be a yachtsman and my bank ac...

  Every morning I take a total of 18 different medications that I have been prescribed by six or seven different specialist. Some of those medications I take three times a day, others I take twice a day, while a few I take only once a day. If your keeping count, that’s a total of 31 pills a day. Most all of them are pretty essential for keeping me upright and operating fairly normal. I suppose I could look at all this tragically and feel sorry for myself. While I sometimes do throw myself a pity party, for the most part I take it all in stride. Seeing it as the price I pay for making piss poor decisions during my life. But I was the one that chose to do all that stupid shit. So it’s 31 pills and several doctor visits a year, plain and simple. But since tiptoeing to the edge of death, I realized I’d much rather live. So I’ve made most of the necessary changes I needed to keep my ass going. Spiritually speaking, most of my family and friends think I’m going straight to hell. And amon...

  Well here we are, trying to kick start yet another Middle Eastern War. All while we got our first Blood Moon of the year this week. No matter what side you are on in this conflict or rather or not you feel it’s justified over diplomacy. There is still innocent blood being shed on the ground. Yet I am more than certain Churches, Mosque, and Synagogues will be praying for their side to win. With a few scattered about ready for the “End Times”. I myself am just shaking my head that it has come to this, where innocent men, women, and children are sacrificed on the alter of old men drunk with power. Under the excuse of obeying God and/or distracting from the truth. Where is the God of Jesus, Mohammed, or The Toran in any of this? Blood has been shed and the majority of the people of the world are seemingly helpless to stop it. Revenge and paranoia are the words of the day. What has been started a thousand times before has been started again.   I don’t mean to ruin what is ...

Pinterest   On yet another shitty morning, the rain slowly pours outside. The pills are scattered in their usual 4 4 3 pattern across the pad, as I stir my morning witches brew to swallow them all. Scattered across my mind is a Madonna-like figure in all her glory baring herself to me. In a seamless dance of attention unlike most women I’ve known. But now that the pills are gone and there’s nothing but the rain and the visions in my head of her lingering attention. But beyond a symphony of poetic words, my mind drifts to nothingness. While the rest of the world blows its horns and screams down the highway. I remain ignorant to the noise, while still hearing it. Offering my mind up to relentless silence that rings in my ears. For the sake of the words, my testament stands. Unholy in its voice, unloved on the face of things, most deeper than I care to be know. For I am more than just the sum of my parts: passion, water, light, earth, and air. So today in this moment of revelation...

  After a surprisingly refreshing nap I hear the distant cry of an ambulance’s siren in the distance. Through the walls of the apartment, I hear the sounds of a cartoon playing in the living room. In the kitchen plans have already been made for tonight’s supper, while outside the slightest of breezes can be seen blowing through the first of springs leaves. As for me, I’m still in a sweater with my pull-on boat shoes, minus a boat. The walls of the study remain a lite tan color, with not a picture on the wall. With me sitting here recording in vivid detail the thoughts of a life, even my closest family don’t seem to care about. For my children find me inhospitable and grumpy, because of the cadence of my voice. Never thinking that’s just the way many of us were taught to speak to sound like a man. But more and more I feel like a man out of time. Separated by distance from all I ever really knew. Surrounded by a village of strangers, that never accepted me as one of their own. Leav...

  The sun is reflecting rather harshly off my monitor this morning. Leaving a faint ghostly reflection of myself pasted to the screen. It is a brisk cool morning hovering around 33° but still the sun is as bright as a spring morning. In this season of Ramadan and Lent, I suppose reflection and sacrifice are the name of the game. In my own mind thoughts of purging and reflection shine through in the many troubling dreams I’ve had over the past few weeks. Much like the dream I mentioned in my last writing “Dreams”, uncomfortable scenarios have been coming up in my mind. With individuals from my past and present I suppose teaching me lessons I need to learn. But such as it is with dreams for interpretation can be cloudy if anything at all. So I take each moment in stride and stay aware of my surroundings. Keeping in mind my present circumstance and the fears that often rise up. So in this season of reflection and giving, remember to always be grateful for what you have. Never abus...

  Not Really After what was essentially a peaceful, but yet busy day. My wife and son have ruined it in a matter of seconds. First I got up before dawn to make the 30 mile track to the hospital to have my echocardiogram done. That in itself wasn’t too much of a bother, excluding the parking and the waiting. Then I made the 60 mile track to another city to get the medicine I needed. After the next 20 mile track back home it was noon time and as I lay my sore hip and back on the heating pad. My dear wife reminded me she needed her medication refilled as well. So I called her pharmacy (yes, we have to use different pharmacies) to have her prescriptions filled. Needless to say, I laid down for an hour or so, then got up, drove to her pharmacy and picked up her medicine. Once I got back home, it was time to start supper. I was going to get me a glass of sweet tea, but the tea pitcher was empty. So instead of throwing my son into a bad mood, I decided to brew the tea myself. Mainly b...

