Work in Progress

So, a couple of days, no gossip, no parables, just living day to day. I got my peripheral catheter out yesterday, which means that my right arm should heal up and be more useful in a day or so. I suspect, however, that the health professionals that have ruled my life for awhile will change their minds again, and decide that I should have left it in. I must say that not having to drag the IV pole around with me is a plus though. Although the oral medication is in the form of pills which are roughly the size of my thumb. I have, over the years, developed a pretty good gag relfex, and these pills are like trying to swallow a hard boiled egg hole with a sip of water. Still, choking twice a day is still easier than the whole IV process, and takes less room.

Terri quit smoking on Saturday. And I am trying to follow suit. O.K., so I'm cheating a bit, but only in private, and only a few a day. Of course, if that was a secret, and I seriously doubt I fooled her, I've blown it now. I'm trying to take walks a bit. It's good to release nervous energy, and can't help but be beneficial in some way. We went for a stroll the other day and Terri took a shot of me which surprized me. I'm used to wearing my signature 'Aloha' shirts, but it appears they have all become aloha muu-muu's. In this shot, it looks like I'm wearing a miniskirt (and an ill fitting one at that). It's actually a good shot for the vertical planes, I just am not used to being one of the planes. It's a pity I can't raise my arms to put on a t-shirt, I might actually look o.k. in one now.

There was a good shot of Black before she passed also. She took to falling asleep with her head in her water dish. It was alarming at first, but she wasn't aspirating or anything, it just looked odd. Speaking of the kids, Bubba is still entranced by the electronic cat litter box. Who knew there were cat geeks? The instructions that came with the unit said that you had to introduce it gradually; sneak up on them, as it were. Bubba just took to it right off. I barely had litter in it before he baptised it. He loves the whole 'cause and effect' thing. He also likes trying to clog it up, so it keeps recycling endlessly. I swear he's loading water every chance he gets. I could have used his new talents yesterday. I was microwaving something on a paper plate in a straw holder, and it caught fire. An organic fire extinguisher could have come in handy. Sure it would ruin the food, but putting it under the faucet didn't exactly improve its palatability either. I still don't know how the combustion took place, but to be on the safe side, I threw out the remaining leftovers of that particular dish this morning.

No rant today. I figured I'd spare you. Maybe I'll make all my rants parables from now on, where I can make my comments in a safe, fictional setting. The again, maybe not. I'm easy that way.

The ether awaits, good night.

Did'ya ever Wonder 102: What If

Viewed from a standpoint of an outsider, Vatican City is a dizzying study in contrasts. One such contrast was taking place now in the offices of his Holiness. He was meeting with three cardinals, and the sharp edges of their formal robes of office and vestments, along with their tented headpieces, made them look ever so like origami figures placed in an ornate and rococo, gold gilt chamber. The cardinals in the color of healthy blood, and his eminence in white so pure it seemed to defy even dust motes to settle on its brilliance. They were speaking, as they often did, of the continued decline of the holy churches’ relevance in society. Conversations such as these were held only between the Pontiff and his most trusted and valued of friends and advisors.

All were startled by the ringing of the telephone on the Pontiff’s desk. His eminence lifted the receiver. “I said we were not to be disturbed,” he intoned. After hearing the response, he nodded his head in the cardinals direction, saying, “Sorry, I have to take this, it’s my Agent.” As the cardinals rose to excuse themselves, he surprised them by motioning them back to their seats. “You may as well stay. I have no secrets from you my friends, and this pertains to our discussion.” He pushed the button to activate the speakerphone attachment.

“Manny,” he said, “I’m in a meeting, but I know you wouldn’t call without reason. What is it?”

“Sorry, your Holiness, but we’ve been doing some head-banging here, and there are some ideas I need to run by you.”

“I hope it’s not about the book tour again,” his eminence sighed, “I told you I can’t very well start signing copies of the Bible, I didn’t write the book.”

“No, nothing like that,” Manny replied, “Although I still think a book tour is a great way to get you out there. I’ve gone over it with our legal department and since no body knows the authors of the essays, there can by no actionable claim of plagiarism, and it could certainly be considered in public domain by now. Still, I hear you, and respect your decision. You are, after all infallible, and all that. Just one question though, is it the situation in the US you’re worried about? I told you, this would be a Europe only tour, no chance you’ll run into Glen Beck with his revelations of God’s plan. He’s strictly big frog in little pond stuff. His revelations only deal with his own backyard. He could give a shit about anyone who is not in his demographic.”

