So hip

So hip that mine is killing me. Just walked the dog, right after I came from golfing. Shot an 86 at Dairy Creek from the old man tees; 40 on the front and I had 5 staight pars. I ran out of gas and luck at 14 and messed up the back nine, but oh well. I haven't found the right fuel. I tried a Red Bull last week and got all jangly, and I tried Starbucks Mocha drink this week and ran out of gas, and I've tried protein bars. Maybe I need red meat at the turn.


There are turkeys all over the golf course, and they will run right in front of your cart, daring you to hit them. Turkeys playing chicken!

Congratulations to Bill McNiff on May 23, one year birthday of his new bone marrow, way to go Bill! And Mac, what you say about arms is so true, I can never find the right place for them unless I sleep on my back. I used to always sleep on my back, but because I am always cold these days, I am on my side, trying to snuggle into myself, and I wake up with dead arms from cutting off the blood to them. I have a good mattress, so I think the only reasonable solution is removable arms. They had removable penises back in the '80s, I wonder what happened to that technology? http://www.mp3lyrics.org/k/king-missile/detachable-penis/

Also, I am inventing a game based on nuking Peeps, where you put one Peep for each person in the nuker, and nuke em, and then everyone has to take the position of their Peep, i.e. like Twister. I will call it PeepOrgy. That would be banned in Alabama!

I wrote the following poem this morning, based on a Writing Through Cancer prompt to look in the mirror and reflect on images past, present and future. I never could color inside the lines.


With apologies to T.S.Eliot

I am Sibyl, and I know the way
through the half-deserted souls
that lead to hell and back.
One ill-conceived wish makes an eternity
in the looking-glass,
a wretched sack of decaying flesh and
frazzled hair, battered by time and the
chemistry of living.
Give homage that you can die,
that you can obliterate
the image that looks back at you,
and take relief from the incessant
drone of aging.
Better to feed the dead land,
to become mulch for lilacs
and create life from death.


Mikey said it was very cheery, and in a way it is. Imagine what we will be like when they cure cancer and Alzheimers and others, and we live to be 150. What a mess! One thing I say when I look in the mirror is 'Hey, I'm still here!' But do I want to say that for another 85 years?

Most of the trip with my brother is planned. We meet in Las Vegas on 4/30, stay in a cheap nice hotel, then go on to Zion Canyon the next morning. We have to scramble for a camp site on Friday, but have reservations at Watchman campground 5/2-3. On Monday we go to Bryce Canyou and scramble for camping, hang for a couple of days, and then go to the north rim of the Grand Canyon. One more park, unknown as yet which, then back to Frank's house in Las Cruces area. I will hang there for a day, then drive to SLO, maybe stop at Joshua Tree for a night. Exhausting.

Since I am already exhausted, I am really hedging on going to the East Coast from New Mexico, 2400 miles or maybe 45 hours, then back west 3125 miles, maybe 57 hours. It is a lot of driving, but then, what else am I doing? Actually I have a lot of tasks that I do, getting Mike to school, keeping the house clean, shopping, laundry, reserving us cars and ferries for the Great Britain trip, figuring out how we are going to afford this. Wow, I feel more important now! Maybe the best reason not to go east is Garrison Keillor is here on May 12, and that is John's birthday. I could make it if I leave Las Cruces on Sunday.