Zombie Apocalypse

Here I am in my favorite walking spot. I like it here because it's at the edge of a pine forest and, if you're one of my loyal readers, you know that the Genome has pine tar in his veins, a little something left over from the early days of childhood when my Grandfather lived in the middle of a small forest of pine trees, and that forest became my special getaway place. I learned to meditate there at the age of 7. Of course, I didn't realize it was meditation until I became 37, but that's another story.

The particular forest I visit these days has really beautiful pine cones. I know! Beautiful pine cones, who'd of thought it?

I know that many people think of pine cones as a nuisance or even a pest, but I like them because of their playful, funny, sometimes hilarious antics in the trees in my backyard. I like to think of them as furry, little monkeys.

No, just a sec, I think I've gone into the ditch again with that one. No, it's not pine cones that I like so much, it's squirrels. I was thinking of squirrels. But no matter because here I am walking in one of my favorite spots and it's in a pine forest and it has beautiful pine cones. But you knew that already.

Now that's out of the way, and I apologize for that little bit of ADS, let's get right down to it. Apocalypse, that's the topic. Oh sure, I know it's not a fun topic and you visit this blog because the Genome can always be counted on to provide the uplifting and inspiring. But, apocalypse? What can be uplifting about it? Just stick with me. It takes a little explanation.

I don't know about you but for me, the United States has become a looney bin. Looney to the eyebrows. If I need to explain why I think that, then this post is not for you, my friend. Consider, if you will, the conspiracy theories. What about QAnon and John Kennedy Jr. isn't really dead but hiding somewhere and will be Donnie Trump's vice presidential candidate in 2024. How about, Bill Gates is inserting little monitoring devices in the COVID vaccinations.

Those are just a couple of examples of the lunacy that's rampant in our citizens today. And those people vote for our leaders, and those leaders fan the flames of the resident lunacy to win elections. 

That, my friend, spells apocalypse. I know! You're asking yourself what's become of the non-political Genome. I'm not sure that I have an answer but I promise, for your sake, to look into it further and get back to you.

I admit that there are many days when the bleak prospect of the future is too much to bear and I collapse into a heap on the floor. I've tried everything to get above the clouds brought on by this unfortunate attitude, but it's a bust. But now, my friend, I've finally decided to face it head-on. That's why I'm writing this particular post--to slog through the swamp and get to solid ground on the other side.

My only hope is that there is a little truth hidden in the idiocy of conspiracy. In fact, I'm counting on it. You're familiar with the old saw about smoke and fire--where there's a little of one, there must also be a little of the other. Well, that's the tree root that I'm grasping to keep from falling over the cliff.

It's like this. Follow me closely here. If there is any danger at all in the COVID vaccines, then I'm hoping that it's the zombie apocalypse. You remember the Z-apoc of course. It was THE most popular bit of lunacy for decades. Now, consider this; if the vaccine carries a virus that causes us to come back from the grave hungry for living brains, then it will be a better future than we'll get from the "JFK Jr didn't die" voting public; same for the "We didn't land on the moon" crowd; or the "Black lives don't matter enough to admit that black lives are important" dingos.

I'd rather face the zombie apocalypse than another 4 years of Don Trumper. There, I've said it. If you don't agree with that position, then bye-bye. For those of you who stay with me, I hope I've gotten it out of my system and can return to posts of Lupe, Princess Amy, Napoleon, Catherine the Great, and the rest of the crew.

And so, be safe, be well, keep smiling, and I'll see you soon. Thanks for taking the time to visit with me.

Yellow Brick Road

You mean a great deal to me because you've given me reason to get out of bed in the morning. So I'd like you to come along with me as I search for something that has eluded me all my life. I hope that whatever I learn on the journey will be helpful to you too. Come on, let's step out on that yellow brick road together...

If you follow this blog you know that I have a spoiled brat for a limbic system. I've written about it a lot and still I get questions about it, especially when I refer to mine as Princess Amy.

