Happy Good Day

Okay, my dates were off... not sure what I called that last post "BELATED..."

Anyway...

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Had a fine breakfast taco from the Fiesta this morning. Have I mentioned that I love it when Mexicans speak to me in Spanish first? It’s one of the perks of being just a little bit dark I guess. The server and I were on about equal footing language-wise. As I left, she said with a smile, “Happy good day!”

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Ever watch batters getting ready to step into the batter’s box, as they take some practice swings? They often have this little weight called a “donut” on their bat. It gives resistance, prepares them for swinging hard. I guess the idea is that once the weight is off, the bat will feel lighter when they’re facing live pitching.

That’s what playing the Les Paul is like. It fights me. It resists me. I have to muscle it into sounding good, into giving me something. And if I go straight from the Les Paul to the Strat, the notes just fly out of my fingers.

I still want to put new pickups in the LP though.

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We’re car shopping. From the back seat during a test drive the other day, Wolfboy asked, “Dad, what are these levers on the doors?”

“Son, this car doesn’t have power windows. Those are for rolling the windows up and down.”

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My shoulder is very slowly getting better. But I walked out of session the other day and suddenly had bad pain in my knee. It lasted a few hours. As of yesterday afternoon, it felt great, like it had been miraculously cured.

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Speaking of sessions, let me tell you that it’s absolutely great when clients start to get better. Do you realize that one of the main goals of counseling is to get fired? It’s a funny way of saying it I suppose, but yeah, we want clients to come in at some point and tell us that they’re done, because they don’t need us anymore.

And the client I saw last night is improving. This is an especially difficult case. There’s a lot of work to do yet, but it means the world to me that what we’ve been doing is helping.

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The kids are in Corsicana this week, hanging with their grandparents. Do grandparents “hang”? I’ll pick them up Friday morning, and we’ll head to Willis, TX for our pseudo-camping trip. That is, we’ll be in a rent house by a lake. They consider this camping. Eh, who am I to burst their bubble?

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So the house is mighty doggone quiet these days

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The beard is coming back.

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BB’s current therapy: “Poles Together” by Pugwash

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My job requires a lot of travel, and I like that just fine. I’m headed to Glen Rose, Texas in a little while.

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Happy good day, y’all.