Good Morning Coffee Drinkers and everyone else.
This is a story about the coldest I’ve ever been in my life, so bundle up, snuggle up, and put another log on the fire.
I was born and reared in Florida. - I had never really seen it snow until I was an adult. Needless to say, living in Germany where the snow can be on the ground from Thanksgiving until Easter was quite a “climate” shock. Some places out in the field, were everyone else played Army while I patched up their boo-boos, temperatures even dipped as low as the sub-zero range. Imagine that - never seen snow and here I was with .5m (20 in) of it outside and the thermometer reading a ridiculous -19ºC ( -2ºF). It took some getting use to.
For about half of the time I was in Germany we used an old Vietnam War Marine type vehicle for an ambulance. They were called Gammagoats and they were monsters, with six wheel drive - articulated steering (back wheels turned opposite direction of front) - three cylinder diesel engine and loud as the devil. They could go almost anywhere.
Since we were allowed separate heaters in the back insulated patient transport area, the medic's gammagoat was also a place for the fellas to get out of the cold, warm up, and keep from getting frostbite or hypothermia. But, you couldn’t run the heater all the time - especially when we were on Alert. Usually, however, the time that we could run the heater, along with the insulation and the body heat of 10 men crammed in the back was enough to keep you warm. - Usually.
On this one particularly cold night I had just gotten off duty and crawled into the back of the Gamma to catch a few hours sleep. There wasn’t enough room to stretch out and everyone was sleeping sitting up on the side benches. I didn’t care - it was toasty warm - I was dog tired.
When you walk through snow a lot of it sticks to your galoshes and pants - you try to brush it all off before you get into the back of the truck, but no one gets it all. After a while all that snow had melted and there was about 5cm (2 in) of water in the bottom of the funny looking truck. Of course the order came down to turn off all heaters. I was still dead asleep - didn’t wake up.
I didn’t wake up when the driver moved the vehicle to a spot on an incline that caused this near ice water to pool by my feet. There now was 15cm (6 in) of frigid water giving my boots a bath. While I slept, everyone left the back of the truck, leaving me alone. There went all the body heat. The liquid snow on the cold, steel, bed turned back into ice, literally freezing my feet to the floor. Of course this woke me up. I woke up with two feet firmly frozen to the floor by 15cm of rock hard ice. I could’t move. I started to cry. Here I was - a man of 21 years crying. Crying, not only because it was the coldest I had ever been but also because I was trapped and I couldn’t move anywhere to warm up. I had no idea that in 30 years that would be an regular thing. Having pd is sometimes like being the coldest you’ve ever been, with your feet frozen to the floor.
Scientist say there is no such thing as cold - only the absence of heat. I disagree, that’s like saying there is no bad - only absence of good. I disagree because that night, on that mountain in Germany, I was COLD it was very real and it was VERY VERY BAD. Yes, having pd is like being the coldest you’ve ever been, but thank God they have heaters (Sinemet in my case) heaters so I can un-freeze my feet from the floor and provide them with the absence of cold, which is very, very, not bad.
BY THE WAY...
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One more thing - Please forgive any typos - misspelled words - grammatical errors etc. I try to proofread, but somedays it’s a miracle I can even type in English, the only language I really know. If you see mistake you can do me a favor and email me about it - email@example.com I’d love to hear from you - even if your only pointing out a mistake.
Good Morning, or is it Goodnight?
2:45am - Well I missed another Wed jam night, night, last night. There are at least 2 held in my neighborhood every Wednesday night and I really would like to go to at least one, but I can never seem to make it. All my years - I never missed a gig - If I could do that, then why can’t I make it to one jam night - right down the street - in a really cool spot? --- I DO know why --- It’s because mr. sandman and mr. parkinsons work for the same corporation. Different divisions mind you, but the same corporation. They even have the same job title and pay grade. They are both "pain in the butt instigator divisional supervisors", or BS34s.
