Dear Diary

Dear Diary,

Much has happened since the last time I wrote in 1954 so I guess I'll just talk about recent events. Yesterday my girlfriend Woowoo Charly and I had a really fun day. I kept her company when she to went to class and I watched her take notes and really pay attention. Really. I don't know how she does it. I bet she gets really good grades in all her classes. Anyway, we met a friend of ours, Alan, on the way to class and he came along too. Afterwards, we all went to a restaurant called Machu Pichu which I think is either the sound of a Peruvian sneezing or what you say when they are done. It's a really beautiful restaurant with light colored wood walls and lots of interesting objets dart from Peru and tablecloths and water glasses with napkins folded in them that looked like llama ears. The best part, though, was the food. We all had the special because it was an $11.00 menu item marked down to $5.50 and because none of us has a really big allowance. The dish was called something unpronoucable, probably because Peruvians don't speak Spanish good like we do. What we got was a chicken breast smothered in a cream sauce filled with camarones. Camarones are shrimp. It was awesome. We also got a pile of sticky rice and a basket of bread but I didn't eat any of that because my girlfriend doesn't want me to be fat. When we were finished Alan went home and so did we. It was a beautiful day though, warm and sunny and I was feeling extra good because early that morning I had written a blog and also finished writing a story about a boy I know. I got the idea that maybe we should do a hot tub and Woowoo Charly agreed. It was soooo nice. We soaked and drank cool Bloody Mary's and talked about this and that. After that we went in and watched Smallville because we like those Luthor guys, Lex and Lionel, they are so devious and also we like to see teenagers played by 30 year olds. After some more tv, a glass of wine and some tea, we went to bed. And also there was some secret part that I can't tell you about.

Goodnight until next time.

Wines and Whines

Last night Woowoo Charly said that white wines are picky and they go, nyeea nyeea nyeea. She made a face while she said it. She then said red wines are warm and loving. I poured her the red. After that, I listened intently to my own glass of white and although it was cheerful, playful and somewhat flirtatious I couldn't get it to say a damn thing. We were eating dinner, a Mediterranean salad that Charly invented, and watching an episode of "Threshold" at the time.

Have you seen this show? It's about an alien invasion of earth. This is one of my favorite themes because my wife's origins are sketchy and she can hear wine saying nyeea nyeea nyeea. My children are suspect too. One reads third grade texts and another's favorite book is The Dress Lodger." What the hell is a dress lodger? Still a third, a girl mind you, wants to read "Sacred Games." I didn't even know she cared about The Super Bowl. Anyway, I kept a close eye on Chuck as she watched the show. I wanted to see if I could tell which side she was rooting for.

We have to go to the Gringo meeting at the Panamonte Hotel today. It's about building here in Panama and features three local architects gabbing on the subject. I don't want to go. Just when they grab my attention by talking about buttresses and trusses and bay windows and girders, the arkies will spoil everything by telling me they're not talking about sex. Which is funny because it sure SOUNDS like sex. Oh well, I can always scan the room and look for aliens.

Is it too early for wine? If so, how come the wind is saying, nyeea nyeea nyeea.

Good Intentions and Fat Books

The law of intention keeps popping up. "Cuando una persona realmente desea algo, el Universo entero conspira para que realice sus suenos." That's from the book I'm currently reading in Spanish, "El Alquimista." It tranlates: When a person really wants something, the entire Universe conspires for them to realize their dreams.

Wish I had known that earlier. (Let's see the Universe make that one come true!... me knowing earlier.)

