Saturday, March 22, 2008

I want a minty fresh new spine

Yes, I wore stupid hats even back in the 1970's.
This was my buckskin quarterhorse, my third favorite horse and favorite saddle. Sometime around 1975.
A long time ago, when Ronald Reagan was in office and I was a brash young creature of immortal sensibilities and bold momentum, I was riding a Very Fast Middle aged Race Horse. In a very stupid way, very fast, with a stupid large hangover.
This very large mammal and I parted ways, suddenly. I wound up with two broken arms and two compression fractures in my back and a mangled knee.
I forgot all about it for a few decades. Just some interesting scars from the pins in my wrists, a knee that creaked and popped and hurt if I hiked more than six or seven miles when backpacking.

But today I think I know why my old man moved around like a busted up bag of worn down and poorly patched bone breaks now.
My spine, on any given day, feels like somebody pulled out all the nice lubricated parts and poured salt filled sand into those two vertebrae.
But it compliments the way the knuckles in my fingers hurt when I try to play guitar, and there's something to be said for symmetry.
But man, it sure feels nasty the last few days. It could be that nine inches of snow we got. I hate shoveling.
I even hate winter, mostly because cold weather makes all 18 bones I've broken ache somthin' terrible.
Ce la vie, baby.

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"Sometimes a scream is better than a thesis." Ralph Waldo Emerson