Fringeville #166: Wrambling Wramblings

I’ve been away from direct involvement in politics for an entire season. I am still waiting for the withdrawal to kick in. I am beginning to suspect it won’t. There are a handful of folks I will work with/advise but the rest of my life is a mess that I have to sort out and it’s taking priority.

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My return to my former energizer-bunny self is not yet complete. I tolerated the radiation treatments very well, but it is still and insult to the body. Add to that the side-effects from the Casodex and I am still struggling to get back on track mentally and physically. That’s all I’ll say on my health right now because, as Lou Holtz says, 80% of folks don’t care about your troubles and the other 20% are glad you have them.

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I wasn’t planning to see any live Penn-State football this year, but my brother got tickets for the Georgia State game (with awesome parking) and that was slated to be our one and only trip to Beaver Stadium. The football gods smiled on us, however, and a pair of Pitt game tickets fell in our laps a few days before the game. I have never seen a Lions-Panther battle, so this was a treat.

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I am writing in little chunks right now because I’m just coming out of the creative fog. Just roll with it, and my apologies as always for taking so long between posts.

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I am distressed a bit at the polarization of virtually everything in America these days. Anything one says or writes is likely to be seen through red or blue glasses. I am sorry, but I simply can’t function that way anymore. I believe in the inherent goodness of all people, and I can’t dismiss vast swaths of them to fit a political agenda. Perhaps it is the only wise thing I am doing these days.

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There is something rejuvenating about working outdoors. I am limited to how much I can do before pooping out, but the exertion, the sweat, the focus on the task at hand …all of that is a tonic. Winter is over the horizon a bit, but I am already missing the work outdoors that comes with the other seasons. The snow blower’s fun, but not much.

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I exist for coffee. It’s my only vice. Tell me to give it up and I’ll make a counter-offer: take me out to a culm bank and just shoot me. A person’s gotta have something. I can even live **shudder** without wings. But my last day on the planet will start with coffee if I have any frigging say about it.

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That’s it for now. Yes, I rambled. It’s how I am these days. I’m working on it, that’s all I can say.

Be good to each other.

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