Does anyone else get excited when they acquire a really fat book? We just got two. One is an English/Spanish dictionary that is heavy enough to be a doorstop and the other is a fantasy paperback that Ramon the Gringo Formerly Known As Raymond recommended. It's entitled "A Clash of Kings" and runs to just short of a thousand pages. It's the second of a trilogy and the only one we could find at our nearby English language book store. (Ramon, if you are reading this and you have it, send me the first.) I haven't read much fantasy apart from the Lord of the Rings books, Harry Potter (in Spanish and here I would much prefer skinny books) and accounts of George Bush speaking intelligently, but, if best seller lists are to believed the genre has become huge. (As you know, I like to keep up with the times and be in touch with what's happening, so along with reading fantasy I'm going to get a transistor radio and one of those Pong games. They sound like fun.) The thing about a nice fat book is you know it's going to be with you for a long time (unless you are Woowoo Charly who will polish it off before breakfast) and if it's good you're in for a nice long ride and not the damn it's almost over feeling you get from a good, but short book. Is this making any sense? I didn't think so. Maybe it's just the visceral sense of a fat book, the weight, the heft, the feel of the thing. Or maybe I'm just impressed that anyone could write such a lengthy tale. Whatever. My favorite of the fatties I've read is Mailer's "Harlot's Ghost" which ran over a thousand pages and ended with "to be continued." I've been waiting for the sequel to that puppy for years, but Mailer now says he won't be able to finish it because he's too old to start another tome. Bummer.

Now that all you commenters have become a chatty lot, why don't you tell me your favorite fat books. Or just your favorite books, period. Inquiring bloggers INTEND to know.

Return of the Arachnid

"It's baaaaack" was Woowoo Charly's sardonic cry when she flipped on the bathroom light last night, at which point I left the computer and hastened to see.

"That's not so big" I said, pointing to one of our regular old quarter sized eight leggers.

"Not that one," Charly replied, THAT one."

It was on a side wall, over by the towel rack. It looked like a fake spider you'd buy at a novelty shop. Its body was about the size of a walnut and its legs were at least two inches long. This was not the one I'd seen two nights ago. This was that one's big brother pumped up on steroids.

"Holy shit!" I said, or something equally as elegant.

"I told you" said my wife. "Now what do we do?"

I thought a second about swatting it, but rejected the idea immediately. That might just piss it off. Even if it worked, it would leave a splotch on the wall that would be really nasty. No, there was only one thing to do. Leave the room, barricade the door and never go in there again.

"We can't do that" said Charly sagely. We need the bathroom.

Jeez, I thought, why can't women just go outside on the ground like we do?

"All right, all right" I said. "I'll catch it."

And I did. I went downstairs and got a Tupperware container that had a circumference large enough to contain the whole spider. I returned to the loo and went into Steve Irwin mode. "Krikey Mate, when trapping a deadly spoydah of this soyz, you don't want to be bitten and you don't want to hurt the animal." (I miss that guy.) Mostly I didn't want to be bitten. I very rapidly, adrenaline rapidly, slammed the container over the spider. Alrighty then! I now had an angry spider pinned against the wall. What next? My plan was to slide the Tupperware top onto the container by just lifting it, the container, away from the the wall a tiny bit. The spider was not taking this laying down. I could actually feel it pushing against the plastic. It was quite frantic. Nevertheless, the bold warrior that lives inside my placid, scholarly demeanor (yeah right) stuck to the plan and achieved the entrapment. Frank Buck Bring 'Em Back Alive eat your heart out. (You gotta be really old to know that reference.)

I took the spider out into the yard and released it, because, you know, that's what Kira said I should do. I can hear her now. "Go, run free, noble spider. Mate, have babies, live a happy life. Do yoga."

After that I went back upstairs and killed the little one that was still on the wall.

Here We Go Again

The Nuggets, featuring A.I. and Melo for the first time, blew out the Memphis Grizzlies last night. Yeah, I know, you're all thrilled, but I had to mention it, because, actually, I am. Thrilled that is.

It doesn't take a lot to thrill me these days. I've lowered my thrill threshold to include things like walking the dog and not finding spiders in the bathroom. Today, however, we are off to the Tuesday Gringo Meeting at the Panamonte Hotel to hear another health insurance presentation. Scroll back a few dozen blogs and you can read how thrilled I was the last time we went to one of these yawners. This morning's host is going to be the Mae Lewis Hospital group. They have, apparently, devised a Gringo friendly insurance plan and we are going to learn all about it. Or, rather, Woowoo Charly is going to learn all about it. I am going to try not to fall asleep and drool on my shoes. To that end I am inhaling quarts of coffee as I write and expect more at the meeting. I won't fall asleep, but I will twitch.

