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It’s been gangster movie festival here at St. John’s Infirmary lately.

First, the Godfather trilogy of course; followed by Pesci and DeNiro in Casino with Sharon Stone; then, Goodfellows with that knockout Ray Liotto performance. I branched out with the Coen Brothers’ Millers Crossing, but came right back to the good stuff with Pacino and Depp in Donny Brasco and then Nicholson, DeCaprio and Matt Damon in The Departed. Just when I think I’m out, they keep sucking me back in and Public Enemies found its way into the DVD player.

I’d like to get out of the house and do something. Maybe go to the mall and see Inception for something different. Uhmm. There’s a bit of irony in that sentence, but I can’t quite parse it out. Maybe some reader like RebL will be able to help me with that.

I complained in the last post about what a stick figure I’ve become, but to be honest I just don’t feel like eating in this 100 degree and humid weather we’ve been having. By the way, does this hot weather mean that Al Gore is still fat but that climate studies are maybe just a little right? I keep getting mixed up when I don’t watch Glen Beck every day and need someone with mainstream thinking to help keep me on the straight and narrow.

Read an interesting piece about how the radical right is now interpreting the Constitution in the same way religious fundamentalists treat the text of the New Testament. Who knew John Calhoun would take the place of Elijah in legal thinking? I can’t get over this 10th Amendment talk from the Tea Party folks. I suppose they slept through that whole 1860-1865 week in high school U.S. history. Maybe they had the flu or the dog ate their homework. That’s the ticket, as some SNL guy used to say.

I’m really sorry I missed Lady GaGa in town. No, really. I would have liked to see that show. In fact, I would have liked to be the guy who confirmed her gender up close and personal. I might be a sick old guy, but I’m still a sick old guy. Speaking of newer singing acts, will the fact that Pink fell mean that from now on, it’s after the fall?

So, what up? Well, it ain’t my tale to tell, but both my son and my daughter received some good news lately. I can’t take any credit for it, but I really find it easy to enjoy it. I love my family, so both me and MindOverMary got that going for us.

That image a bunch a y’all got of me in a convertible? Trash it. I am currently driving an old Ford pickemuptruck. Blue with wheezy noises and no air conditioning. Not exactly the rakish figure I once sported, but it gets me to the grocery store to buy Sinatra cat food, which seems at this point to be my sole purpose in life.

I keep following uber-webmaster Fastpipe’s Twitter feed, but I’ll be darned if I can understand what he’s got his panties all twisted up about except that I certainly get the part about being on tech support and not being able to fix the problem. My problem is that if Fastpipe can’t figure it out, what’s the chances for a guy like me? Maybe my friend MichaelH’s idea of just moving out to the lake and being off the grid ain’t such rotten potatoes after all…

Speaking of going to the company store, to which I owe my soul, the other day I was there getting some cat food and coffee when I bumped into a display of cans and some started falling. I instinctively twisted and reached out to stem the damage. Not only didn’t I catch any of the cans, but that twist and reach move with my right arm was not the thing for me to do. It hurt like the dickens and I don’t mean Charles Dickens. Not even my beloved Lortabs makes it go away. Ouch and I do mean ouch.

Also, while I absolutely LOVE Oklahoma thunderstorms and lightening and rain, when it all stops and it’s 90F and that rain starts being humidity, this is not a good formula for my daily walks. Seems I can’t get up early enough or stay up late enough to walk in the cool and/or there just ain’t any cool under these conditions. I’ve been lucky lately to get in 8 blocks before I’m tuckered.

Politics has me bumfuzzled and gobsmacked lately. Are the Republicans not only going to win but also repeal the entire New Deal? In the name of cutting deficits will we really get rid of the Department of Education and Department of Health and Human Services? What do they think will happen if they try to balance the budget during the worst recession since 1937? How is it possible that such nonsense is so popular? I can’t even comment any more. There isn’t anything to say. No one listens to anyone they don’t already agree with. I will certainly be casting a whole bunch of throw-away votes this time, but by gosh and by golly, I will be casting my votes.

One last thing about that rakish, convertible driving image … have you ever seen kids draw stick figures? That’s what I look like in summer shorts. I am literally a lightweight these days, even if you thought I was skinny before.

