National Eric Miller Day

In case you were not informed, June 12th shall now be known as National Eric Miller Day. It's true, though we are known as the modern day Rome, arbitrarily suggesting and approving new holidays is not as easy as it used to be. However, with the high volume of Eric Millers out there, and given the banks and government offices propensities to close on a dime, I don't think there will be much bureaucracy to deal with on this one.

Though it is still early on NEMDay, I have already run a 4 mile race, coming with half a minute of my desired time. I got a fancy shirt, some beverages, discount codes for upcoming races and a coupon for free waffle fries at Chick Fil-A. Waffle Fries. Just what you want after a long hard run. Anyway, free is free. Besides, soon I plan to head over to a Waffle House and eat my weight in waffles, bacon and grits, thereby replenishing the precious calories that were burned along the North Atlanta perimeter route.

Later today, I shall be attending the first annual Beer Connoisseur festival near my favorite restaurant and brewery in Atlanta and the world, the 5 Seasons. Dozens of craft microbreweries showing up to pour their fancy best into my complimentary BCF cup. 5 hours of slogging my $35 tickets worth of new and exciting libations. Could there be a better way to inaugurate NEMDay? I'm pretty sure not.

Finally, provided the availability of wherewithal, I may make yet another attempt to impregnate my wife. Her body seems oddly resistant, but arthritis is already setting into one elbow, and I need to hurry up and create a caregiver or two before we slowly succumb to the mercy of the state. I was hoping the cats would have jobs by now, but I don't honestly think they've even started looking yet. Shameful. Yet future hope exists here, fueled by every scratch upon sisal, by every shoulder on plow--hope, whose tiny seeds will surely reach nutrient rich soil on this 1st annual Eric Miller Day.

Strange Things are Afoot at the Circle K

He pauses to take quick note of his surroundings: the mother-in-law waking herself repeatedly with coughing, someone frantically waving a jingle-toy in the pitch blackness to lure back a cat which sounds clearly more focused on finding a stud, kittens in my own hallway doing their typical early morning Nascar routine...

Tonight I had a lot of strange dreams. Many of them involved falling from airplanes. At first I only had the sensation of dropping, but as the dreams went on, I kept getting closer and closer to the ground. It doesn't help, I suppose, that my conscious mind has seen a lot of sick stuff and has a pretty healthy imagination, as well. I have this habit of continuing dreams in my head even after they should rightfully be over. Having been awake now for awhile, I realize that the dreams, and, more generally, the fitful sleep must have come from what I ate last night. Copious amounts of seafood (local theater fundraiser) including muscles, which I never eat, a fair bit of bread, generous plate of sweets, 3 beers and a white Russian. Honestly, nothing too out of the ordinary except for the muscles. I may be more sensitive to shellfish than I thought. Or, perhaps I'm just having sympathy pains for them, living their tortured free-fall through my digestive tract through my nightmares. Regardless of what is happening in the kumite of my midsection, I've been seriously contemplating coffee before 5am. You know insomnia just won't take the hint and get lost when that happens.

As a surreal bonus, there is a kitten on my lap chirping louder than all the predawn birds outside who seems insistent on helping me finish this post. I will leave his contribution below (minus the receipt from earlier he managed to Control-V/paste onto the screen)...

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--"How Many Lives I Have and Other Stuff" by Barley