Well, that's just weird

The harder I try to understand all this technology the more it kicks my rumpass. It took me 20 minutes to post a picture to my blog, and there's no telling how long it's going to take to remove it.

No turning back now

I started writing a play on Thanksgiving Day. I finished it three days later and have been re-wrting it ever since. I think it was Hemmingway who said "The first draft of everything is shit." He was right.
I have a habit of embracing ideas and talking them to death and letting them die. I thought that was going to happen with the play, which is titled "Two Men and a Boat," so I started painting myself into a corner. I got another actor on board. Lined up a director. Got the theater at the high school, got a lighting and sound man. I started promoting it arond the lake every time I went out on my route. I got an artist to do the posters and the ads. I got everything but a boat. I can get a boat.
There's really no going back, now. I'm excited about it, but I sometimes wish it was somebody else's baby. I'm a quitter. It's true. I quit hard, but I do quit. This is going to get hard and I really want to see it through. I can't imagine not seeing it through at this point.
This is me battling my self doubt, dipping the brush, painting around my shoes.

It is morning...

"The very word morning is a rich cluster of grapes. Let us crush them and drink their sacred wine."
from "Streams in the Dessert"

Cracklin' Rose

This morning I woke up with Cracklin' Rose by Neil Diamond playing in my head. I could have done worse.
I also woke up feeling... optimistic. What's up with that? I said my morning prayer and stood up and had a thought; things are going to happen, things are going to change. Things are not going to happen, things are going to change.
That was my thought. Somehow I found comfort in that.

Me, George and God

What do you think of this? I don't know who wrote it.

"The shallow nature lives in its impulses, its impressions, its intuitions, its instincts, and very largely its surroundings. The profound character looks beyond all these, and moves steadily on, sailing past all storms and clouds into the clear sunshine which is always on the other side, and waiting for the afterwards which always brings the reversion of sorrow, seeming defeat and failure."

I don't kniow about the clear sunshine on the other side, but I think it has merit. Most of the time I feel like George Costanza coming to the realization that all his instincts are wrong. I'm like a poker player who bets his gut instead of his cards and walks away penniless and swearing by his system every time.
I'm convinced of two things:
1) There is a God.
2) I ain't Him

Out on a limb

I'm going to go out on a limb here and say milk chocolate is the way to go when making fudge. Sure, dark chocolate has its alure, but I think its exhalted status is largely because people are just looking for ways to appear more interesting. They like dark chocolate because they think they should, because they think that's what Hemmingway or Patricia Cromwell would reach for. I just finished scarfing down a milk chocolate and walnut fudge delight I picked up at Cabelas. Yeah. Cabelas makes fudge. I may never eat dark chjocolate again. I think I'm interesting enough already.