That season

A TV turned up too loud, the wind whooshing against the windows and somewhere in my sleeping mind, the sound of a siren. Pogo huddles against my body between my face and waist. I lie there for a minute or two trying to get my mind to function. I had been asleep for nearly 3.5 hours.

I looked at the radar on the net and turned on the TV. Weather guys say to take shelter NOW. I grabbed a comforter, my Diet DP, a chair and the remote for the TV. Who knows why I picked up the remote. I called the kitties and went into the tiny closet in the bathroom.

Momo, the curious one, came into the closet to see why I hid there. I closed the door, and for the next hour I sit there, uncomfortably warm, with a no longer curious cat. To be fair, the space could not hold the two of us along with the chair and comforter.

I venture out of the hidey-hole thinking I had not heard the siren in awhile. The TV weather guy says the danger moved on. Back to bed Pogo and I go. He hid in a bathroom cabinet, his go-to spot in times of danger or stress.

Oh yes, earlier in the evening the power dies. I discover I can do without o2 for more than an hour without passing out. I never check the sats, however. I did not recharge my portable after the last outing, thus no o2.

I miss my independence. I find relying on others causes anxiety. When someone asks if I need something, I most often say no. I miss runs to Wendy's for the newest burger. I find myself not aging gracefully.

Funny how when one finally gains wisdom, no one wants to hear. What does one do with an overabundance of wisdom?

As Johnny Cash sang, I still miss someone.

Laters.

Short buts

A former colleague was a legendary sports writer. In his later years, he wrote two columns a day: Short Putts and a longer column. To honor Putt, below you will find my attempt at his style.

The pole on which my satellite sits serves as a message board for the neighborhood cats. ... After watching a couple of shows on H2, I think the conspiracy channel aptly fits. ,,, Of the 160 friends on FB whom I consider journalists, 21 now teach; 113 of the 160 are no longer in journalism. ... How does a 60-year-old, who loses his job, find work? ... Amarillo High School ranks as No. 1 in the city. Always has, always will. ... Salt scalds your tongue as effectively as a boiling cup of coffee. ... Saw where a former colleague plans to wed and move to Ohio. Buckeye teams fare well historically. ... The bed calls me. -- CL

Q&O

Flashy advertising on an obituary page, electronic or otherwise, disrespects the deceased and their families.

Vegetarians eat fake meat because ... ?

Opportunists always find a way to make money: advertisement touts company which gives you settlement money early.

Notice how many lawyers seek calls from people hurt by medical devices, but most do not do the actual work?

Did not Barbara Wa-Wa announce her retirement several months ago?

MYD. Laters.