I've spent half the day making a crockpot full of soup which, of course, is now large enough in volume to feed all of Lloyd and let's not talk about the loaf of bread in the oven.
I'm like the queen of rock soup. I can start with one almost completely picked chicken carcass and end up with something that's either a disaster or a thing of beauty, depending on your perspective.
So Bruce Springsteen is live on Facebook right now. Looks like he's really doing a lot of promotion for this book he's written. I've preordered it, of course, and will be getting it in a few days along with a new white cotton nightgown, both from Amazon.
It's a beautiful thing.
So- what's the deal with Bruce? He looks like he's been working out in the fields for the past decade. It doesn't look like a fake tan. He doesn't look like Donald Trump. Maybe he's been riding his motorcycle a lot and the whole rest of his body is as white as a dumpling. If so, he obviously doesn't wear a helmet.
I wonder if I'll love his book as much as I love Keith Richards' autobiography?
I seriously have no idea.
I've loved Bruce for longer in a true-love sort of way. Ever since I saw him play in Jacksonville in 1979. Maybe? He was still a skinny little guy at that point, jumping up on speakers and launching himself into the audience which he still does. I fell in love big time that night and his music has been my rod and my staff when I needed it throughout my life since then and I wonder if the words in his book will kindle an even deeper love.
We shall see.
All will be revealed.
It looks like Maurice may keep her eyeball. I hope so. Man, that's been a bad one. I love that damn cat. She's mean and she's sometimes cruel and she's bloodied me and Mr. Moon both countless times but she chose us and we can't help but love her. She's a cat and as such, cannot be judged by human standards and I will not.
Oh, y'all. Life is so tenuous and we need to take whatever comfort and love we can and I say that after having just gotten off the phone with a friend who is facing a whole mess of decisions and treatments and worries and cares.
Tomorrow is August's birthday and this time last year, Jessie was just starting into labor.
I try so hard to live the simplest life and I do, but in reality, there is no simple to any of it. And if someone says there is, they're lying out their ass.