I do have questions though. Who is Mae Lewis and why does she have a hospital? And why doesn't she have a Panamanian name? Was she run out of some English speaking country? Is she blonde, brunette or other? Vital statistics? The Mae Lewis Group sounds like a choir. I love gospel music. Black ladies in robes belting out R and B. Are we going to get any of that? Pass the plate down the aisle, make your tithe, clap your hands and hum your way to cheap health care. Amen brother! I'm for it!

Not likely though. " We will pay ninety percent of your non deductible, first visit under provision B, plan four, if, after close examination, no further blood can be removed from the stone, gall, kidney or otherwise and all premiums have been paid two years in advance of debilitating illness, unless said patient is a dear friend of someone in the administration or has personally slept with Mae or Lewis in which case, they have already contracted something and are not eligible for benefits." Written, of course, in Spanish. Insurance companies are insurance companies the world over.

Nevertheless, alwaysthemore is my motto and in search of said, here we go. Wish us luck.

Arachnophobia?

I've been neglecting the old blog of late, leaving it to fend for itself. Been working on another writing project that has captured my imagination and locked it in a holding cell where dark hooded torturers are doing their best to squeeze it dry. I'm thinking they're either CIA, FBI, NSA or WKRP in Cincinatti, but it's more likely my own subconscious trying to pin a thought down long enough to get it on paper. No matter, I've escaped, for the moment at least, though I'm sure the guilt police will drive me back to Word and coerce me into finishing the other thing shortly. In the meantime, here's the blog:

(There's a long pause here while I search my brain, my mind and my pockets for something, anything really, to blog about. My pockets have turned up some lint and on a good day that would be enough, but as exciting a topic as lint is, ours for instance, is always blue, I think I'll leave that for another day.)

(Another long pause ensues while I gaze out the window in search of a muse, any muse, pick a muse, don't tell me what it is, just put it back in my brain and shuffle. Is this it? No? Damn!)

Two nights ago we had a small spider invasion. Let me rephrase that. Two nights ago we had a small invasion of spiders. The spiders, themselves, were in no way small. Before hopping into bed...flopping into bed is more accurate, I had fly swattered three of the totally ink black arachnids, apologizing to each one as I took its life because, after all, what argument have I got beyond self defense for snuffing the poor critters. Each one I flattened had a body about the size of a dime and extremely long legs. They were also very fast but, alas for them, not fast enough. Woowoo Charly and I find it mildly insomnia producing to leave visible spiders climbing the walls as we settle into bed and turn out the lights, which, I suppose, is my second argument for bug murder, so I cleared the room with my nine millimeter, hand held, semi automatic, made in Hong Kong, red plastic swatter before turning in. All went well after that until some time in the dead of the night, at least I think it was the dead of the night although I'm not actually certain which part of the night is dead, when Charly, returning from the bathroom said, "be careful when you go in there, because the mother of all spiders is lurking about." Or something like that.
It's not an exact quote,but close enough to use the " " marks. Later, when the night was rising from the dead like a zombie, I did have occasion to visit the bathroom and sure enough there was a spider of super spider dimensions scurrying about. I ran for my weapon, but on returning to the john - another word I have no understanding of. Why isn't it the fred? -the spider was gone. "Did you kill it? my wife asked as I returned to the bed. "No" I said. "It was carrying a sign that said, you are safe, we're after the woman" just because I'm a funny funny guy. Woowoo Charly didn't think so. And the spider remains both large and at large...if at large means on the loose and not something further about size, which it sounds like.

A Bad Day

When I awoke this morning the first sound I heard was nothing. Meaning, no wind. The dawn was just shaking off its own slumber though, so I couldn't quite see what further information the sky might give me. It was a uniform dark gray growing lighter by slowly turning up the dimmer switch increments. Gray is a nice color I suppose, for business suits, what with your white shirts looking so snappy and fresh contrasted against the darker backdrop, but as a sky color it doesn't do much for me so I waited patiently for the dawn to play out and reveal what the day truly had in store. My thought, you see, upon the hearing of no wind, was that golf might be in the offing. Alas, poor Yorick, (one of my older readers) the sky is still, well, at least mostly, gray. And the breeze has freshened, which I think means begun again or, if television is to be believed, something women do that men are not supposed to be in on. And what's that, raindrops on the window? No, Yorick, there will be no golf today.

