I bet you thought I was mad...wrongo...I am making stew. A lean stew, a keen stew, a rough stew, a tough stew, made from cattle that hunted on their own. (old poem that I just trashed).
When I told Gord we were having Stew for supper tonight, he started singing a VERY old song. Stu Ball was a Race Horse..Haaaaa I laughed my ass off. You have to be ancient...but I loved that song... Stu ball never drank water...he only drank wine...my kinda horse.
I'm off the cold med's and back to what one might suggest as a normal human being.
Damn, that free range stew is smelling mighty good about now, I only cut myself 4576 times cutting up the veggies and the beef. There is always a price to pay for organics...and if I have to do some "blood letting"...short of of leeches, hey, I'm your girl. The problem is my brand new sharp knife... I am used to cutting up shit with a knife that is as dull as I am. I slice and dice and I get pissed off ...but never thinking, fortheloveofwiltshure (stay sharp)..would there be a knife that would get all the jobs required in the kitchen done? So I bought me one of those big boys at Canadian Tire last week. And later a package of Fred Flintstone bandages. It was a good match.
We got all the crap off the back 40 and the deck today, tables, chairs, etc. and sent them to THE SHED. They don't like Mr. Shed. Sometimes in winter I see them trying escape. The chairs are the worst, they inch themselves in front of the doorway...and because there are 6 of those bastards ..they rule, and try to bust out. There is no stopping them. They want to be sat upon. They miss my small, but delicate farts on a summers eve, Penny's hairy ass, and Gord's big one. Chairs are people too. So, when I see them doing the "rumba" at the shed door, I shed a little tear, because they miss us, as we do them. Poor little bastards. We will see them again in spring, I'll fart in them, the dog will drool, and Gord will sink his portly ass in them. All will be well with the world.
I say this, as I am thinking about my "mentor" Mary Lou who's brother might not be so lucky to see the spring. I know how difficult it is when Cancer strikes a family. It doesn't only take out the member, but it takes out a piece of you and chews you into pieces. And you don't know which way to turn. You can give it to God...but no matter how you choose to deal with it...it's yours. One step at a time throughout the process...one step at a time. And Mary Lou if you are reading... I love you..and thanks for being my friend and we will get through this together, you helped when my Gord had his heart attack. I'm here for you my friend.