Divestiture

Today is Saturday and the day holds great promise. Just how or why, I do not know; I just sense this day in early September is likely to be a good, productive, satisfying day. I ask all my readers, both of you, to tell me (by leaving a comment on this blog) why this day holds such positive promise. I hope my friends Lana and Mel recognize that this day will be a highly-productive pre-move day; soon, all the challenges of a 300+ mile move will be behind them—I mention them by name because I am extremely conscious of the stresses and challenges of a residential relocation. I hope everyone else in my limited sphere will find this day one full of not only promise, but extraordinary experience. Your happiness contributes to mine, so my good wishes for you are selfish wishes; but, at least, you may reap some benefits from my selfishness.

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A friend sent me a message yesterday, informing me about a Magnolia Network television series called Van Go. Though I haven’t watched any episodes yet, I did enough research to know I easily could get hooked on the program. Sufficiently so that it could prompt me to commence pursuit of a solid, reliable, easy-on-the-gas van that’s in search of a new life as a rolling home for nomads. I can see it now: a large shop outfitted with all the equipment and tools necessary to convert an old Sprint van into a mobile retreat with all the necessary luxuries (yes…I know) of home.

I probably should finish all the thousands of little projects around the house first. Or, better yet, hire someone to get all the bothersome unfinished items off the to-do list. It might seem odd that I do not have the interest nor the drive to finish the little things, but I want to undertake a monstrous undertaking in the form of a vehicular makeover—converting an unattractive cargo-hauler into a perpetually-mobile vacation “cabin.” I would have had the same passion for completing every detail, personally, if I had been the sole designer/creator/installer/whatever for the house. But handling only some of the aesthetic matters, like painting and hanging towel racks and such become more of a chore than taking a project from the drawing board all the way to a finished piece of what might be called art.  And, of course, there’s the issue of thinking I may have ADHD (you know, attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder). And, then, there’s the life-long trait toward my innate laziness that reveals itself only mid-project; no matter what the project. And, finally, I need access to/ownership of the necessary tools and equipment and I really need a patient, dedicated person who has used the tools to show me how. I could learn on my own, I suppose, but the risk of cutting of a finger or five while re-learning the proper way to push boards being cut by a table saw is higher than I would like. We’ll see. We always do.

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Yesterday’s ultrasound of my kidneys and bladder revealed only that they are “grossly unremarkable.” Or something like that. Unless the urologist reads something more sinister into the report that appeared in my medical records just a few hours after the procedure, my bladder and my kidneys are in tip-top shape. And well they should be. They seem to be working overtime these days. So much so that I decided to buy an “on-the-road” plastic portable urinal to take with us on our upcoming road trip. During my online exploration of these little containers (they’re nothing more than specially-shaped/formed plastic containers with lids), I discovered that these accouterments are available not only for men, but for women! I asked mi novia if she wanted me to buy one for her while I was at it. She allowed as how she’d rather stop at convenience stores and gas stations. I would, too, if I had the luxury of an enormous bladder and the ability to fight the urge while traveling on long stretches of highway jammed with cars but few pee-stations.

Which brings me to my next rant: we should all just lighten up about public urination. Both men and women should feel absolutely free to pee anywhere and at any time they need to. When possible, of course, they should pee on plants that could benefit from the water, rather than on concrete or asphalt, but the location should be up to the person peeing. Do we get apoplectic when we see a dog lift its leg or squat? Of course not—unless it’s inside on a carpet or throw rug. I do not advocate that we give people that much freedom. But I do advocate for giving people the latitude to pee when and where they need to without being ostracized, arrested, or shunned by the rest of us “more civilized” creatures. Nonsense! While I do not advocate for public pooping, I do advocate in favor of allowing public urination. Yet I really cannot defend how or why I differentiate between the freedom to pee and what I consider legitimate restrictions on poopery—I just do.

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I bought a limited supply of medicinal marijuana yesterday, knowing I might need something to help minimize shoulder and neck pain after a long day’s driving during our upcoming trip. But, as I contemplate the as-yet-indeterminate-route-and-destination(s), I wonder whether we will be traveling through ultra-conservative, unenlightened, harsh, and judgmental states where possession of such stuff might be considered a capital offense. Can I go on record as a strong libertarian with regard to laws restricting or prohibiting possession and/or use of marijuana? I think the government has no business infringing on individuals’ rights to use marijuana (or any other substance), provided the use of such substances does not directly endanger others. I feel the same way about many other restrictions society imposes on people—like public nudity, public urination, prostitution (though I have mixed feelings on that), and various others. With regard to prostitution, my mixed feelings arise from my concerns that a prostitute may not have chosen that path, but instead may have been forced into it due to circumstances out of her (or his, I suppose) control. In which case, I oppose forcing and coercing or otherwise putting her (or him) in the position of having to be a prostitute, instead of wanting to be one. Enough on that for now.

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You probably have not read this far because, I understand, what I write can be too much and too lengthy to be suitable for breakfast-time (or any time) reading. That has not stopped me from writing it, nonetheless. You see, I feel compelled to allow my brain to unwind and express itself through my fingers most mornings. Absent that outlet, my mind might get so wound up that it could snap like the springs on a garage door, making the device over which it has control and responsibility utterly and completely inoperable. That is, I might become a blind zombie, unable to speak, think, or see. And I would not want that.

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I think I mentioned that it’s Saturday, a day of immense opportunity. Take advantage of the exciting opportunities available to you. And tell me about them. And let me tell others about them. So that we all can share in this growing tide of happiness and positive evolution. Good morning!

I hereby divest myself of negativity for as long as my discipline lasts!