Tuesday. I'm waiting for Mara to get back with the truck. I have a few things on my mind. A lot, actually. There are so many things that I should talk about in this blog, but I never do. So I don't mention how pleased we are with our new Volvo truck. I don't mention how negligent I've been with our Windstar, and how I've yet to give it a throrough cleaning. I don't mention that we've stalled in fixing up the house and that we've left the bathroom in a terrible shape. I don't mention that I didn't cut the grass yesterday. On and on and on.

I haven't mentioned that I wrote my brother, Justin, and essentially told him that if he doesn't want to hear from me or be brothers, then just let me know. I can take a hint, and I don't want to force myself on anyone. I'm certainly not the world's best when it comes to staying in touch, but I'm literally lucky if I hear from Justin once a year. If I didn't write and annoy him, I don't imagine I would ever hear from him. Well, he wrote back. He said he was having a lot of problems with depression, and that he's drinking a lot. That was week before last, and I haven't written him back. I keep thinking about what I might say to him. I'd like to think that I could say something that would help him, but I don't want to be condescending. So instead I don't do anything.

I talked to our uncle, Allen, last night. He was calling to touch bases over the Lovelace reunion thingie that we're going to do at the Kings Mountain Battleground Park on the 22nd. He's such a great guy. He sent out invitations to his family, and included me as one of the hosts. I'm always touched by how hard Allen tries to include me in things and make me feel like a part of the family. I'm really looking forward to the reunion. I wish Justin could come, but I know better. Allen had some bad news, too. His niece, Monica Lovelace Sanders, was killed in a car accident on the 30th in Omaha, Nebraska. She was 37 years old. I was going to send some flowers, but the listing in the paper said that the family would prefer memorums. I don't have time to nail something like that down. I asked Allen to tell his sister, Jerald Dean, that our thoughts are with the family.

I played my basses last night. I enjoy doing that a lot more since I bought the Behringer bass amp (I don't recall if I ever mentioned it). I'm still pretty limber. One of these days I hope to be a musician again. I don't think there are words that can describe how empty my life feels without that particular habit.

Well, I'm just goofing off now. There are probably a dozen other things that I could mention; things which should be mentioned. But I just don't have the time. I need to go shave and brush my teeth before Mara gets here. We'll soon be back on the road, and I'll soon be sleeping (I stayed up all night to write some on Caldwell, but wound up goofing off and perusing the Playboy Cyber Club; penance will be submitted later). I don't seem very motivated to do much of anything anymore. I haven't done very well on my diet (Atkins still).

Oh, well. Here's to hope.