In The Limelight With The Puppet Master

 Good morning faithful reader(s), I awoke this morning after a long, refreshing night’s sleep with a clatter (wondering what was the matter)—and I’m sitting here chuckling. I’m remembering when I gave a reading of a Christmas poem with Colleen Duffy at the CSG Holiday dinner my senior year. There I was, bedecked in a peach lace top and taffeta skirt (?), purchased by my loving late grandmother Virginia Snook Tell in Palm Beach I believe, though my memory is dicey. Anyways, I came downstairs and thankfully no one had fallen, nor was there a thief in the house, it was just a dog gate that had toppled over.

So as is my usual morning routine, I made some coffee then settled in to my recliner and turned on my trusty (small) iPad to Google YouTube, and my, off we went to the races with much going on to entice me into a world of great possibilities. Basically my first thought was if we are going on said journey, I would like Michael to metamorphosis into Johnny Depp—though I’m sure there are other endless possibilities of who might accompany me (special preference to Tip O’Neill Jr.). 

But being ever so cautious and a touch wary, as is my nature, I must report that I do now feel a bit of “Who’s Zooming Who” as I weave my way through my foray back to creating art (hey, who wants to make money anyways?). When I felt like the Puppet Master might be afoot at Google, I immediately turned to good friend T. Boone Pickens, someone I never met (though I did meet Daniel Yergin who wrote, “The Prize: The Epic Quest for Oil, Money & Power”), but have always deeply admired and felt excited when I heard about his adventures and machinations. 

Alas, many have forgotten about Boone, but let me tell you he was a force to be reckoned with, and humorous to boot. Ah, those characters of the Eighties, true legends, and I’m curious why Generation X has apparently given up for the most part (just biding their time til they get a meager inheritance from the folks?). Me, as you know I was abruptly sidelined by the pharmaceutical industry, and I won’t be resentful (covered that yesterday) though perhaps some kind anonymous donor might kick some funds over to J&J or Eli Lilly or Merck so future generations of bipolars might have an easier road to traverse than me.

But Tis The Season for joy, and I’m absolutely thrilled my creativity is back. Perhaps today I’ll go hunting for my lime green teddy—Michael needs a little vavoom and I’m gonna try to get this menopause body to cooperate…I think.