When I worked @ Oak Knoll Naval Hosp in Physical & Occupational Therapy depts., and would cover the phones while others went to lunch, I would often answer a call from Bill Cosby's personal assistant. She knew better than to let me talk directly to Bill, my excitement was evident. My Commanding Officer, Capt. Heath had been Mr Cosby's C.O. when he was an enlisted PT/OT tech...just as I was ...It seemed now that Bill was a successful civilian, he liked to hang out with Capt. Heath & the two of them toured the Schnauzer Dog Show circuit. They were both nuts about their pure-bred cuties, much as I am nuts about my Boxer & 2 mixes. 6 degrees of separation? I've always been an admirer of Mr Cosby...ever since I was a kid & had that comedy album where he did the voice of God saying, "Noah! How long can you tread water?" & the part where when he was a kid, he loved to watch horror movies, but he'd get scared & spread jello all over the floor, so the monsters would slip & fall when they came to get him, then his folks came in from a party & slipped on the jello...so funny, so clean, so noble...it wasn't quite as special as dancing with Carlos Santana, but I'm easily amused-it worked for me.

OK, things can be tough for folks my age...it's all in my perspective, but often, I cannot achieve the proper perspective. Bubba has been to his mother's twice today. And tonight, she has called 5 times...not remembering his visits, or any of the phone calls & their content. Each call, more frantic than the last-overwrought over burned out light bulbs, bills, medicine, mail, relatives...this was how it was just before my family ended up putting our folks into nursing homes. Bubba doesn't want to talk about it. He wants to cross that bridge when he comes to it and can no longer avoid it. And who am I to rain on his reality? Worry and helplessness have not improved the quality of my life..it sure ain't gonna help his. The funny part is that since I've become an avid blogger w/s-l-o-w dial up thus, making phone access difficult, Bubba gave his mom MY cell number. Not his cell, mine...cause "I never call myself, I don't know my cell phone number, but I told her to call you cause you were probably on line." She calls when I'm @ work, driving, visiting etc. Never grasping the fact that I may not be @ home, w/o the possibilty of handing the phone to Bubba. & is she stressed if I cannot get Bubba on the phone! The dementia is contagious. I do not exaggerate. This is a quirk my sisters, Kathy & Jan,& I noticed when visiting or helping our parents. The more time we spent witnessing the mental decline of our parents, the more scatter-brained, confused, dazed, and depressed we became. 3 times tonight, Bubba has asked me if this is Tuesday. "It just does not feel like a Tuesday..." I've started and deleted 3 blog entries, tonight. One on Billyjones's retirement party that I flew from SF to S.Carolina for & was rewarded w/the worm @ the bottom of a bottle of Mezcal for traveling the longest distance to the party. Another was about Pete who gave me away @ my wedding and had his beloved wife die in his arms, and the third time I tried, it was about the time a boy left me at a party for another boy, and how the Good Dope Fairy left me some lil treasures to recover from that embarrassment... But those "Yarns" (Dan, is that you?) will have to wait because I'm watching "House," on Fox because both Bubba & I think that it is the best show on television. We recommend the 1st season of "House" on DVD...we can watch the different episodes over & over as this contagious dementia always leaves us guessing how House will save the day again, quoting Mick Jagger and popping Vicodin. I coulda been a doctor, if I'd had enough Vicodin...but, I've just never had enough, I guess. Let your light shine whenever possible-the rest of us need it to help us on our way...I sure have found the light in blog-land. If only Wally would come back to us. And despite much reassurance, I wish Dan would bring Mrs God back to us, the sooner the better. So grateful for Mokie Joe, Scratch, Coloconnect(sp?), and the Iceman and the promise of Billyjones and the softhaired boy's blogs-to-be, and oh so many more wonderful folks I've come to kinda know, and definitely to kinda love in this magical domain.

A long time ago, in a land far away, a soft haired boy wanted to fall in love with me. He was my friend, and I feared losing his friendship, and I was very young, and very silly, and didn't know how to act. We crossed the country, and met up again. And again, the soft haired boy wanted to fall in love with me. And I stuck to my bad habits and pursued romance with lesser beings, loving the soft haired boy safely, as a brother, so perhaps I would never lose his friendship or his love...life happened...mistakes were made...dramas were never-ending...and though we had moved to separate coasts, the soft haired boy just seemed to know when I was in pain, and he would call me and make me laugh, literally falling off the couch lost in giggles. And then, other times he would call me and play guitair and sing songs he had written about the pain he he had been through, and was still in the midst of...and I would cry, alone in my shabby hovel in Oakland, sobbing for his sorrow, knowing that I had long since blown any chance of taking our friendship to places he had always wanted to go. When our other brother, Billyjones retired from the Navy, I traveled from SF to celebrate with him and the soft haired boy. It was a huge, wonderful party, then Billy drove me to the soft haired boy's house and pointedly left me there, alone with the soft haired boy, to spend the night. I learned even more of my wonderful friend, and flew back to SF confused, happy, sorry it had taken so long. And we have still remained friends. Close friends, in spite of our significant others, we refuse to let our friendship fade. I'm so glad.

What a great day, in a roundabout way. Young ex-coworker showed up to return 3 Grateful Dead DVDs she had borrowed last June, and she brought back "The Big Chill" which I had forgotten that I had I had loaned her. "The Big Chill" is one of my favorites...it parrels the love I have with that old gang of mine in the '70's. I love the music, the acting, the writing, the scenery, the movie.I was so happy and grateful for the return of"The Big Chill", I didn't even mention the CDs she still has of mine. I may bring them up again, but then again, maybe I won't. If I stand back & look at the big picture, the CDs are "just stuff." And if you've read my past blogs, you may remember that Leo Buscaigula taught me that I can always get more stuff...and I'm the old hippy chick who has seen more great rock n roll than this child will ever hear (she's only 22.) I could never help her grasp Pink Floyd..she refuses to give them any benefit of the doubt, nor spend anytime trying to listen. She has so much to learn. And if those CD's are that important to her, maybe I should let sleeping dogs lie...maybe I will bring it up, again, and maybe I won't. I was there. I used to chat with Rainbow, Jerry Garcia's sad daughter. I know the difference between the Moody Blues and the Blues Brothers , and I've seen them both. She could live her whole life and never know, if she doesn't open up her eyes... I may pin her to the wall about the CD's, but true to my nature, I might just let it slide, and let it be a lesson to me not to loan my things out. Either way, she's the one courting bad karma. She has a lot to learn about karma, as well.

I have two blood brothers...Mark & Larry...I love them without limits. I've made some wonderful friends in my lifetime, and some of them have become my brothers. They, too, I love without limits. And tonite, John and Billy have agreed to try this blog world, and join in the festivities. I have stories to tell about all of my brothers, and they are all good...my brothers have always been very good (and loving) to me. This is such a great life. Thanks to all of you...I'm falling in love with the vast majority of you, bloggers and brothers-to-be. Hasta Manana mi hermanos y hermanas...Vaya con Dios...