Please forgive the long absence. I’ve got lots of excuses. First, through a combination of errors including disease and pestilence up at Kuhns in the Fingeronkill Triangle, it took three weeks to get the Pony’s new carb out of there and down here. Then, on attaching said carb to the Pony, we had absolutely no luck getting the engine started. I went into a deep funk, which if measurable, would show up on a Funk-O-Meter as minus 2537, not-so-coincidentally the same number, plus a minus sign that’s in the C-O-M after the inclusion of the carburetor. Once we decided on probable causes of the Pony’s stubbornness, however, horrid weather set in, and neither Gene nor I wanted to venture out into the garage. How cold is it? Well it’s so cold that the only thing running on the Pony is his nose (24 degrees, mid-day today).
And as the musical headline suggests, today we are experiencing the Postman’s favorite combination: rain, sleet and snow, and in a couple of hours “gloom of night” as well. I was asked today when I’d be getting back to work on the Pony and not too confidently stated, next week. So until then, I apologize and assure you that when things get moving again you all will be the first to know. (This section was written Friday, but today, Saturday, the Weather Channel App promised a form of winter weather I’d never heard of, Freezing Fog. What the#^*&@!)
With that we must move to non-Pony news. Naturally if there’s news on the poop front, well that comes first. And wouldn’t you know, since I wrote to you last, there have been a flurry of articles on the subject of curing intestinal disease with poop transplants from a healthy person. Call it “poop therapy.” Right away I thought, wow, becoming a poop donor would be a great way to boost the Guinnea Pig-O-Meter. And I wouldn’t even have to give up any organs, just something nasty that I can’t use anyway. This demanded some research.
I’m sure many of you saw the articles when they hit the papers, but those articles for the most part didn’t give the graphic details I read when I went on-line to research this. What I really wanted to know, is how do they get the poop in there. Well, it turns out that’s something they are doing studies on right now. Two techniques have been shown to be effective. In one they mix “it” with saline solution and send it down a tube inserted in the patient’s mouth and down his throat. In the other they do it via a colonoscopy. My goodness, which to choose, jeez, I don’t know. The dog we had as Andrew was growing up (her name was Snoopy) chose the first method. Actually, she skipped the tube. It was so cute…we’d see her in the dead of winter, out by the street, playing with frozen dog turds, flinging them up in the air, all the while nibbling on them. And I’ll tell you, that dog had an “iron constitution.”
Actually, Snoopy may have been ahead of her time. In one article I read, it is theorized that some day folks will simply be able to take a poop capsule, a “poopsule” so to speak, for the cure. No, no, no, not the entire turd. In this instance especially, I recommend “doing everything in moderation.” Snoopy! Moderation girl!
It’s sure hard to go down hill from that subject, so I won’t. Let’s talk donuts, mmmm. Once a week, I’m still going into downtown Chapel Hill to the Krispie Kreme, for a half-dozen donuts. And that reminds me, of a related incident. The parking meters downtown don’t need to be fed until 8:00 am. I pulled into a spot just a hair before 8:00 and figured, they won’t swoop in before I get out with my warm little friends. I came out though, at 8:07 and there was a ticket on the windshield. Talk about tough on crime! That day the price of my donut habit went up by $15. I’m more careful these days. But I digress.
I believe I mentioned that the baker out in Saxapahaw makes dang good donuts too. I’ve been eating them pretty regularly, and its a highpoint of the “morning 40” when I can sit out on the coffee shop deck and eat one with my coffee. When the Princess and I lived in Philly, there was a Dunkin Donuts at every other intersection, so it was easy to assume that donuts were just a normal breakfast option. But I’m not sure if you knew this, but donuts are bad for you, oh yeah. If you hang around nutritionists much (which I do in my volunteer gig) such “food” gets a really bad rap. So I was thinking that there couldn’t be a much worse thing for you than that, when last week there in the bakery case, was a new challenge: a donut with bacon in it! I am not kidding.
Well, naturally I had to try it. It was a cake donut, rolled in sugar, with tiny bacon bits inside. Delicious! I thought I’d gotten away with something, but on arriving back home I didn’t feel at all well. And I didn’t feel well most of the afternoon. Hmmm, maybe donuts in moderation too?
You’ve got to help me out here. Is it just me that seems to get all the bad luck, or does stuff like this happen to you all too. I bought a pair of top of the line Oakley sunglasses. They were stolen off a table on the porch where I take my break down in Pittsboro. Live and learn. So I ordered a new pair, $350 down the shoot. I got them and wore them a while and noticed the lenses didn’t really fit in the frames. The shop sent them back to Oakley to be fixed. I got them back, I wore them some months, looked at them one day and saw that the lenses still didn’t fit in the frames. Back into Oakley again. I just got them back again, haven’t worn them yet, but I’m sure crossing my fingers.
Next, since I have a small optical issue, I get my eyes checked once a year in the ophthalmology department at UNC. I thought this year maybe I’d have real professionals recheck my prescription, so had that done too. I took the Rx over to the UNC optical shop just down the hall and picked out some fancy new lenses (they turn into tinted lenses when outside). When I tried to wear the glasses, for a week, I noticed first, they don’t tint outside and second, they made my eyes want to bug open. I won’t drag this out any longer, but it turns out the Rx was WAY off and the shop hadn’t asked the lab for the “transitions” lenses. WHY IS EVERYTHING SO HARD! Just going out on a limb here, but I’m guessing it’s not just bad luck, but massive incompetence.
How much of our lives is spent tangled up in junk like this rather than on what we’d really like to be doing? I guess the older I get the more I resent wasting what is truly a limited amount of time. Perhaps there should be a different kind of “day of reckoning,” a day when we get to negotiate for a few more days on earth based on time lost that wasn’t our fault. I think I’ll start keeping a list, just in case.
Sorry Bill, no photos this week, but thanks for reading.