What's a limbic system? It's that little area deep inside our brains that we inherited from the ancient ancestors that tell us to run when we face the unknown. Run from the saber-toothed tiger, sure, but run from a rustle in the grass too, just in case. Better to be safe than eaten, right?

The limbic system is also responsible for telling us to fear the stranger coming toward us--the guy who doesn't dress like us, or has a different hairstyle, or votes for the other party. It's easy to think that it will be far safer to hit him in the head with a brick than offer to share our fire.

That's the background and I hope I don't have to repeat that mine is more than a little precocious--she's off her rocker. She's much like the red queen in Alice, you remember Alice--the little nit that fell down a rabbit hole. But I've gotten off track. Back to the real subject...

There we were, Ms. Wonder and I, vacationing in Sedona, Arizona, with a precocious Princess Amy gumming up the works. Uh oh, not again--I feel some disturbance in the Force. People are asking what Ms. Wonder, why Ms. Wonder? Alright, I'm taking a deep breath, and I'll tell you why...

First of all, it's difficult enough to know where to begin a story. I mean, repeat all the background and the loyal followers will get bored and start looking for the remote with a mind to changing channels. But leave out the background and the newcomers are lost and begin feeling like they've walked into the twilight zone. See what I mean?

But because I love everyone who takes the time to read these missives of mine I want to please everyone--those who hang onto my every word and those who just stumbled into the room by mistake.

So who and why Ms. Wonder--it's like this. Wonder is the woman who shares my life and who rescues me from one ranygazoo after another. She does so in mysterious ways that leave one and all, including the innocent bystanders, scratching the head. You might say she moves in mysterious ways her wonders to perform.

Now, back at the ranch, Ms. Wonder suggested I might visit the native shaman and, as always, I followed her suggestion. As soon as I entered the kiva, she smoked me. I mean the shaman lit a sage stick and waved the smoke over me with an eagle's feather. She also rattled me. She had a turtle shell with seeds inside and she waved it around with flailing arms and dancing feet.

She told me that I was living in a black and white world, like Dorothy before she opened the gate and stepped out onto the yellow brick road. She said that I was standing at the gate with my hand on the latch but something keeps me from opening it. She said that if I only opened the gate and stepped out, the road would lead me to the Emerald City where I would find the answers to all my questions and change my life for the better. 

I've been working on that--working on opening the gate I mean. I've been working on it for years. You see, the thing is, I'm not exactly sure what it means to open the gate. I've tried this and that. I've asked the gurus for help. Even Ms. Wonder hasn't been able to help beyond telling me that only I can find the answer.

I may be looking at the problem the wrong way. You know before you can solve a problem, you have to understand exactly what the problem is. One thing I've learned is that I have to open that gate every day. That's what I do each morning when I go for my constitutional. 

I go for a walk as soon as I have my feline chores completed. I don't mean that I perform feline chores. What I mean is that I perform chores for our cats, Sagi and Uma. Out in the open, with Nature surrounding me, and a Carolina blue dome overhead stretching from horizon to horizon, I walk in beauty, like the Navaho--beauty above me, beauty below me, beauty surrounds me.

And yet, even though I open the gate every day and step out onto that road, I never seem to get where I'm going. I seem to be missing something. And so that brings us to the point. I'm going to make one last effort to open the gate and walk the yellow brick road to Emerald City. And I want you to come along with me. I need your support to keep me motivated. Just by showing up here occasionally and reading my blog post, you will have opened the gate and started the walk with me.

Please join me. Let's open that gate together...

Best Day To Be Alive

Those who know me best are not surprised to learn that I went for my morning constitutional through Waterford Estates. I like the canals and palm trees. I also like to see the dogs being walked in the morning sunlight. Those dogs look happy. They know that this morning, right now, is the best time to be alive. These are the good old days they think in their doggy way of thinking.

The people walking them sometimes enjoy the walk too, if they aren't engaged with their phones. They smile. They revel in the warmth of the sun on their skin. They love the aroma of pine in the air and they smile at the ducks navigating the water lilies and other nymphoids. 

