Saturday, August 09, 2003
at 11:13 AMSkidmarks- They're Not Just For Underwear
My aunt Pam drove me to my appointment with an elderly couple; I walked the 1.18 miles back to my aunt's house (information sponsored by my buddy, Map Quest) afterward, arriving home again about an hour ago. Unfortunately, the lady and her husband are retired and living on a fixed income (thus, they were not in the market to buy a full set of $805 knives, no matter how good). The husband takes daily medications for Parkinson's disease, diabetes, and some other debilitating ailment. He sat in a chair off to one side, and I did my best to include him in the presentation as naturally as possible.
The lady's daughter bought her one of Cutco's four-inch paring knives several years ago, but the lady really didn't need anything else. They were both nice enough, though, and they enjoyed talking to me. She seemed concerned that I had to make that walk back, but I thanked her and said I was eager to burn the calories. It hasn't been too hot to walk that far up here, even lugging my bag of knives. If I was still in Texas (also known as Purgatory in some circles), I would have collapsed after three houses. Maybe if I shape up my legs a bit, my demolition ball bruises will eventually disappear.
I went to Six Flags St. Louis for the third time this summer (with my aunts Barbara, Pamela, and Michelle; Uncle Chris; and my cousins Rowan, Sydni, Maddi, and Aubri). Sydni (who turned eight last month), like The Megabitch, was a bit of a Gloomy Gus about riding anything; it took Michelle and me an hour and-a-half to find Barbara and Pam to dump Sydni off on them. Michelle and I rode Thunder River, then we walked up a mile of ramps to get to The Boss (a newer wooden roller coaster the park built). There were no lines (this was around 8:20; Six Flags closes at nine), but upon finally reaching the top, we discovered that one of the cars had just gotten stuck on the tracks about three or four seconds from the end of the ride. Slightly miffed, we walked back down the ramps and trekked to the entrance to meet everyone else.
All that walking probably did my thighs a world of good. However, my gigantic meal at White Castle afterward probably voided my labours. Damn those cute, disgusting-yet-delicious little burgers to theoretical Hell!
I need to set up more appointments, but I figure I'll wait until just after lunch time to call people.
How do I need a car? Let me count the ways! I calculated that after Uncle Sam gets to it, my Marshalls paycheck should amount to about $200 (or slightly less). I'll need that money for my textbooks. Then The Father swore to me (I spoke with him this morning) he would transfer the tuition money back into my account today. He sang that tune, of course, the last time we corresponded directly (two weeks ago). In June he told me he would ship me my rainjacket, sunglasses, and several other items; he placed the box next to his guitar, sealed it (the box, not his Gibson electric), and has yet to send it to me! He only passes it every day! Sheesh gamungi.