“I appreciate your thoroughness, Manny, but I must put my foot down on this one. What else have you got?”

“I’ve been working with our ‘idea guys,’ you know, the out-of-the-box thinkers. They’re mostly interns and such, we pay them next to nothing and they work their asses off trying to impress us. One of them came up with something that is testing really well in our surveys.”

”And what might that be?” Manny swallowed involuntarily; you’ve never been asked a question until you’ve been asked a question by the Pope. The word gravitas may very well have been coined for this circumstance.

“Are you sitting down?” Manny asked. “Am I sitting down?” The voice of God on earth replied, his voice rising an octave. “Do you think we have phone booths in my private quarters, or perhaps you’d caught me on my exercise bicycle or in the shower?” He snorted, “Of course I’m sitting down. What is this new idea? I would remind you there is representation on the continent also, and they would show considerably more respect for the office.”

“Sorry, your Holiness, it’s just that this idea, while sound, might take a minute for you to take in all at once.”

“I assure you I have not lost my faculties. It is only my patience which is repeatedly tried.” The Pope shook his head at this statement, it was more true than even his close friends knew. He could no longer fool himself that his office was not in jeopardy. Were it not for a mandated birthrate and early indoctrination, his flock would continue to dwindle further. He did not want to go down in history as the only Pontiff to ever have to resort to auctioning off the churches’ assets in order to stay afloat. Still, knowing that pride was a sin, he mellowed his voice as he asked Manny to continue.

“O.K. Here it is. The way we see it. It’s whole Monotheism that’s got you in a bind.” Sensing, the reaction, he quickly added, ‘Hear me out your Eminence before you comment. Please. I promise it will be worth your while.”

“Very well. Proceed,” the Pontiff assented. Manny knew he had a hard sell before him, but he was the best.

“So here it is in hard facts. You’ve got your one God. Typical older male deity. All knowing, omnipotent, compassionate, creative, loving and forgiving, am I right?” The Pope agreed, although he took no small umbrage over the ‘typical’ characterization. “So here’s the problem,” Manny persuaded, “He’s also vengeful, spiteful, inscrutable, and a seeming uncaring and capricious God more than willing to punish his children to whom he’s granted this planet he created for them, and the free will he’s granted them. And I mean vengeful,” Manny continued, “Hey. I don’t need to tell you. Talk about preaching to the choir.” Manny actually chortled at this.

“You see,” he said, “That’s the problem. All the qualities I just mentioned could also apply to Mel Gibson, and look at his public image at the moment. He couldn‘t sell tickets to his own execution.” The Pontiff was distracted momentarily by the cardinal from Brazil passing out and his chair toppling with him to the floor, but he noted that the South African cardinal was tending to him while the cardinal from Frankfurt leaned in closer to the speakerphone eager to hear more. Even though one of his oldest friends and confidants, it was no secret he was as anxious as any bride in June to wear white himself.

“So what is your point?” asked the Pope. “I’m glad you asked,” replied the crafty agent, “We take a cue from the old days. Kind of split the God duties. You’ve got patron saints for travelers, the infirmed, just about any category. Fine. We’re half way there. We just give them promotions, as it were. Take a lesson from the Greeks and Romans. You’re the representative of the one all-powerful God, but a lot of his day-to-day duties are parceled out to minor Gods. Think about it” he enthused, “This is gold! You’re the mouthpiece of the God of Gods, the creator. You’re untouchable. All the bad things that happen, well those are the screw ups of the other Gods.” At this point, his cardinal from Johannesburg joined his fellow cardinal from Brasilia on the floor.

“This is unheard of blasphemy,” the Pope stated flatly.

“I can fax you our numbers,” Manny quickly replied. “Given this scenario, you are the Earth’s sole representative to the God with a 97% approval rating. It doesn’t get much better than that. You’re the bridge-builder; now with this new revelation, you can be the fence-builder too, and you get to sit on both sides of it. It’s a dream come true. Align the groups or factions you don’t approve of with one of the Gods with low polling numbers, and you kill two birds with one stone. This is your chance, your Eminence, give it some thought before somebody else gets the idea ahead of you. If not for you, for the future Popes ahead. Ask yourself, do you want to leave them with a fiscally and morally bankrupt legacy?”

By now, even the Pope himself was feeling light-headed. He looked for support from his friends and trusted advisors, but two of them were still unconscious. The decision would have to be on his frail shoulders. For the first time he regretted accepting a job with no retirement benefits. Actually, no retirement at all unless it was feet first.

“I will pray on this, Manny.” he finally said.

