Stress-related

And my jaw hurts, too. Not the bone part, but the joint where it connects. Kinda sore when I chew. I must be grinding my teeth at night. Probably stress-related.

You really don't.

My eyes hurt. Too much time staring at this damn computer, I reckon. That and television. Oddly enough, they hurt more when I close them.

I also got a mouth ulcer forming on the roof of my mouth. But you don't want to hear about that, now do you?

How about my sore neck and knees? Do you want to know about them?

Except for you...

Everybody in every world is stupid, inconsiderate, uncaring, unthinking, ignorant, and egotistical. Well, except for you, of course.

Sore nose

I have a zit on the inside of my nostril. What in Pétíso's name is that all about? I'm too old for this crap.

Unattended paint buckets

Eh. I guess I got bored with this blog thing. My mind wandered off and I forgot about it, day after day. I blame winter. I blame retirement. Same thing day after day after day.

And the paint buckets sit unattended in the kitchen.

My dream...

I had the strangest dream last night. I was floating in nothingness, and then all these indescribeable colors swirled and flowed in front of me. Green, yellow, pink; white, turquoise, teal. Ultraviolet, antiyellow, ultrayellow, green. And then I was a bird -- an eagle, I reckon -- lying on the ground, with broken wings and an eye gouged out and my feathers torn and my flesh rent. Looming above me, a wolf snarled, saliva dripping from its fangs. It sniffed, growled deep in its throat, and lunged. I braced for the teeth in my flesh, for the snap of my spine, for the final flicker of pain that was my sorry life. But the wolf paused, gazed deep into my eye.

And then suddenly I saw myself -- the eagle -- in front of me, beneath my snout, unprotected, an easy kill.

And back to my nearly lifeless body, waiting for the final moment, waiting to die. The wolf lifted a paw, placed it on my exposed chest. A jolt. My heart pounded, my wings twitched. Flesh rewove itself, bones knitted, skin and fingers grew. Life surged throughout my body. I flexed my muscles, flapped my wings, stood up and looked the wolf in his huge yellow eyes. I nodded my unending gratitude. The wolf bowed his head, abashed. I flapped my wings, hopped forward, and launched myself upwards.

And that's when my damn alarm rang.

Too much good stuff

Went out to lunch. Much too much food. I'm as stuffed as a cornish game hen. Appetizers really do me in. Cheese and bacon on half potatoes. Chicken wings. Onion rings. More onion rings. My gut is full. It was all good. A glance at donuts made me nauseous. Damn donuts.

no real mail

No mail. At least, nothing but those darn grocery store flyers. Why don't we get any real mail anymore?

Walk

My throat is fine now, of course. My neck's a bit stiff, though. Time for a walk. I'll go check the mailbox.

I ain't gonna git sick!

I awoke with a slightly sore throat this morning. I'll blame post-nasal drip. It ain't a cold. It's not the flu. It's just a darn runny nose. 'Cuz it's cold outside. That's all. I refuse to get sick. I ain't gonna git sick!

Chores are a chore

Sometimes I wish I would get some massive repetitive injury so Vata has to sacrifice all of our animals just to keep me alive. And then I'd be all better and I wouldn't have to break up hay bales every morning. My back is killing me.

See my horizon

A little sun, a little rain, lots of open road. Not bad at all for the middle of winter. I'm much more relaxed now than I've been in months. Headache gone, thank you Bear.

Driving through endless forests, stuck in a canyon of trees, made me appreciate the desert. I need to see my horizon!

One of these days

I think we're going to have to go on a long drive. Need to get away for a couple days. Not even a daytrip down to Éíkızı can cure cabin fever. Maybe we'll go up to Mokarasalétu...

One of these days we need to get an rv.

Cure-all

Damn, I've got me a headache. Dehydration, I s'pose. But chemicals are the way to cure it. Gotta go to the coffee shop now....

Leporine Snorkels

I'm really gonna have to stop telling Vata my ideas before I do them. She just has too much reason, she does.

She don't even believe in leporine snorkels.

Them's got big teeth

I drove down to Éíkızı today, cuz that's a harbor town right there on the ocean, so they got to have sharks and aquariums and all that. Well, they got an aquarium, all right: The Éíkızı Aquarium. But they ain't selling sharks. They just charge you money to look at 'em. Bastards.

Maybe I'll just glue some fins on one of our rabbits. Them's got big teeth....

It hurts

I've got a zit on my toe. Or maybe it's an ingrown hair. What's an ingrown hair look like? A red bump? Cuz that's what I got. My favorite pair of shoes pinches right there. It hurts.

