Hard Days Night

I was having a hard time not falling asleep during the discussions. We made it home and I fell into bed exhausted, despite the hollering from the partying college students five or six houses down. That was at 11:30 p.m.

12:30 a.m. I was shaken from my slumber from a frantic gust of adolescent yells. I would call the cops, if I didn't have to go downstairs to get my phone to do it. I fell back into my slumber only to be overwhelmed with a sense of guilt. It was strange. An overflowing sense that I was doing something wrong. Ellie was sleeping in our closet because a friend was sleeping in her room. Is she alright? Will she panic?

I tried to shake that thought off and focus on the black of the inside of my eyelids. Then I thought of my homesick, Emma. She has been away with her grandparents in Colorado for going on six days. I will not see her for another week. Her sad face. Her loving smile. The way she gently hugs me and kisses me when she is at total peace all faded in and out of my wandering visions.

My computer, the software, the thing hadn't been working for days now, and my deadlines were still approaching. The sense of irresponsibility pushed out the sad portrait of my distant baby girl. My heart raced, and I became warm all over, then extremely hot. I kicked off the covers and realized I had to pee.

When I returned to bed the digital alarm clock read 1:13 a.m. I repositioned myself in hopes of achieving the same level of unconsciousness I so dearly wanted and needed.

"I can't wait to show Emma her bedroom." the agitating voice in my head whispered to me. We had just finished painting it earlier the day before. I painted the tree while I ran my installers on my disabled computer. It made me feel productive then, but now, the realization that I did not have an operating machine to complete my work for my Monday deadline engulfed me. "What do I do now?" the annoying impostor mumbled in my head.

The big event, Made in the Shade is in 14 hours. Friends from long ago are preparing to converge at our house tomorrow. "When will I be able to fix that damn computer." I rolled over to get more comfortable. "Ellie will be up early and I need my rest." I told myself.

The glowing green from the clock invaded the darkness of my closed eyes. I looked at the clock, "2:10 a.m." it illuminated as the voice inside returned, "I am so fricken hot!

I tossed over again and the voice regurgitated, "Ellie murmured. I think she murmured. Emma is probably sleeping. I need to sleep. Maybe performing a new install on my computer with a different disc will do the trick. Maybe Sunday night when Ellie goes to sleep I can work on my project, or maybe I can get up early while she is not up yet. The beer festival, I hope everyone likes their shirts. I need to give them money back for the tickets..."

I got up, dressed, and went to my office to work.

My Kind of Town

Enjoying the Flagstaff Fourth of July Parade, we were abruptly slapped with the reality that on-lookers of such an event are not always the Norman Rockwell types. This broad bullied her way into our curb space with the congeniality of a doberman. During the parade, our feelings quickly healed when we noticed that this crack head really didn't like people, and her behavior was not provoked by my bald head, or the loudness of my excited children.

Pa Gene was quick to take this photo for me adequately documenting her crASSness.



Upon further inspection, this is what her tattoo says right above the nicest part of this fiend -"I have enough friends..."



Gene and I figured she lost a bet, passed out in mixed company, or just needed a hit so she had this engraved into her earthly vessel.