Well, as predicted, I shot 78 during my weekly round of golf with my buddy, Gator. Unfortunately, there were three holes left to play when I arrived at that number. So, my 18-hole total was disappointing -- again -- but, c'mon, a bad day on the golf course is ... well, there's really no such thing as a bad day on the golf course ...

Gator beat me by three shots. We both kind of cratered on the back nine. As Gator likes to say, "Folded like a cheap tent." The collapse actually began when we both bogeyed no. 8 and no. 9.

I've known Gator for a few years now. Met him at the golf course. He's quite a character, originally from south Florida, where he worked for a long time as an animal trapper. He really never did a lot of alligator hunting, but he got the cool nickname, anyway. He likes it. Also known as David, he is two weeks away from his 61st birthday, stands about 6-3, 220 pounds or so, long gray ponytail  down his back, bald as an eagle on top. And deaf as a damn post. I think deaf in one ear. Either way, trying to hold a conversation with him sometimes is a comedy. He loves golf, like I do. We're always within a few shots of each other, so it makes for some good friendly competitions.

This is Day Five of my 30 days of positive project, and it's going pretty well. I stayed up too late last night, after an extremely productive day, and had to get up early to go to the golf course, so I'm a little tired. Mostly laying on the couch all afternoon.

And not much else to talk about today, really. Busy week  ahead, with another book to proof for Archangel Ink, a story to write for The Cove Banner, and planning promotions for the book. And then there's school to teach, exercising to do, taking the truck back to the shop, finishing the yard work, keeping the blog going, working on my Camino book. Other than that ...

More later. Ciao, y'all ...

My brother, Bobby, sent a text message early this morning (apparently from his beach house on Galveston Island, as the message was accompanied by a photo of a beach sunrise) to say he was thinking of me. He called me brother. Bobby is not really my brother, not by blood, anyway. But we are as close or closer than brothers. I've known him since first grade. I love him and he loves me, and neither one of us is afraid to say that to the other. It's pretty cool.

I don't really know what it's like to be close to an actual brother. I have an actual brother, but we are not close. We have not spoken, in fact, in nearly two years. I have not spoken to my sister in 10 years, at least. It is complicated, as these things often are, with feelings that run deep, and it is unfortunate. But it is reality, and  sadly, it probably always will be.

So my other brother, Bobby, is part of the inspiration for my "30 days of positive" project. He is the most positive guy you'd ever hope to know. Today is Day 4, and I'd have to call it a rousing success. As is the case every Saturday, I woke up without the sound of an alarm clock, got up and took care of bathroom duties. As I was brushing my teeth, I remembered to say, "Today is going to be a great day," several times. Once, I even looked myself in the eye, in the mirror, and said, "Today is going to be a great day, John." That's fairly important for two reasons. Number one, I don't like looking at myself in the mirror, especially directly in the eyes. I can't do it. Number two, when I said, "Today is going to be a great day," it didn't sound weird, and I kind of believed it.

Progress, I reckon.

So I go into the kitchen and make a nice cup of coffee, sit down and check my e-mail, and I have a couple of messages from my publisher at Archangel Ink, asking me to rewrite my author bio for the new paperback that is coming out soon, and to send him a photo and another little bio so he can add me to their website's Who-We-Are staff listings, where I'll be added as a proofreader extraordinaire. OK, probably just as a proofreader. Still, very cool. I just finished proofreading my second book for them, with a third already in hand and ready for me to give a final once-over.

They tell me they're excited about the prospects for my redesigned and reissued, "Finding God in Texas." When I saw the cover they designed, I was excited right away, and knew good things are in store. Click here to check it out, please and thank  you:

Finding God in Texas

I worked on those two things for awhile, got them finished, then went out and mowed most of my lawn. We've got probably close to three-quarters of an acre to mow, and I'm not nearly as enthusiastic about yard work as I used to be. There was a time when I was out in the yard constantly. Now, it's kinda hit-and-miss. I've still got about 20 minutes of mowing left for tomorrow, AFTER I get home from golf.

When the mowing was done, I cleaned up a little, did some laundry, then went back out front and noticed a big puddle of something underneath my pickup. Just two days ago, I retrieved my 2002 F-150 from the shop, where it underwent $1,456 worth of repairs. I suspect the puddle may be related to something not quite right with that work, but it's really hard to tell. I'll find out Monday, I imagine, after I take it back.

Then, after a nice chat on the phone with the missus, who is out of town on business, I did some grocery shopping and here I am, tidying up my project list, which includes writing every day. I don't think I ever said my prayer today, "God, please help me focus on a positive attitude." I guess I missed that one, which is mostly needed during the week, when I face a few hundred highly undisciplined and untrained 11- and 12-year-olds, along with a very hard-to-figure-out set of school administrators. Staying positive on the weekends is a piece of cake, by comparison.

I did say my affirmation, and I remained positive throughout the day, even when I found the puddle of something underneath my newly repaired truck. I haven't had any real negative thoughts. I  didn't play my guitar today, and I probably won't. And the one thing that I still haven't fit into my day so far is meditation. I really need to include that. I believe that meditation  can make  a difference. I've been told as much, and I think it's true.

Tomorrow, I plan to shoot 78 on the golf course. I just hope that's my score after 18 holes, and not after 16.

Ciao, y'all ...

Well, Day One of my "30 days of positive" project will have to go down as a success.

