I was in the waiting room of a therapist yesterday, waiting for someone, when a car’s engine began to rev and continued to do so louder and louder. The car was right outside the window where I was sitting, oh, maybe all of 10 feet away and it filled the room. I looked at another person waiting and remarked that “maybe we’re being abducted, although I always thought it would be a quiet, zapping sort of thing.”

He looked at me and, after a split-second, smiled politely. I didn’t say anything more.

Later, a lady came out and told him the therapist wanted to see him now. She sat down and she started a conversation during which she revealed she and her husband were there for marriage counseling. Among other things, she mentioned he had no free-flowing sense of humor. None.

I couldn’t help referring to the revving engine abduction remark and she grinned and said, “Welcome to my world.”

It is the 8th of June and, according to the dates on my posts, I have not been here since the 4th. And maybe that should tell me something about the quality of my content, but I’m not going to examine that thought any further.

I don’t know what I’ve been doing. Yesterday, Summer and I put together a new fire pit Der Bingle ordered from Amazon.com, but we didn’t have a fire. Yes, odd. We did eat grilled hot dogs. Uh, Friday Der Bingle got here early and we went for an early impulsive supper at a local Mexican place. They have improved their decor, but I thought the food bland and Der Bingle informed me that I am used to Tex-Mex flavoring. It was not bad; it was just sort of the equivalent of a midwestern beef stew.

Thursday I went to Fort Wayne to take people to the doctor and the office had moved from a place with a great parking lot abutting trees and overlooking a flood plain to a building with a parking garage. Well, maybe I will appreciate it come winter.

This is boring, I know, but I wanted to figure out if I had been in a fugue for the past days. Actually, I believe I managed to do both, which is a dubious achievement.

Today it started rainy and now the sun is out and I think it’s not going to rain anymore, but the left side of my nose is sore from the inside out. Pollen, I think – causing a sinus to enlarge and press a nerve. If anyone asks me how I am, I am not going to admit to having a sore nostril; it just sounds not right.

But maybe we are not right, period. Yesterday, three of us sat, watching a show about feral pigs on Netflix. One pig hunter was named Bubba and two of the dogs were named Bobo and Boo.

It is Wubba/fairgrounds time for Shane. Of the two of us, he is the more enthused about it.

Yesterday was hot and humid and we had the sunroof open on the Volvo; Today it is all grey and we are predicted to have rain, while farther south they will have thunderstorms. Today I turned the AC/Heating to OFF and I put on a light-weight hoodie thing. We are in between.

It is just as well it is a non-committal day because I have to work on overcoming my completely over the top hillbilly accent that Summer and I have been playing around with ever since she wrote a paper for Gothic Lit and I read it in a Honey Boo Boo style. I think I got too close to the whirlpool because I have to fight the continuing tug to haul out some verb tenses that don’t really exist, not to mention similes relating to alligators, squirrels, shotguns and fast-food cuisine. Actually, the fast-food and squirrels have shown up in the same category, but don’t imagine anything more, for your own sake.

I didn’t type enough to move the pictures far enough down the page – probably some revenge for using the word “pissed” and not changed it. Of course, “Boy, that urinated me off” doesn’t convey the same feeling. And it sounds stupid. I’ll just have to think up some new phrase that expresses disgust and frustration but isn’t offensive – or stupid. I expect it will take me some time.

So, what am I going to write about to move the pictures down? I don’t know. Although, I have noticed that people have taken to emphasizing their remarks by using a period after each word. So, to be in vogue, I would write: I. Don’t. Know. I’m not going to write that; I. Am. Not. A. Sheep.

I think I am going to mix up a sinus Alka-Seltzer, recline and read. It will fizz me off.

In the post below, I published two pictures but did not actually go to the blog to see how they came out. That was a mistake. When I saw this massive image on the pages, with the sidebar eating into crucial features, such as the finger on the highest-priced gas, I thought, “Well, . . .” Actually, I don’t need to quote myself exactly.

I switched over to text format and saw that both pictures had been posted as “full” so I took a guess and changed that to “large”; that was a good decision, but it wasn’t good enough. I didn’t feel like trying “medium” and being wrong, so I am letting it stay large and am just typing away to move the post in question down the page.

Since I have to make it farther down than I am already, let me also add that it is at this gas station where I noticed the pump asked you if you wanted a receipt, not while you were choosing credit/debit, car wash Yes/No, but after the gas had finished pumping and you had turned away to put the gas cap back on.

