Saturday Second Post

It's a melancholy day for TGP. For a few people in his family, back in Stiletto City, this is a sanctified day, a holiday of reflection. But Plotnikkies don't atone, we figure we're doing about the best we can, most of the time, and let it go at that. Still, The Great Plotnik lives far away from his family and there are times when he thinks about all that means.

Also, The Great Ducknik is upstairs painting while listening to Nora Jones. That music could depress Abbot and Costello.

Also, it's raining.

Also, Plottie is writing a story for the Snowy Valley Voice about his old, now deceased Saturday basketball game and that's gotten him nostalgic for all the abuse he used to take there. Nobody has called him a N_____ for a long time.

At the new basketball game on Sunday, nobody ever insults anybody. Nobody threatens to go get their gun out of the car. It's not nearly as much fun.

Also, he's hungry and he's already eaten two bagels with cream cheese, tomato and onion and could easily just go up there, rip open the bag and inhale the last three in one gulp, but he is displaying will power.

Also, baseball season is over and the basketball season looks just as bad and Plotnik doesn't give a shit about football.

Did he mention that his daughter lives 2,922 miles away? Did he mention that Mapquest gives driving directions from Saint Plotniko to The Big Shmapple which includes entries like this:

8) Merge onto I-80 E via EXIT 304 toward CHEYENNE (Passing through WYOMING and NEBRASKA- then crossing into IOWA). 1054.6 miles.

Did he mention that his son, daughter in law and granddaughter, plus his mother, who will be religious for the next two days, but thankfully only two, live exactly 371 miles away, five and a half hours by car with no traffic? PD, 5H and Blogmaid, beware: they grow up, see.

Did he mention the arthritis, or whatever it is, in his middle finger on his right hand, which seems appropriate to his darkening mood?

Did he also mention that he understands how blessed his life has been up to here, and therefore even Nora Jones should not have any effect whatsoever on his generalized demeanor?

Oooh, Duck's done painting. Nora Jones stopped singing. There are many burritos waiting on Mission Street. The sun's coming out. Watch the corners of Plotnik's mouth turn upwards.