An overabundance of material is in desperate need of management.
I'm living with four girls ... three post-puberty, a Little-Gay-Dog, a gender confused cat, and Goddess who is often stoned ...
Our first grandson, Ethan, is still at the Hospital, waiting to see when Mom can go home ...
A mini-tornado danced through this week, rolling off singles, knocking down the privacy fence and branches from the tree in our front yard ...
The Cat Lady next door has several new cats and one looks remarkably like our own gender confused Gypsy ...
An "Out of Compliance" warning hangs on my door from Atlantic Waste because aforementioned fallen tree branches exceed 5 feet in length which I had nothing to do with ...
There is an overabundance of boys interested in aforementioned post-puberty girls ...
I've actually chosen a Hymn to do at Bar Church tomorrow and that never happens ...
Tybee Island now has it's own recording studio and the master minds behind Crab Creek Studios asked me to come and do some tunes there ...
The number of police cars outnumbered the number of floats in the Beach Bum parade somehow establishing such a laid back atmosphere it seemed everyone participating had smoked large amounts of weed before starting ...
Sarah's bump is sexy as Hell ...
It's a marvelous, tropical beach day with the slightest of Ocean breezes, Palm Trees standing tall, choirs of seagulls and dancing Dolphins slicing the water ...
Our house is extremely quiet like a calm before the storm leaving me fidgety and anxious ...
I don't know where to start!
Oh well, it's an island.
Maybe Manana.
