A Random Sort of Day

It's a random sort of day. My problem with focus is that there are simply too many things that I want to concentrate on ... to hell with focus! Besides, "Sweet Home Alabama" is playing and I hate that song! I much prefer Lynerd Skynryd's "That Smell" and I love the way the band came up with their name, after a gym coach they hated in High School. And of course there's always "Freebird." Then I finished the "Steve Jobs" biography yesterday. I can't decide if he was brilliant or he was shit (if you read the book you know what I'm talking about). I fell in love with "Steve Wozniak" who has talent, values, ethics and humor that that I admire the hell out of. Jobs was fascinating ... a driven, tortured soul with a work ethic forged in Hades who could charm your pants off or slit your throat ... depending on what he wanted. But he was a spiritual man too ... who changed the world ... so go figure. Besides that, this morning The Breakfast Club was more like Cheers with all of these people coming in at one time who normally don't come on a Wednesday or together. Whitley, who misses most everything, left right before this happened. First Newt Gringrich and her husband came in (if you work at The Breakfast Club you know who I'm talking about), followed by Neil who only comes in on Sundays and then Sam stumbling in from the night. In no time at all we laughing our asses off. Yesterday, we were in town to meet with Bill Shearouse who is also my attorney to talk about of stuff. It was good, productive and fun but at the end, as he stood from the conference table, he said, "Mike, as you build this new life don't forget about your old friends" which is one of those stop you dead in your tracks things that only the best of friends can get away with. We hugged as we left but his words still ring in my ears this morning. I've got these notes for contracts and proposals spread out on the kitchen table demanding my attention. Each has a deadline and the thing about deadlines and Beach Bums is they really struggle with each other. Manyana keeps popping in my head. There's always tomorrow ... which of course makes me think of the Bible verse "Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes" (James 4:14) ... which, of course, makes me think about George Harrison's "What is Life?" I got a lot on my mind. And now I find myself seduced by the sunrise. It's a beautiful summer mroning with an ocean breeze like God's air conditioner is blowing kisses. The choir of birds are hitting every note dead on and Fran's thousand shades of green are doing a Hula Dance which is hard to not watch ... which makes me miss Fran and her bicycle-built-for-two though she couldn't peddle it for the life of her because of her M.S. though that never stopped her ... and Sarah's still sleeping so I'm on guard duty that nothing distrurbs her cause she's more than earned it. I think what I need to do is get a time clock and put it in the corporate headquarters of Micheal Elliott Enterprises on the Beloved Back deck and managed by a Palm Tree with an oyster face, coconut bra and grass skirt. I'm pretty sure once I clock in, I'll get to work. At least that's the way it used to be.