Wednesday, October 24, 2012


I find it hard to write when a new book arrives. I ordered Larry Correias' newest novel, 'Monster Hunter Legion,' weeks ago. It arrived yesterday. A nice signed limited edition. It even smells nice.

I ripped open the package and pulled the book out and sat it gently upon my desk and thought - 'what the heck, I'll write tomorrow and read today'. If you want to make God smile....

Anyhow, in between work and dealing with customers I read about six pages.

You know you want it.


When I flipped on the computer this morning I noticed a little window pop screamed at me that several updates (real important security updates) awaited my attention and it insisted I 'click here' and demanded I comply. So, I obeyed.

I sincerely wish I had the patience of my good friend, Rev. Paul, and the technical knowledge of my equally good friend, Borepatch. I hate to randomly download computer updates. I've had so many, shall we say. glitches afterwards it kinda worries me.

I dutifully selected those I felt important and ever so gently hit the fire control button and sat back and waited.

The wee boogers inside my computer whirred and hummed and then flashed, 'hit restart.' I again complied.

As my computer went about its mission I reached over to my old fashioned Rolodex and flipped the pages to the number of my computer repair guy - just in case. I then pulled my .45 and waited. I've always wanted to shoot a computer and I'd felt this morning I might just get lucky and have a shot.

Another window opened and green bars whizzed back and forth. Then, nada.

Not a single problem. Sigh. Holstered my weapon. 

Maybe next time.


Last evening, late, Sweet Wife turned to me and asked, "Are we still grandparents?" 

She was seated at the kitchen table. She had her business laptop open and papers stacked knee deep. I walked over and began to gently rub her shoulders. She lowered her head and did one of those moans as women tend to do under massage. Outside, on our deck, three raccoons took turns feeding from our cat's bowl.

"Well, are we?"

How was I to answer.

Me, "Yes, Honey, you'll always be a grandmother."

Her, "When?"

I answered, "Honey, I really don't know. We must be patient."

She turned, reached and took my hand and laid her cheek upon it. Her face was warm and wet and small shudders, spasms almost, ran through her body. I bent and kissed the top of her head and whispered, "Please, please, don't cry. Find a distraction, a hobby besides work, and hide your sorrow and try and forget. Please."

I worked my thumbs lower and applied pressure to her back. Small tears continued to roll down her face and my soul cried too.

Then, "Have you found your distraction? Have you forgotten our grandchildren?"  Anger, just under the surface.

"No, I'll never forget them. And, she is always on my mind. I can't walk through my life and not find a memory of her. She surrounds me. But, I function."

Silence. I waited. I listened as my old tide clock ticked and marked the hours until the next tide event. The raccoons continued to eat. She sniffed. 

"I'll never forget," she said.

 I gave her another kiss and as I walked away, said, "And neither will I."