The receipt question did not remain until you indicated your choice. No, it stayed up for a couple of seconds and then, Poof, was gone. I imagine the company saves money on the paper not used because people miss the receipt question. I can imagine people at the gas company actually acting out scenarios with cardboard pumps and car props, all the time asking, “Now, what can I do to save the company money?” I can see calculators whizzing and popping up with a large amount of money saved if across the US, people miss the question that would cause the machine to put out paper.

It’s so simple. And the little finger on the high-octane gas? Oh, so clever. It pisses yo off; on the other hand, one time I was so intent on watching for the receipt question, I forgot to screw the cap back on and it hung out until I noticed a policeman behind me with lights flashing. As he walked up to my window, I wondered what I had done. He smiled and told me what I had not done – put the cap back on and he did it for me. It probably would have pissed me off, but I was too busy thwacking myself on the forehead.

I do not know why I am using the word “pissed” this morning; I hear the voice in my head, saying, “So, Daddy,” and yet I’m not actually going back and changing it. I guess I am going to Hell in a hand basket.

As I was getting gas this morning, I actually looked at the pump and found the subliminal side of the instructions interesting.

It is almost 11 in the morning and the weather is beautiful – blue sky and temperature going into the low 80’s. And here I sit. Now why is that?

Because it feels so good? Possibly. Or do I want to get out there and add my AmeliaJake-ness to the day. That might feel even better. To tell the truth, I don’t know which way it will go.

**The Next Morning**

Well, it stayed in the middle. I did get up and move around, even went out to Wal-Mart and took care of some of the nagging parts of my life – – got a new shower curtain liner and hooks, picked up another furnace filter and stocked up on sandwich size baggies. I no longer have to walk into the bathroom and hit my forehead, exclaiming, “Rats. The shower curtain liner.”  For awhile, there will be no moans of “A baggie, a baggie. My kitchen for a baggie.”

I see it’s possible I may have been optimistic in saying I was in the middle. I believe I actually was more on the befuddled side. I did not go out and fully embrace the visible blue-sky universe. I thought about it. How many more of these days do I have? That seems like it would be a good motivating question, but inertia proved to be at a high level yesterday.

I don’t know what the AmeliaJake forecast is for today. Maybe there is another High Inertia Level Alert included. However, Shane has a new Wubba and he’s so happy with it, wanting it thrown, thrown, thrown and thrown. (Somehow I ended up on a Amazon.com alert mailing  list for Wubba sales. That dog may be more computer savvy than I thought.)

In truth, he got two new Wubbas; we just gave him the red one. Good thing we didn’t hand over the purple one because I think he has a feeling of royal entitlement already.

Yesterday, after going a summer or so without snake sightings at LaGrange, I saw a skinny, long black one hurrying away from the side of the mower – the RIDING mower, thank heavens. I had been concentrating on something, trying to figure it out when my peripheral vision started flashing ALERT ALERT ALERT ALERT!!!!!

Part of my mind concluded that a small, harmless snake had probably been startled by the mower; another part of my mind shut down after issuing a final command to my body: PANIC. I can feel a bit of the surge of adrenalin just remembering it.

What is it with things that don’t have legs and arms???

I believe I am going to have add an extension arm onto my weed-eater, and maybe duct tape a stun gun on the end with a remote trigger.

We are entering the downhill slide of another Norfolk Pine. I have always loved them, especially since my Chicago days. But they dry out and die, or they get sick and dry out and die. I stopped getting big ones because I felt guilty about buying one. At Christmas time, however, the grocery stores sell small ones with bows and stars on them for under $10 and they look really, really nice in the nursing home room.

I thought maybe this year’s candidate might beat the odds, but it is getting that stiff feeling on the ends of the branches. I’ll look up possible treatments on the Internet, but I don’t have much faith in my abilities. I don’t know, maybe if I water it with my tears, it will take heart and survive, if not thrive. That would make a good kid’s fairy tale, but I’m not betting the farm on it working. Although, it might be excellent pro-active therapy for me in stress containment.

Yes, that would be one-third of the life recipe provided by Jim Valvano in his last speech before his death:

If you laugh, you think, and you cry, that’s a full day. That’s a heck of a day. You do that seven days a week, you’re going to have something special.

I wonder about the thinking, though. Does it have to be top-notch philosophical musings, or can mundane thoughts qualify in a pinch? Probably not; I’m thinking C.S. Lewis would suggest prayer.