The book I'd write if only I could draw...

I've been blessed by a sort of prolific breeze this past year. I've been pumping out books like an off-shore derrick but much safer.

One interesting (or so I think) new wrinkle is how quickly my mind gets finished with a book long, long before I actually... get finished with a book. That said, I hit the 60,000 word mark today and I figured that gave me permission to tell you the most recent tale banging away at my noggin.

Usually, I'd write the story but this isn't a story with words or, at least, not with many. In fact, I don't really know what this story is about.

But I'll tell you how it goes. If I was to write it, I'd draw it out, like a children's book for adults, or I'd film it in black and white.

The story goes like this.

There's this couple, you see. They're very much in love. One day, one of them dies and leaves the other terribly unhappy. But, also, in another universe, the other person dies and the opposite one is very unhappy.

Through this sadness, the two people find each other. Actually, it's the sadnesses that finds each other; the two people don't know anything about it. The sadnesses wind their way through the universes and very nearly touch. They are separated by the gossamer veil that holds the two universes apart.

Miraculously, though, little bits of each universe find their way to each other. The man loses his watch and, as it slips through the gossamer veil, she finds it and it reminds her of him. She loses her necklace and it, too, slips through. And as they find these things, their sadness and the burning love they still feel for each other starts to work away at this veil separating the two universes.

Soon, they can hear the other's voice. They can see mirage images of the other. All their friends tell them they're crazy. They become institutionalized, medication, discouraged, but still, through all of that, their love and the terrible sadness of being apart, remains their own, personal truth.

Finally, when everyone in their world has given up on them, called them crazy, rejected the possibility of this extraordinary bond, the veil breaks - it's torn aside - and the universes crash together in an incredible, cataclysmic event that only lasts for a second.

Then, the two universes put themselves right. The two lovers are shunted away - into their own universe. One where they were never apart. One where they are happy and loved and in the place where they belong.

It's a fairy tale.

Just thought I'd share it with you.

Who Killed The Electric Car?...

It's a murder mystery and my feeling is we all done it.

Crap...ple...

Yep. It's day three.

This time, I stirred in twice the honey and I added a little water, believing that would dilute it... somehow...

It took two swallows but I got it down and then... um... wait...

Actually, it wasn't that bad. Oh, it sucked, of course. It was like sucking on the teat of Mama Putridity, but it was no worse than anything from McDonalds.

So, I finally found the formula. Now, let's see if any health benefits ensue.

Much else has been going on in my little world as well.

The book's coming along nicely. I hit 58,000 words today and I believe I'm on schedule for finishing this up in August. It's a long, strange trip. Focusing so closely on emotions, I find myself closer to these characters than usual in a way I experience when I'm acting, strangely enough. I've probably mentioned before that this is easily the most "mainstream" (whatever that is) book I've ever written. It's also like one of those relationship movies you can settle back into and just watch the people be people - that's the way it is to me, at least. You're not waiting for the next action sequence; you're enjoying spending time with them. (That's what I'm hoping for, at least!)

Vicky is doing much better, to my great and eternal relief. She's walking the dog and driving and will be returning to work. As frustrating as she is - and she is! - I think back to the day of the operation and how fearful I was of losing her and realize how much I love her.

I helped Sean collect recyclable material in his complex last weekend. It was hot and dirty work but it was good work, just the same. And it was nice to be volunteering, something I do far too little of! I'll be back again this weekend - collecting recyclables, playing catch. Who the hell am I?

Maybe I asked that too soon because I'm also contemplating another change. Yes, after several years, my World of Warcraft account is coming up and I'm not going to renew it. Well, I won't renew it right away. I'm considering switching over to the City of Heroes experience and getting a taste of that for a while... that is, if Vicky will let me...

Did you catch that?...

It was six o'clock. I was at Big 5 Sporting Goods... and I was looking at mitts.

