In the Dead of Night

Sleep rhythm seems to be off.  But it is OK to stay awake if your mind is racing in a tone of hopeful wandering.  I keep getting glimmers of things that start to make me give a damn, and actually want to outline a plan.

Under the right circumstances, and on the off chance dozens of other factors line up just right, a plan could go into action.  We'll see.  In any case, it is good to get that glimmer because I forgot what it felt like to see the glass as at least having some water.  It may not be half full but it is enough to last a family of six, in some part of the world, for a week.

These are interesting times.  I may end up liking the holidays.  That is my tendency anyway.

It has really become evident that I misread my brother for decades because I believed all the trash he talked until he hit high school.   I rarely saw him in that period so I was suspicious and intimidated by his sudden respect and good will.  Another year might have done it.  It was a complex and somewhat destructive (primarily for me) family dynamic. Those things die hard, but for crying out loud they really must be let go.

Anyway it is hard not to brag on my favorite sibling, but he has done what he's done, not me.  Besides it probably comes across a little strange.  He is remarkable, and quite generous, and would be incredulous at my negligence in many things.  He probably has an idea and marvels that I survive.  It is probably high time to bring in some dough.

Not to say he makes everyone happy.  He' learned how to turn his natural eccentricities into charm, whereas in early life they seemed as charming a fingernails scratching down a blackboard.  If you are too young for that one, try as charming as a frisky cop with a taser.   Adults of that era hated a kid that could out debate them, and with a larger vocabulary than they could manage.  But I thought he was an idiot for not knowing when to be silent.  Younger brothers did not enjoy being taunted with unknown words by one who refused to define or spell them.

If I'm not going to kick the bucket soon, gaining some security would be a considerate thing to do.  Then those who care won't think of you in some pained way.  And you don't think of yourself in some pained way, which removes a barrier that causes you to avoid those who care the most for fear of letting them down.

It costs a bundle to get a major service done.  No matter that I had no idea it was not running as well as it could. Discernible difference.

These danged kids making babies.  What can you get a 6 month old?  In the good old days you just got them BB guns, and at three, a .22.  Then a small motorcycle or a tractor.  Of course you gave them knives along the way.

I'd get the two six month olds, well one is six months and the other is five months,  BB guns but in this dadgum nanny state state of affairs that would bring outrage.  Maybe even get me arrested.  Same deal if I give them pocket knives.  Most dolls are stupid, but I'm thinking authentic voodoo dolls, fitted with velcro so the pins could be replaced with velcro tipped darts--for safety.  When they get a little older, like old enough to walk, the velcro can be removed and the real pins brought out.

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