There is no tomorrow; it's all the same fucking day.
Janis never was anything other than R rated and oh, how we loved her. My, my, my how we've changed as we have survived.
My friend Carol tells me that if you are serious about changing your life, you have to find someone to help you. So a real change should be out of your reach. And if the entire mechanics of a real change are completely clear to you, it's probably not a real change. Or you probably don't need a complete real change.
When I was out cutting roses early this morning, I asked myself: if the intent is to change your life, putting yourself on new and unfamiliar ground on a daily basis, how can you row, steer, read the stars, gas/oil/and grease and stay the course, all at once?
Carol's right; you can't. You need a guide. Lewis and Clark had one. When Texaco and Chevron merged, they had many--they called them lawyers. Bill Clinton underwent some fairly rigorous psychological and emotional therapy to change. You can go it alone, but it will be difficult to stay on track and on time.
Enter Dr. Mengele, The Beast of The Gym. Now Dr. Mengele is pleasant enough, in his own Irish way, but he lives up to his reputation as the master of cruel and unusual punishment. I have been seeing him since Ash Wednesday of this year and my life will never be the same. My body will never be the same. I am on new and unfamiliar ground every day. This is how The Beast of The Gym sates himself.
Red Dorothy ran by me just now and said, '"Gwamma! Auntie Carol's pretty smart! Looks like Sylvie will be the only Lard Ass around here from now on." Where do these Chows get this stuff?
The 'Kan EWA