It was a unique experience for me. In fact, I realized I had never bought a new mitt before and an eight year-old part of me was bouncing excitedly. (No, not that part.) I had no idea how mitts were sized and I did not want help from the sales person, no matter how cute she was... especially because she was cute! Then, I noticed that dimensions (12", 13 1/2", 14") are printed on each glove. Ah ha!

And that's about when Sean came in. I'd emailed Sean with the idea of playing catch, expecting that same "Who are you and what did you do with Ken?" reaction I'd gotten from Vicky. But he loved the idea, which made me worried that he'd be a lot better than me. (He was.) But he didn't know how to find the size of the mitt. I said, "Look at the dimensions on the glove," like the old pro that I was.

I found a dark brown mitt that looked really... cool.

Fifty dollars later, we walked out with mitts and a softball. (I wanted a baseball... but oh well.)

Sean has this "green belt" at his complex. Green belts are new to me. They are, apparently, patches of grass that are too small to be a park and too large to be a yard. Okay... whatever. Anyway, after we parked, we walked over to the green belt. We walked with intent.

See, I was pretty much sure I'd make an ass of myself. I've never been good at sports. When I played baseball as a kid, I had to be put in the "designated hitter" position, because I could hit like nobody's business but I couldn't catch to save my life. Actually, I wasn't so much "put" in the position as it was "invented" for me. Seriously, my double vision (a result of bad genes, not booze) made it almost impossible for me to catch. (Why, then, could I bat? It's a long story.) (I'll spare you.)

Before we got to the green belt, I threw the ball about two feet into the air and caught it. "There," I said. "Now, you can't say I didn't catch anything." Always the comic.

We moved several yards away. I brought my arm back and thought, "You'd better not look like a girl. Not for the first throw." I knew if I thought about that, I would throw like a girl - so I immediately put my mind on something else... the sales person at the store. (I'm a horrible human being.)

With my mind filled with boobs, I threw it. It felt good. It felt right. It went straight to Sean and hit his mitt with a satisfying SMACK.

Okay! This was good!

He threw it back. I caught it. I threw it. He caught it. Over and over again. We eventually moved much further apart, heaving the ball high up into the air in dramatic arcs until, a half hour later, I was winded and sweaty and... "Hey, let's get a drink!"

We went inside for just a minute, while I talked to Megan. Sean only gave me a minute... then, we were back out again. We threw for another half hour and, in that time, our arms grew weaker and weaker. I made one throw that was so girlish, I knew it even as I threw it! Sean said, "What the hell was that?" "Tired arm," I simply replied.

I was drenched with sweat by the time we were done. Hey, it was about 90 degrees (Fahrenheit to all you folks outside the states). It was hot out there!

But it felt really good and I had a great time. We're going to do it again on Friday.

Then, I'll get Vicky a glove, too, and we can start playing catch. (Once her back is better, of course.)

Oh, by the way, when I got home, I immediately started playing a little World of Warcraft. I haven't gone completely crazy.

Love your what?...

One of the most radical teachings of Jesus was "love thy enemy". Check out Matthew, chapter 5: But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you.

Tricky stuff.

Buddhism teaches the same thing. In fact, you'd be hard-pressed to find a major religion that does not, at least in theory, suggest that it might be a good idea.

(The only exception I'm running into on this is Islam. Now, I haven't spent a great deal of time with the Koran but I seem to remember something like this in there somewhere. You readers might be able to set me right.)

So, when all's said, it's not an idea that hasn't gotten around. Why, then, do people have such a hard time with it? Well, we're humans to start.

But we can't write it off due to "instinct" or something. Otherwise, what's the point of attempting this experiment we call "civilization". Of course, it's hard. It's supposed to be hard.

Tell you what. Let's start with something basic. Maybe you can't love your enemies. Maybe you can't make them soup when they're sick or send them flowers. But what if we tried not bombing them? What about that? How about if we didn't indiscriminately slaughter them? Can we do that?

