I just watched The Terminal. I thought that it would be the heartwarming story of a man whose country left him when he needed it most and the land of grace was represented by the anal. AND there was the hope of romance.
INSTEAD I see a man whose pride makes him unbending, an honest man driven to rebellion, aided by the society that the agent represented, and dropped by the woman whom he spoke into the heart of.
He spoke to her the truth. He spoke to her from his heart. Her history had no bearing on his feelings. WHAT DOES IT TAKE TO MAKE THEM SEE! Why are they so blind or bent on destruction or filled with hate for themselves or so sure that they will find the one guy in 82 million that is both desirable and sweet- Why isn't swwet what's desirable, anyway. I'm just frickin' tired.

This week has been rough- up and down, life and death... makes me tired.
On one hand I got some excellent words of encouragement from friends that fit nicely with things that I have heard before. And I have begun to see favor and respect at work- something that has been there, but I haven't been in a situation to see it.
On the other hand, I had a kid run out in front of my bus and I stopped about 18 inches from hitting him.
I got to see Rich Burroughs on his way home. A remarkable recovery, after being unable to get out of a recliner for four days having had a couple strokes, etc, Laidlaw called the cops when they hadn't been able to get ahold of him. He was looking pretty good for what he'd been through, but dang, the guy was just about my age. It was pretty amazing... and scarey... and Shea had some episode- I don't know what happened, but his eyes went dim-
I am going to have to make that appointment for my own check up- and get back on my BP meds.
Enough for now. I'll catch you maybe when I'm interesting.

Gosh, better than a month since I had anything to say. I really don't now either.
Hmmmmmm... whelp.... nahp, bubkus.