Come 8:00 it’s all I can so to make it to bed, much less go out. I’ve tried to distract mr. p with trails of Sinemet leading off in the wrong direction --- he always finds his way back. I’ve called mr. s’s secretary several times to schedule his nightly appointment for later, but I keep getting the machine. What can I do? How to you force these very powerful men to do their jobs differently? How can I be sure to take a long - reset my clock - afternoon nap?
Only one answer comes to mind ... Drugs!!! yes Drugs with a capital D and that stands for gee I’m sleepy. I’m talking alcohol, more specifically ... wine. If I want to take a nap between 12 and 5 this would mean I would have to start drinking around 11am - Très français. Très bon.
But, I don’t want to be the sad, poor guy drinking alone before noon - the failed writer or actor who drinks to numb his pain. No I want to be the happy artiste! who drinks with the rising sun to enjoy life! To be able to take a long nap in the afternoon and awake to go out into the world! to go forth into the clubs and bistros and JAM! To play his bass. To see his friends. To enjoy life! To have another glass of wine. To take a cab home to go back to sleep.
I think I’ll start today, i’m sure we have a half bottle of wine around here somewhere. I only need one glass and I’m out like a light, well maybe two... it’s OK . Wine’s cheap. This might work. This might work, especially if I am able to present the proper image.
But there’s no Jam night tonight that I know of. Maybe I’ll go to Texas...probably a bad idea, there has to be something locally on a Thursday night. Somewhere in this town of almost a million people, there has to be a Jam night.
Of course it would be cool to go to Texas right now. Hang out in Austin - go down to Terlnigua - disappear for while - that’s what one does in Terlingua, disappear like a desert fog. Nice thought. Not a good idea right now though, something to do with this needing money thing.
BACK TO THE IMAGE
NOW his guy has an image I could live with. Sure, for all I know there could be a meth lab over that hill but I don’t see it - and I certainly can’t smell it. He could be in miserable shape, but I can’t tell...I only see him from the back. That’s me sitting there around 11:30, By noon I’m out like a light, Don’t worry I’ll make it up to my bedroom.
Here we go with that ironic word again...irony. It’s ironic that back when I was working one of the things I disliked the most was jam nights. I usually had a gig anyway, but when I did have a Wed night off I rarely wanted to go out and play in a bar. Now, it’s all I can think about. This might work, but only if I can keep mr.s and mr.p from sitting at my table and drinking with me. They’re such sloppy drunks, and they always get drunk, and I end up with the hangover.
NOTICE: This has been a piece of fictional parody. I , in no way encouarge the use of alcohol by anyone but me. SEE YOUR DOCTOR BEFORE YOU SELF MEDICATE. You can find a nice inexpensive bottle of wine with a screw on cap, that way you don’t have to drink the whole bottle. They have a nice selection over at Mister Lee’s - Stockton St. on the right two blocks from the river. I am sober right now, unless you want to count coffee. Kids, stay in school.
I think I have written about this before - can’t remember - that’s why i pulled most of the archives. No one will ever know - the archives are sill up somewhere, but I ain’t telling - you have to wait for the book.
mumuble mummmbel mmmm
That’s how most people hear me - most of the time. I sound that way for many reasons - most all of them parkinson's related.
As I understand it - Everything in your body requires motion. parkinson’s reduces your ability to produce that motion...speech is motion...parkinson’s affects your speech. As my disease progresses my voice will get softer and softer. I can fight this, and stop the progression, maybe even reverse it through physical training and hard work. But as you age you also tire, and so, my voice will probably become very soft someday, no matter what I do.
Another problem I have is that the medication I take for the pd symptoms - the only one that has really helped - makes my mouth puffy dry and sore. This also makes it hard, sometimes almost impossible, to talk. My dentist, Dr Roessler, a great guy, gave me some stuff for that yesterday and I think it is already helping and the main sore that was in my mouth (it wasn’t like a canker or any thing gross - more like a little bump) has gone away. which is a good sign.