“Of course,” Manny said magnanimously, he knew he’d won his case. “Don’t take too long though, I’d like to get the media releases out by the end of the month. We’ve got the Holidays coming up, and I don‘t need to tell you that‘s your big season.”

Did'ya Ever Wonder 101: What if.

"What is it, Running Lips" asked the Chief. "Boat People," was his reply. "I and Scratches His Bits were out by the promontory when we saw them sail into the harbor."

"What do you suppose they want?" mused the Chief. "It looked to us like they were planning to settle, Chief. At first we thought it might be a hunting party, but then we saw livestock and women and children."

"You say they brought their own women and livestock," the Chief inquired. " Yes sir, I'm certain of it, but it took us a while to be sure. What ever tribe or nation they're from, they apparently celebrate 'Dress Like Fool's Day' earlier than we do. You should see their costumes. Covered head to toe they were, and all in such somber colors. We were laughing so hard that Scratches forgot his bits for a moment, and I couldn't speak."

"Rendered you speechless, and Scratches modest? This I must see for myself. Go fetch my sons-in-law, and we will make them welcome." Running Lips turned to follow orders when the Chief had one more thought. "Oh. And stop by the house and tell Births Only Daughters, to whip up a quick cassarole or cheese and meat platter. Never hurts to put a best foot forward, you know."

Running Lips, proud of his Chief's wisdom and his part in this whole affair, raced like the wind to share the news. After all, the Chief didn't say to keep it on the down low, so he could be the first to spread the news. He had no doubt Scratches His Bits was already blabbing, but he could still be the first to tell most everyone Scratches had not yet told, and besides, he was on a mission for the Chief.

By the time his sons-in-law had reported as his honor guard, he had already changed his skins and feathers as befitting a formal welcome, and he went to fetch his wife and daughters to collect them and their food offerings. He stopped in his tracks when he got to the village clearing. It seemed the whole tribe was out dressed in their finest and also toting food and drink. "Oh Great Mother," the chief swore, "Running Lips has turned diplomacy into a damned beach party." The chief knew from experience that nobody would be good for any work tomorrow, but what was done was done. At least they could hardly seem a threat to the new neighbors. He just hoped that everyone would keep from laughing at the visitor's Holiday costumes.

And so it began. Any initial trepidation felt by the colonists for the indigenous natives was soon dispelled by their warmth and gifts of fresh foods and vegetables which they had been deprived these many harsh months at sea. Comically, the colonists also thought the locals were celebrating Haloween, and soon dropped into a festive mood. Some, even the more bold women, actually uncovering their heads in the spirit of abandoness. Before too long the Captain allowed the men to bring strong drink from the ship, and the Chief produced some local smokes which sharpened the appetite, and made words sound funnier. It was as the Chief feared, no body was going to be good for shit tomorrow. The Chief was known to make shrewd gambles however; and 'Goes All In,' as he was known to his people, blessed the gathering and seeming goodwill of his new neighbors.

The next few days proved interesting. There was still good spirits between the two cultures, and a pidgen language was even underway, although neither side could properly question the other while they were still celebrating Haloween, and were too polite to ridicule or make fun of a culture not their own. Eventually, as is wont to happen, some of the colonists came to realize just how much more comfortably dressed the natives were, and started to lose some of their drab and binding clothing while some of the natives, on the other hand, used to trading with other tribes, took a liking to the exotic yet inexplicable outerware of the colonists. Within a month it was a mish-mash of styles for all concerned, and word got out to neighboring tribes, who also quickly came to visit and open trade. The more bold of the young colonists, who had actually taken to going shirtless by this time, were becoming tanned, which the natives thought to be a huge improvement, and were showered with attention by the unattached native maidens. More shirts disappeared after that.

The colony leaders and tribal councils got together to walk the territory. The tribes giving valuable advice to the colonists who appeared to want to form a stable agrarian society rather than the more nomadic lifestyle known to the tribes. This proved to be a beneift for all, and Chief Goes All In's wisdom once again showed to the benefit for both cultures. The tribes would always be there to provide fresh meat and game, and the settlers, fresh vegetables, crops and grains, neither competing for territory or resources. Within a generation, none of the colonists could imagine going back to their old lives in England, and natives had become accustomed to the fine tools and craftsmanship of the colonists, which vastly enriched and improved their own way of life.

A fine and strong new nation was formed based on peace, tolerance, mutual cooperation and prosperity for all.

**********************************************************************************

See what I mean? What if.

