🧩 Today’s Puzzle Pieces 🧩
Memories🎶
Nuggies💻
Today Me🌲
THE DAILY UPDATE
Three Little Things To Notice and Be Grateful For:
- The way a woman’s pony tail swooshes back and forth when she runs.
- The stitches on a baseball.
- The “Be Kind. Rewind.” stickers of yesteryear.
Wordle 1,088 6/6
🟩⬜⬜⬜⬜
🟩⬜⬜⬜⬜
🟩⬜🟩⬜⬜
🟩⬜🟩⬜⬜
🟩🟨🟩⬜⬜
🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩
Connections
Puzzle #366
🟦🟩🟩🟩
🟩🟩🟩🟩
🟨🟨🟨🟨
🟪🟦🟪🟦
🟪🟪🟪🟪
🟦🟦🟦🟦
The song in my head when I woke up: Hemorrhage, by Fuel
Favorite line from the song in my head when I woke up: Memories are just where you laid them
Commute Tunes: Trying to find some new music, so I listened to a 2023 Rock playlist on Amazon Music.
- House of Mirrors, Hollywood Undead
- Nobody, Avenged Sevenfold
- Lux Eterna, Metallica
- Sold Out, Hardy
- 1000 Years, Bush, featuring Amy Lee
- Need A Favor, Jelly Roll
- Surrender, Godsmack
Something I’m looking forward to today: Happy hour after work with my new colleagues.
Something I’m looking forward to in the next seven days: Getting my new tattoo on Thursday.
Something I’m grateful for from yesterday: Baseball practice on a beautiful spring day.
What I’m writing: Yesterday’s Two Crappy Pages involved writing a draft of a story on how to do DEI right and a simple definition for what it is.
What I’ve written: News Nuggie Tuesday! Are picky people crazy? What’s your loose change worth to the government? And how much is the Ticketmaster hack worth … before and after its fees? Find out in today’s News B Nuts.
One of the differences between the me I am today and the me I used to be is that Today Me doesn’t sit in the midst of angst and do nothing about it. Yesterday, I wrote about waking up on a Monday morning in a bad place and, truthfully, writing about it did nothing to help. It was a WFH day, and so around 8:30 a.m., having written and readied myself for whatever was ahead, I decided to go for a walk.
I’m blessed to live out in the country. Though civilization is encroaching on my wilderness paradise — and if I ever find that one car with no muffler that likes to be heard every night, I’m going to go all Spy Hunter on it — it still is extremely peaceful in the morning light. So I laced up my battered sneakers (tennis shoes, for you from Missourah) and went for a walk.
Turning right out of my driveway takes you deeper into the country. About a half-mile up, the pavement ends and the road turns to dusty gravel. Along the way, I made sure to keep my head up. To notice things. Especially the little things.
Everything is so green right now. Should humans disappear, it wouldn’t take long for the wilderness kept back by constant brush trimming to overtake the road on which I was walking on, then the farmland, then the houses.
Amongst all that green is an assortment of wildflowers. Sunflowers. Black-Eyed Susans. Some other things that I might have known the names for had I paid better attention in school. I picked an array and brought them back with me, put them in some water and left them on Wifey Poo’s nightstand with a note about how nature’s varied beauty reminds me of the beauty that resides within her. Yes, ladies, I’m that kind of a romantic, even after 27 years of marriage. Don’t be jealous. Ha.
The road itself was marked by the husks of dead cicadas. In the background, their high-pitched whines were tuning up for what would be another afternoon in which all I want to scream is “Enough already! We heard you!” One live cicada fluttered down onto the street in front of me. When I drew near, it uttered a particularly plaintiff wail and then took off again.
A few cars passed by, one coming from behind — a big, dusty pickup that gave me a proper wide berth — and another coming directly at me that could have given me more room, to be honest.
I almost stepped on the dried-up remains of a snake that must have been warming itself on the blacktop and not had the smarts to move before a vehicle smooshed it. Being cold-blooded must suck.
The walk lasted about a half-hour. When I turned back into my driveway, yes, I felt better. Not a whole lot better, mind you. But better. It still was a pretty rough day. I don’t know if any other writers feel this way, but there are some days when I look at whatever it is I have just written and think, “This is absolute crap.” I think I could have written the next great Murican novel yesterday and still felt that way about it. So I didn’t push myself to write too much.
And today, that crappy writing looks a little bit better.
I am surrounded by examples of my progress, of the journey through hell that has led me to where I am today. I see it in my family, in my work, in my ability to juggle a huge variety of things without much effort.
There was a time when getting out of bed was a victory. Now, I am a full-time writer with a side business filled with interesting clients. I am a good dad, a good husband and a decent baseball coach.
I help more in keeping the house and our country oasis clean and orderly. I own and use a variety of power tools that make me happy.
I regularly bathe our dog, which is no small feat when you have a bulldog with PTSD.
I run errands and make appointments.
I try to write something everyday, even if it is complete horseshit every once in a while.
I text friends and keep my family — which has recently evolved from the Core Fore to the Fab Five — connected when we are dispersed.
Sometimes, I cook dinner or help Wifey Poo cook dinner. I assist with the cleanup afterwards. I grill. I Traeger. I even bake every once in a rare while.
These are the things I saw, the the things I thought about during a much-needed walk, a walk that Old Me never would have taken.
Would you please help a brutha out? I’ve created a weekly eNewsletter called News-B-Nuts in which I’ll be sending out news nuggets and witty commentary to subscribers. If you can, would you support this endeavor for just $5 a month via Patreon?