I think the sound of my voice can sometimes influence peoples perception of me - I sound as if there is something wrong with my cognition - in other words they think i’m either Drunk or Mentally Defective or both, and in my neighbor hood it’s usually the latter. Both. I even have a card the parkinson’s foundation gave me that says “THIS MAN HAS pARKINSON’S - HE IS NOT INTOXICATED” I call it my “Get Out Of Drunk Tank Free Card.” If you combine how I talk with how I move sometimes, you can see how people would jump to this conclusion. The sad part is no one wants anything to do with a drunk - crazy man. I am beginning to experience what members of most minorities, or people who are just different looking, have experienced all their life. I am beginning to feel prejudged.
But what about the price of tomatoes?
I can say - who cares about what other people think, and that would be a healthy way to deal with it. That is usually what I do. It’s my real life - the time I spend with Family and Friends that I worry about. People get tired of having to say Huh? Wha? Speak up Andy - you have to try harder - I can’t HEAR you! They are right - they love me and have my best interests at heart. But, as I said, sometimes I get tired.
Thinking about it I realize why bother - don’t take this wrong - I love my family and friends and always want to be able to express that love verbally. But come on folks, have you ever met me? About ¾ of the words that come out of my mouth or unfiltered uselessness. A definite waste of everyones time, especially mine.
Not that these words that slip past the gate aren’t of any value - they are just useless at that time - they are only me - thinking out loud. Usually worth saving to use in a song, story, poem, what have you - not worth wasting precious vocal energy on. If you don’t use it you’ll lose it - this is true, and I still must practice and work my voice. But like with bagpipes, my voice is better practiced in a soundproof booth.
There is a retreat like place in middle Georgia where you spend time alone with a vow of silence - like a monk - you sleep by yourself in a small little room - like a monk - you spend your time praying, working , and meditating - like a monk - I guess you could say it is a monastery. I plan ( as soon as I can afford it) to spend some time up there. It will be delicious to not hear the words “speak up!” for a while. Until then I’ll try to make myself understood by everyone by enunciating, speaking LOUDLY, and basically being a good soldier. However, saying only what I need to, and saving the thinking out loud for that soundproof room is where I’m gonna start. I talk too much anyway.
Good Morning Everyone,
Sick Day Mini Blog™ - Woke up after 4 hours sleep but felt pretty darn good - So good I felt like posting this Mini Blog™ Still congested but on the mend. Thanks for all your well wishes.
I saw a post about how a fellow musician friend to mine has started to meditate and how it has helped him - I posted on his thread...
How I meditate...
I’d like to share what I’ve been doing with meditation, quietly for around 25 years. Like I do My Chi™ and iYoga™, my own interpretation of those ancient arts. I also do what I call Myditation™. Myditaiton™ is completely free form and there is no wrong way to do it. Where you have to be careful with iYoga and My Chi. You can pull a muscle or receive a mechanical injury (sprain - strain - even break) It’s good to take a few intro courses first and as always...CHECK WITH YOUR DOCTOR BEFORE DOING ANYTHING YOU SEE HERE.
I don’t sit in an uncomfortable position but rather lay down either in bed or on a mat on the floor. White noise helps - either nature sounds - very simple music usually of my own composition - or my own chanting or mantra. I then listen; I listen to God. I never try to stop thinking or force my mind to be quiet that’s very hard for me to do, almost impossible. But after a while of listening and chanting or humming. It happens - I achieve that right before you go to sleep Brain Wave - the big one you ride to enlightenment and calm. I sometimes end up in a place where I no longer have parkinson’s. I know it’s only temporary, but I take it when i can. - - -
I hear the white noise, the music etc, but I listen to God , After 30 min or so I’m a new man - To me prayer is talking to your creator and meditation is listening. You can’t have a relationship without both. But remember - meditation is different for everyone. Find what works for you.
PS... MyDitation is not a registered trade mark as the ™ implies - that is only a parody of our possessive and our not so eager to share society.
A representative from 7-11, a manager on some level, called me Sunday. First he offered his thanks for my service to my country - I never saw combat, but I was prepared to - that can be considered serving. I don’t hear Thank You for that very much... I told him You’re Welcome. He then went on, I’m sure following company guidelines for such situations - reading from a script, but he did sound sincere.
