Actually, there’s nothing to do with farts here. Sorry to the flatulence fans . . .

So, the new year’s arrived and with it I’ve got a bad back that I put out on Christmas Eve’s Eve. This has been one of the weirdest in a long history of back problems. I tore the muscles in my lower right at the grocery store just about 30 feet inside the door (and I FINISHED the freaking shopping trip! RAWR!). Three days later the agony had migrated to the lower left side of my back. The right side still ached but the left was screaming like freshly sawn nerve endings. THEN it migrated to my left knee (?!). I swear to the gods it just slid across my body and down my leg. Five, six days after the initial injury at the grocery store I couldn’t bend my left leg for shit. NOW my feet are swollen as hell but at least with the nerve damage I’ve suffered I can barely feel them. HA! Take that, Pain! {flips off pain} The cherry on the suffering sundae is the tooth I had filled just over a month ago is bugging me again and as much as I utterly HATE going to the dentist I gotta try and preserve the few toofs I got left.

Mom gave up her car last month. Water had gotten into the gas tank, rusted it out and then the rust and goo and crap had gotten into the upper end of the engine and killed the injectors and who knows what else. The mechanic estimated at LEAST $900 for repairs and mentioned that since the last time she’d had the car in for work in February she’d put only 200 miles on the car (most of that driving back and forth to the mechanic, the tire shop and the parts store to buy a battery *sigh*) and in his opinion it probably wasn’t worth putting the money into. That’s right, I’ve got an honest mechanic who cares more about the customer than the cash! So now we’re a one car household relying (gods help us) on my ‘91 Ford.

Well, Two Thousand Eleven has rolled in like a steaming pile of feces. Both the Super Bowl and I turn forty-five this year. When we used to talk about how old we planned on living or expected to live to I always said forty-five, even at twenty-five it was TWENTY years off. That was a long time! Then. Think I can sleep through the rest of the year and just wake up for 2012? Yeah . . . me neither, dammit.

Hawk (this space unintentionally left unblank)

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