I'm having a hard time with it, myself, this whole "loving" thing. So, I've been trying to remind myself that each person who is my enemy is, when you get down to it, a person just like myself. They've all experienced sorrow and pain. Their world isn't cheesecake and roses. So, I've been trying to feel some empathy for that part of their lives.

Do they do mean things and are they sometimes hurtful? Sure. But so am I. So are we. Right?

It's a long road but it's one I find I have to start going down. Otherwise, what do I have but hate? And I don't want hate because that makes me feel crappy. Taken that way, I might be being selfish. I just want to feel better and have a good time so I'm going to stop hating and work on the loving part.

The reason I keep getting back to this is because more and more, behind all of the news about the war and the horrible ecological disasters we're causing and the anal raping of the Constitution that's going on all the time these days, I begin to see this culture of hate spreading out all around me. And I don't like it. People hate illegal immigrants and muslims and gays and brown people and the poor Iraqis who never did anything to deserve their position and more and more. People in power are doing a great job at spreading all of this hatred and I really believe that it's up to us - in our homes and in our work places, at schools and churches - to take a stand against hatred. And aim at that whole "love" thing.

It could work. It certainly hasn't been tried.

Having a catch...

I'm nearly 2/3 of the way through the book. Things are really coming together. Max and Arthur are bonding by playing catch, not because they love it but because they're both so inept about it. Max actually has to look up how to throw a ball (without looking like a girl) in the Internet.

(That's all I'm writing about the book - I promise!)

Do the research for this and actually writing about playing catch stirred something in me... and it was rather uncomfortable.

Anyone who knows me will tell you that I've never been the most athletic guy. Aside from being on the track team in high school, I've never excelled at just about any sport. In fact, I don't much like sports. I've always been more a resident of the mind, my body being a delivery system for martinis.

But then, this thought crept up on me... what would it be like to have a catch? I mean, crap, that's something I haven't done since I was too young to be out after the streetlights were on! I was never very good at it. I won't say for certain that I threw like a girl but I do know it wasn't pleasurable. It was so long ago, I struggle to remember the mechanics!

But the thought of a baseball in my hand, throwing it, the feel of the it coming back and smacking my mitt... foreign thoughts but why not? Why not take a detour from the neighborhood of the mind and see what this fad of physical activity is all about?

So, I asked Vicky last night. "Wanna have a catch?" I proposed it as a sort of back exercise regimen. After all, it is kind of a full-body exercise. She looked at me like I was crazy but she didn't say "No". I even asked Sean if he'd like to have a catch sometime.

Hey, this might become my next, big thing. I might love this!

I might also find that I throw like a girl and learn that I should never, ever do that.

Knowing is half the battle...

You're not really there...

I was going to write more about religion, about "loving" one's enemies, today... and I still might. I was going to write about how the book was coming and playing catch... and I still might.

But then, I got a look at this and it reminded me why I think science is so fucking cool. There it is, your general, retail-priced, laundry day hydrogen atom. The proton looks like a planet and the electron is represented by a single pixel. At this scale, the distance between the two is equivalent to eleven miles! Not a small walk!

This is what the physicists and the Buddhists mean when they say you're not really there. Nothing exists. There is no solid matter, just the interplay of forces so mysterious they might as well be... God.

It's a lot like what you're reading right now. The words don't really exist; they are but electronic signals shuttling around on horny electrons. Vibrations pass along wires and signals through the air and become my words as close as the screen before me and as far as the other side of the planet - and more. No words here, just energy, just vibration, all passing incredible distances of nothing, over and over.

Hope that helps put you on solid ground... even if it isn't...

An apple a day, keep it away!...

Day 2 of the Apple Cider Vinegar disaster. Yes, I know. Day 1 was about a week ago - these things take time!

For the uninitiated, here's our story so far. Imbibing a couple of tablespoons of apple cider vinegar every day is supposed to be good for you. It's suppose to have a whole slew of health benefits. Being someone who has abused my body for most of my life, I thought I'd give that plane a ride... until I took my first dose and promptly wanted to die!

