Monday, April 04, 2005

Rolling with Sisyphus:

Thought for the Day:
The ancient Greek definition of happiness was the full use of your powers along lines of excellence. John F. Kennedy, US Democratic politician (1917 - 1963)

On My weekend:
Friday: Well, my escapades with members of the public safety community did not pan-out as planed, it’s a shame, they can always get you into the strip clubs for free and dancers love cops and firemen, perhaps the gods were working against me.

I enjoyed a few pitchers of beer, after my service minded chums canceled their RSVPs with some co-workers from here at the orphanage (Sr. Mary Redhead and Pastor Bob). It was while doing this that I came to the realization that mistakes were best made early in the evening as opposed to late, ergo, I ordered myself dbl shots (neat) and swore not to eat. See, what happens when I am without adult supervision?

It was soon after this time that I by happenstance ran into Johnny Vanilla and Tony Two-Times, oh, what fun we had reminiscing about those reckless days of youth we all shared at the Florida State Boys School Reformatory. It seems Johnny as been in hiding for the past three months at rehab-clinic in southern Puerto Rico complete with an 18-hole golf course (I didn’t ask nor should you).

Tony Two-Times however is still working for NASA part-time and moon lighting as a photographer and performance artist on Indian Reservations in the Great Plane states. He is a man of many talents and skills. Not the least of which is live animal training.

All in all, I found the fast paced banter a welcome relief and a distraction from my goal of being shit faced in record time (why you ask, did I want to get such? Well, fuck if I know, I was just in the mood).

It was soon after their departure that my Flower appeared, now you may remember she was to be spending the evening with a professional Hockey team, however after she sang both the American and Canadian national anthems, her work was finished as she made haste to join me her husband in hopes of ending my “free-range” evening (on a side note she did manage to slam shots of vodka with the Russian players from both teams, and got a rather odd shaped hickey from a French-Canadian fellow who was missing a number of teeth).

Anyway, my Flower appeared saddened that she had missed the company and fellowship of Johnny Vanilla and Mr. Tony Two-Times (she is a big fan of their floor show. Yes, it’s not generally known but they had a stage act in the early 90’s that was very popular in New Jersey for a time, think Pen and Teller with a healthy dose of penicillin).

Needless to say, that by that point I was sitting at a table of judges and several other distinguished members of the bar, my Flower thought it might be a good time to make our departure before I finished telling my 57 point plan to put Indiana on the right track. Note to self: always trust your less drunk wife’s opinion on such maters of the heart. We made our escape. Home in bed by 10 pm, mission accomplished.

On Saturday: My sweet and ever so kind wife went into work (they are in the midst of cutting some new tracks for her “Boy-Band”). If you have never heard a techno-remix of the polka classic “The Chicken Dance” you are in for a treat. After that she went shopping with Mrs. Pastor Bob at the local five and dime.

I stayed in and wrote a grant and read two books in the sunny back yard. Early that afternoon, a friend stationed in the Vatican called to tell me of the Holy Fathers passing, I then called my bride to inform her, she became hysterical in the middle of Family Dollar, such was the power and meaning of the Holy Father to her. Mrs. Pastor Bob managed to get her clamed down shortly after store security was called.

After her return she announced she was taking her head ache medicine and she would see me around noon on Sunday. Off to a genital slumber my flower went. For my solitary dinner, I fixed a T-bone and home made “THREE CHEESE PEROGIES” (I caped them because they were that good). I joined my loving and drugged wife in repose at around 11:00 pm.

Sunday: I woke and went to an early Mass, since I knew my flower would but out until at least noon. Much to my surprise she was awake and hard at work, saying she had to pee and that’s why she was up. I don’t know about everyone else, but my loving wife’s menses brings on a cleaning frenzy that the likes if which must be seen to be believed. I follow the first rule of smart husbandry I stayed the fuck out of her way. I found it to be a good time to make my Ribs and Rib-Pie. So, that’s what I did for most of the day.

After cooking them I took three Rib-Pies down to my families to feed the clan and hurriedly returned to the manor house. On my drive back I called J-Thom to wish my god-daughter a happy first birthday and to tell him the check was in the mail, we were both sad that, Mrs. JQP and I could not share this day with them in Memphis.

At about 6 we were joined by Smokey Bone the Drummer and his young innocent bride the Lady Bird for evening vespers. We dined on ribs and beans, while discussing the news of the day in detail.

The evening came to an end when my Flower got up from the chair she had been sitting in and pulled the parlor drapes then shut off the lights, with out a word she went to bed. Such are my loving wife’s habits when Mother Nature makes her visit.

I bid our guest goodnight and safe journey and after a hour or so of reading the family Bible I joined her in bed, for several hours of wild kinky loving making (ok, I dreamt about wild kinky loving making, but it worked out ok).

Today, I had a cancellation or I would be seeing the sights of Gary, Indiana right now. So, it’s once again back to the task at hand, grant writing. Its a normal day for Monday, cleaning up weekend messes and working for the common good of all people.

Your Bill for Today:

SONNET 151
Love is too young to know what conscience is;
Yet who knows not conscience is born of love?
Then, gentle cheater, urge not my amiss,
Lest guilty of my faults thy sweet self prove:
For, thou betraying me, I do betray
My nobler part to my gross body's treason;
My soul doth tell my body that he may
Triumph in love; flesh stays no father reason;
But, rising at thy name, doth point out thee
As his triumphant prize. Proud of this pride,
He is contented thy poor drudge to be,
To stand in thy affairs, fall by thy side.
No want of conscience hold it that I call
Her 'love' for whose dear love I rise and fall.

Quote for the Day:
I would rather have a mind opened by wonder than one closed by belief.
Gerry Spence, 'How to Argue and Win Every Time'

Penitent, yet a hard man, I remain :

JQP DDS