Massive Conspiracy

It's all rather well and good for me to rant whatever come to mind--quite cathartic, actually--but why is nobody commenting? Why is nobody even reading it? Of all the people in all the worlds, why are none of them clicking the "next blog" button right when I publish my post? What are the odds of that? Blogger must be suppressing my blog. They're trying to keep me down. They aren't letting anybody else see my blog, much less comment on it. It's a massive conspiracy!!

And I'm still gonna git that shark.

cheese

I was up in Sémı‘ıréíso this morning looking for a shark at the pet stores. Unsuccessful.

But I stopped in at the Subway "restaurant" for lunch. I asked for a roast beef sandwich with cheddar cheese. The kid informed me that they "discontinued" cheddar cheese. What in Pétíso's name is that supposed to mean? Why the hell would would they stop serving cheddar? It's the single most popular cheese in the world!

The offered me pepper jack, provolone, and "american." I've had the american before. It tastes like plastic. I went with the pepper jack. Next time I'll have to try the provolone.

Why not?

So Vata says she doesn't want to have a shark. She says it would be stupid to have a shark. She says I'm stupid to want a shark.

But look in our back yard. It's full of animals. Cows, horses, pigs, sheep, dogs, cats, chickens, ferrets, ducks, guinea pigs, horned toads... So why not a shark?

Pet Shark

I want a pet shark. Does anybody know where I can get a pet shark? And not some wimpy dog shark that's barely a meter long. I want a manly shark.

Does anybody know somebody who can install a jumbo aquarium? I've got plenty of land...

Waste

Computers are almost as big a waste of time as television is. Go read a book. Go ride a horse. Get off your duff, you dope.

Where's the sun??

Rana, take Your clouds away. This a desert. It's supposed to be sunny here. What's the point of retiring to the desert if You come along and make the day all gray and dreary? It's no fun to go outside. Inside is Vata and the home shopping channel.

Outside it is.

breakfast

I hate oatmeal. It turns my stomach something awful. I can barely force it down my throat.

Matter of fact, my throat still recoils at the thought of oatmeal and it's been an hour and a half since I ate that gloppy gunk.

Tomorrow, I'm making breakfast.

Shut yer trap

I've had it up to here with all this global warming bullcrap. Are we humans so full of pride and hubris to think that we can change the planet? Even if carbon whatsit in the air is rising, what's that to do with us? We're just a tiny cog in the machine called nature. The gods have it all under control. Trust them. Believe. And shut yer trap.

A load of hooey

I wish Vata would quit nattering on about Névazhíno this and Névazhíno that. That God of Animals is really starting to get on my nerves. Vata thinks He will cure her boils, if she just sacrifices a chicken to Him! And of course I'll go fetch the chicken for her, because I'm a good little devotee (to my wife, to my god, whatever), and I'll play along. But it's all a load of hooey.

my mind

I don't know what I was thinking yesterday. We don't have any kids. We never had kids. I wish we had had kids, but it didn't happen. I'm losing my mind. Dreams become reality. Truth becomes fiction. Mirages become oases.

How will I die?

The leading causes of death for men my age (75-84 Earth years) are:

31% Heart Disease
25% Cancer
7% Lung Disease
7% Strokes, etc.
3% Flu and Pneumonia
3% Diabetes
2% Alzheimer's Disease
2% Accidents
2% Kidney Disease
2% Parkinson's Disease

Well, at least the odds are I won't get shot by a sheriff's deputy. . .

Mornings

Mornings are the worst. Especially without caffeine. Vata's on this whole kick-the-habit kick. I think I'm going to have to drive into town for some "errands."

Grocery stores

Why do they keep moving the peanuts? They want me to walk every Pétíso-damned aisle in the store, that's why.

At least the beer doesn't move.

Vata

Vata came home. She demanded why I hadn't gone grocery shopping.

I told her it was because she'd taken the car to go play bridge with her friends.

She retorted, "I didn't take the car, DEAR. Hérına drove me. Our car has been in the garage all day."

How was I supposed to know that?

Hmmm...

Did I remember to milk the cows this morning?

I better go check.

My knees

I'm glad we only have a one-story house. My knees can barely get me from here to the bathroom and back as it is. It's been far too long since I've seen the shorter side of 80 kg. My knees just can't take my weight anymore.

What's in the fridge?

Awright. That does it.

Them kids must've left the house. The fridge was near empty. But I made myself a hefty roast-beef sandwich (blessed be Nevazhino) with all the remaining tomatos and scraps of lettuce. The mustard bottle's almost empty now, too.

So now I'm full. No thanks to them kids. Vata should be back soon, I reckon, unless the "girls" chat till sundown again.

This house is too darn quiet.

Durn whippersnappers

I'm hungry. Where did those kids get to with my lunch? Harrumph. I'm going to have to get up and get my own sandwich. Durn whippernsappers.