And now, today's story...

So, I'd read how you're supposed to infuse it with some honey to take out the sting. With this in mind, I poured a couple of tablespoons of vinegar into a tea cup, got a spoonful of honey - that's a 2:1 ratio, for those paying attention - and began to stir it in.

Now, I'm a firm believer in the idea of life as meditation. Anything you do can be a meditation: work, play, sex... even stirring honey into a cup of toxic waste. And so, I stirred and stirred, and I meditated. First, I thought about how god-awful it smelled. Holy crap. I was going to drink that? Then, I considered the many ways I'd benefit from it. It helps boost the immune system, cleans toxins out of your body, helps control weight... because you'd never want to eat anything after smelling this... Okay, calm down. I thought of something else. I thought, "I'm actually going to drink this again?"

That was it. I steeled up my nerve and gave the cup a few more stirs. Then, without a thought, I downed the mixture.

And it wasn't so bad with the honey. It was actually very passable. It -

Suddenly, the left side of my face tried to tear itself away from the right side of my face.

I held onto the counter and tried not to fall down.

Honey didn't just cover the taste, it delayed the effect... we're gonna need a bigger boat.

Stay tuned for Day 3... maybe next week...

So, just how broken is our Army?...

If anyone doubted the sorry condition of our Army after its failure to meet recruitment goals year after year, while they burn through the guys they have, well, maybe this will enlighten you:

They've moved their maximum recruitment age to 42. 42. They'll take people MY AGE (and then some). The idea of me, or any of my high school friends, being responsible for defending... Shrub's failed policies... is a terrifying one, indeed!

But this gives me the opportunity to say something I've been wanting to say for a while. For all those guys my age who are so gung-ho about going to war but - darn! - just can't get in the Army because they're just too darned old... now's your chance! Go ahead! If you're so much in love with Shrub's illegal war, go help him grab some oil to make his family richer! Go! If you are so empty that hatred towards people who never did anything against you (keeping in mind that Iraq and 9/11 - if you believe in that - aren't linked in the slightest) is the only thing you've got, go ahead!

Really. With my blessings.

Just stop sending innocent kids.

More bad ideas from a guy with a sense of humor...

You want to know what I like? Here's what I like: People find me hard to pin down. I'm a spiritual atheist, and that gives some people a headache. "You're a what? How's that possible?" I wrote a book called Revelations, about the love of God, and a play called Atheists, about faithful people who can't love.

And then, I sat back and watched heads explode.

Okay... maybe not.

But I've been a spiritual person my whole life, sometimes more than others. When I was a born-again Christian (go take the aspirin now), I wasn't very spiritual. I tended to follow blindly a lot of what I was told. Becoming an atheist opened me up to my spiritual side.

Mind you, some people can't get past the title: ATHEIST. They fear for my immortal soul, yada yada yada. Nothing to worry about, I say. I'm just fine.

And then, I write things like I posted the other night. (See "Let's try this for a change...") The kingdom of heaven is in what? Cheese???

But it gets worse, and this is where I begin to chuckle. You see, I then forwarded that on to my mom, who has never grown comfortable with my spiritual beliefs... actually, she hates it. I send her an article I write about the kingdom of heaven being in a slice of Kraft Singles... why?

I guess because that's what spirituality is all about, to me. I'm not very fond of the dogmatic. I believe in leaving enough room in your spirituality for doubt, for investigation, for other people's beliefs - to open yourself up enough to the void, to the mystery, to say, "I can see the Christ, the Brahman, the Buddha nature within even those who hate me" is a virtuous goal. I'm not there, yet. I'm far from there.

I'm starting with cheese.

Recipe Du Jour... but for next week...

Yes, it's that time again. This week's recipe... for next week... (For those of you still confused watch this space... and this space... for reviews.)

More Cajun cuisine this week in the form of one of my favorite jambalaya recipes. It's easier than you might think and makes a ton - WARNING: It makes a ton!