  It’s a froggy ass morning here on the sandy hills of South Central Georgia, where the coastal plain meets the piedmont. I’m dressed down in my old Alamo uniform of sweatpants, heavy t-shirt, and sweat jacket. With the curtains pulled open wide to get the full view of the heavy froggy air. I’m surprised by how few cars and semi’s have passed on the highway. I guess everyone got an early start this morning just to beat the day. But I’m comforted by the distant sound of an ambulance, for the fifth day in a row. After a night of tossing and turning repeating the same dream about going to some conference with a Swamper I didn’t know, meeting his family, and riding on a dirty air boat. Yeah, that kinda dream. Anyway sitting here in the relative quiet of the morning, there ain’t much to say other than I have to drive 30 miles (again) in the rain. To have my bi-annual echocardiogram done at the hospital to see if I’m still alive. I suppose I could be a little pissy about having that ...

  I’m considering working on something new this morning, Considering I already have two stories completed and a poem waiting in the wings. But with me that happens every once in a while, where I got more energy than I need in the creativity department. Still I felt like working on something new, not that it’s the beginning of a great piece, just the same old talk about, talk about I usually spin. I got a doctor’s appointment in the early afternoon. A 30 mile trip (one way) through the construction zone know as US Highway 441. There I’ll meet with my Nephrologist NP, and she’ll let me know how my kidney function is going. She’s one of many specialist I’ll be seeing over the next few months, just to reassure me that I am alive. In case I haven’t figured it out yet. Next will be my Cardiologist NP, then the Tech that checks my defibrillator function. Then I have an appointment with my Cardio-Surgeon who will be performing another procedure on my heart. Then an appointment with my Op...

  I can hear what I can only describe as the theme to the Lion King bleeding through my study walls, as I was about to touch the keys of this keyboard. I don’t know if it’s a sign from God, or if Good Morning America is just trying to fleece another Grandma to buy Broadway tickets or both. But the sun is shining   just as bright as when that old baboon held up the lion cub. So who am I to say? I took a picture of myself this morning, than easily picked out every flaw I saw on my saggy face. My skin looks like loose fitting clothing on a skinny man. Although I’d much prefer being a skinny man with plenty of wrinkles. Then this once   fat old man wearing a loose fitting skin suit that still makes me look fat. But enough about me, how about you? Got any features you care to tear apart this morning? It’s funny how the ego and wounded self-respect turns most of us into our own worst critic. But such as it is with humankind, always comparing notes. Falling in love with some...

FD Thornton   With trembling hands and a flare for the dramatic, I take my meds. Looking out the window at the clouds that had descended to the treetops. I wait for the morning sun to erase the dew and give me my promised sunny sky. Sounds pretty dramatic, don’t it? Kinda lovely in the way the words form a picture you can almost see in your mind. As an observer of life I guess that’s what I’m suppose to do. Dream up words that paint descriptions in the imagination that only words can do. But today in a world of expanding visual media, we’ve all gotten a little lazy, with our words and our descriptions of the things we see. Settling instead for half-truths we take as Gospel. Never seeing how the other half lives. It’s sad in a way to see lazy writing, where arguments become insults and ignorance is praised instead of frowned upon. There’s much to be said for simple country living, but when you exchange simplicity for ignorance and spite. Well that’s another matter altogether. I ...

Lakewood Church After an interesting night of sleep, I awoke to yet another one of my crazy dreams. Within this dream I was working crazy long hours at this particular job, that kept me away from normal family activities. Most of which had to do with church. Growing up I was used to my family bouncing from one new mission church to another. But this time I suppose one of those churches caught fire, as we would say, and had become very popular. I recall getting dressed into what I had to wear after work and heading over to a service. The church was packed, and through the crowds I finally saw my dad standing next to a wall. As we embraced he covered me with his jacket, as if something was wrong with the way I was dressed. I kinda laid on his lap and seemed to fall asleep. But I was awake enough to notice that whole vibe of the church just didn’t seem to feel right. For one the church my parents would have helped start, appeared to be out of their hands. And there was a new minister ...

Mr. Whipple   I just got through writing a pretty little poem (if I do say so myself). And the very next thought I had was, “Two-Ply Toilet Paper”. Needless to say, I had to chuckle to myself at the thought. But I guess inspiration often works in mysterious ways. So as a write, in the loosest sense of the word, I often find inspiration in interesting places. In case you haven’t figured it out, I’m not very polished with my work. I mean I read other people’s work and think, Damn! Why can’t I write like that? I was trained in the world of analytics. I started my work life wanting to be an architect and trained as a draftsmen. I worked in multi-color printing, then went through a 4 or 5 year phase of just existing. Then that turned into fatherhood and forced labor at whatever I could find. Until another 15 year phase of just existing, till the last 10 or so years where I tried to rebuild myself. Till I became this. The broken down wrecked hull of a man you see today. But that’s ok...

