I can never write a title until I have written the body of whatever I am writing.

There are a lot of things floating around in my head, and I can’t seem to nail down what exactly I want to write about. First, I laid on my hands last night, trying to hide them from the cats for they wouldn’t bite me, and now they are quite stiff today. Damn cats. They actually weren’t too bad considering Sheila is gone for a couple days; I could have been attacked much more. Galileo, Sheila’s cat, can be quite aggressive – taking on Guido’s traits – but I think I lucked out last night. We will see tonight. Nonetheless, my hands are stiff.

We don’t know what we think until we write it down; meaning, we have quick bits, thoughts, all day, but don’t have the time to flush the thoughts out.

The idea of family. I have been playing with this notion, this word for many years. It is fluid. It is the same old story for me, but I know that we all want to be heard, seen, and to feel validated either by recognition or acknowledgment. That what you feel and say does matter; to be heard is phenomenally important. An echo of Oprah in there. I love that woman.

My health is better, but not perfect. I am still coughing up some green goop, not everday but it is still existent. I guess I can’t expect a miracle overnight.

I started taking “Clear Lung” herbs; my friend Skip told me to always take it. I haven’t been. I am making a unpleasant face. I am thinking of taking “Cool Cayenne” herb supplement. That seemed to help in the past, but it is so hard to figure all this stuff out, I am not sure. Can’t hurt at this point. Look at where I am at.

This girl who just walked in is wearing a skirt with the saying “Time to Have Fun” on her butt. I don’t know about that.

I started coughing the other night and since I was already coughing for 15 minutes and the heat in the mattress felt like it was cooking me, irritated as hell, I decided to do a treatment at 1:15 in the morning. It calmed the beast inside.

Sheila went down to the basement, three floors down, actually four to our New England basement and got two window fans to bring the cooler air in for we could breathe inside. It took me a little bit to get back to sleep and then the alarm went off at 5 am, but Sheila woke me at 5:37 am to be exact. I was out, heard nothing. I was tired, but I did o.k. yesterday. I would not call that the ideal sleep. I slept good last night though. I didn’t even remember that I coughed a little bit until I saw the kleenexes on the floor. Not too many though. That is my meter on how I am doing these days – the kleenex meter.

I think my recovery could take 6 months, to be truthful. Low stress, little-to-no earthquakes – I hope, peace, time, low inflammation; there is a shift presenting itself again.

No matter what I do with my second job, if I switch a shift to a better time for me – awaiting on my coworker’s decision – I need to take off more days. Working less, is better than not working at all. I don’t want to give up that shift; security, money.

Three treatments seem to be a the key recently. It is therapeutic. Therapy flushed out, just like my thoughts. Maybe we all need a little therapy, either it be vacations, pedicures, sleep, laughter, it is all therapeutic. Bumping my knee into this pole under this table isn’t though.

Less bumps; less bumps – see found my title.