ANDOUILLE AND CHICKEN JAMBALAYA

1/2 cup vegetable oil
3 cups chopped onions
1 cup chopped bell peppers
3 teaspoons salt
1 1/4 teaspoons cayenne
1 pound andouille, chorizo, or other smoked sausage cut crosswise into ¼ inch slices
1 1/2 pounds boneless white and dark chicken meat, cut into 1 inch cubes
3 bay leaves
3 cups medium-grain white rice
6 cups water
1 cup chopped green onions

Heat the oil in a large cast-iron Dutch oven (read: very large pot) over medium heat. Add the onions, bell peppers, 2 teaspoons of the salt and 1 teaspoon of the cayenne. Stirring often, brown the vegetables until they are caramelized and dark brown in color. Scrape the bottom and sides of the pt to loosen any browned particles. Add the sausage and let that brown, too, scraping the bottom and sides of the pot to loosen any browned particles.

Season the chicken with the remaining 1 teaspoon salt and remaining 1/4 teaspoon cayenne (or whatever tastes good). Add the chicken and the bay leaves to the pot. Brown the chicken for 8 to 10 minutes, scrapping the bottom of the pot to loosen any browned particles. (Those brown bits add the flavor!)

Add the rice and stir for 2 to 3 minutes to coat it evenly. Add the water, stir to combine, and cover. Cook over medium heat for 30 to 35 minutes, without stirring, or until the rice is tender and the liquid has been absorbed. (If you need more water, add more water.) Remove the pot from the heat and let stand, covered for 2 to 3 minutes. Remove the bay leaves. Stir in the green onions and serve.

The great thing about this recipe is that it looks like you did a lot of work but you really didn't. I think it tastes great with lots and lots of spice (remember the "essence" recipe?). Also, did I mention it makes a ton of food?

Let's try this for a change...

More Bible readings from your neighborhood atheist.

In the book of Luke, chapter 17, verses 20-21, Jesus is asked when the kingdom of God would come. He says (and I paraphrase) that it won't come here there or anywhere because (and this is closer to the translation) the kingdom of God is within you.

The kingdom of God is within you.

Now, according to this story, Jesus is asked this by a group of people who are persecuting him. He's not asked by his best friends or by some cute girl. He's asked by people who want to shut him down, who don't like him. He says, "The kingdom is within you." That guy. That person. You, the one who doesn't like me very much.

Let's bring this to today.

The kingdom is within.... Cardinal Roger Mahoney of Los Angeles? Sure, that sounds easy enough. The kingdom is within Cardinal Mahoney. The kingdom is within... Vicky? Of course, the kingdom is within Vicky. The kingdom is within... me? Me? An atheist? Me? You bet. The kingdom is within me, too.

Let's push this a little further. The kingdom of God is within ignorant warmongers living in the White House. The kingdom of God is within imaginary terrorists in the Middle East. The kingdom of God is within a shrub and a tree and a piece of cheese and an ant. There. It's right there. Spread out before you like a Garden of Eden.

Lost yet?

The Gospel of Thomas has a slightly different take on all of this. It says, "(The kingdom) will not come by watching for it. It will not be said, 'Look, here!' or 'Look, there!' Rather, the Father's kingdom is spread out upon the earth, and people don't see it."

So, maybe this habit of ours of looking at others and hating them and killing them is probably not what Jesus meant. Maybe this habitual pursuit of happiness, stuff, and a bargain isn't quite what he had in mind.

Just a thought...

There's a reason they call him the boss...

Bring 'em Home!

This is how they protect you...

Those bastions of civil service, the Republican party, continue to show their true colors. More and more every day, we see what dispicable hooligans they are.

Now, they don't want to extend the voting rights act, something that is so common sense it shouldn't even need consideration! Equal rights should be the law of the land, not the whim of a select few - who now don't seem to have that whim at all.

