PRESS THREE FOR SHHH!

    SO, THE NATIONAL SECURITY AGENCY, turns out, has been monitoring my phone calls for some time now? I'm imagining and pitying the bottom level agent sitting in a windowless room, thwacking his head and questioning his own existence after suffering through 30 minutes of listening to me being put on hold 5 times and arguing with the utility company about a billing error.
   
   Have at it, Uncle Sam.

(CONFIDENTIAL TO THE NSA:  When you get to that recorded phone conversation I had with a friend where I was talking about a "hostile takeover" and the "ugly fuzz", I was referring to a 3-month old eggplant Parmesan leftover in my refrigerator that I forgot was there, not the government and the police. Have a nice day.)

MA GONE WILD

DEAR MOTHER NATURE: Okay, you know I love you, and I'll be happy to sleep with you for an eternity or two when the time comes, but criminy craps, Sweetpea, did you really have to have a hissy with the snow? Really? Okay. I'm better now. You're still my girl.

RIP, RAY MANZAREK

GOING LIKE NINETY

I'M REMEMBERING A NONAGENARIAN patient of mine.  He was a delightful man I visited regularly at his home, where he still lived well and independently. He'd smoked roll-your-owns, drunk blockade whiskey, and indulged in Caligula-mocking excesses all his life. 

"My doctors told me years ago that I had to quit all that stuff or it would kill me," he said.  "If you like, I can show you where they're all buried."

AN UNDULATION SITUATION

HOPS ON THE RISE, gargoyle on guard, rickety-pickety steps, perennials pushing through the weeds. Now, a front porch swing and I'm good for spring.

SCREEN TEST

TODAY IN 'ADVENTURES IN DUCT TAPE,' yet another reason why you should never hire me as your handyman. I love my front porch screen door, and its fragile, sagging, multi-painted-over framework of well-weathered wood. Yes, I could replace it, but you don't discard an old friend for having a bad half-century.

 

REMEMBER WELL, DEAR JUDY

OUR SWEET JUDY
One year ago today, gone too soon.

 Here at her happiest, on Long Pond.

 Raise your glasses, m'dears.

 A time to toast and celebrate her life with us.

 Travel on, dear heart.