I should probably stop here to explain to the uninitiated that nymphoids are a class of aquatic plants with submerged roots and floating leaves with small flowers that bloom above the surface of the water. Don't confuse them with nymphs, which are minor female nature deities in Greek mythology. Those little Greek goddesses are simply personifications of nature. Delightful to be sure but meeting one doesn't alter your life the way meeting the Morrigan might.

Well, now that I think about it, I suppose nymphoids like water lilies, can be considered nymphs because, for me at least, they do personify nature. Nymphs they are then. But not nymphos, please! Nymphos are merely and purely mythical. My word-correction software may think nymphos to be real things but no right-thinking person should.

Excuse me. I've jumped the rails again, haven't I? This little missive isn't about water plants. It is about dogs and the way they and all of Nature's children, except humans, realize that today is the best day ever to be alive.

To get back to it then, I was strolling the paths that line the banks of the canals when I spied an older gentleman walking the path on the opposite side. He looked to be ninety, if a day, and he was tall, thin, and withered. I imagined him to have been quite a striking-looking man in his day. 

There go I, was the thought that entered my head because I'm tall, thin, and go for morning walks to enjoy the benefit of sunshine and fresh air. But more than that, the thoughts in my head were actually about getting old and that I would gradually decline from my current tallish, thinnish, and moderately withered state until, placed side by side, you wouldn't be able to tell me from the gentleman walking toward me.

I don't have to tell you that these thoughts took some of the warmth from the sunshine and some of the freshness from the air. I didn't like it. My thoughts were in a darker place and forgotten were the happy, smiling dogs.

I don't know how much time passed, probably very little, when I looked up from the path to see that the old man had turned the corner and was coming my way. I prepared myself to give him an uplifting greeting. He probably needed it I reasoned. Perhaps I could make his day.

As we neared each other on the path, I put a smile on my face and opened my mouth to speak. Before I could decide on the most cheerful greeting, he spoke.

'Morning,' he said and he stopped in a socially distanced way.

'Good morning,' I said, 'how are you?'

'Never better,' he said. 'And you?'

'I'm good,' I said, 'thank you.'

'Let me ask you something,' he said, and without waiting for a reply he said, 'How old are you?'

I admit that I didn't expect this question at all and it brought me up short a bit. So I simply told him my age.

'I'll bet you have some aches and pains and think that you're getting old,' he said.

'You're right,' I said.

'Well, let me tell you something,' he said. 'I'm 89 and when I look at you I think if only I could be that young again. That's right,' he continued, 'you're a young man. I know you don't think of yourself that way, but it's true. You have a lot of life ahead of you and you can do anything you want with it. My advice is just to enjoy it--every day--enjoy it while you can. Today is a good day to be alive.'

At this point, I realized that the conversation had arrived at that spot where both parties know that all that needs to be said had been said. So I thanked him, wished him a good day, and we both moved on in our separate ways.

As I walked along the path, I reveled in the warmth of the sun on my skin. I enjoyed the aroma of pine in the air. I smiled at the dogs, I smiled at the ducks, and I smiled at the nymphs. I smiled because I realized that I'm living the best of days. Today is indeed the best day to be alive.

Water Everywhere

"How do you rate the new hygienist?" she said when I phoned home to report my whereabouts.

You will remember that we moved to the coast a while back and we're still interviewing the local healthcare providers; doctors, dentists, palm readers, and such. I have a few funny stories about them but this story isn't one of them.

"First," I said, "let me say that she really knows how to use that wand."

"You mean the ultrasonic scaler," she said.

"Do I?" I said. "The thing that vibrates and sends a stream of water into the mouth? Well, she's good with it. Doesn't sting the gums as much as my previous hygienist."

"But it still stings," she said. 

"It does a little," I said, "but the point at issues is not the sting but the flood."

"Too much water," she said.

"Let me be clear," I said. "It's not like one of those named storms that frequent the gulf coast. More like the ancient Great Flood that we hear so much about in those YouTube videos."

