The insurance company can’t seem to find a Yea or Nay in it’s bag of tricks. I continue to sit here on my ass waiting to learn if & when I might be allowed some of that awesome chemo sauce. So this week is another wasted week. Once I got the news, I looked at the map, desperately hoping for some small bit of heat in Texas where I could go to get out of this icebox, and there is none. I wanna go fishing, but I don’t feel like fighting the cold.

The closest 70+ is frigging Panama City, F-L-A. Which actually sounds pretty sweet, being as I’ve never been there. My old buddy Ron retired somewhere near there, I think, after blowing his knee up and getting a replacement that didn’t work all that great. I should ring him up. Knowing him, he got married again, maybe even to one of his ex-wives. I always admired his persistence, if not his judgement.

[SOMETIME LATER]

This post was entirely derailed by my Sainted Mother calling to find out what the name of the James Brown song was because some girl won Miss America by tap-dancing to it, ‘something about “that thing.”‘

http://youtu.be/LYaRHjbjY24

That’s OK, but she ain’t no James Brown, and who is?

It will remain an eternal regret that I never saw The Man perform. Good Lord, what a musician, what a showman.