A dear friend who has suffered a lot of hard knocks in recent years has resumed gardening and has even begun to take some lovely nature photos. He sent me these which he took with his Iphone. He called them "Various critters attracted to the deck flowers," and pointed out the bee's pollen sacs.
I wrote back immediately:Wow! Bravo! These are amazing! That includes those pollen sacs, which I would not have been able to identify if one bit me on the butt ! (And since I am pretty butt-less, for a bumblebee to find mine would be quite a trick.)
And while we're on the topic of butts, if one bit J on the bum, he probably wouldn't feel a thing, after all that his pinched nerve-treated posterior has been through.
BTW, the Italian word for "holes" is "buchi," and when J dropped his pants for the umpteenth time to get his ultima puntura (final injection of cortisone), the doctor seemed pretty impressed to see such a butt full of buchi.
It's now pretty clear that if I want to minimize adventures with the Italian medical system
(See FERRAGOSTO HOLIDAY IN ITALY ) to give injections is a skill I need to cultivate. However,
after carefully studying the various jabbers' technique (and the varying degrees pain that they cause), and after reading articles like "How to give an
injection in the bum," I'm thinking that maybe it's not so straightforward.
Heck--this is a person who can barely use a computer, drive in a straight line,
or understand Facebook. I'm not sure I would trust my hind quarters to such a person.
But to avoid yet another trip to the Guardia Media and their guasto elevator admittedly has some appeal.
Here's to a respite from any and all injections for a while!
Keep the photos coming !--xxx, d
FOR SOME REASON, ON THE SAME PAGE AS I NOTED THE ABOVE EXCHANGE, I ADDED THE BIT BELOW, ABOUT MY FAITH IN THE POWER OF WRITING
In my naive way I tend to think that writing can save anybody, and that clearer writing is evidence of (and a path toward) clearer thinking. I even had a fantasy that I could help the drug-addicted son of dear friends who has minimal impulse control and is constantly at odds with the law. But that's probably a pipe dream. It's just that it's hard not to feel their pain every time he disappoints by falling off the wagon and landing in jail. On the other hand, even though they keep trying not to give up hope, they are at the point where they think that jail gives him a sense of order and discipline that he can't sustain on his own. I still wonder what would happen if he had access to a computer and would agree to write to me.
On the theme of losing a family member, yesterday was the unveiling of my brother's headstone. While J and I were celebrating our 44th anniversary, the other members of my family were present at that milestone. I think it's the first time my other brother's kids had been on a plane. I guess that for the reasons of this confluence of events, none of us will be forgetting this date any time soon.
As my wise son likes to say, "you've gotta carpe those diems while you can.
There was a old beer ad that said it more simply:"you only go around once in life, so you've got to grab for all the gusto you can." AVANTI! EN AVANT! ONWARD!