We’re at Safebare’s home in NW Houston after a morning walk.
I’m conveniently nude all over, out front in Safebare’s driveway, organizing the car, gathering what I’ll need today.
I hear Safebare making noise with something metal out back, where I had heard his big pickup truck earlier. Looking through the gate, I see him wrestling with his metal canoe. The tailgate is down. I offer to help, as I open and close the tall wooden gate.
The process is easy. Each of us lifts a side of the canoe and slide it into the bed. We strap it down until we are confident that it will stay there.
We’re soon on our way to Somerville Lake. It is a dammed reservoir in the Texas countryside, somewhere out the Interstate towards Austin.
The Tucson Gem and mineral Show has been in town for the last three weeks, I have had continuous renters staying here and decided to work at the show for extra money to get me further down the road, when the warmer seasons return.
I ended this busy time by getting the hernia operation that I have been putting off for the last three years. This week I am doped up to mitigate the pain. I have a story written, but I’m too impaired to proof and process it, so far. For example, this post took me 20 minutes to write. Please, bare with me and enjoy some of the posts from the past and I’ll get up and running, as soon as I can. Hopefully just a few days.
The nurse shaved half of me and seemed to do a part of my leg just for the heck of it. Was she trying to find a tanline under the fur? Shall I show off my scars, here?…Just kidding.
DF is taking care of me like some kind of angel and I’ll be very happy to be off of this medication with a clear head.
This next day is lazy. We gather ourselves for a visit to Galveston and ice-cream.
The staunch old iron and stone architecture is fun.
The old tall doors open to let the sea breeze in.
We have to beat rush hour through Houston to their northwest side. There is a neighborhood stealth walk and then a canoe trip to enjoy. The Houston freeway is hair raising. My fingers clench the wheel, ready at any instant to react to a brush with death.
The song “If I Can Just Get Off of this L.A. Freeway” comes to mind and won’t go away.
I suggest that DF put the song on the stereo, but she is too intensely busy watching the road and for the next exit to do the search.
The borderline greeting sign had said “Just Drive Friendly, the Texas Way.” It didn’t suggest driving “crazy.”