Which doesn't make it a bad day. Monday was a bad day. Monday was a day that called for a "do over." Here's how it started: I've been working on a story that I've been dragging out of my subconscious at roughly the same speed as Bush is withdrawing troops from Iraq. It just wasn't happening. Monday, suddenly, it was there, all whole, fully formed, just waiting for me to type it out. My fingers began to do their happy dance on my computer keys and order was restored to the universe for, oh, a good five minutes. Immediately following that happy time our electrical power chose to leave for lunch or wherever it goes when it just goes away. I was left with a black screen and a blank mind. That's how it started, the bad day.

About three hours later, while our power was on its third martini and calling off the whole day, Woowoo Charly and I headed to downtown Boquete to do some errands. One of our neighbors had returned from there and said that their power, the downtown power, was diligently hard at work surging about. Our first stop was to the bank where we were hoping to pick up a letter from them that was part of our land purchase deal. It was to have taken two weeks in preparation and two weeks were now up. (It had to be authorized, stamped and approved by Global Bank's main office in Panama City) "No," says Ana, our banker. "We can't get that letter until your lawyer sends us a copy of the contract." "But," I say in rebuttal, our lawyer can't finish re-wording the contract until she has the letter." (Wasn't "Catch 22" a great book?) We get Fatima, yes that's our lawyer's name, on the phone and the two ladies work it out. We will, though, have to wait two more weeks.

Next we head for Mailboxes are us, where a computer message has told us our new golf pull carts have arrived. Wrongo Bogie Breath. The carts are being held for ransom in Panama City where some official wants to know what's inside the boxes marked "golf carts" and how much do they cost. We are told we need an invoice to send to P.C. to secure the release of the hostages.
Sheesh. Must be a lot of people smuggling things in golf cart boxes from Amazon.com.

Screw it, we'll go get a bite to eat. Our favorite restaurant is closed. Alrighty then, we'll pick up a few things at Romero's, our grocery store. It's Flower Festival week and the store is decimated. A half dozen things on our list are not available. Never mind, we'll just head back home, have a glass of wine and watch the telly. Surely the power will be on by now.

And it was. This time for about a half hour. Then it went out again and didn't return until the dead of the night when it popped on our clocks, television and lights and woke us from deep sleeps.

So today is not a bad day, the sky is bluing up as I speak, but Monday surely was, because what else apart from physical disasters could have occurred?

Did I mention we realized that we are missing one of our debit cards? When, did that happen, you say? Oh, that would be Monday.

Not in the Mood.

I don't feel like blogging. Nevertheless I've put on my blogging shorts and shoes and here I am out for a blog. That's discipline I suppose. Of course, when you dis something, it means you are saying bad things about it. I have no reason to dis cipline because it's never really done anything negative to me, so I'll just pass it by and keep on blogging.

Yesterday I didn't feel like doing anything either. Woowoo Charly was out painting rainbows and flowers and, uh, bats on children's faces for Casa Hogar which is an orphanage of some sort here in Boquete. I say some sort because not all the children are orphans. Many are kids who are there to keep them from harm's way or, in other words, their parents. One was a pregnant 10 or 11 year old. While Charly was donating her time and artistic talent to make children smile, I was lying like a lump on the sofa reading a book about Wilt Chamberlain and watching a replay of a basketball game originally played the night before. You may think this a waste of time, but I now know more about Wilt than you do, so go ahead, ask me anything. And lest you also think I am just a slugabed or a layabout, I should point out that I filled our new salt and pepper shakers and rearranged a book shelf during chapter breaks and timeouts. So you see "they also serve who stand and wait." Of course, all that serving and waiting wore me out and precipitated a long nap.

