June 22, 2011
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Alright; I get it; I am behind in destroying my blogs, so sweet publisher’s you move more quickly on the book; And I will erase my life faster, but for now; I am just getting by, and I am looking at getting back out to the coast. To whomever got on the plane from NYC, to Cincinnati, then on out to San Francisco; He did not mean to, but he probably gave all of you the respiratory infection from hell I am going to talk about it, because; When one is ill; You want to tell everyone; “My throat hurts; I get short of breath just walking doing minor chores, and all I want to do is to sleep, wake up, and find that I am imagining that I could have pneumonia! I want to whine about having to take a shower to look humanoid again; whimper that I have to take care of myself, because my husband is out of town, and basically just sound irritated. I do not like to be ill, and my husband got nailed with it first, probably made everyone on his flight sick with the poorly circulated air, and I think that he should have a public flogging for leaving me in this condition.
I am a secret train traveler though, and all too soon will be headed back across the Rockies, away from the East coast and headed toward the Golden West. Surprise! San Francisco is not golden this time of year. California goes in to a state of, “June Gloom,” so who wants to be there except in July and August when the rest of the countries citizens have clothes on washed with the sweat of the day before; San Francisco thinks that it is fall. The fog comes in, and it sort of eats up our hill last, but it cools the burning soul; And then I want to be there.
The Zephyr from Chicago is pretty easy, though I am begging Mr. Warren Buffet to fix up the tracks across the country which he kindly loans to Amtrak, so Here I go again; “Mr Warren Buffet,” I appreciate that you have good intentions with your wealth, but if you really own those Union Pacific tracks as I have been told; Please sir; My arthritis is murder as we cross those praries and desert country being thrown around like tuna fish in a water based can of tuna. The track needs fixing; the workers need work; and; Kind sir; I beg you to see that we actually feel like we are on the streamlined and silver Zephyr heading West. I just think you need to talk to a reasonable woman about this train thing. I love trains; Oh; I love trains, so can’t we just get people from coast to coast with repaired rail lines. Honestly; We don’t even mind paying a little extra for our food; And do not get me started on those teflon toilets again. Only a man would have dreamt up something that non-user friendly and disgusting.
While I have been sick, I have been looking at catalogues; and Ladies; Here is some great news, and I am going to have to get one for my next train trip. You can get a device that allows you to stand, “Cofortably,” so you do not have to sit on a dirty toilet seat and to void standing up; “Comfortable,” and it appears that one size fits all; then you discretely fold it back up and put it back in your great big granny bag after a good rinsing; and you have an empty bladder, and if you are hit by a deer while crossing the railroad track; Then your relatives are going to discern that you were in to something really creepy. “Yes,” These are the kinds of things one thinks of when they cannot get over a sore throat, and they can’t decide whether they want to stay East and to be a Granny, or go to San Francisco where one can wile their aging hours away worried about the landfill and realizing that such landfills should never be in a world where everything is recyclable, especially when you can put it out of your mind that poor Asian and third world children are apt to be pulling all of this recyclable computer wear apart with their bare hands being exposed to every carcinogen known to mankind. We hate to face truth; Now don’t we.
I forgot that I was supposed to be entertaining you with my illness and the mortifying fact that I have not yet sought midical help. Strangely those antibiotics usually work like magic on me, but I haven’t got up the courage to call my favorite Dr. out on the coast. Dr. John Pierce takes care of us, and he takes care of poor people too; so I think you should all stop right where you are at and give him a hand. I am hearing too many physicians saying they wish they had of chosen another path; What do you want to do; I ask you, if you made it through medical school. I tell you what; I think you disgruntled physicians should be hand writing a bunch of letters to Mr. Warren Buffet, saying you would work for healthcare benefits and for a livable salary; and get those rail lines fixed up again. Now, I may be a lone wolf in calling for such action; But if I am nothing; I am full of ideas.
I, the Pinkhoneysuckle Blogger, shall now erase another chapter in my book; I tell you; It is coming; Ya’ll; It is coming!! We shall talk more about all of this on another evening. It is time to be a good Xangan and see the sites.
Blessings, “Pinkhoneysuckle”
Comments (3)
Try the trains in Eastern Europe, some are amazing while others have bathrooms that freeze over during winter
I came here from the comment you made on ‘promote your sites’ and after reading a bit am not surprised that in your visitors list are many of the names I sub. I have been interested in Appalacha Mountain life since I was a teen and wanted to join P.E.A.C.E. Corps and my dad told me that if I wanted to join something like that it should be V.I.S.T.A. and explained about some of the areas of America that needed help. Then of course I read Christy and was enamoured with the Fox Fire Books and how they were put together by the school children interviewing their elders. I then saw some of the mountains when I got lost driving to Columbus, Ohio. Don’t ask me how I got that far off the trail, I don’t know, I guess if I did know I wouldn’t have gotten lost in the first place. On a flight back from a visit to Washington, D.C. the path of the craft I was on let me see the mountains early in the morning, the mist coming off the trees and they were indeed as beautiful as I imagined them to be. Finally, I am an avid listener to Celtic music. Much of which was similar to that of the mountain homes. I know for the people there it was a hard life; in my readings of times past, hopefully it has gotten better. I say hopefully, because I know most of my reading was fiction, yet it included the closeness of families and neighbors, the bonding that is only made through everyone living through the same hardships. That is not often seen today in big cities and I hope that part of the life they have enjoyed has not been lost
Sorry to write a blog comment to your entry, but may I ask why you are deleting other entries? Is it because it was also included in the book you hope to publish?
With your permission, I would like to sub to you and read more that you write. If you choose not to accept any more subs, I will understand.