New Week...New Attitude

Diagnosing My Own Insanity...


I think, after much introspect and consideration, that I've finally figured out what's wrong around here--at least with me.

I call it Beach Deficiency Syndrome (BDS for short.)

If there is such a thing, I'm pretty sure that I have a bad case of it (BDS) right now.

As a test of my theory, I went out and bought another 250 pounds of "play sand" at Home Depot yesterday and after weeding the Turbo Pup Beach I spread it out and raked it fairly smooth and the effect was immediate...but short lived.

I felt pretty good while working up another batch of Pizza dough and making a giant mostly meat "garbage" pizza.

Andouilli sausage, crab meat, ham, bacon, and pepperoni with sweet colored peppers, mushrooms, and Kalamata Olives thrown on top for good measure.

Diet Pizza...in other words (if you ignore the 3/4 pound of Mozzarella Cheese.)

Thinking about things, I realised that by this time last year on the calendar I had spent about three weeks wandering around Panama City and Mexico Beach, Florida...with two or three extra nights spent down on Cedar Key and another three or four nights on St. Simons Island, GA.

This year?

One measly trip to St. Simons for the Chili Cookoff--with ZERO pool or beach time due to the schedule--and a quick trip to Ft. Walton/Destin to visit my old Uncle John. On that trip I actually SAW the beach but didn't have time to go out and lay on it.

Seriously Ladies and Gentlemen, the chemistry of my body requires a certain minimum amount of time spent reclining in the salt air squinting at the sun else I become mentally and physically ill.

Sort of like a Vampire needing to sleep in a coffin in some old dirt from Transylvania I guess.

There's worse things to suffer from I guess.

I could want to spend time riding a subway in NY City or sitting around watching Soccer or Rugby games in Philadelphia or watching people dressed in Nun's habits throw pig blood on women wearing fur coats in San Francisco.

Or I could want to run around burning police cars and breaking shop windows in Vancouver at the G-20 Summit while the feckless police stand around and wag their fingers and threaten to issue me a ticket or something.

But nooooooooo, all I need to restore my equilibrium is a frozen drink or a cold beer and about 100 yards of sand and a turquoise body of water nearby.

Since the Turbo Pup compound is too small to encompass 100 years of sand (and I'm too old and tired to haul that much sand around), I've set my sights on the last week of July on the calendar and am planning a "therapeutic" session on the Gulf Coast--oil spill be damned.

In the mean time I'm going back to work...working my butt off to sell some more stuff and produce the stuff already sold and in the building, and maybe that will get me back to my normal cranky blogging self.

I'm going to go read some news and blogs now and see if I can work up a good head of steam sufficient to cause me to write a good rant in the next 24 hours.

Stay tuned to this channel, and Regards Y'all...