I smiled a little bit more  often today. It takes concentration and feels strange to replace my usual scowl with a smile, but I did it for a little while. I started to let something negative slip early this morning, talking to a couple of fellow teachers, but caught myself and shut it down. I didn't rip the heads off any kids today (figuratively speaking, of course), and I went to the golf course after work  and hit a small bucket of range balls, so I'll count that as exercise for the day. Tomorrow, I'll actually get up (at 4:15 a.m.) and be at the gym by around 5, for a round of treadmill walking and some resistance training (lifting weights).

After dinner here in a few minutes, I'll pick up my guitar for the first time in a long time and play for awhile. There are no callouses on my left-hand fingertips any more, so it's gonna hurt pretty quickly. Gonna have to work up to  some decent practice time. Then, I'll take a  crack again at my pretty new saxophone. I've always wanted to play saxophone, so I finally decided to go ahead and get one a few months ago. Started practicing, then got a nasty chest cold that lasted forever and couldn't breathe  so good.

I'm writing right now, and I'll probably work a little later on a couple of books I'm editing for my publisher. Not only are they redesigning and reissuing my book, "Finding God in Texas," in paperback and e-book, but I'm  also doing some online proofreading for 'em. I'm great at spotting typos and other errors, and I love doing it. And they're paying me for it!

That's pretty much everything on the list for my new project, except saying, "Today is going to be a great day," first thing in the morning. My close  friend (brother), Bobby, swears he does this every day, as soon as he wakes up. So I will do it, too. I did not do it first thing this morning, but I remembered to say it later on. Another thing Bobby has told me to do is to say this, "God, please help me focus on a positive attitude." Not, give me a positive attitude, but help me focus on a positive attitude. I  don't think I squeezed that one in today.

But I was in a pretty darn good mood today, and I'm feeling pretty good right now.

I'm writing a weekly column for a friend's new newspaper in a nearby town, and part of my daily writing time will be spent finishing my book about me and the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage in northern Spain, which I have walked twice. Also, an artist friend is working on illustrations for a cool, little children's book I wrote, so there are some exciting things going on.

Not to mention the fact that the end of the school year is quickly coming into focus. That sho' nuff gonna be a beautiful day.

Plans for the summer include a solo trip to Key West, to eat, drink and be merry for about a week. A little snorkeling, maybe some deep-sea fishing, lots of fresh seafood consumption. Some other stuff on tap, as well. Hopefully, some book signings! Y'all gotsa  come.

Ciao, y'all  ...

She would have been 77 years old tomorrow. But life ain't fair. So I get a phone call one day saying my mother has a "mass" in her brain. I call my mother. She's all cheerful and says it's the size of a pea, and they're going to take it out, no problem.

Turns out, she lied.

Her name was Billie Jo, and she was 63 when she died. I was 42. Sometimes I wonder if I'd rather she had told me that she had brain cancer and she had about a year to live, or if her trying to protect me (and her other kids) was maybe the right call. Most of that time, I was pretty much in denial about the whole thing. Hell, everybody on that side of the family lives well into their 80s and 90s. My mother can't be dying.

Even when she started having papers drawn up, asking me to sign different things, and insisting relentlessly on a family campout on Galveston Island, one of her favorite places in the world, I still refused to face it. When I got the call at work one summer day that she had died, I didn't know what to do. I hung up the phone, and stepped around the front of my desk to get something off the fax machine. The room spun a little bit, and I felt confused.

Two or three days later, when I stepped into the little country church in the woods near Iola, Texas, for her memorial service, it suddenly became reality. The last time I saw my mother, she was basically in a coma, in a hospital bed, with her right hand clutching the side bed railing. Trying to hold on, it seemed to me. I never saw her after that day. It was a week or so later that my sister had her body cremated before I was able to make the 150-mile trip back down there, so it was like Mama was just gone. Poof! 

And when I walked inside that chapel, and saw the table filled with photographs and flowers, I was overwhelmed. My nephew was across the room, sobbing as someone sat with their arm around him, trying to console. I felt a wave of emotion rising quickly inside me, and I felt I was going to lose it. If I started crying, I'd never be able to stop. So I choked it down, pushed it back. No. I can't let it come. I can't handle it; can't control it.

When it came my turn to stand up in front of the service and say a few words about my mother, it took several minutes before I could speak. I'd decided to read a little essay I'd written about her life, and the first words I had to say were her name. It was really hard to say. She truly went away too soon. But life ain't fair.

So, in honor of my mother, I've decided that the anniversary of her birth is a good day to start my "30 days of positive project." I'm not entirely sure that I can accomplish the mission, and so if I dedicate the effort to her, maybe that will help. Also, writing about it may help me hold myself more accountable, as well.

You see,  I inherited a number of good traits from my parents, but there was some bad stuff, too. One of those things is pessimism and negativity. I want to be more positive, and feel happier inside. So I've created a 30-day plan to kick-start some new habits.

From my brother, Bobby, I'm borrowing an affirmation and a prayer: "Today is going to be a great day," and "God, help me focus on a positive attitude." These things are said first thing in the morning, and throughout the day, as needed. I vow to not let any negative comment come out of my mouth, to turn negative thoughts into something positive, and to smile more. I don't walk around with a smile on my face. Feels unnatural. Next on the list is to exercise every day, whether that is going to the gym, going for a long walk after  work, or playing golf. Then, I  will write every day, play my guitar and practice my new saxophone, and meditate for 15-20 minutes.

Thirty days is a long time to keep it all going, but it's also long enough to form a new habit. Wish me luck.

Ciao, y 'all ...