John Prine is frail and was intubated yesterday with symptoms of COVID-19. He has some other health issues. This is not good news. Not at all.
I was introduced to John by Mark Blain and his wife, Donnie. Both of them are gone now. We were standing around on a camping trip talking about music and somebody mentioned John Prine. I said I wasn’t familiar.
Mark looked at me as if I were an alien and began reciting the lyrics to this song. Everyone there joined in. My first order of business after the camping trip was to acquaint myself with John Prine. My first album was Storm Windows. It’s a great one.
Oh, he’s an American original and a treasure. My heart hurts. This is so not good.
Dear Connie Lynn,
What have you been doing? I miss you all day long. Daddy will be gone a long long time but I will think of you every day. You be a good girl and love your momma and brother. And give them a kiss every night for Daddy. You be good in church and Sunday school and remember Daddy in your prayers.
I love you, Punkin.
Guessing this to be 1966 or 1967 or thereabouts
When my son was born. I promised him everything good.
I feel like I’ve made good on that promise.
On social media, I call him Chef Boy ‘R Mine. He’s the love of my life.
A few years ago, he met the love of his life on match.com. They married yesterday.
I am over the moon.
We’re all in Ibiza, Spain. The wedding was the best I’ve ever been to. The reception was a heap of fun. Today, I have gloried in the fact that he is happy and has found, as he says, his Queen.
I haven’t had a lot of time with my daughter-in-law, but the little I’ve had, I adore her. She is intelligent. She is gracious. She is beautiful. My grandchildren will be awesome.
The view from my cup is overflowing with happiness. I am just suffused with joy. It’s so much fun to watch the wheel of life turn and to see one’s offspring do well. I couldn’t be happier.
Jeremy, my son, was uncompromising when it came to a help-meet. He had high standards and he met them all. Vanessa is a treasure.
We can walk this world alone or we can choose a partner. My son has chosen well. I am beyond happy. My cup over flows.
It was easily the best wedding I’ve ever been to. Everything was first rate and first class. My heart is so full.
Today my son is getting married. I couldn’t be happier about the woman he chose. She is intelligent, charming and beautiful. We had dinner together last night and I took this photo. The expressions on their faces say it all.
Today was unscheduled on purpose. I figured I’d need a day to recover from the flight. I did but not as badly as I thought. I feel well rested and deep into the Ibiza Vacation Mode already.
I had a huge room service breakfast. I love room service and Destino Pacha does it right. Breakfast has also served as lunch and after-siesta nap.
The pool was lovely but I only stayed a couple of hours as I haven’t been out at all this year and I didn’t want to burn.
I’m loving living in the lap of luxury with folks at my beck and call. I could really get used to this. I could. Easy.
I’ve had my first Spanish siesta. The pool this morning was half empty and mellow. Well. It’s jamming now.
Tonight is more hanging on my glorious balcony. The vacation activities start tomorrow.
I’m in the Madrid international airport. There is a cacophony of languages. Very little of it is in English.
I’ve been chilling in the VIP lounge which is very quiet. (For 34 euros you too can be a VIP!). I kept checking the monitor for my gate assignment. Nothing. I called the airline. It hasn’t been assigned yet.
This airport is huge. Lots of people. Lots of languages. I have no idea what terminal to be in much less which hallway. The woman a customs indicated she thought Terminal 4 gates in area J or K. I’m getting a wee bit anxious. I leave the tranquil lounge for teeming crowds, nonstop PA announcements and crying children. I fight my way through. Pardone me, por favor. I check monitor after monitor. Finally I found it. I’m in the right terminal, wrong hallway. I head for Gate K 80. Finally I get there. Here. I am here. I collapse into an empty bank of seats. I’m the first one here.
Then. Out of nowhere. Off in the distance somewhere someone is loudly whistling Camp Town Ladies. Stephen Foster in the Madrid Airport. I have an instant ear worm. (and now you do too!). Doodah indeed.