To all my prized Blogees,

Guess what? I took a walk tonight to clear my head and try to shake off an oppressive cloak of exhaustion, which was entirely smothering me and turning me into the biggest drip and droop EVER, and here's what I came up with. I inherited an additional family gene, the list is lengthening. As of two weeks ago, I didn't have one single gene, now I have three. The latest is the STAMINA-WHAT'S-THAT? gene. NO ONE in our family, with the exclusive exclusion of DTD, has an ounce of stamina. An ounce? How absurd. We have negative stamina, we are in a stamina pit, never ever going to crawl our way out. Yeah, MAYBE once a year I wake up in the morning, sit up in bed and say, HELLO??, 'cause I feel that foreign vibe called energy. It's so rare that I get all excited and feel a surge of new life. I use it up really fast. It's a scant energy supply to begin with and is usually depleted by the time I pad to the bathroom. So there I am, back in the bottom of the pit in negative time. There are nights I'm so tired that I lie in bed and I FEEL, really FEEL, that I am a spirit only. I cannot sense my body. This is true. I snatch for my arms and legs, just to make sure. It's a VERY STRANGE feeling, and I don't like it one crummy little bit. When the teacher used to read to the class in school, my arms got tangled up in their haste to fold on top of the desk so I could burrow my head down in them -- and please wake me up when the story is over. When I was a camp counselor as a teenager, one group of counselors had after-lunch meetings every other day while the other group supervised REST HOUR for the campers. Guess which activity I drooled for? I can remember being so tired in those meetings that I would just wobble and swirl on my seat and jerk to every now and again. And when I worked an office job for one year after college (WHO on EARTH hired ME for THAT and WHY?), I would go on breaks in the ladies' lounge and fall dead asleep to the world. My sister has a wonderful husband whose Motto for Life is GO, GO, GO, AND THEN GO SOME MORE. In contrast, our family motto is When the GOing gets Oh, GOlly!, GO unfold your cot and GO take a nap. My mother actually was worried for Laura to marry him, even though he is Mr. Universe, but only because of the energy levels discrepancy. One day Mom said, in a thin weary wavering voice for effect, But Laura, my goodness, I don't know if you will be able to keep up with him. Then we were all exhausted for the rest (ha) of the day, mulling over that one. It's like we're all programmed to dissolve on cue, the cue being someone sighing, GOodness, I'm SOOOOO tired! My grandmother, when her doctor asked how she was feeling, snapped back, I'VE NEVER FELT GOOD A DAY IN MY LIFE. Granny, I know EXACTLY what you mean, even if I live on vegetables and you lived on chocolate cake and dill pickles all your born days. What IS the explanation for this permanent state of exhaustion, which the more hardy among you are probably scoffing to pieces this very second? I can tell you what, besides the fact that because my bladder is the size of a peanut I only sleep through the night once a year (reference energy vibe above). Well, first, just try to absorb what it would be like to have your sleep cycle interrupted a low average of 3 or 4 times a night. A good night's sleep and I don't keep company . . . EVER. Well, that was literary license. There is the single silly night that comes around once a decade. And a lot of good it does (reference above).

