This morning I read one of the saddest things I've read in awhile. That being Gar the Texan's tale of the cruise from which he just returned.
It reads like a romance novel, not that I have ever read a romance novel, but it's what I except one to be like.
Gar the Texan's romance novel is the story of a lonely boy, sailing solo, staring into glass after glass of adult libations, singing karaoke, trying to get into crew parties with attempts to buy a crew uniform and finally having an emotional breakdown with an old lady who had also lost her spouse and was sailing solo.
All while on a quest to learn where Macedonia is.
Now, let us leave Gar the Texan and return to the Tandy Hills. It was cold on the hills today, requiring 2 layers of long sleeved shirts, plus a windbreaker with a hoodie, which I needed to use to block the cold wind.
I have been having a sore foot woe for several weeks now. I don't know what I did to cause this woe. The right foot is the biggest pain.
In last night's nightmare, which I mentioned earlier today, the nightmare where I found myself driving in Afghanistan with Betty Jo Bouvier in heavy duty harping nag mode. Well, what I did not mention was that when we got to Kabul and got out of the car, Betty Jo stomped on my right foot real hard, paining me deeply.
It was very strange how my real life pain became part of the nightmare, with Betty Jo making it worse.
Today on the Tandy Hills that right foot was hurting the worst ever. And then after about a half mile the pain abated like it always does.
Tonight I intend to keep the dangerous Betty Jo Bouvier out of my nightmares, if I can.
