Okay, so you didn't get to vote. Maybe you should've sent a comment like Old Bob. If you've got any complaints, send them his way.

No, I'm not going to change the title every month, but I might do it annually.

I'm still riding a euphoric high right now, so enjoy this happy mood while you can.

I'm working very hard on the Kevin project. The words are coming together and if all goes according to plan (i.e., I don't have a setback on the depression front, etc.) Kevin should be ready to roll-out just about the time Pastel completes.

On the local front, my mother is still dying. Take it from me, pray for the big one. You don't want to go through what's happening to her. Actually, it's her body that's going through this. Mother checked out a while ago. She was taken out of her latest residence and moved to hospice because the hospice nurses thought she was very close to finding the exit door. But, she isn't, so now we have to put her somewhere else.

A friend of the family says I should bury the hatchet and go see my mother and tell her it's okay for her to die. You know, give my permission so she can die in peace. F**k that! She's never needed or asked my permission to do anything.

Okay, so I'm being petty about this, but I've been going through some old memories over the past year as mother has ever steadily progressed toward her final breath. Ridicule. That's the lastest word to pop up out of Memory Lane. My parents loved me so much they felt they could ridicule me along with everyone else. When you have the self-esteem of the underside of a doormat a little ridicule goes a long way toward making you feel so good.

What makes me really sad is that I took the crap they were dishing out. I was the good son. Well, I was an only child so I was also the bad son, the mediocre son, and the "I'll never understand why you didn't come out as a girl" son. I think the favorite phrase around the house always seemed to be "why can't you be more like _________?" And, I hung my head in shame for failing to be more like everyone else in the world who was better than me at everything.

Now, don't we feel better? Got some of the icky bile stuff out of our system and now we're ready to be our old happy self.

And, thanks again Old Bob for the train of thought that led to the renaming of this blog.