Here we go, another attempt in communicating many deep thoughts, and, I’m afraid to say, quite a few shallow ones as well. All the coaches have fired up, slowly pushed the needle up to full air pressure and departed. Not a living mosquito in sight.
Seemingly overnight, I am alone with my thoughts. Honestly speaking I have to admit, “that can be a real scary thing.” (Just ask my wife or any participant of the recent Lake Mead NRG who happened to stumble across me).
It is all over, done, “Nada Importante Finito Hombre” as they would most likely say on the Eastside of Albuquerque (try spelling that one! Thank you spelling checker). Here is another one …. Too-Cum-Kerry … don’t you just love the land of enchantment?
Here I sit, not a worry in the world and a cold one in my hand. It was a real booger trying to unfold this patio/deck chair, but I made it. The silence of the morning refreshes me, and I find that I now have plenty of time to ponder life’s problems.
A few examples would be:
Why do they charge you $3.75 a gallon for Propane when the oil companies where I live flare it off with complete abandon? It burns 24-7 and we refer to it as our Exxon Nite Lite.
Why it is that worry that I am not a good tourist. Are you supposed to wear the fanny pack over the gut or underneath it? I don’t want to look like a dork.
Why it is that when I pay on time, did Verizon Auto-correct my kissy face emoji to “stop it you’re 69” then unceremoniously powered down my phone.
My recent new found dislike of New Yorkers and Shell Oil Credit Card fraud alert text messaging? Before it was just doctor’s, lawyers, phone solicitors, bad drivers. Now I have to update my list once again? Also have to answer the many text messages …. I Hate You … I Hate You … I Hate You … I Hate You … I Hate You!
All of you have left and now I sit in the sand and stare at the half eaten Clark Bar someone left after the dinner last-night. Sitting here in front of a vastly-drained lake Mead with its enormous bath tub ring and at the same time, wondering about the significance of a bath-tub and a man and woman, staring off into the sunset, holding hands, what has that got to do with anything?
An uneducated guess would be … same as this post … Nuthin.
What was, is now just a random thought. No more late night sojourns around the campfire (RJ calls them War Stories), no more lies or somewhat exaggerated half-truths about highways, truckers, and societies’ elected miscreants in general.
The bottom line? Okay, here it is.
In this day and age, it is nice to know that there are still people who indeed count and matter. It is so nice to know that in this so-called information age, that a crusty old relic like myself, still can communicate what is on his mind and not get shot for doing it.
It is nice to know that you can sit back, let your hair down and just be yo’self. And of course … tell a story or two … No wait, honest, all this is the truth, I swear.
Watch those Right-Handers