Blazin' hot!

Sweet baby Ray, it's been hot here! And unbelieveably humid. I've given up trying to sport any type of professional 'do at work. It's just not possible.

Speaking of work, I need a new job. I am so stressed out at my current job and sick of the bullshit. There are a few possibilities on the horizon. We'll see.

My father called me yesterday. At about 2 p.m. From a bench at the park. No cloud cover, upper 90s, humid as hell and this fool is sitting on a park bench. I understand cabin fever but good gravy man, go out in the early morning or after the sun has set NOT DURING THE HOTTEST PART OF THE DAY! Especially when you're in poor health to begin with. Sheesh!

My 5 year old nephew called me the other night. Just to chat. His birthday is in a few weeks so I asked him what he wanted for his birthday and he said,

"I won't complain about anything you want to buy me. I don't really want clothes but I won't crab about whatever you get me."

That kid cracks me up! I wonder if his mother has been giving him the Be Grateful for Any Presents You Get No Matter What They Are speech.

Time for a change

I had a doctor appointment on the 7th. My weight is about where it was last year at this time. How's THAT for depressing? I seem to be losing and gaining the same 10 pounds over and over again. My blood pressure is up. I got a stern lecture about reducing stress (e.g. my job and the b.s. with my dad) and getting serious about diet and exercise before I either end up diabetic or on high blood pressure medication.

So since the 7th I've exercised like a maniac and stayed perfectly on program, right? HA!!

Why is this so absolutely fucking difficult for me? When I have medical proof that I am harming myself you would think I would get my shit and my discipline together but no! I do the exact opposite.

My doctor also asked me if I was depressed (maybe because I cried through my entire appointment, literally) and gave me a list of "counselors." The list is where I left it-on the floor in the back seat of my car but I hear it calling to me on occasion. For now I'm leaving it where it is.

The White Sox and me. We're in a slump.

Happy Birthday-A Day Late

I meant to type this post yesterday but things kind of got away from me! On July 1, 1971, the second of three sons was born to a housewife and a chemist in Connecticut. He would grow up to have the typical interests of boy's his age: Star Wars, sports, comic books, and muscle cars. When he was 12 years old his father took a new job which moved the family to Illinois. A move I, for one, am forever grateful they made. Because, as you may have guessed, that brought The Saint to my neck of the woods and on July 1, 1988, we had our first date. I have watched him grow from a teenager to a man over the past 18 years and I am so proud of him. He has been such a loving and supportive partner to me over the years. He has a temper and can be a hardass but to see how gentle and patient he is with our cats or our nieces and nephews just melts my heart. He is a super talented artist and a pretty good guitar player. He is fiercely loyal and protective of his loved ones and the people he considers friends. And he is so damn funny. OMG, he fucking makes me laugh! So happy 35th birthday, baby! I love you the stars, the sky, the moon..big garages and little garages!