It is nearly noon. Okay, maybe not… but it feels like it.

And I’m still in bed. It’s wet and cloudy outside, and I am struggling.

Most days? No, that’s not it. Many? Maybe.

The rain dampens it, that’s for sure. Sometimes I feel Karma playing another joke on me. You see, I was invited to hang out on a boat today. With my friend from college. And six hot college girls. All day today and tomorrow.

Bikinis and water and bikinis and beer and bikinis and skiing and bikinis and food and bikinis and sun and maybe a slinky dress… or six.

I’ve known about it for a month.

Knowing Karma as I do… I should have predicted the stormy day.

Needless to say, we’re getting a late start.

Which is fine. As I mentioned, I’m not necessarily an early riser. Or a mid-afternoon riser.

Narcolepsy is my life. Accepting that has made me happy.

Plus, somehow I have dismissed the insomnia that used to plague me.

Oh, I was up at four in the morning this morning, but that was by choice. Talking with good men all over the globe at a previously arranged time. It’s camaraderie that I value. Immensely.

And it requires I divide my nightly recharge into a couple of four hour segments. It’s worked well for a while. Even if I drag a bit on the Friday following the call.

Yet soon, I’ll venture into the out. I’ll pack some drinks and some snacks and some tequila and some clothes and some rubbers. I’ll meet up with my friend. And maybe, just maybe, the clouds will part and I’ll meet his college friends. And their bikinis.

It’s National Dog Day.

I still love dogs. I had one (and two) for nearly two decades. I loved them both dearly, and I know they both loved me… although I still wonder how. Some days, I think those li’l girls deserved better.

Yet, they were mine. And they taught me how to love.

Cordelia and I formed a special bond at the end… after Aspen was gone. We traveled. We snuggled. We slept. A lot.

She understood my narcolepsy… and loved her naps too.

And I still miss her. Nearly three years later. I share my love with other dogs… I’m not ready for another of my own. I may never be.

Yet, I still treasure the moments shared with Aspen and Cordy. The good times, and even some of the bad—during which my li’l girls ate better than I did.

It’s okay to be sad they’re gone. As long as you’re glad they were here.

And I am.

Happy National Dog Day.

I am amazed there are still people who don’t understand how thermostats and air conditioning work.

If the unit is running, setting it colder isn’t going to make you colder any faster. In fact, in an older house, if it’s 102 degrees outside, the unit will likely never achieve 72 degrees inside. A pro will tell you, a twenty degree difference is what it’s designed for.

Yet, that doesn’t stop people from cranking it down when they’re hot. And burning up/freezing up the unit. Not to mention the electric bill.

Sometimes, I just can’t with people.

There is a dead mouse. On the floor. Of my kitchen. In my cottage. In the woods.

When did I become such a little girl? Or have I always been?

Maybe that’s not fair. Most of the girls I know seem to have lived more than I. Perhaps because in today’s world they have to…

Yet, I still don’t want to touch it. To take care of it.

I used to know things. Now it’s the Google that knows things. Should I put it in the trash? Throw it outdoors for the local wildlife to snack on? Flush it? (Probably not flush it).

Why is this even a thing? Why does a small dead animal create such anxiety? I want it gone—yet without looking at it. Or touching it. Or salvaging the trap that it’s caught in.

As a child, I used to be mesmerized by dead things. Wandering through the woods, I’d occasionally find a creature who had met it’s end.

An end as natural as the beginning. The middle.

I’d stare for minutes. Maybe hours.

I was never squeamish in biology class, either. Now I wonder what happened? And how do vegans get through biology?

Anyway, I should take care of this unfortunate creature. Whatever it takes to build up to it.

A friend once said the stoics would simply decide what they’d like on their shit sandwich. Each day.

We all have things to do. Things we want to do. Things we’d rather not. Obligations and responsibilities. It’s probably best not to think. At all. And just do it.

And here I am… writing about what I have to do—while delaying it.

Another recurring theme in my life. How interesting. Do we ever really grow? Evolve? Or is our past behavior truly the best predictor of future behavior?

Okay, I’ve put it off long enough… shit sandwich? Let’s go.

There are two kinds of people in this world.

Those who eat pineapple on their pizza, and those who are wrong.

I am still amazed, that with all of the bullshit easily accessible to us on the internet, that, God forbid, we’re still forbidden from seeing… a titty.

Why, why, why?

It’s a safe bet that most, if not everyone, who’s looking online has seen one or two.

And they are beautiful. Well, every curve on a female is beautiful. But I digress.

Maybe that’s it. With so much ugliness out there in the world, beauty is what society can take away from us.

However, it is entirely possible, that by normalizing nudity, guys would become less guy like when subjected to nude females. Okay, that’s a stretch.

Female flesh and sensuous curves make guys stupid. Just look at the comments on any luscious Instagram model’s post.

I am guilty as well. (Becoming stupid, not of posting comments, except maybe here.)

Perhaps, there is no answer here. After all, the more I learn, the less I know.

So I’ll just sit here and wonder why titties are so offensive.

And sit in appreciation of their beauty.

Bond: I’m going to kiss you. I want you to respond as if you like it. Now, I’m doing this for two very good reasons: One, because I’m hoping to provoke a reaction.

Domino: And the other one?

Bond: Because I always wanted to.

Seriously, how can anyone not love this movie? Of course, Sean Connery nails it (her?) every time. And Kim Basinger and Barbara Carrera are in their prime. And Klaus Maria Brandauer is a fantastic (and insane) villain.

Largo: Crazy? Yeah... maybe I’m crazy.

You will never know how much I desire you.

Wait. That’s not right.

You will never know how much I desire you.

After all, it’s the little things. Now, let’s add some enthusiasm.

You WILL know how much I desire you.

Much better!

What i'm listening to:

Elenore
The Turtles
... the Battle of the Bands

If you use more than three pieces of tape, you’re doing it wrong.