And here I am again today, a rainy, windy variety of a day, feeling anew a trifle listless. Okay, it's not really a trifle, it's a lot and I'm not really list less, I have several of them, but there is a vague sense of impatience about doing something. Something I can't quite ascertain, define or put my finger on. I could go for a long walk with the dog or head for the golf course, but there is that rain and wind thing I mentioned earlier. I could even pick up the list that says "to do" on it and pick a chore, but I don't think that's the solution for my ennui either. No, I think I'll just do what Woowoo Charly is always telling me to do and that's to go with my instincts. Right now my instincts say... head back to the couch for another book about some long forgotten sports figure or political hack that's begging to be read so, I'll just wrap this up and...

Wait! The feeling has lifted! All I really needed to do was blog!

And there you have it.

Sonaffa Beach

THE SONAFFA BEACH DIET
By Doc Walton M.V.P., GTO

Phase One Lose Weight and Make The Room Seem Larger

The Sonaffa Beach Diet is not low carb or low fat so right off the bat you know there will be food involved, right? Wrongo Moonpie Breath, The Sonaffa Beach Diet has NO carbs and NO fats. It also has no proteins, minerals, vitamins or mono sodium glutamate, but we have left in ample portions of riboflavin as studies have shown that raw flavin is tasty and necessary for life and ribo is the best kind.

Hey! You said you wanted to lose weight.

Well here's how you will do it. You will eat the normal size portions of beef, chicken and turkey that any Vegan would eat and supplement that with healthy gold fish (avoid the ones floating on the top of the bowl) and the shells from your favorite shell fish. You will have plenty of vegetables -kale, rutabaga, rutasixty-six, grass and leaves - and, of course, eggs. Turtle and robin. Dairy cheeses are not permitted unless the milk was obtained from cows whose ribs were showing.

Nuts? Well, yeah, that's what I think too.

You will have salads with real motor oil in the dressing.

You will have three seriously unbalanced meals a day and it will be your job to eat so that your hunger and cravings don't include food. Nothing undermines a weight-loss plan more than eating food. No sane eating program includes not eating, so avoid those at all costs. You'll be encouraged to have snacks in the mid morning and mid afternoon and by encouraged I mean your parents will come out of a closet and same shame on you repeatedly. You will have dessert after dinner. I'm sorry, I wrote that wrong. You will have desert for dinner.

You will drink water, of course. This vile, tasteless, liquid normally used for washing dirty things and flushing even dirtier things will be a staple of your diet. You will also be allowed coffee or tea but only if consumed in their dry form. Here water is strictly forbidden.

For the next foreseeable future you won't be having any bread, rice, potatoes, pasta or baked goods. Also no fruit or anything labeled heart safe by the AMA. This is not about health, it's about rooking marvelous. Don't panic though, you will be able to add all those things back into your diet after just eighty four weeks or whenever you are no longer a fat person, whichever comes first. But for now...back away Big Bertha.

No candy, cookies, ice cream or sugar for the first couple of millenia either. Also no beer or alcohol of any kind. You may buy stock in Budweiser, but keep in mind their sales will plummet once this diet catches on. You will be able to add wine back into your diet after the first decade as it is beneficial for a number of reasons. It will get you loaded is the main one.

Now if you are the kind of person who lives for pasta, potatoes or satisfying your sweet tooth, then let me tell you something. Get a real life. After you do that you will be shocked how painlessly time will pass without these treats. I'll be honest here and recommend sewing your mouth, stapling your stomach and inducing a long coma to help with the pain, but let me assure you these are not necessary. Well no more than say, air, but really, in a few short months the cravings will go away. I say this with such confidence only because so many overweight people have already succeeded on this program, albeit with the aid of something called intravenous, but come on, that's in Phase Two and I don't want to get ahead of myself.

The Sonaffa Beach Diet may be new to you, but it has existed for several minutes -long enough to have helped hundreds of people consider losing pounds and keeping them off. Just not theirs.

So there you have Phase One. The Phase we call the strict period. After that it gets hard.

Words of Windom

Adding to my Spanish vocabulary one word at a time. The latest? Cuervo. That's Spanish for crow. Now you get it. Jose Cuervo = Joe Crow. Joe Crow Tequila. Definetly loses something in the translation.

