Greetings Dear Reader,
Sometimes I will end the day with thoughts that are
important to get out. Usually I just
write them and put them in my journal folder.
I have chosen that on occasion I will share them with you Dear Reader.
So it was a stressful day.
I arrived home to find that the yard workers had “weeded” my precious
Anise
Hyssop plants. All they offered in
compensation was “sorry”. I have cultivated
these for tea for the seven years.
This year’s crop, the last at this house was promising to be
bumper. Now it is no more. The Anise Hyssop is lost.
Then I took Christmas out to dinner. The waitress and I conspired to get the cook
to make me a rare hamburger. It arrived
well done. I sent it back. It returned barely medium well. I ate it anyway (found a peanut, found a
peanut, found a peanut just now) I
assured our waitress that she was not to blame but offered to teach the cook
how to make a rare hamburger. This was
not a good idea.
Then to my aching chagrin I returned home to my dead tea
leaves. Christmas, my daughter, was kind
enough to prepare me a gin and tonic. It
was more like gin that had had a brief flirtation with tonic but had forgotten
all about it. The lime hid this fact
until it registered rather forcefully on my brain. (Indian restrained to curry
my brain. Newspaper warriors changing the
names. In the underpass a blind man stands,
with cold flute hands. Won’t you meet me
on the other side?)
So I endeavored to write something profound with my gin infused
brain. The lime helped. I thought about “Lime in the coconut”. I prayed for the cook and was kind to the
waitress. It is never the server’s fault when the cook screws up. Remember that when it comes to tipping.
I returned home from my overcooked burger and my happy
waitress to see the glaring empty spot where my Anise Hyssop should be. It made me angry all over again. I prayed for the person who killed it. Christmas made me my first Gin and tonic of
the evening with lime. The second soon
followed to curry my brain.
Even in this state it is obvious that I must love the Anise
Hyssop murderer and the hamburger burner.
I must realize that even in my current pickled personality I must
forgive and love. I must love the killer
of my Anise Hyssop. I must love the cook who tried to blame the server by
saying she left my burger in the window too long. How stupid is that? I must realize that even in this moment I
must do what is right and that I am in control of and responsible for my
actions. Everything else is window
dressing and lies.
Still if your friend is a writer and you know him to Blog;
protect him from dismal truths that dance through his mind when Gin is his
guest. The two of them are not
friends. They will betray you to
continue their war. In short; Friends don’t
let friends blog drunk.
Wishing you joy in the journey,
Aramis Thorn
Mat 13:52 So Jesus said to them, "That is why every writer
who has become a disciple of Christ’s rule of the universe is like a home
owner. He liberally hands out new and old things from his great treasure store.”
(͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
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