Sorry about the paucity of posting. I owe, quite literally, some of you some decent writing, but I am just in a funk of epic proportions right now. And I do not feel well. Oddly, though, even the tiny scratchings I have done just now have perked me up a bit. This is what I was born to do...
Well, give me some time, and I am sure that I will come up with something. Right now, even as we speak, my fingers are jumping around like happy dogs, wanting to be taken out for a walk.
But to give you an idea how far down I've sunk into the Pit of Despair, the wife started talking to me about setting off fireworks for the kids tomorrow, and I said 'oh, I don't care honey, you do it...' She felt my forehead, a worried look on her face.
July 4th has always been my favorite holiday, hey, explosives, and I turn into a fifteen year old boy. But the years ride heavily upon my shoulders, now, and ill-health conspires with an abundance of fools to lay me low.
Woe is me, blah blah blah blah. I'll get better.