That quote in the title is from Saul Alinsky, to his staff, shortly before his death. That art above is by my boy, and he calls it "Black Page" but I call it "Absolutely Dad's Mood".

That wonderful lightness of being I was yammering about yesterday? 'Member how I was talking about how I wished I could bottle it for a rainy day?

Well, I can't. Which just makes me crankier.

What's brought this dark tea-time of the soul on, you say? Nothing special. The days are getting shorter and colder. I have a tickle in the back of my throat which has been getting more insistent the last few days and couple with my increasing congestion suggests I'm on the cusp of an unpleasant cold.

Like most of my male peers, I'm really a huge-pansyass about being sick. Now that it doesn't mean days of not going to school and watching excessive amounts of syndicated TV, it just doesn't hold as much appeal for me and I prefer to drown myself in NyQuil and huddle under the covers until I feel somewhat human again.

For now, though, I think it'll be early to bed after quaffing one of my wifes legendary bourbon-n-OJ toddies.