Tuesday, February 14, 2023

Switchin To Glide

 


Well Michael reminded me that God only gives you what he thinks you can handle—and now with Legs gone, mom with Covid and me having been exposed to her Saturday, I’d say I’m shouldering a lot today. Valentine’s Day too, and I couldn’t give a hoot, I no more want to be cooking today than the man on the moon. I’m just numb, trapped at home because I don’t know if I’m sick and I don’t want to infect anyone. I had hoped to take mom to Vets Memorial next Monday to see the art displayed, but now that’s in jeopardy. How cruel fate is. So I’ve turned to Q-FM 96, which is helping me cry, with their erectile dysfunction ads and commentary about their 46th anniversary, which I deeply appreciate. Hopefully I can crack a smile this morning, though admittedly it’s gonna be hard. 

At least the tears are flowing, thank you sweet Legs for opening the door for me. I know it was your departing gift, and will get me started on my journey to smile and laugh again. Ah, Q-FM, thank goodness you are here, even though I can’t always follow you because of these friggin meds but I’m trying my best to stick with you as best I can. They’ve alerted me to the realization that National Enquirer is not at my Kroger—perhaps I need to put a mask on and drive to the Grandview Giant and thumb through one there? The nurse I talked to yesterday seemed to indicate that it was OK for me to be out as long as I had a mask on, seeing as I have no symptoms of Covid. Or maybe I get Michael to get Legs’ chair out of the parlor…but we might dissolve into tears if we do that, so perhaps we wait awhile.

I’m a mix of emotions today, all I know is I feel destined to be listening to Q-FM this morning, perhaps they are my Valentine all along, maybe I’m left with a radio station, now that all the print newspapers are all but gone. Dear Q-FM 96, it’s your 46th birthday today, Long Live Rock, I’m so very glad I’m listening to you today, free (of course). I hope there are many, many others here tuned in to you today. I think I’m going to ask Michael to tune into you during my art show in May. Let’s set the stage, shall we? 

Yup, Q-FM understands, and maybe they will help me heal my tears, which may be coming out at different times throughout the day. I’m thinking about e-mailing the station manager for a request for Warren Zevon, though I’m not sure it’s suitable for Walt Disney watchers. But then again, the disc jockeys already covered the boring nature of G-rated movies, so hell, they may be game for anything these days. All I know is Wastebook doesn’t come close to providing as much entertainment as my beloved Q-FM, so good riddance Fuckerberg. Guess I’m riding the range of emotions today, which actually feels nice. The hospital dose of Risperdal (STILL) hasn’t taken me completely out, though I may never be able to drive a beautiful highway again. Sucks to always be a passenger.

So we are getting closer to Lily’s walk, hope no one tosses a bar of chocolate inside our gate like they did when we first brought Legs home and he let loose with his barking. Someone on Nextdoor said we now have to be outside with our dogs whenever they go out for their dumps—whoops, there goes the neighborhood, when the dogs aren’t safe, better alert PETA, I guess no more wearing furs anymore, so fashion is out the window. Better call that friendly Sargeant Community Liaison and let him know someone wants to chase all the hounds out of the neighborhood, and what are we to do when this neighborhood has been a dog-loving place for DECADES.

Ah, new neighbors moving in, trying to change the rules at the craps table. Nope, sorry friends, first in, last out is the rule of the day. Legs’ law (thanks Apple word prompt) says we gotta play it this way, so all you new home buyers beware of what you’re signing up for (ending with that word for a purpose). Yes, I think I may start looking for a new male Basset some time in the future. Lily is depressed, I’m a loose cannon, the Blue Jackets may have tossed off a curse with Legs moving on to greener pastures. Edwin the house cleaner says he’s up to the challenge of cleaning our house, and maybe, just maybe, I can start bathing regularly and putting away my clothes. But maybe not. Gotta talk to Levy and Fetter about that.

Bring on rock and roll, the old bands, the new bands, just please Q-FM, stay true to your programming roots and keep the Christian rock on it’s appropriate station lower on the dial. You know the special way to spread the Good Word to the people. Stick with the classics, the originals, oh, you know what you are doing, no need for me to send any emails (except for the occasional request). Now how to weave Q-FM into my triptych honoring the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, Google (maybe Apple) and Wastebook? Such is my challenge, and I shall have to think about it…perhaps I will need some Diet Ginger Ale to assist me on my efforts, seeing as cheap red wine (or scotch and soda with a twist) is absolutely out of the question. Better get the remainder of the moldy art out of the basement, I’m gonna need that table down there me thinks (if the mold hasn’t already gotten to it). 

No, Columbus Department of Health, no need to scare everyone with warnings about radon, if we all wanna die young it’s our choice. Note to self: order that sign “My Choice” from Amazon, or have mom do it and just add it to my running tab of birthday gifts in 2023. Now how do I try to make some scratch myself this year? Ask Google to mar my unread blog with their AI-chosen ads, which will completely destroy my art I am trying to create? Just take a tour of those food blogs over on Google and see what an absolute mess they have become; even the New York Times is flirting with ads on their Cooking App. It’s a tragedy, I say, what to do about all this, maybe I fire off an email and sound the alarm, but then again maybe not. Can’t fight City Hall (or can you?).

Yup, there may be more tears today, but I’ve mustered a small smile, so I’ve got that going for me. I’m so glad I found my way back to Q-FM today, Legs would have wanted that. Who cares if Lily woke me up at 2:30 a.m. this morning, at least I fell back asleep in my recliner, cold, yes, but I slept and that’s good. I feel OK, no Covid symptoms yet, maybe I’ve got luck on my side too. Who knows. Hope the sun is shining where you are today. Smiles, everyone, smiles!


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