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Happy BDay Sis

Yesterday was my birthday and I went out to eat twice: to The Metro with Mom and to Zorba’s with Kim. I’m down to 141 llbs and I’m eating my way back to “fighting weight”, so I indulged in all the beurberry sauce and real butter and lamb grease and french fries that I could stand. To all those watching their weight, all I have to say is: I eat and eat and eat and still can’t gain a pound. Nyah Nyah Nyah. I look like the stick figures some children draw. If you thought I was skinny before, you should see me now when my pants are falling down over my non-existent booty.

Received the requisite phone calls from children, sisters and friends and a couple of mailed cards, so it was all good.

Here at St. John’s Infirmary, I’ve finally decided after much deliberation and consultation and intertubes research to decline to take chemotherapy and accept enhanced scanning. I’m comfortable with the decision and if anyone is horrified, let me know and I’ll listen and try to explain my thinking.

I’m actually feeling pretty good and cutting back on my Lortab intake as a result. I’m still walking a good bit, but mostly early in the a.m. and late in the p.m. when it’s cooler and a bit less humid. I’ve loved this rain, although I find it unexpected. I don’t care what Gary England says, it seems to me that we are really and in fact experiencing climate change. I noticed that in today’s news, it seems a British inquiry has cleared the climatologists from all charges of “cooking the books” as the Inhofe people asserted.

Very soon, I think, I’ll be back to the place where I have my life restored, although what life that will be is somewhat a mystery to me. I feel that I have overcome three deadly diseases — alcoholism, depression and cancer — and that there is something more I can do with my life other than merely spill out a few sentences on this blog for less than two dozen people to read. Some parts of my life seem to be falling back into place, but I see no need to speed up matters until after I see my children, grandchildren and youngest sister next month when they all visit. I’m still spending at least part of every day taking naps because I still tire fairly easily and the Lortab keeps me … shall we say? … quite relaxed. I continue to think almost everyone would benefit from a few hundred of these little white pills; they seem to make the day to day world rather pleasant, for a time. I’m told they have a bite if you try and break up with them, but I’m not there yet.

Last year, with my zero birthday, I was committed to changing things to achieve a “bucket list” since I felt quite young for my chronology. This year, I don’t feel that way. I feel every single one of my sixty one years. On the other hand, I’m grateful to have those years and this one day past that. Every single day seems like a gift. It’s not such a bad way to live, to see each day as a chance to live and enjoy. You might try it; I suspect it will turn out better advice than the whole Lortab suggestion.

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Seems like a pretty good day here at St. John’s Infirmary. For one thing, I didn’t have to go to morgue and see my old lady laid out all cold like at St. James.

For another thing, I went to the doctors’ office today and came home with a wildly happy report. “Remarkable” and “Very Fortunate” were some of the words they used. Seems like the little walks I’m taking are better than anyone expected of a skinny old man like me.

All my tests are coming back clear including the chest x-rays and my scars are all healing nicely.

In fact, the surgeons released me and I won’t have to go back and see them. They refused to express an opinion on chemotherapy except to say it depends on what I work out with oncology and the amount of risk I’m prepared to take that the cancer will show up again somewhere else.

The “morgue” reference isn’t totally off the wall. My mighty hunter and self-appointed security guard raided a bird’s nest yesterday and it was my sad duty to interr a couple of featherless fledglings, to the howling displeasure of Sinatra. To say he’s “pissed” (not in the British sense of the slang word, but the American one) is a distinct understatement. My own sense of trying to coexist peacefully with our feathered friends has taken a blow, but I was out of the house too early today to catch the mockingbird. I hope the fledglings weren’t mockingbirds, because I would hate to think of feline sin.

So, I’m just trying to enjoy the purple Rose of Sharon (gosh, I hope for Woody Allen’s sake they’re not from Cairo since that was one of his worst films) presently blossoming in my back yard.

Hope everybody blows something up real good for the holiday and happy birthday Tuesday for me. I’m giving up on trying to do anything for the next four days since everyone I called this morning was already on their way to their four day holiday weekends, presumably at the lake.

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