A time to leave...

It began as a glance.  

Not across a crowded room at a party or anything quite so romantic or cliché, but you walked past on a jobsite.  

Covered in paint, hair like a wild pony’s mane, coarse, knotted and bleached by the summer sun.  

It’s been a long trip since that day, well over twenty-three years.  

Since that first day I knew I would never be able to keep you.  

No one ever will.

Even before I had you, I knew.  

But I held on for as long as I could.  

Longer than I should. 

There is so much good to remember, sad that some is spoiled by the ending.

I will never know another woman like you.

But you will never be loved, like you were by me.

Good-bye.

Having a head cold is not the same as having a cool head

 I hope you will excuse my recent absence as the New Year has brought me the opportunity to explore the staggering semi-liquid production capacity of my nasal passages in the form of a whopping great head cold.  A journey which I continue this morning.  

I have also been struck by the amazing resistance, which my affliction exhibits, to all forms of remedy, store bought names, generics, and home styled.  No matter the active ingredient, nor the manufacturer, all seem to be totally ineffective.  

At one point it was suggested that it might be an allergy and not a cold at all.  But alas, Allergy meds from A to Z have also been tried only to find their way to the kitchen dustbin in miserable failure.

Felled by my cold have been boxes of various name brand facial tissues, all of which I now equate to the coarsest and most abrasive sand paper.

No sneezing, no “itchy eye,” no fever, or ache, just a continuous production of ever changing colors and consistencies as tissues by the truckload are filled and tossed away.

So excuse me for not participating in all the resolutions, hoopla, and joy exhibited by some.  I'm just not up for it right now.  

Happy Fricken New Year.