Thought of You Today. Got Gas

Well I walked to the hospital today -- and then found out I'm not supposed to be seeing Kathie, my therapist, until next week. DOH! So I walked home again, and came upon this guy, still in my apartment after repainting my tub.



Repainting my tub? That's right. The paint itself is all toxic and smelly, of course, but it will dry. Consider it like building an airplane. The real thing, once it's ready, is majestic. But it's the building of it that stinks -- literally.



There...isn't this bog post Farcebooky?

MoreStuff

I like to call him Bubalooey Baboon. He was fearless. And he was young. I was at an african Safari tour near London, Ontario. And he was quite a character. Inquisitive and bold. And bad. I thought he might climb into the vehicle. But he didn't.

In a staid pre-Farcebook world, his bold existence and moves were shocking. But he was the best thing about that up close and personal safari.

The baboons were just like a group of Curious Georges. And so was I.

Doh!

Females! They climb up in trees! They're SO evasive!

Except when they have babies...

Sometimes, the baby just sits...

But other times...

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While I try to recover from my son Evan being over here and laughing so hard, living life comes to the fore. My right side is DEFINITELY losing much of its paralysis. I'm sometimes like a bear who has been in winter hibernation.

I feel I can do more now. As if The Boy in the Bubble Syndrome is passing me by. Finally. I can and WILL still stumble and fall. But like a baby that you let walk around when it has just been crawling, it's OK if I fall.

That will just teach me NOT to fall again. It will teach me to walk again. Which it has. It has taught me to want and chase more beautiful things. And I have. And I will. This HASN'T happened to me. It couldn't.

But if it has, I will combine it with the most beautiful blessing that could happen to anyone, period. I will love. Deeply and happily and contentedly. And I will joke. Heartily. But I will also be deadly serious. Seriously.

Evan

Evan! Wake up!!! It's 2010! Ha Ha Ha Ha!!!!

Ha Ha Ha Ha!

Ha Ha Ha Ha! After a late night of watching my Family Guy tapes from -- GASP!! -- my daughter, Monica -- this was my son, Evan, on Sunday morning. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! If you think I have a small brain, his is microscopic!

Believe it or not, he eventually woke up. And left. But I don't think he made his bed!

Here is a random shot of my shower.

Here is a random shot of me INSIDE my bathroom, which is alternately known as the loo, the lavatory, the WC, or the can or bathroom in different parts of the world. It may be called something else in YOUR part of the world.

Unfortunately -- or fortunately, depending how you look at things -- my 18-year-old son Evan & I got to spend some alone time this weekend as my Queen of sheba daughter Monica worked and played with her new boyfriend, who I have never killed yet, Alex.

Poor guy.

As usual, though, Evan came over. He is the Prince of Pain. The Deacon of Dirt. The Sultan Of Sleep. And speaking of...