He had a lot to say about how my experience in no way reflects the image of... I, jumping in, saying how I accept his apology and no hard feelings, thank you for calling. Tired of being on phone. Wanting to hang up. That wasn’t just him - I feel that way all the time.
Then he said that he would like me to come down to the store to accept a gift certificate (for some amount, I didn’t catch it) as a token of their regret. I, having to jump in again ( I believe they have certain points that they must cover to resolve each case, I’m not sure, but he was a talker) say No thank you I told him, give that to the homeless shelter, they need it more that I do. Like I said he was going on and on - I just wanted off, I told him again - Thank you and I accept your apology - give the money to the homeless - God Bless you (he had said that to me on a message he left - I thought it polite thing to do) said Good Bye, and I hung up.
He sounded sincere and worried or prepared for me to be angry. I didn’t have the heart to tell him another reason that I didn’t wan’t that gift certificate was that I had made a promise - right here in this blog that I would never set foot in a 7-11 again . I had made a vow. One of the easiest to keep vows I’ll ever make. For there is no reason for me to go into that store. they have nothing I need. Although they are mainly a store full of High Fructose, Trans Fat, white flower Junk food, cigarettes beer and cheap wine, they do offer some healthy options I might want, but I don’t need them. I can wait until a more local and reasonably priced option is open. They are a convenience store and I don’t need the convenience,
And If for some reason I do - There is Mr Lee’s store two blocks from my house. The people that let me sit down and wait until I could get a ride hone. My LOCAL store. The have a better selection of quality beers and wine also. This is the last you will hear from me on this subject. I am completely satisfied with 7-11 handling of it and hold no grudge. I will, however, never set foot in a 7-11 again, This is for many reasons the last just being the camels back breaker. -- Unless it is late at night , and I’m on the road, need gas or some other item and a 7-11 is the only thing around open. If 7-11 ever saves my butt like that - I will then, and only then, stop my vow and start shopping there again.
There is a bit of coincidence involved that I have yet to share with anyone but 7-11. My father worked for the Southland Corp, who at that time owned 7-11, I’m not sure if they still do or not, He worked there for around 5 years until he had to retire - he always spoke highly of them and said they were a great company to work for - this incident happened on the 30 anniversary of his death - Feb 20 1984. Although, I feel he would of approved of their handling of the situation.
I have learned a lot from this - there are lessons I have been taught. I might even need to share them with you someday. But only if I need to and not just because it’s convenient .
Good Morning Sol Sisters and Brothers.
If I slept for 9-10 hours Tuesday night - slept like a baby, then why did I sleep for 3 hours last night waking up at 2am this morning - dog tired but unable to go back to sleep. I guess that’s just the way it is. I shouldn’t complain, at least I’m not in very much pain. Although pain can (to me) be a good thing, better yet, not a bad thing. It reminds me I’m alive. But there is a different kind of pain, a pain you might not even notice or feel, but’s it’s there and very, very real. The pain of loneliness - the pain of being lost - the pain of sadness. That’s the type of pain Mr. Allen Collins suffered with, sure he had physical pain - but I think it was his spiritual pain that eventually led to his death.
I’ve written before of my time spent with Allen, but I feel it bears repeating. I worry sometimes when I write about someone other than myself. I worry that I will offend that person or their family. This is one of those times. But I still am going on with this, I spent a short time with Allen but we talked a lot and I felt I almost became his friend. And if I do offend or upset any of his survivors or close friends, I am truly sorry. That is defiantly not my intention. I had and still do have the utmost respect and admiration for Allen, and I believe his spirit knows that.
What started me thinking about this was a post I saw last night. I thought it was from Randall Hall, One of the guitar playing treasures that Jacksonville has produced over the years - but it might not have been - I have trouble following the thread and mix up who started what. I thought it was from Randall and since I played in the very last gasping breaths of the Allen Collins Band and then a little while later did a couple of gigs with Randall I figured I’d write him a note - It went like this - first I'll give you the content of the original post.