I won't say it has been windy lately, but that howling outside the house doesn't sound like banshees. Banshees are higher pitched, more screechy. I know, I dated a couple back in the day. Besides, I don't think Banshees could stand up out there. It's too windy. (Well, wouldn't you know? I just said it's windy three sentences after I said I wouldn't. It's getting so I can't trust what my fingers will tap out. )

Actually, I brought the whole thing up because I'm looking for negatives to write about Panama. I want to do my part to discourage the invasion of wrinkled, white haired, decrepit, old people like myself who are predicted to arrive here from the States in the next ten years. Call it a preservation of beauty quest. Sure, I'm pissing into the plentiful wind, the inevitable is the inevitable, but I've got to try. I was told recently by a high white horse souse...I mean a high, white house source, (yeah, I know, old joke) that over a million United Statesians - Estadounidenses in Spanish ( try wrapping your tongue around that puppy) - will set up residence here in that time span, making them, and this I find abysmal, one fourth of the population of Panama! Is there no end to it Michelangelo? Is there no end? (Who knows that reference?) Anyway, it's been real windy and noisy of late while Nicaragua and Guatamala (I'm sure) remain quiet and calm. Spread the word... fast.

And in other non news, Woowoo Charly finished two more books while I was writing the last paragraph. The reason you don't find her book list on the web is because it is roughly the same as that of the Library of Congress... only longer. She wouldn't want to be redundant. Even the wind can't turn pages faster than she does.

Joe Crow. Can you believe it? Next thing you know they'll be telling me chile is a country.

My List. My Opinions

Book List 2006


1. The Book of Secrets Deepak Chopra Non Fiction Essays on achieving a spiritual life of peace, free of fear, doubt, uncertainty, anger, etc. This is a book to return to often.

2. On Bullshit Harry G. Frankfurt A 67 page essay on the nature of BS that reads like a doctoral dissertation. Could have been amusing, but wasn’t, isn’t.

3. Horse Heaven Jane Smiley An excellent read that follows six horses and a couple of dozen people through the ins and outs of the thoroughbred racing world.

4. Death In A Strange Country Donna Leon Murder mystery set in Venice, Italy. Compelling characters, well told story, but lacking a satisfying ending.

5. El Demonio and La Senorita Prym Paulo Coelho (In Spanish) A stranger bearing a demon comes to a small town to make a bet and prove a point. Srta. Prym saves the day. I enjoyed this immensely.

6. Dolores Jacquelin Suzanne (In Spanish) I bought this book for a quarter at The Bookmark, a used book store in Dolega. It was worth it…but not much more.

7. Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell Susanna Clarke A very long book , 781 big fat pages, about magic and magicians in the 19th century. A good read I guess if you like that sort of thing. My wife loved it.

8. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time Mark Haddon Most books don’t live up to the hype that is plastered all over their covers and early pages by other authors and kind reviewers. This one exceeds everything said.

9. High Lonesome Barry Hannah Stories that aren’t, really, about people who shouldn’t be but probably are, really. Amazing prose. Poetry… really.

10. I Love You More Than You Know Jonathan Ames Humorous Essays about the author’s humorous and overly self examined life.

11. To The Hilt Dick Francis All Francis’ efforts are good and worth a read. This is my favorite so far. An excellent and complex mystery solved by an engaging protagonist.

12. The Weather Makers Tim Flannery A tome on global warming, its causes and consequences. Skimmed most of the book as it was densely fact laden. I get the idea. The world’s in trouble.

13. The Grand Slam Mark Frost Biography of Bobby Jones the great amateur golfer of the Twenties and Thirties. Well written history of Bobby, golf and America. Loved it.

14. Rat Race Dick Francis Francis’ books are the literary equivalent of comfort food. They are always tasty and satisfying. Don’t know what I’ll do when I’ve read his last.

15. White Ghost Girls Alice Greenway American sisters coming of age in Hong Kong during the Vietnam War. This is one of those books that is more about the feelings evoked by the story than the story itself. A “4” read. Emotionally absorbing.