So, here is the scoop. Remember the Linn twins -- that would be my sister and her sister. Well, remember how I said I should ask my mother about naming us both Linn? A friend who read my blog was actually curious to know, will wonders not cease? So, I did ask . . . in person. VERY important to experience the whole enchilada when unraveling family secrets. Mom, why do Laura and I have the same middle name? Oh, well, I named you after your famous relative James Linn. OH?? Tell me about it, Mom. Turns out James Linn is an ancestor who had the "S" word . . . Stamina, oh beautiful word, if you have it, which I don't. Hear Webster on stamina, "strength or power to endure fatigue, stress, etc.; endurance." Oh, yeah, right. Well, when Thomas Jefferson was up for election (apparently in those days a small group of elected representatives voted on the big stuff, instead of a general election, again, never quote me, I was probably sound asleep when Mr. Allison lectured on early American History, as if he would allow that . . . GARRETT, WAKE UP!, he'd thunder, and I'd bolt up, face beet red), well, when the vote was taking place, good old James Linn was the only dissenting vote. He kept all the other distinguished gentlemen sitting there for a VERY LONG time. He did not want Thomas Jefferson to be President. Not at all. I guess the vote had to be unanimous, like a jury. And isn't there sometimes that one loner who won't give it up? Who drives all the others bananas? That was MY relative, Mr. James Stamina Linn. He gave an excellent performance of stamina that evening . . . up to the point when all good things must come to an end. So, finally, since everyone except THE ONE wanted to go home to bed, James Linn gave 'em what they wanted, he relented and threw in the old stamina towel. AND THAT, my dear friends, is when the ancestral stamina gene got purely disgusted and exited the family pool, for good, never to be seen nor heard from again. Guess the gene felt he wasn't fittingly revered, that he was being wasted on someone who could have changed history had he only stuck it out. Well, so THAT is why I have no stamina, my mother has no stamina, my sister has none, my niece and nephew have hardly a trace, just give 'em a few years and they'll be joining the Ranks of the Fatigued with top honors. My grandmother certainly did not have stamina, but she had character which saw her through. Nor did the great-grandmothers bother with it. In fact, exhaustion is contagious, so now I need to ask my mother which side of the family Mr. J. Linn was on, 'cause anyone I ever heard of in my family, minus Mr. J. L. and DTD, is devoid of the stamina gene, whether they are blood to Mr. J. L. or no, not that it seems to matter.

And that, whoever cares, is why Laura and I were named after James Linn, the relative who had the stamina gene and then he did not. I guess my mother wanted to ensure that we remembered our glorious roots, which once upon a time included "S". Or else she inserted the name Linn as an easy reminder that our "S" condition, or lack thereof, cannot be helped. Or else she thinks tiredness is elegant or something. If you doubt the verity of the James Linn story, I really do believe it's true. But if you doubt the rest of the story, how any human being could just barely sustain life on such a pep deficit, well, I am Living Dust Proof.

I have a new game I play with my dictionary. I try to open it at the exact page of the word I'm looking for. Once it happened by accident, that's how I got the idea, I was so amused by that. It doesn't take much to amuse me, and if you are reading this blog, it doesn't take much to amuse you either. Anyway, I do come pretty close sometimes, it's lots of fun. I was impressed with the deli lady in Sweetbay the other day. I said, 1/2 pound of roast beef, please (remember those good sandwiches, the ones with liquid gold marmalade sandwich spread?). She sliced and weighed and came in on the first try at .49. Very good, I thought. Then I said, trying to trip her up, 1/3 pound of Horseradish cheese, please. I'll be doggoned if she didn't slice and register .33 worth of cheese on her first try again. I said, YOU'RE GOOD! She smiled. Then after that a man at Publix weighed salmon for my dear friend I take to the grocery store. She wanted 1/2 pound. I stood there, glued to the spot, eyes riveted. He cut and slapped some salmon on the scale, .64. What a joke. I had been bragging to my friend when we walked up to the fish counter about how great the Sweetbay lady was. Friend said, when Publix guy failed, Well, usually this guy gets it close. I guess I made him nervous. Well, so, that's another reason why I play my dictionary game, I want to eye it up just like the Sweetbay lady and not the Publix man.

Okay, tomorrow I have a startling revelation. I am going to enlighten you of the fact that Baseball is NOT America's pastime. Not anymore. Clue: ANOTHER "B" word has taken its place. I hope you can sleep tonight for fretting about it. Please do, sleep, not fret. You need your S & S . . . Sleep and Stamina. One utterly and thoroughly S & S deprived family, minus DTD, in the US of A is enough.

Somebody Give Me a Good Gene,
KEM