Do you have the balls to 'trust' that it will all work out. If I can make it home from the beer fest last night and not remember how, then I think we can get to Nirvana on time and on schedule! Keep going...?

& Bill Hicks (g’nite) ..

{Somehow knew you'd make it home, mate.}

I have a lady here next to me who one stoic student underdoctor or another on three separate occasions said ..whoops, your girl (our subject) may not make it through the night, prepare yourself---and I growled and moaned and crooned & cried and raised a ruckus and spoke mantra into her lovely lady ears & eyes, and ..things seemed to work out, ..didn’t they? And now she’s here beside me and our boys. Yellowish eyes and skin looking the color of raw sausage in the tube, not near as scaly as before, mind U, shiny on the surface and multicolored beneath the skin that matriarchal she iz livin' in, feeling like a sunburn 24 hours a day and no meaningful painkiller eases the fire when she cries at night..long 'till the day.

Then the drive-through guy saying to my son the other day, can I get your grandma anything? (That made Maya cry in my arms when they got home. So we danced and covered her in the best skin conditioner we have in stock and today a few more of the way-premature lines are smoother & more acquiescent to movement and such. & Maya smiles a lot. So we’re working out.)

You see, I know this lady so well, and since the chemo and bone marrow transplants and other such life challenges, there are parts of her that have been given a 22 year old youth's face and other parts that she must continue to will herself to work on. To work out. Are we working out? It feels so much as such. Do we trust that it’ll work out? I suppose, to some degree, we do. It's what we love to do. ..I mean, we have to. But it sure would help if Jor-El could take the world’s top ten (or bakers’ dozen or so) most pigheaded movers of mad money on the planet and set them adrift in outer space in a cosmic cube with prickly-pokey things in it and a Fletcher’s Memorial Home bumper sticker affixed. Why the prickly-pokey things? Because THEY DIDN’T HAVE TO fuck things up so badly in order to be billionaires. They COULD HAVE been considerate of human and other earthly lives, and Earth itself. But, NO, It’s ONLY business & God.

God Bless us All