16. By Sorrow’s River Larry McMurtry McMurtry is not always great as he was with Lonesome Dove, but he is always entertaining. This is the third book of a series. Now I have to find the two that preceded it.

17. The Nibble Theory and The Kernel of Power Kaleel Jamison An interesting little book that touches on some of my own unvoiced ideas. “You are who you pretend to be” is one example. In essence the book is a simple guide to personal growth.

18. Whale Season N.M. Kelby On the cover it says “A really good story. And it is.

19. Night Elie Wiesel Brilliant, but horrifying account of the author’s days at Auschwitz and Buckenwald . I was glad when it was over for both him and me.

20. One Liners Ram Dass A little over 200 spiritual observations. Good stuff. I will use many of these.

21. Dressed For Death Donna Leon The kind of mystery where it is not so much who done it as how are they going to be caught.

22. Red Weather Pauls Toutonghi A terrific read. A novel that reads like a memoir, but maintains the drama of a novel. Loved it.

23. Golf Dreams John Updike Golf musings. Some better than others. Some terrific.

24. Street Lawyer John Grishom Entertaining, but his people are never quite real.

25. Harry Potter Y El Caliz De Fuego (In Spanish) The fourth in the series and the best so far. But do they have to be so damn long?

26. The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid A Memoir Bill Bryson You wouldn’t think that a childhood in Iowa during the 1950’s would have much to offer, but Bryson proves otherwise. Witty, informative and very well written.

27. Piety and Politics Barry W. Lynn Lynn is one of our champions for the continued separation of church and state. He does a dandy job of skewering the religious right.

28. Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress Dai Sijie A story of finding and losing love in rural China under the communist regime. A well told tale.

29. The Losing Season Pat Conroy A memoir. I had tears in my eyes at the book’s end because of its content and because there was none of it left to read.

30. Snow in August Pete Hamill A fable about a boy, a rabbi, a street gang and a golem. Nicely told, fully developed people.

31. Enquiry Dick Francis Fun fiction

32. There Is Nothing In This Book That I Meant To Say Paula Poundstone. Paula gives short bios of Joan of Arc, Abe Lincoln, Helen Keller, Charles Dickens, The Wright Bros., Beethoven and Sitting Bull against which she compares her own life. Often funny.

33. Jimmy Stewart A Biography Marc Eliot Jimmy’s life in the movies and out. Well told.

34. In the Frame Dick Francis A bit overly complicated, but it all works out in the end.

35. Sharp Objects Gillian Flynn Creepy, but riveting story of a reporter who is sent back to her small Missouri hometown to cover the hunt for the murderer of two young girls. Her own past and current problems become part of the story.

36. Demencia Temporal K.M. Morales Short Stories. (In Spanish ) Complex tales of time travel, mysticism, magic and the like. Difficult reading for a beginning Spanish speaker, but I got through and mostly got the gist.

37. Cotton Song Tom Bailey Grim, but riveting tale of the consequences of a lynching in the not so long ago South. Not to my taste, (I’m over bullshit redneck ignorance and hatred… along with regular bullshit, ignorance and hatred) but as a piece of writing, this is nicely done.

38. The Extraordinary Healing Powers of Ordinary Things Larry Dossey, M.D. Interesting book about interesting subjects like Nothingness, Miracles, Music and Dirt and why they are good for us.

39. The Book Of Understanding Osho A guy who has the hang of it all tells you how to get it as well. Great stuff.

40. Sabine Anonymous A slowly told tale of lesbians and vampires at a private school. Could have been, should have been, much better.

41. Kite Runner Khaled Hosseni Terrific tale of an Afghani boy and his journey through life and a turbulent time.

42. The Code of the Woosters P.J. Wodehouse Bertie and Jeeves up to great stuff as always.

43. Cell Steven King Nice movie script. Not crazy about the ending.

44. The Joy of Living Yongey Mingyur Rinpoche Tibetan Buddhism meets modern science and one proves the other. I learned much from this book that will be with me in my life and spiritual practice.