Make no mistake, there's no way this won't go through, but it is the continued grand-standing of the Repubs to appeal to their base, founded on intolerance and hatred, that is so appalling.

There's a petition going around if you feel compelled to sign it.

Thank You, Lt. Watada...

Many of you know that I've been against this illegal war since the very beginning. I've taken a lot of flack for that, not supporting crimes against humanity, but it's been relatively harmless.

Not like the kind of flack someone can get for doing something honorable in the face of such madness.

Now, I've always been against blindly "supporting the troops". They're not machines. They can throw down their weapons at any time.

Like Lt. Watada.

Taken from his web site: U.S. Army First Lieutenant Ehren K. Watada reported to duty at 2:00 a.m. early this morning, Thursday, June 22nd and refused orders to move to the adjacent McChord Air Force Base to prepare to fly to Iraq. Lt. Watada believes that the war and occupation in Iraq are illegal, and thus participation in the war is also illegal.

There's plenty you can do to help.

Thank you, Lt. Watada and for all the other people out there who are showing the United States that common decency is also one of our rights.

They just can't stop breaking the law...

Some president.

You'll be hearing a lot about this. It seems that, since 2001, Shrub's people have not only been illegally tapping your phone lines but they've also been illegally collecting databases of your financial records as well.

Now, when someone tries to tell you, "If you didn't do anything, you shouldn't have anything to be afraid of." think about the thousands of soldiers whose personal information has been leaked. Do you really want the same thing to happen to your ATM pin code, Visa number, etc?

I thought not.

Shrub is the terrorist we should be at war against.

Happy Happy Joy Joy...

Wait... wrong cartoon. How about: Bite My Shiny Metal Ass...

From the dead, it returns. I've been secretly sacrificing imaginary, baby magical puppies in the hopes that this day would come!

... Now, the waiting begins....

I don't want a coffee mug...

This is one of those One Paths that I had to think about for a while before writing it. It's bound to make some people say, "Oh God, is he still on that!" I'm afraid the answer is yes... but I should tell you what this is about first... (I said I thought about it. I didn't say I knew how to put it!)

You see, I'm getting the look again.

What look? The look!

I got it before, back when Rosa and I were together. We'd visit with her friends and they'd give me this look that said, "Aw, isn't he a sweetheart? He's such a good husband." Sometimes, the look would even say, "Maybe if I gave my husband a transfusion with his blood..."

Back then, I'd eat this shit up. I loved being the husband everyone wanted... even if Rosa didn't. I loved being admired for something that came so easily to me.

But you long-time readers know how that turned out. In the final analysis, I wasn't the perfect husband. My marriage was not that enviable. I failed - and it took me five years to be able to live with that.

And now, it's happening again. Wednesday, at the hospital, Vicky's friends, Trish and Paula, were giving me that look while they paid her a visit. And it annoyed me. I mean, they know! Vicky's told them! They know!

Hello! Adulterer here! I already ruined one marriage! I am, in no way, the perfect husband! Don't give me a coffee mug with "World's Greatest Husband" on it!

I mean, we got home the next day and I was already being kind of an ass. I'm not that terrific. I'm a pain to live with! So, cut it out. Seriously. It gives me the creeps, like getting caught in a lie. Even if Vicky and I remain married for the rest of our lives, that won't change the fact. I might be nice to Vic but I'm no Ghandi. (I'm younger, to start.)

Okay, so there you go. I have six weeks of recuperation time when I probably won't be a perfect husband and I just had to get that off my chest.

Get Back... the whole story behind Vicky's surgery...

Okay, maybe not the whole story - but as much as I can tell you. It's now two days later and I'm exhausted. Not "just got spinal surgery" exhausted. More like "my wife just got spinal surgery" tired.

Anyway...

Vicky and I got up a couple of hours before God on Wednesday. Actually, she stayed in bed. I was awake. I was awake for most of the night. Vicky had to get to the hospital by 6:30am, so she slept until 6:00am. "I don't have to put on make-up," she said. "So, I'm sleeping."

