This is a sappy blog, and it was well overdue.
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The last good day I had was back in 1994, in October, on a Thursday afternoon. I was in line at McDonald's waiting for a milkshake, and the man in front of me turned around and gave me $15 because he liked my smile. That is an absolute lie. I have no record of good days versus bad days. I just try to get through them, either way. Like the rest of the herd. I was reared by a bona fide cynic. I got it honest. Our world view was as follows: Bad day…well, at least, it’s only got 24 hours to live....
"Why don't you go cut the yard. Again."
There is more than a big handful of things I don't understand: why male seahorses carry their young; Kate Bush's song, "Babooshka;" Kate Bush, in general, really; the things you do simply because your family asked you to do them - as in participate in a talent show at a Relay For Life event; and, why anyone should ever be up before 8:00 AM. Let me set the scene: I'd gone back home yesterday, to help out around the house, to be a "good son," like I was brought up to be. And yesterday, as well as last night, I...
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