9 days after the Super Bowl and I’m reconsidering what my cousin said by “shortly after” he’d have his comments n edits for Book of Blues.

I have no patience anymore. I don’t live for much else and I’m ready to go back to work on it.

My cousin’s like me: he’s much more impatient when he’s the one who has to wait. I am. I’m half tempted to reprint the draft and go through it one more time, but that’s because I’m being impatient.

The old sayings run through my head:

  • Patience is a virture
  • A watched pot never boils
  • Rome wasn’t built in a day
  • First things first

Well as I watch the snow melt, the paint dry and the grass grow, I started to get frazzled at the feeling of my hair getting grayer, my wrinkles getting longer and my youth fading away. As I hear the sounds of sand slipping away like sands through an hourglass, I not only live in the present, but I hold on to every day like it was my last.

Need to live a little more…

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