45. The Coldest Winter Ever Sister Souljah Fabuloso! Like reading a science fiction tale where the author describes a completely different world than the one we know. Souljah’s world, alien as it seems, I’m certain, is for real.

46. Life After Death – The Burden of Proof Deepak Chopra Interesting. Thought A provoking. Stimulating. The usual gamut of thoughts and feelings that Deepak inspires. I always finish a Chopra book by thinking, “everybody should read this.”

47. Writing The Fire –Yoga and the art of making your work come alive. Gail Sher Integrating a yoga practice to liberate one’s mind and improve one’s writing. Breathe Doc, breathe.

48. The Buddha’s Book of Daily Meditations Christopher Titmuss “I declare to you: all conditioned things are of a nature to decay- work out your liberation with diligence.” These were the last words of Buddha and the last words in the book. Alrighty then.

Curse of the Cursor

It's a coffee morning. As opposed to tea. On coffee mornings my brain whizzes over the empty spaces where thoughts are supposed to be. On tea mornings it takes its time examining the voids. Nothing here, let's try over there. Nope, nothing there either. I spend a lot of time staring, coma-like, at my computer screen. For the most part it just stares back, but unlike me it does have that one moving part, a blinking cursor. On off, on off. It's very hypnotic. I think I'll watch it awhile. On off, on off.

Yes Sir, I am in your power. I will do all that you say.

Snap!

Okay, I'm back. There's an hour missing from my life though. The only clue I have as to what happened during that hour is a copy of my last will and testament. Apparently I've left everything to the Walmart family and the Bill Gates Foundation. Weird, huh? I don't even know those people.

I'm thinking of doing something today, but I'm not sure what or even if I should. Yesterday, I finished reading a book and I don't want to set a precedent by doing something two days in a row. Imagine the pressure of having to do that all the time. No, I think I better just chill, take it easy, watch TV, stare at the cursor. You know, lay back. Besides, it's not that nice out today. There's a blue sky and a rainbow and 70 degree temperatures, but there's a bit of a breeze pushing the treetops about and breezes can be tricky. They can make you chase a hat or put a mote in your eye. No, I better stay in. Watch TV. Learn about the new products at Walmart.

I am having thoughts though. Finally. Is the new Windows out yet? Where can I buy new software, hardware and increase my gigabytes while getting the lowest prices? Don't worry, it'll come to me.

On off, on off.

Yes Sir, I'll be right there. No, don't worry, I won't forget my checkbook.

Return of the Blog

Sloggy and foggy, but not bloggy describe my state of mind as I return to the keyboard to see what happens.

What to write about? Sickness and health? Had some of each. Life altering events? Well sure , everybody has those. Impending moves? I've got one scheduled. New kids on the block? Yup, one young, one older. War and peace? Too much of one, not enough of the other. Politics? I don't think so. Sports? Too depressing at the moment, at least in Denver. No, I think I'll write about...

Nothing in particular.

It is, afterall, my specialty as something in particular rarely finds space in the monkeymind. Luckily, nothing in particular happened all over the place in 2006 and I was able to write about it at regular intervals. (Irregular intervals are available at discount blogs.) I'm curious to see what nothing will turn up in 2007. So far I see nothing on the horizon, but that's too far away to capture clearly. I could go on about the wedge I hit to eighteen inches on the fourth hole at Valle Escondido yesterday, but I'm guessing by the glaze that has just appeared on your eyes that you might rather eat stale fruitcake. And speaking of fruitcake, and here I mean the actual foodstuff and not a eupehemism for Republican politicians, I could also tell you about the Sonaffa Beach diet that I've been on for a month to little avail, a measly eight pounds shed, but again I suspect you'd rather pluck nose hair with a pliers than read about fat falling off. So what, really am I left with? Nothing. Nada damn thing.

Except this. I've read that men keep their new year's resolutions more often than women. Well of course we do. In the same article I read that women's most frequent resolution is to lose weight. I can tell you, that's not easy. Men's most frequent resolution is to be a better person. Sheesh. How hard can that be? Last year we were jerks. Ask any woman.

My own resolution is to be more resolute. About something. Anything. There's just too little nothing to write about.

Happy New year!