Yesterday was my 62nd birthday. I never thought I’d make it this far in life, make it to a point where I could start taking back all that Social Security money the Gov’s been taking from my paychecks since I was 15 years old. Kind of a nice feeling, that.

It was also the night of the full moon. Out for the evening walk with The Dudes, I watched it rise above the eastern horizon. So bright, so full, lighting up these white, limestone roads, casting eerie shadows to accompany the night noises echoing from the Floridian jungle that surrounds me here.

This morning, out for the early morning walk with The Dudes, that full moon was still in the sky, still bright, still full, moving toward the western horizon. I wanted, so bad, to pull a George Bailey, lasso that moon and have it carry me and my critters back to the west coast, back home again. That desire was an ache that squeezed my heart.

I can honestly say I hate it here. I should never have come back. There have been nothing but bad times here, bad memories and this time around has not changed that except to add more bad times, more bad memories.

The only good thing that has happened during my time in this hell hole of a state is that Stealing The Marbles got published. I pray it sells well enough to earn me the money I need to finally go back where I belong, where I understand the people, the politics, where I can converse with other humans, feel the beat of a vibrant city beneath my feet, feel the magic that is San Francisco.

Post birthday blues, maybe, or just feeling very homesick. Buy the book, okay? You’ll get several hours of enjoyment from the read and you’ll be helping me and the critters get home again.

Thanks.