as with our most recent bereavement (Kent) I am more inclined to clink glasses of beer to celebrate someone reaching the clearing at the end of the path, but that does not seem the right thing to do here. ~~Nope, mate; this one was tragic as best my mortal mind can surmise, …but we’ll clink glasses anyway okay? Okay. & thanks for that: You are a funky monk, you are. It’s thoroughly despairing and saddening. I wish there was something redeeming but all I can offer is America won the Ryder cup back. I don't expect you even like golf anyway... (hahahah, that is redeeming, the metaphors alone that can be taken from it…precious…yep…I needed just that.) I personally have tried to like golf for years, even though it usurps land that could other-wise be filled with tee-pees and long-houses, because it has a Zen & a Chi & the open spaces. …But now, circumstances as they’ve rolled-out, I easily enjoy my 15 yrs. young son’s passion for the dread-Scott game of roll the ball into the golfer hole. He’s made it his summer game between basketball seasons. So yes, we did watch some of that action yesterday, when inside, and the red, white & bluins stepped-it-up...as they will sometimes. 12-year old single malt & the black stuff @ the 19th hole for everyone! You know, as well as I, the pull that our progeny have on our own manifestations of “self.” …It’s…goood.
Thanks Mick, ye fury-footed fornicator.
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&, Veronica, …it’s your post that infused all the sentiment into this reply to Mick. …Shrewd move on your part, as you must know niceties act as thorny-thorns into the fuzzy toes of the McMicksterstein Monster. Who knows what wrath I’ve now incurred.
Whole Peace & Whole Love (or at least the unremitting idea),
messybear