The Very "Short Lived" Allen Collins band. They did not do much due to Allen's Drinking, Drug, and depression issues, still put out 1 album with some good tunes on it. Left-Right Billy Powell, Allen Collins, Leon Wilkeson, Randall Hall(Who Toured with the the new Skynyrd after Allen's Car crash that left him in a wheelchair)Barry Lee Harwood(From Rossington Collins Band, Also played dobro on the Street survivors album) Derek Hess(Drums for Rossington Collins) and Jimmy Dougherty. They had one hit called "Chapter one" Which was in my opinion, a great tune. — with Gigi Dougherty, Randall Hall and Derek Hess.
MY NOTE TO RANDALL
Hey Randall, Hope all is well with you and yours.- I played bass with you a couple of times with Ace Moreland at Apple Jacks - San Marco, around 1987 or so, I still play but have Parkinson’s Disease so my memory is sketchy. Please forgive me if my dates are off.
I also played with Alan after the ACB broke up - he was still trying to put something together - but like what was said up top - he was lost - he was lonely and he was hurting - That was the only Alan I ever knew. His playing, of course, suffered for it. There was one night, however, at his studio back of his house on Julington Creek road when he was ON!!!! he was playing a Les Paul Junior or SG thru a marshall or HiWatt 410 stack I can’t really remember the details except his sound. groove. musicality, everything was ON -It blew me away - one of the best - I still get goose bumps thinking about it. I’m jealous of anyone that had the privilege of playing with him before life took it’s toll on him. We wrote 4 pretty good songs together - recorded practice demos on an old 4 track cassette deck - I’m sure they are gone now - too bad. But we mainly sat around and talked about life a lot, I think he liked the fact that I didn’t ask him about Lynyrd Skynyrd I was more interested in the future than the past. I was 26 y/o - this was around 1983 - 1984 -but after 4 or 5 months I had to move on to a working band - No royalty checks comin in for me. He was a good man, at least the Alan I knew. RIP.
Take care and thank you for your time. Andy Ward King
TUESDAY’S GONE... AGAIN
There were some kind and some rather matter of fact comments also posted. I’ll share them with you.
Even though Allen was in great pain and plauged by many demons we did manage to make some good music together along with Mike Owings - who now plays with David Allen Coe. It might not have been exactly my style ( I was going to place what I think my style is here but I couldn't decide on a name for it) it was good none the less. God Bless you Allen you are missed by many, including me, I hope you have finally found peace. Leave that Ampeg SVT on standby - I’lll be there to jam someday when MY time comes, I pray many years from now.
Good Morning Beautiful People,
Kathleen and I were eating supper in a small restaurant in Paris where the young, cute waiter was very - very friendly. Especially to Kathleen. I didn’t mind, she has enough spark for 100 French Waiters. Not just One Spark but an endless supply. And I’ll share, because she always saves the last dance for me.
There was a table of about eight people next to us having a birthday party. They were to the point where you sing “Happy Birthday”, and Kathleen and I were excited that we were going to hear it sung in French. When they started however, it was in English... ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ...” Quelle Surprise!! Oh well, at least we were able to watch the waiter flirt in French. I do wish I could sing it "en français" though because I would have this morning to Kathleen. Yes, today is my beautiful wifes’ birthday... I’m going to paste here the first thing I wrote earlier this morning.
Happy Birthday to one of the few people who really knows me , yet still loves me - the person I love the most and savor each moment I am allowed to enjoy getting to know her better - my best friend - my wife - my earthly savior - Kathleen Noell King. Happy Birthday sweetheart ! Can it be called irony that the one day in almost a year I haven’t cooked you breakfast - the day where the night before I slept like I was 18 - was your birthday? I’m supposed to give YOU the present. Thank you - I love you more than 5 year old Dutch Gouda. - And a Roo
Hobbits have the custom ( I know they aren’t real - but what is?) of giving other people presents when it’s your birthday. I think that’s a brilliant idea. For starters you don’t have to remember anyones birthday except your own, and it makes regifting more practical. Well Kathleen, in the truest hobbit form did that for me today. I usually wake up around 3am - it’s still dark and everyone is asleep. I start writing my blog and then around 6:00 I go downstairs and cook Kathleen some Steel Cut Oatmeal with apples, raisins and cinnamon in. This morning I didn’t get up first - Kathleen did. She said I was sleeping so soundly that she didn’t want to disturb me.
