My neighbor Daniel came by after work this afternoon, as he usually does, storming through my open door shouting for me to wake up, old man. I appreciate him dropping by, to get me up from my wasted chair, turn on some Fox News and play a little cards.

The deck sits by my mouse pad and everything is shoved aside, worthless tools of a dying blog, and we quietly play poker while Fox rages on. We just mentally keep track of the most wins, but it means nothing.

He kicked my butt, despite who dealt. After an hour he went home, worn out from his day.

All I have left in me is words on this screen. I really try to make them count, to have some meaning, but my best friend has not even read them during his day, and has no idea the despair I feel.

I've bailed on Thanksgiving with grand-daughter Shelby. Whatever part of Florida she lands in for the day, me and my old truck are not capable of keeping up. I just want to say here, I love her so much, and sometimes holidays need more than love, they need a big dose of reality.