Just some thoughts

Went to set up some coffee for Ter's work tomorrow and low and behold, a nightly grind was in fact no grind at all. We are out of coffee it seems. I remembered some 'designer' coffee that Alan brought up once, which we've been keeping in the fridge, the bag is nearly full; I'm saved. Not so fast there slick, it's whole beans. I knew we had a little grinder somewhere, and what to you know, hidden behind every other spice on the top shelf of the cabinet is the grinder with it's power cord wrapped around everything. O.K., a challenge, but I succeed. However, there are certain things you do not do late a night when your other is trying to sleep for work in the morning about twenty feet away, seeing if the coffee grinder still works is in that category. As a night-owl, I have discovered many of the no-no's over the years. In no particular order, if it is after 1:00 a.m. do not:

Vacuum
Watch DVD's on your home theater system with the five speakers and subwoofer
Microwave popcorn
Hang pictures
Shower and blow dry your hair
Rearrange furniture
Place calls to other night-owls and drunken friends on the speakerphone
Run the garbage disposal
Carefully plug in your headphones to watch porn off the internet forgetting to turn off the speakers
Ditto for listening to music, and don't sing along
Finally get around to putting WD-40 on the screetching sliding glass patio doors
Empty the dishwasher and reload after rinsing all the used dishes in the sink
Fall down and take a bookcase or something with you (that one's probably unique to me)
Use your electric clippers to trim your hair, beard and neck
Practice the drum solo from Ina Gada Da Vida
Catch one of the tips of your quad cane on your folded up walker and go down in on top of both of them

There are others, but I hope this wisdom helps. Kind of limits what you can do in a small condo with your 'second wind' doesn't it? Pretty much, watch TV quietly with headphones, or read. Or you can bore everyone by blogging.

It wouldn't be me if I didn't rant just a little. Remember Rowan and Martin's 'Fickled Finger of Fate' awards? Today, my kudos go out to Andy Breitbart, Fox News, and Michelle Bachman. I have that circle of hell all reserved for you, your rooms are made up, and I'd be happy to escort you on your way. What wastes of flesh these people are. When I think of all the deserving people who are in dire need of organs, and see all of these potential givers of life being used for evil, discontent, and personal gain, it just makes me want to clean my pistol, sharpen my knives, and start mixing chemicals. Particularly the creatures at Fox News. What balls. To jump on a leaked story which was totally inaccurate, slandering and destroying a life and career of a good woman and blaming the Obama administration, and then the next day, after finding out that it was a mistake, do not apologize, but rather find another way to blame Obama for their blatantly slanderous and libelous actions by saying that the Obama administration didn't check it's facts and jumped the gun. God Goddess, if I am ever on trial for my life, I want the Fox anchors on my jury. All I'd have to say in my defense that Obama made me do it, and I'd be a free man. Probably get a gig as a contributing editor too. They'd have acquitted Timothy McVeigh if they could find an Obama connection. If Mel Gibson wants to redeem his image, all he needs to do is blame Obama, and the fine folks at Fox will paint him as a victim and all the easily swayed fools who believe they report news will rally behind his sorry ass. I'm stunned Lindsey Lohan didn't try that one.

Change up. I found out today, not from my surgeon mind you, but by the home health pharmacy which delivers and monitors my IV medications, that I have been referred to a specialist for my infection. Don't know who, where or when, but then again, I am generally the last to know about these health care decisions on my own behalf. I just hope they'll tell me before I miss an appointment. Believe it or not, that happened once before, and the only way I found out was from a nasty phone call rescheduling my missed appointment and asking if I would please have the courtesy to call before I miss another and waste their valuable time. Apparently, everything they've tried with a 'myosin' on the end is just not cutting it. Given the hellacious side effects of what they've been dripping into my blood stream so far, I can't wait to see what the really serious drugs will do to me. All I can safely say about my physical condition these days is "Watch This Space."

Well, I see I've drivelled quite a bit of time away here. No need to have a bit of a lie down. I'll be getting up in an hour and a half to start my morning routine anyway. I wonder how I can sell the concept of insomnia in a good light, like, getting a fresh start on a new day, every day.

Warm fuzzies from the ether.

WTF, OMFG, LOL, LMYFAO, etc.

