“My kind of singing isn’t meant to be perfect. It’s meant to reflect the imperfections of a human being like me.” ― Willie Nelson, It’s a Long Story: My Life.
For Christmas my daughter gave me a jar of her home made fire cider (it cures everything) and the next day I got to use it, and the day after as well. I just swigged some. It’s spicy and sour. (Take a tablespoon three times a day, she said, and it will cure that cold.) I’m a little better, I think.
There is fresh lemon and honey in the tea now, and a sleepy dog for a nurse. Also, a pretty good new book, Willie Nelson’s autobiography. (I wanted a read that has a happy ending but one not so gripping that it will prevent me from sleeping.)
I have the iPad in my room, too. So far, I have learned about pro quarterbacks, the Feast of Seven Fishes, and the so-called “blue zones.” Those places in the world where people live to be 100 and are happy about it, and a little of what that means for the rest of us. It’s a good thing to watch when I’m not feeling so great about living ‘til tomorrow.
Chip says I am melodramatic. It’s just a cold. He’s right. I am a bad patient. Maybe that will be a resolution for 2024: I will be a better sick person. You know, I’m not sure that is the best I can do. I think I’d rather eat more sweet potatoes, learn Tai Chi and listen to Willie sing. He says his kind of music isn’t meant to be perfect, rather he shares the imperfections of the human heart. A lot of his songs make you laugh and dance, too. It’s music to live by, which may be why Willie is well on his way to being a blue-zoner.
