After our hectic three-day trip to the Mayo Clinic in Jacksonville, Florida, and back home again, neither one of us was in a hurry to get out of bed yesterday. And when we finally did, neither of us had much gumption to do anything at all. Terry’s third Vego raised garden bed had been delivered before we woke up, so I carried it out to the back deck for her, which was about the most energetic thing I managed to accomplish all day long.
We had bagels for breakfast, then spent part of the day catching up on e-mail that got neglected during the trip. One e-mail I received was from somebody who was upset with my book Big Lake Massacre about a violent robbery at a medical marijuana dispensary that left several people dead. He wasn’t upset about the violence in the book, but because I was promoting the use of marijuana.
He said if I was going to be turning people into junkies, he was never going to read any of my books again. I wanted to write back and tell him I was sorry to hear that, then tell Terry we were going to have to sell the house and all of our possessions and live on the street because we wouldn’t get the royalties from any books that he might purchase in the future. I was also tempted to tell him that medical marijuana oil was one of the few things that gave me relief from my back pain, and as soon as I started using it, I no longer took any of the opioids that the VA had been giving me for so many years. But in the end, I just ignored it because there’s no point in trying to confuse somebody with facts when their mind is already made up.
About 3:30 I felt like I had hit a brick wall and just could not function anymore, so I parked myself in my recliner and slept until about 5. When I woke up, I couldn’t find Terry, and I figured she must have finally gotten fed up and was visiting with a divorce lawyer. Who could blame her, right? As it turned out, she was out in the garden taking up some more of the ground fabric, which had pulled loose again and was beating the plants up in the breeze.
Except for a couple loads of wash, and a light dinner of chicken quesadillas, that was our day. But our evening proved to be interesting.
Sometime while we were gone our Dish receiver died, and after having the tech from Dish talk me through several things that didn’t work, they set an appointment to come out this afternoon to fix it. In the meantime, we could still watch Amazon Prime and other things over the Internet on our television.
We very much enjoyed an excellent documentary on author Judy Blume and her career on Amazon Prime. If you’re one of the seven people in America who doesn’t know who this prolific author is, her books for preteens and young teenagers have helped several generations of America’s youth understand themselves and the changes in their bodies, emotions, and lives as they were growing up. If you think book banning is something new in America, you will be surprised to hear about what was going on in the 1980s, when Ms. Blume’s books were considered pornography aimed at children. Talk about déjà vu! I was also surprised to find out that she and her husband own a bookstore in Key West, Florida. I wish I had known that when we were down there. We would not have missed it.
While we were watching television Terry spotted something crawling on one of the window blinds, so I got a Kleenex to grab it, thinking it was some kind of harmless little bug. As it turned out it was a wasp, and the darn thing stung me on my right thumb. That hurt like hell, and I dropped the Kleenex and the wasp inside of it on the floor. Then, like a fool, I tried to pick it up with my other hand, and it stung me on that thumb, too! I’m glad I didn’t step on it because I wasn’t wearing shoes! I have enough trouble walking around as it is.
Miss Terry, AKA Superwoman, came to my rescue and dispatched the ugly critter while I put some ice on my thumbs and did a little bit of sniveling. Okay, maybe it was a LOT of sniveling! And for those of you who think that Terry is this wholesome girl next door, turned excellent cook and weaver and all-around amazing human being, I want you to know she’s got a mean streak in her. Instead of kissing my thumbs and making them feel better, she asked why I was dumb enough to try and pick it up a second time and laughed at my feeble attempt at an explanation. I guess that’s what happens when you’re married to the court jester, right?
And finally, here’s a chuckle to start your day from the collection of funny signs we see in our travels and that our readers share with us.
Thought For The Day – I’m in big trouble if people find out I really don’t have Tourette’s.