"It's biblical," she said.

"That's one of looking at it," I said and I immediately returned to the main subject. This wonder woman, as I'm sure you're aware, will get off onto the subjects of wide-eyed cherubims [cherubins] at the wink of an eye."

"When she began working," I said just to get back to it. "it reminded me of the time that Johnny and the rest of the Maple Hollow crew ambushed me with spray-soakers at the water park. 

I was about 12 and more immune to the unexpected in those younger years. Still, getting about 4 or 5 soakers in the face will get your attention. I remember gasping and gulping and swallowing about twice the recommended amount of water. And yet, for some reason, I laughed. Can't imagine why now."

"I don't like the sound of that," she said.

"Tolerable," I said, "but then the thing progressed if that's the term, and when she put the vacuum tube in my mouth, I thought of the regulator that scuba divers use."

She opened her mouth as if to say something but I closed my eyes and persevered.

"You remember when we became NAUI-certified as divers we had to learn to clear our mask of water while still under the surface. Every time I tried to exhale into my mask to force the water out, I felt like I was going to drown."

"Just to be clear," she said, "we're still talking about the teeth cleaning and not getting scuba certifications?"

"Teeth cleaning to be sure," I said.

"Sounds horrible."

"Close to the end of the procedure, there was so much water in my mouth, I felt that I couldn't breathe. Suddenly, I remembered the time when, as part of a rite of passage at age 13, I was compelled to dive to the bottom of the lake underneath Armstrong Bridge."

Again, she made an effort to say something but I raised a hand to indicate that there was more to come and then let her have it.

"My mistake was spending too much time on the bottom looking for just the right pebble to prove I'd made it all the way down. Coming back up, I felt an urgent need to breathe, so much so that I thought I wasn't going to make it. I remember thinking, This is it, and that thought was followed by, Is this really all there is?

"Oh no! Then what happened?"

"The short answer is panic! I began pumping my legs and flailing my arms in an attempt to get to the surface as quickly as possible. I remember being aware of nothing other than the pain in my lungs and the bright orb hanging above me that seemed to call to me and keep me struggling toward the surface."

"Was there no one around to help you?"

"Oh, sure, the hygienist and dentist were there doing all they could and several assistants came running to see what all the fuss was about."

"You are!" she cried. "You are talking about teeth cleaning! You didn't really do all that in the dentist chair, did you?"

"Ms. Wonder! I'm surprised that you even question me. You know that I never mislead my public. You have every right to be skeptical, and I'll defend your right to do so, but yes, I did all that and more.

 Just you wait until it's your turn in that chair."

"I'm finding another dental office," she said.

Here Comes the Rain

It was what I expected, of course. Sure, the early morning temps were mild for August on the Carolina coast and cats were napping on the screened porch and I'd joined them for morning meditation, but the wet, gray sky was thunder-booming and lightning skittered about in the murk.

"There was a lightning strike nearby," said a familiar voice from somewhere in the kitchen.

As if on queue, big, fat raindrops began falling and the cats awoke and rocketed inside. 

"You startled me," I said. "I didn't know you were there."

"Not as much as a lightning bolt will startle you," she said. I knew this Ms. Wonder spoke soothe in all situations, so I gathered up my one-day-at-a-time paraphernalia and came inside.

"By the way," she said, "if you're out this morning, my meds are ready at the pharmacy."

Just as she finished that sentence, the sky became darker. It was as though the sun had given up the ghost and we were living in a wet, wild, and windblown world. 

"But I'd wait until the storm passes if I were you," she said.

Now, first of all, I didn't have a lot invested in this storm. In fact, I'd been watching these weather shenanigans with the same quiet air of a drama critic waiting for the curtain to go up.

Secondly, and if you're a regular supporter of this blog you already know, that I can't get enough of this woman's bouquet. I'm in awe of her glamor. I'm enamored. And when she expresses a wish, it's as though her dainty foot is pressed on the accelerator of my heart. When she becomes a damsel in need, I become her parfait knight.