It’s 5:30 in the afternoon, supper is simmering on the stove, While outside my office window, I can hear a Norfolk-Southern train carrying empty car carriers back to Brunswick. Even through the double pane windows I can hear the wind howling outside. I could imagine how it would have sounded if we still lived in that shotgun shack back in Alamo. But despite my daughters complaining, I’d much rather pay the higher rent just to stay warm. It’s been a year since we moved into our “deluxe apartment” here. And despite the lack of an apartment manager or a full-time maintenance person, or the pounding of little feet upstairs. Anything’s better than freezing our asses off in that drafty old house with no hot water and 1912 electrical wiring. Some may say, “Don’t you miss the charm of an old farmhouse”? Not when I had to do all the maintenance to the house. While the damn landlord rode around in his golf cart three times a day like a Goddamn prison guard. But I again digress. After stirrin...

Image: Adobe Firefly   When I opened the curtains this morning all I could see was a shabby reflection of myself staring back at me. Gone was my clean shaven face and my combed back hair. And what stood before me was a shaggy faced, uncombed haired old man, in an oversized sweatshirt and mixed matched sweatpants. I looked like an aging frat boy dragging his way to an early morning class, looking about as good as I felt. But that pink strip at the bottom of the skyline was finally giving way to a questionable blue/gray skyline. That hadn’t made up its mind yet, rather it was going to be cloudy or sunny. Feeling like I had something caught in my throat, I cleared the passageway with a grumpy old man cough. But with my gummy vitamins melting in my mouth, I felt like a kid again being rewarded for taking his medicine. Life has a funny way of reminding you of who you are. Rather you’re an office manager, a store clerk, or a Wall Street tycoon. Each day you put your pants on one leg at...

  With supper going and the window cracked open, I’m watching the sunset on another chilly day in South Georgia. I wrote a little story this morning but didn’t publish it, so after printing up about 50 pages of forms I need to fill out. I spent the rest of the day laying on the bed with a heating pad and comforter, doom scrolling the day away. Sitting here now, I swear I can hear kids out at the playground, but I may be wrong. It’s hard to tell with my wife’s TV blaring in the living room.     But such as it is in the life of a man on disability and retirement. Living on a fixed income with most of whatever I saved going to pay old hospital bills and for such luxuries as groceries. But I really don’t mean to be so cynical, it’s just a defensive posture I’ve developed over the years to protect my sanity. But given my history of mental illness, you can see how far that has gotten me.   I don’t mind talking about myself and my many faults, unlike a number of th...

  It’s a bit anti-climactic to spend all this time sorting through my pill bottles, then cutting pills to be divided up, and put into smaller pill bottles. Only to take a few seconds to swallow down the morning’s half and be done with it. I mean you don’t even get to lay back and enjoy a cigarette. You just get up and chew your vitamins then start your day. My Sunday started like most, I was woke up, checked my messages, and called my father-in-law. But with my coffee about gone, it is it’s usual gray and cloudy sky outside, with temperatures in the upper 30’s. I ain’t feeling much any particular way today, I mean after all it’s still morning. Pretty much everyone was prepared for a 45” coating of ice according to the local weather people. Hope they got those car dealers and lawyer ads their money’s worth scaring the Great-Grandmas to death, but I digress. Now with a fresh cup of hot coffee in my hand, I can get down to what I wanted to say. Which is nothing. It’s Sunday mornin...

  After an evening of heavy priestly confessions and a late night of deep sleep, I woke up a bit dazed and confused. For one I ain’t completely woke up yet, even after a hot shower and shave. But the curtains and windows are open, and the crisp cool air is filling my study. My poor old candle has about seen its better days while the sun slowly creeps toward the first windowpane. Then I had to stop writing for a moment to go rescue my stranded adult child that locked their keys in their car.       Anyway I’m about woke up now after listening to my youngin go on about a mile a minute about them and their spouses five-year-plan. It’s kinda funny to me to hear that sort of thing now considering I’m doing good to make moment by moment plans. If there’s one thing I’ve learn in over 60+ years of breathing, it’s that nothing is guaranteed. Ten years ago if you were to tell me that I would be sitting here reasonably healthy. When I had five IVs going at once in the Pulmon...

Sandra Saxon Burnsed   It’s nearly eleven o’clock in the morning, I just got through editing and publishing a piece I wrote a few days back. Other than that, I went to sleep early last night feeling cold and icky, even before the game went off. Last night’s sleep was rough and filled with stress dreams about being dirty from working all night. With no way to shower or a clean change of clothes. So I woke up with that same exhausted feeling, with no motivation to get out of bed.   The story I worked on when I made it to the study was ironically about having a good morning watching the early morning sky. Thankfully, I didn’t let my attitude from this morning cloud my earlier optimistic mood. So now I’m left with my present middle of the month feelings, of upcoming bills and pure boredom. But as you may have figured out already, I use you as my priestly confessional. Often telling you my sad tales of chronic depression and poverty, if for nothing else, to make your own lives se...