Surely it's not just a sign of age. You know, like how when you get set in your ways, it's harder to bend or take a different route or form of thought to embrace something new. I've had the same problem with Rap and Hip Hop also. Some things I just don't understand. Words, phrases, or terms which do not compute even though it is seemingly apparent to everyone else. I'm pretty good with word puzzles and the like, so the abreviations, I can generally arrive at their meaning. LOL still confuses me. Is it lots of love, lots of laughs, or labias of lesbians? You can read it many ways, sometimes comically. This isn't new, mind you, I've never figured out how X's and O's became hugs and kisses, and that's been going on since long before I was whelped. I've always figured I was born in the wrong age. Either too early or much, much too late. Was the first use of the X's and O's on a love letter in latin describing words in the throws of passion? Xerxes, Xerxes, Xerxes, Oh Xerxes... I'm no scholar, but has the use of these abreviations just come in our lifetime? Can you imagine the confusion and the effects on our understanding of ancient text if the Rosetta Stone had been chock-full of slang abreviations? Sarah Palin, to whom half is apparently good enough, is recreating confusing language too, but the odd thing is, she's so close to a stones throw away that you knew what she meant, even if when transcribed, the words make no sense whatsoever. Of course, she had it easy, she had GW to help break in the American Public for eight long and confusing years. She is not alone in this, we all know somebody who mangles the language, but again, we know what they mean, so we don't routinely correct them. It would be exhausting, and insulting, so we just let it slide. We have what we call "senior moments" too. You know the ones; where a word comes out that isn't at all what you meant. Example: "No, this is my last load, I've just got to throw the clothes into the peaches, and I'm ready to go." I had what was called a 'vascular incident" (maybe more than one) in the early 80's, and I still have trouble with this one sometimes. I find words coming out of my mouth that suprise even me, and I said them. Caveat here. I may speak inappropriately sometimes, but it is different than people who actually know the word they're trying to say, just don't know how to spell, understand it, or often, pronounce it. I place a greater blame on that category. That's just plain lazy. Weird usage of words is kind of creative. Just plain trying to use fifty cent words on a dime budget is foolish.

Well, I don't know where than one came from, but I'll try and excrapulate myself from this circumstation. I do go off on a rant sometimes. I went to a wound check up with my surgeon today. Yep. The wounds are still there. I could have saved us both some time there and just e-mailed a picture from my cell phone on that one. The upper scar. O.K. Let's just picture a map of the United States. The scar from North Dekota to Ohio is actually healing pretty well. If it had a personality, I would say it is the one you waited to ask to the school dance, but was always a fall back, because you knew they would accept. The big one, from Texas to the Florida Panhandle, Which has been opened twice and infected at least once, is a red faced, out of breath, enraged redneck whose face is so distorted in pique that it's mouth is puckered into an evil sneer, is not so pleasant, and is a pretty reliable tool to freak out small children. As an interesting side-light, the excess scar tissue that built up has given me clevage in my arm pit. Two large bulbous things with redish ends that look for all the world like I'm smothering a pixie in my armpit and the only thing that shows is her breasts sticking out from the folds of flesh where my arm meets my torso. That one's going to leave a scar for sure. It's been over a year with the chest tubes that left gills on my back, and those show up nice and sure also, but those are on my right side, so at least some local color on the left side will help balance things out.

Change up. (Thank God, you say) It has been over a year since I've taken a road trip. I admit I'd gotten pretty spoiled. Since 2006, Alan and I have been travelling and taking pictures throughout the Southwest, twice a year in between his teaching semesters, and I miss them. I even miss Utah. Yes. It's true. If I had any political pull, I would be severely lobbying for a 51st state consisting of the southern part of Utah. There's about five National Parks right in a tidy package with some of the best scenery known to man, marred only by it's unfortunate political and non-secular influences. I'd hazard that Nevada should pull a 'Hitler' and annex it, but given the wholesale idiocy going on in Nevada's political process right now, that would worry me almost as much. Maybe it should just succeed entirely into a small Monarchy, kind of like Lichtenstein. Of course, they'll need a monarch. Let me check my schedule...Yup, I'm free.

Well, I think that's it for me tonight. Time to retreat strategically into my bedroom, put on some headphones, and rejoin my fantasy life, already in progress. I've been checking out real estate listing in locations where I want to have my residences. (Remember Judy Collins? We have many houses, one for every season...) With the market being the way it is, I've found plenty at what I consider to be a very good bargain. Just one flaw in that plan. If you're thinking money, you move to the front of the class. Shame too. I can make a good argument for me hitting the mega-millions lotto. Talk about stimulating the economy. Give me the money and I will stimulate the hell out of it, and create jobs along the way.

A special and continued shout out and healing forces to those who are precious to me or mine. I'm keeping an eye on you from the ether. Get better or I'll tell your mother. I'm not kidding.