It won't surprise you to know that when she said, 'Please pick up meds', I heard Princess Amy yell, "Run faster!" And so I replied, "I'll go now."

In an instant, I found myself behind the controls of Wind Horse and out on Ocean Highway, prepared to face any obstacle. Before actually crossing the river, I thought it best to have a steaming cup of Jah's Mercy and so I headed straight to Port City Java.

PCJ was a bust. The drive-through window displayed a sign reading, Closed due to shipping delays. No problem, I thought, Starbucks is a few blocks away but again, nothing doing; the line at Starbucks was backed up to Texas.

You'd think that Amy would have the upper hand now, telling me that failure was written in my stars, but I still smiled and sang along with Stevie Nicks on the radio. You see, the thunder was rolling away and the lightning had lost much of its pizzaz. The Niagra-inspired rainfall had become a light mist and the sky had recovered much of its Carolina blue. 

I was sure that the morning was going to be topping after all because I was running an errand for the Wonder waiting for me at home. I pointed Wind Horse toward the Brunswick River bridge and rode into the open mouth of the dragon that is Wilmington.

For several minutes as I headed toward the bridge, my thoughts were submerged in the movie playing out in my mind. Princess Amy had staged one of her coming disaster stories but halfway across the bridge, despite Amy's dramatics, I became dimly aware that something rummy was going on outside the car in my peripheral vision. 

I turned to look downriver and was surprised to see a solid-looking black wall of a monster storm heading my way. It was whipping up a substantial wake and threatening everything in its path with frequent lightning. The earlier storm outside the screened porch had been nothing more than a messenger, sent to prepare the way for this baby. 

By the time I parked outside the pharmacy, the storm was at its nastiest. Princess Amy, who'd been watching the storm developing, had mixed feelings about the whole thing. As a spectacle, she enjoyed it immensely. She liked thunderstorms a lot. The only thing to spoil the event, in her opinion, was that I wasn't out in it.

"Go, go, go!" she screeched and I immediately went out into the rain wearing shorts, a Hawaiian shirt, with no umbrella.

I returned to the car, squelching as I walked, and I was disappointed not a little. You see the news about Wonder's meds being ready had been vastly overrated. They weren't ready. Still, I knew that a bookstore with a coffee cafe was only a few blocks away and that gave me hope. 

I've heard it said, and perhaps you've heard it too, that you can't buy love, you can't buy happiness, but you can buy coffee. It speaks volumes, doesn't it? I felt that all I needed was to zip into the bookstore and the day would be transformed. Feeling absolutely bucked, I zipped, and much like Lucifer, I fell from heaven to hell when I found the cafe closed due to shipping delays.

Now, if I know you at all, by this time you're thinking that the Universe has a sore spot when it comes to yours truly. And if that's what you think, then who am I to disagree. But you can't really blame the Universe for feeling that way. After all, I've been nothing but stubborn trouble since I was so high. With the exception of taking care of a few needy cats, I've done scratch to justify my existence.

I decided to phone Wonder before heading home. I got her voicemail. I told her that I was heading back toward the Shire and might possibly stop at the Belville Port City Java. Text me if you want coffee I told her. She phoned back right away.

"Yes," she said when I answered the call. "Please bring me a latte and you'll be happy to know that the sun is shining here."

"Ah, Wonder," I said. "The sun always shines on you. I can't wait to be there and I will be there as soon as I can find a way out of the dragon's bowels." 

I was pretty full of myself when I heard that metaphor come out of my mouth. Not bad on the spur of the moment I thought. My mood was lifted substantially. You might say that I was catapulted into a higher dimension just thinking about being back home with Poopsie, cats, sunshine, birdsong, and the rest of the amenities. To think that I'd turned a little summer shower into an end-of-the-world threat made me laugh.

I remember thinking, in a light-hearted sort of way, that here was another case of just one damned thing after another. Nothing to be done, of course, other than taking life as it comes, and life was currently still raining in heavy traffic on Oleander Boulevard. Sunshine would have to wait.