When I did finally wake up there was that big light in the sky (sun) and Kathleen had already left for work. Waiting for me on the stove was a half pot of oatmeal - made by Kathleen. It was a Hobbit birthday!!!!
You know, I couldn’t tell you how old she is without getting a sheet of paper out and doing the math, and math is hard. But, it doesn’t matter anyway because to me, she is ageless. She is as young and vibrant as the first day we met.
I was sitting on the floor of the house I was living in at the time with the band “Two Car Garage”, the house is still there - on Barrs street - I walk by it almost everyday. I was sitting on the floor making flyers for a gig we were to play. When in walked this angel - I mean she even had a freakin' halo! A halo and the prettiest smile I had ever seen ( the rest of her wasn’t too shabby either) Everyone knew her but me. We were introduced and talked a little, and before she left our Band Mother (Faye Brown RIP) had her write her phone number down on the wall right in front of were I stood during rehearsals 387-6115 - Needless to say Faye’s plan worked and the rest is History - thanks Faye.
I asked her to marry me only two months after she wrote on that wall, and she said yes. But, we would have to wait at least a year. A year long engagement, she thought i was being young and impetuous and the “new" would wear off and I would change my mind. It didn’t and I didn’t, it still hasn’t and I still haven’t. (That has got to be the coolest sentence I have ever written.) She had a son - who I love with all my heart as if he were my own. And about a year later we had one of our own. They are both incredible. You can’t have a favorite when both of your boys have turned out to be men as outstanding as Nicholas and Donovan.
I could sing her praises until time circled around and it became today again. But they are only words - the real praises - the real songs of love and appreciation - are stored in my heart.
Happy Birthday Sweetheart. - I Love You.
Good Morning Spirits,
Will anything last forever? Think about it. Forever is a long long while. I would say that it is infinity defined by time. It has always been and will always be. Forever is time that does not end, in either direction - Past and Future.
Nothing physical lasts that long, only spiritual reality can do that. What is spiritual reality? Simple, reality that cannot be seen, heard, bought or sold. Reality that cannot be measured or contained, you might say - that isn’t reality those are ideas - beliefs - faith - love and any other thought that you can come up with. You would be right, those concepts are the only things that last forever. Forever and a day.
Yesterday was presidents day, a holiday I rarely notice much less celebrate. Being a president is nothing special to me, it only means you had enough money to buy enough votes to put you over the top in an already lopsided inside out contest. Yesterday was presidents day and I wouldn’t have even known if it weren’t for FB.
I love changing my FB cover photo - it breaks up my time and is something fun to do while I try to think. Mount Rushmore seemed like a proper image to use, being presidents and all, so I went to Google and searched for a good version. To be honest I’ve never felt right about Mt. Rushmore or Stone Mountain or anything carved out of living rock. It seems to me to be a futile attempt to honor powerful men, or in the case of the two I just mentioned - powerful, rich, white men. A futile attempt to improve or to increase the significance of nature. An impossible task. Nature is God - Sculptures are made by man and how can man improve something made by God. Can’t be done. Let’s be honest with ourselves Mt Rushmore was nothing more than a 19th century DisneyLand designed to bring tourism to South Dakota.
I’ve always had a funny feeling about those places. And when I saw the image above (I don’t know who produced it) i finally started to understand. No matter how much money we spend, Mt. Rushmore will eventually crumble into the sea. This might take millions of years but it will happen. The likenesses of those long forgotten early leaders of the long forgotten place called the U.S.A. will be sand that a not long forgotten child will fill his bucket with at the beach. The rock will crumble, but the images on top of the original residents of that sacred land, the images that, to me, represent the ideas - beliefs - faith and love of a proud and noble people. Images that represent the spiritual reality of those Black Hills, a spiritual reality that will never crumble. A spiritual reality that will last forever and a day, will always be there.