Big Dreams, Little energy or ability

Weird o'clock again, can't sleep, and my mind is running around with all the little things that need to be done around the house. Problems though. Either they are noise making, which is a nyet nyet, or I am still not capable of doing them. My arm in general is improving, and I have a greater range of motion now for most things, but it is still too limited to go past certain points, and hurts like red hot pokers being shoved into my skin when I reach a limit of range. Still though, a vast improvement over a month ago. I can put on shirts now, and look almost normal in public. Hurray for me. Still button shirts only. T-shirts and pull-overs need not apply. In that more surgery is planned before the end of the year, I'm thinking of just packing all those articles in boxes and making some room in the closet to store all the overflow one collects after you've been in a house over a decade. Stability is nice, but the one thing you can say about moving every other year or so is that it forces you to discard items you don't use or really need 'cause you don't want to pack and unpack them.

One thing I was able to do is change out the regular litter boxes in my bedroom for one of the electronic ones that you've seen advertised which scoops itself. I would never have spend the money on one of these, but one of Terri's friends at work got a new extra large size one that had never even been opened, and knowing we have kids, gave it to her. It has sat in the laundry room for quite awhile, but now that we are down to only two cats, and only one of them generally uses the box in my room, I figured it was time to put it to good use. There is some initial getting used to that takes place, the whir-grind-scrape-grind-whir noises late at night and such, but so far it working out, although a cat the size of bubba is testing it's limits. Once he got used to the fact that it was him that was causing this commotion, he has taken delight in setting it off. Kind of like the ring-and-run doorbell trick.

Being able to drive the Van now, although in a somewhat impaired fashion, I am able to make small runs for necessities when needed, and keep the battery charged. After sitting for about three months, it needed to be used. Still a stick shift bus with a long throw and short clutch does pretty much test my limits when I have to downshift through a corner steering through a sharp turn. The other day, without thinking, I lit a cigarette at a stop light and realized that the only hand I could smoke with is the only hand I could use for steering and shifting also. Picture my confusion when the light turned green. I don't have any problems driving Terri's little SUV. It's automatic with power steering, power windows, and all that crap that does things for you. Needless to say though, it's going to be next summer before I can probably take the driver's test to get my license reinstated. With the extra workout my right arm is getting, it's going to be amusing when this whole episode is over and I can put on a t-shirt which exposes one 'Popeye' arm and one 'Olive Oil' arm.

Had an amusing moment at the pharmacy the other day. I've probably written about how they're jacking us around on rates and hikes with costs. I had turned in a prescription that had two medicines on the same slip. I said I only needed one of them, and the other is just for the records until I ask for it. They naturally filled it anyway, and started leaving those automated message calls every day to 'come get your damn drugs, you lay-about.' Turned out that they didn't fill the whole quantity of 30 anyway, the insurance company will only allow 9 at a time. This particular drug, a generic, mind you, retails for $230.00 for 9 pills. Jeez Louise did we all go into the wrong profession. I told the pharmacist I'd given up on my insurance carrier and joked that it was a division of BP. No joy with that joke, he believed me. He thought I was an employee and was about to make the sign of the cross to ward off evil before I set him straight. Note to self. Advanced degrees do not evidence in advanced sense of humor, and irony is what your mom used to have to do to shirts. By that same token, I suppose sarcasm is the distance between two Asian birds, and repartee' is the title for the guy who repairs things in swanky hotels. These are the same people who think you're talking about your dog when you say faux pas. Oh shit, stop me now...This could go on all night.

Terri's first alarm just went off. That's the one set for an hour before she really needs to get up. That's also the pavlovian alarm for Bubba, who now knows that I have been lying to him the past hour or so, and it really is time to feed him, and I am an insensitive and selfish bastard, just like he's always expected. We go through this every morning. I already had the coffee set up, but I should probably get into the kitchen and see about Terri's lunch. I hate to do that the night before, as sandwhiches do not always appear as fresh and nutricious twenty hours after their conception. Same with salads. Once the stuff is cut or torn, the grim reaper is on it's tail. If anyone out there has any good ideas for alternatives that can be put in one of those insulated lunchboxes which is not cost prohibitive, please feel free to give a shout out on that one. I'm sure Terri would welcome a surprise.

So. Hi-ho, Hi-ho. It's off to the kitchen I go. My best to all from the ether.