We met her dad, Steve, at the hospital, and Vicky was shuttled off to put on her buttless robe. (Consider yourself lucky if you don't know what I'm talking about!) So, we sat... and both of us began to fall asleep - in these horribly uncomfortable and very small chairs. (Ken, it's because you're fat!)

But they let us in soon enough and we all sat in this little room - except for Vicky, who was reclining in her gurney - waiting for the doctor. And, we waited. Vicky watched Designing Women on the TV. And we waited. The doctor was about an hour late... bastard!

But he showed, eventually. Vicky was given a sedagive through her IV and they wheeled her off. But first, I gave her a kiss. It would have been my last kiss ever... I'm glad she survived because the kiss kinda sucked. (You can't really kiss well under those conditions, I guess.)

I had brought some work to keep me busy because, honestly, I was pretty useless at that point. But I also had a father-in-law to... I felt like I was supposed to keep him entertained, keep him busy, help him pass the time. I had no appetite at all - so I took him to breakfast... at Denny's... not my favorite place.

Over breakfast, we played "What to talk about". Vicky's dad is a great guy and I like him a lot but a social butterfly he ain't. He's more like a normal guy; he can stand silence. He lives in that zip code. Me? I need to talk. Fortunately, I learned a long time ago that we can achieve that by asking lots of questions. So, I got him talking and everything was fine.

We finished breakfast, we back to the hospital, sat in the waiting room... and Steve comfortably passed out. And I watched the clock. And I watched the people. And I worked. And I watched the idiots using their cell phones, despite the signs telling you that use of cell phones could kill the patients!... ugh!

But the doctor came out about a half hour early and told us that the surgery went "perfectly". What a relief! All the images of Vicky confined to a wheelchair, of Vicky being a vegetable, of Vicky being dead and leaving me to find some other, young hottie disappeared... Salma Hayak... Jessica Alba... that nurse walking by... all gone! All gone! Seriously, though, I was relieved.

Immediately, I ran outside and started calling Vicky's friends to give them the good news. Nearly an hour later, I was done - Vicky has WAY too many friends.

We were sent up to Vicky's room (private room!) to wait for her. I grabbed all of her luggage and headed up. Steve fell asleep in the chair and I stood and waited. I was standing around a lot that day. But then, I noticed a little hub-bub; Vicky was approaching! I went out to meet her and she was awake and okay! There was my baby! Thank Joe Pesci!

It was almost as if nothing had happened. She had lunch and was used the bathroom on her own! She had a snack and was walking around! She had dinner and visited with friends! Her appetite was just fine!

I was going to spend the night but the chair they equipped the room with was, um, small. (You're fat, Ken!) It wasn't a chair for sleeping in. So, by 7:00pm, I headed home. I cleaned the house a little. I walked the dog. I sent out some emails and made some calls... and before I knew it, it was nearly midnight. The upside of the day, though, was that I'd have the bed all to myself! Oh yeah! I stretched out on the cool sheets and was out in a minute.

I woke up on the floor... the living room floor... downstairs... fucking sleepwalking! I felt like I'd had back surgery as a result of the hard, unforgiving ground. But I was up soon because I had some more house cleaning to do, a dog to walk, and a wife to pick up.

I got to Vicky's room around 11:00am and she was nearly ready to go. It was great seeing her healthy again. Most of her pain was gone gone gone - just like it was supposed to be. Terrific.

Too terrific. Almost immediately, we began fighting. Oh crap. Reality rushes in on you so fast.

We'll be spending the next six weeks living with this. She'll be healing and I'll be taking care of the house, which will look more like a city dump by week five - but I'll try my best.

That evening...

This'll be a short one.

I just got back from a day at the hospital and I'm happy to report that Vicky is doing just fine. She's great. She's up and walking around!

I'll post a full report tomorrow but, for tonight, I'm pretty tired.

G'night.