The Black Hills were sacred to the first inhabitants of the area. And what did the rich , white men do? They broke a treaty that gave the mountain to the native peoples allowing them ownership of that area for perpetuity. That treaty lasted maybe 10 years. It was far more important for the rich white men to make a profit, than to keep their word.
But in the far distant future the carved in stone images will be gone, but the spirits of the men above will still be there - still speaking to their descendants, still inhabiting their sacred land. Yes, somethings do last forever.
Until Tomorrow - Remember your history - before it changes.
Good Morning Smiling Workers,
It’s time now for our morning stretch - stand up - come on back there...you too. Ok, stand up as straight as you can - now reach your hands up over your head as far a they can reach and count to 10. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 - All right now - I’m gonna touch my toes slowly a few times and then do around 10 gentle trunk twists - Much better - although my balance is WAY off. I thought i was going to fall in the pool. This might be due to the stress of the mission. I’m not sure why this is happening. I hope that it is something that hard work - Tai Chi mainly, plus more walking - will help.
I am going to have good days and bad, that is the nature of this disease. I have to get used to it.
I’ll keep you filled in - I ‘ll keep you filled in now, of my general parkinson’s status via Tittter.
Yes, that little blue bird finally has a job. He (she) is my Parkinson’s Potentiometer, my Victory VU meter - my status indicator.
By status I mean: medication taken - off time - pain level etc. Right now i’m tweeting once a day (or when there is any sudden or new change) my condition listing the symptom and then ratting it on a simple scale of 1 - 10. 1 being the worst it could possibly be and 10 being the best its been in a while. We’ll see how that works and if it is easily understood by all, we’ll keep it that easy.
My stretching model this morning is my niece, isn’t she pretty? She takes after her mom. She has two sisters Who also take after their mom. All the women in my family are good looking’ and all the men are strong. Or is the other way around? - or is it both? - whatever the case. Don’t mess with us.
Donovan and I have accomplished our super-duper-secret-squirrel mission and will be heading back home today. This VW van has been following us around Houston all weekend, don’t worry, we’ll lose them on the way out. They could be spies, or just lost hippies. We aren’t taking any chances. We just renewed our licenses giving us permission to jump to conclusions based on unwarranted paranoia. So we’re covered. Our route back to Jacksonburg will be the scenic one - two lane blacktops. Donovan is tired of interstates, and I don’t blame him. It’s been fun - protecting the free world and all, but it’s always good to return home.
THIS IS THE BIG WEEK!
This is the big week - the week we decide on our new singer and any other member that’s necessary for the success of our new band “KING”
I’m ready to start buckling down and get this ball a rollin’. There is a lot of work to be done. Here is a list of this weeks goals.
Sounds like a busy week - I think I’ll take that nap after I post this.
Of course Donovan and I haven’t been on a secret mission the weekend - It’s something I made up because my reality is defined by my imagination and my imagination is fueled by my reality. It was a personal trip that was a private matter, but I turned it into a spy mission for fun. Life is too LONG not to have fun. Not to relax and not take things too seriously. Life is too LONG to be a GrumpyFIsh
Have a great week - stay positive and childlike - and love yourself and your fellow Earthlings.
EVERY MORNING I READ MY BLOG TO MY DEAR , WONDERFUL WIFE, MY BEAUTIFUL KATHLEEN WHO I LOVE MORE THAT ANYTHING THAT IS, WAS, OR EVER WILL BE. SHE IS MY BEST FRIEND MY LOVER AND THE CAPTAIN OF MY MUSE 000XXX000 I AM HER LOVER, COMPANION, AND
just say yes!
meet Andy Ward King, a professional musician and artist until a diagnosis of parkinons dsease at age 49 forced him into an early retirement., he now uses his music, his art along with the whimsical world he has created in this blog as therapy to ( as he puts it ) outsmart his brain and make the daily battles with parkinson’s a little bit easier, to give him that all important reason to get up on the morning, to make his life worth living. Andy has learned how to say NO to gving up \ NO to depression and apathy \ NO to following willingly the road of decline that stretches before him. he learned that to say no to all of these things all one has to do is say yes. Andy has learned to just say YES to life/\\