Hot and Bothered

Yes, it is hot and humid, but I meant something else. It's getting to be one of those times when it is phyiscally detrimental to watch and follow the news. Perhaps it's because I'm aching and uncomfortable in general and I've been overtaxing myself by doing laundry and cleaning the last few days against all good judgment, but I think the discharge that keeps seeping out of my surgical scars is that last of the remaining milk of human kindness that I had left, and I'm running out of my costco sized packages of sterile gauze.

I have in the past proposed many new circles be established in Hell to deal with specific persons and scenarios. For instance, a special circle for people who will do anything to drag on their 15 minutes of fame, when they did nothing to acheive celebrity but simply manage to get their name out there once. It's nearly impossible to go two days without seeing or hearing about these assholes, and I am actually driven to violence every time they get thrust in my face, disturbing the gathering of real newsworthy matters which might effect my life. Someone please explain to me the accomplishments of the following, and why they are more socially relevant than actual news: Hedi Montag and Spencer Pratt; Jon and Kate Goslin; Any Kardashian; The families of Brittany Spears and Lindsay Lohan; Any Jackson who has nothing to say about any event that didn't happen over a year ago; Levi Johnston and Bristol Palin; Jake and Vienna (from the Batchelor); Snooki, the Situation and the cast of Jersey Shore; collectively, the "Real Housewifes of...";
Jessica Simpson; Celebrity ex-wifes; and a cast of others. If everyone stopped reporting on these people, think of the time and resources saved. Imagine standing in a supermarket check out lane, and only being assaulted by about four magazines, all of which had instructive, stimulating or thought provoking articles, or useful information. Remember the good old days when you could buy a TV Guide which actually gave you the listings for all shows for the upcoming week? What's up with that? How could this idea have gone wrong? It's true, I can get the information off the Net, but I am daily annoyed that I have to boot up, log in, navigate to the website, and then get the information for a few hours at a time doled out to me everytime I get the urge to watch TV. It's wasteful of energy, further wear and tear on your computer, and requires that everyone who owns a TV to also own a computer and pay for an internet provider. It's a time waster also. If you check at the beginning of the hour, by the time you get to the actual listings, any show you wanted to see is nearly half over anyway.

That circle is a little less "hellish" rhan the one beneath it. That's the one reserved for professionals whose opinions, however ludicrus, illegal, immoral, unlawful, distasteful, or just outright loony, are actually given credence by a wide expanse of people throughout the country who can be easily swayed or convinced that if it is said by a professional on TV, it must be true. A special hell for these folks. The persons above I simply want to go away. The people I speak of here I want to meet in a dark alley heavily armed, or spot in a cross-walk late at night while I'm approaching the intersection in my Van. They're the people who should be denied any organ transplants because that would be "socialism." They're the people who should be incarcerated in a cell with Mel Gibson. They're the people who should show up at the Emergency Room near death with a live chicken instead of an insurance card. They're the people who advocate American's Second Amendment rights as a tool of social change without realizing that I as an American think THEY need to be changed and removed from power. They're the people who justify the infantile argument of 'I'll hold my breath until I turn blue," is actually in the best interests of their constitients and the country as a whole. I could go on and on.

Quick last note though, Terri is anxious to get going so I'll close here, but I had a thought about a new movement to start and gather whenever a Tea Party rally is happening. I suggest a BYOB party next door. Blame Your Own Bush.

Anyway, seething from the the ether, I remain...

All right already...I'll type

For all of you who have commented on my lack of posts, sorry. Honestly, I did it for your benefit. If you wanted to hear nothing but complaints, you could just as easily ask a leading question of your spouse, roommate, or parent. I'll mention right off the bat, that this last visit to the medical spa pretty much did me in more emotionally than physically. I've pretty much gotten used to the aches and pains and invalid part, but Just pretty well lost my ability to bounce back of late. A picture here, my expression pretty much says it all.  Every time I think I want to beat an annoying nurse with my cane, I look at this and realize these poor people have to look at people like this all day. It gives me a greater sense of compassion.

My friend Alan had to check into his medical spa just recently also. You know how they say that females in groups will start to share their monthly cycles? It seems Alan and I are starting to share this also. We both seem to get Dr.s appointments on the same day, and as to his latested incarceration, he had a "Me" moment, and blacked out and fell while checking out at a Ralph's grocery. This is one of the reasons why it is best to never leave the house. Much less embarassing.  He's good now though, so knock wood, which, come to think of it, is strangly enough what I did to shatter my shoulder. They kept him overnight, which they always want to do, but unlike the insurance carrier from hell that I have, he's on Kaiser so they don't change the co-pays at will and without notice. An example, it says right on my insurance card that prescriptions (generic) are $15.00 co-pay. I went to get a new order of pain medication after three weeks, and was rather unpleasantly surprised with a $59.00 charge. I'm on eight medications for heaven's sake. The pharmacy has called twice to remind me that I have one ready for my stomach ulcer, but I think I'll just get by without it for the moment. It's a vicious cycle: Here, you need this drug to handle the stress of paying for this drug. To add insult, the always has been one-time charge for a hospital stay got moved to $500.00 a day.  I would love to have known about that little change in our contract, but apparently my HMO is a division of British Petroleum.  I still need to go to my personal GP on another issue, but I'm afraid that has to get back-burnered also.

