It's been a busy week,... and it's only Monday. Tilting against windmills never ends for Trans terrorist cult leader on Mudlick Road.

Click Me

A Day in the Life: The Return to Mudlick

Me, two of my daughters, and two of my grandchildren - Tuscaloosa, AL Sunday, after breakfast at Metro Diner in Midtown Plaza in T-town. They have the best San Francisco Benedict and hashbrowns.

Monday, October 6th, 2025 - (Yes, the calendar confirms the date.)

The wheels of my car finally stopped rolling two miles up into Mudlick Road around 12:30 AM this morning. It was a long, quiet, and heavy drive back from Florida. I’d left Friday to see a dear friend at the Lake City VA Medical Center hospice. She’s not well. I sat with her Saturday afternoon, but I don't think she ever really knew I was there. It’s a profound kind of sadness to sit with someone who has been such a great friend, knowing the light is fading. The house was quiet when I got in. Mom was in her bed, and my brother was asleep on the couch. I unloaded the car, my mind still a thousand miles south, and collapsed into bed.

The peace lasted exactly one hour.

At 1:30 AM, the medical alert blared in my quiet room. I jumped up to find my sister, Irma, had been throwing up and just needed me to move her trash can a little closer to her chair. You have to laugh, right? In the midst of it all, I discovered she'd also managed to take a full shower sometime between my arrival and the alert. I gathered the dirty towels, shuffled them to the laundry room, and started a load. By then, Mom was up and had moved to her recliner in the living room. The house was awake again. I went back to bed.

7 AM came too soon. Irma was already up, flipping through the TV channels. Mom was still sleeping in her recliner, and my brother was up and showered, readying for his trip to Pikeville. I gently woke Mom to check her vitals. Everything looked good, except her blood pressure was a little elevated, which meant adding a blood pressure pill to her morning medication routine. After I got her meds into her, I asked what she wanted for breakfast. Thirty minutes later, she decided she didn't want anything. The usual negotiation began, and I finally persuaded her to at least drink an Ensure. I was bone-deep exhausted from the drive and the emotional toll of the weekend. I crawled back into bed for another hour.

I grudgingly dragged myself out of bed for good at 11 AM. A shower and fresh clothes helped, but the weariness clung to me like humidity.

At 12:10 PM, it was time for work. I did my noon show, diving into today's commentary on more trans terrorists training. (If you don't know this is satire, you are a special kind of dumb).

By 1 PM, the Florida road grime on my car was bothering me, so I took some time to wash it, a small, satisfying task in a day of uncontrollable things.

At 2 PM, I made a valiant attempt at a nap. I started to lie down, but I never made it. Mom needed help. She’d gotten confused between the red couch and her recliner, both sitting just six feet apart in the living room. I sat with her for a minute, calming her down. She wanted a bunch of the lights on, so we lit the place up.

Just after 3 PM, my brother, Gideon, returned from his Pikeville trip with a friend.

And now, it's 4:48 PM. The big question looms: What to eat? This blog post needs to get done, and I have to prep for the 6 PM show. The cycle resets, the work continues, and you just do it again.

On Mudlick road.....