O.K. I'll try and move on a bit with a change of subject. I was at the Comcast home site, earlier while web surfing and found "The 50 Worst Romantic Comedies of all Time." Sadly, I personally own DVD's of 47 of them. I can't decide whether this says I would make a poor critic, or a good one. I do agree with some of their picks, but they tossed in some which I would never, ever have termed "Romantic Comedies." I did better with their "Eight Craziest Girlfriends in Film" category. I went to Cracked.Com and saw their picks for creepiest Fan Art, and that I would heartily recommend to anyone. Their are a lot of really talented artists out there who would be better off cutting off an ear than displaying their work. I alos learned that there is a distillery in Vasilia, Alaska which is producing salmon flavored vodka. I swear I am not making this up. I am only hoping that this business will take after the town's most prominent citizen and quit half way through the production line. There are so many mysoginist jokes I can make on this topic that I'm just going to let you think of what I'm avoiding typing right now. Let's just say I would do Mel Gibson proud. Come to think of it, maybe I should just send him an e-mail with some suggestions. He's got to be running low now. He's insulted, threatened, or offended every woman, race and religion except Pelopenisians and Catholics.

Walked down to the lake on the 4th to see the festivities. (Actually, I should say hobbled down to the lake.) The residents decorate their flat boats and declare all day happy hour and then weave and bob around the lake. I think I got a few pictures.

It's an annual tradition here, and a great way to show your patriotisim and love of margarita's at the same time. Makes one wonder why we embrace that particular south-of-the-border product, but don't want any Mexicans unless they're carrying gardening tools. Still even if the party gets out of hand, how much damage can a bunch of geriatrics really do? I do love it though when during the parade/procession of boats (decorations are judged), when the skippers lose their attention and run into the boat in front of them, or veer off to parts unknown.

We did have our "Old Glory" out proudly flying, as did virtually everyone else in the neighborhood. It was fun though, that many people also had other flags flying. If you look at the picture above, you'll note that there are british flags on the boat celebrating our winning the war of independence from... Hey, wait a minute.

I also like the fact that grown, conservative, died-in-the-wool republican men's men will wear leis as long as they are red, white and blue.

Speaking of blue. Terri had not to seen the film "Avatar" yet. Alan and I did go see it one day while she was helping her sister-in-law pack and move for her relocation to Oregon.  I used some of the birthday money I got and bought a copy of it for us to watch last friday night. It wasn't in 3-D, of course, but the difference is minimal. She kind of agreed with me. Beautiful film. Masterfully crafted. Marred only by being written by Mrs. Teeter's third grade class with all the depth of human experience and literary crafting as only eight year old's can acheive. Well worth seeing once though. Really. Just don't bother cranking up the sound. You won't miss any sparkling dialogue, I assure you. Truth be told, with the summer TV doldrums, anything is better than yet another parade of repeats which weren't really any good the first time, and like fish and unlined garbage pails, do not improve with age and repetition. That's the only DVD I've purchased in months and months, so I have no other new critques to share. It is however about three hours long, so that counts as two, right? Alan and Heather also brought up vuvuzelas on my birthday, as well as gifts. I felt so in touch with the world cup fever I set the trash on fire and backed up the toilets. (This is actually true, although neither was intentional or fun.)

Get my blood draw again tomorrow morning. One of the joys of the whole IV process is doing this twice weekly. I swear, if I am every stopped by the police, I hope I'm wearing a long sleve shirt at the time. My track marks are professional grade. Then I'm going to try and drive to the recycling center to dump off all my aluminum and pick up some pocket money for frivolous things like food and laundry detergent. One nice thing about anti-biotics making you constipated is that you save money on toilet paper. Having no appetite is a plus also. With the cost of every trip to the grocery, every little bit helps. I am still stunned over the way the cost of food is rising. No matter how much you tighten your shopping list, the amount is still the same, or more. Oh hell, now I'm just going to rant, so I'll leave you be.

Love from the ether.