closer and closer

The time for surgery is approaching. I will go to one of those new, same day, outpatient surgery clinics at 6:30 in the morning and pop out, oh, say noonish, all stitched back together. McSurgery Drive-thru. I am looking forward to the beginning of healing, and the end of this endurance contest that has nearly gotten the better of me. It hurts.

I have new jammies. I have more soup recipes than I can count. I have solicited the support of my mother-in-law. I am planning what I can and leaving the rest to the four winds and hydrocodone.

Just to give you some indication of my perceptions these days..... I live a block from Nature's. Wild Oats. Its one of those higher-end green grocers with shiny food and big pricetags for votive candles. And I bow to my lack of grocery knowlege in general and admit that most green grocers are good to their employees and that paying a little more to forestall what seems inevitable to me: global warming and all that bad stuff that this blog declines to acknowlege let alone address, is not a bad thing. It is, after all, the corner grocery store, and from time to time I have picked up produce or a can of tomato sauce that I didn't find at Winko. I hate Winko.

So anyway, I went up there last night because K ate the last chunk of good sourdough bread and I am on a french-onion soup kick. I HAD to have it. So I wandered up the street and over a block, and the store was dark. And I thought, Ah, president's day. This thought is followed closely by a second: Since when do hippies give a shit about president's day? Then, I looked through the windows, noticed empty shelves, and thought: Oh, they're restocking one side of the store. And I get to the front of the store and there was no sign, and nothing in the store, and the store was pretty much gone. And I thought, why didn't I know this? How could the store close that fast? So, I consulted Gwen, the only grocery expert I know, and she said it has been a 30%-40%-50% discount thrift store for awhile, and I know I have slept through this winter.

It is unacceptable to me that the world passes me by. I lived the first half of my life in a coma,and I refuse to miss even one more springtime. There is much to do, and healing is the first thing.

Here's a poem about that:

What It Was Like To Be Drunk In The Country For Years

it was like comin' home
beer bottles stacked on the porch
lolling around in the dust of a hot day
not a hundred yards from the river
sweating pure whiskey
too busy drinkin' to jump in the water
sleeping face down in brown grass
missing the spring
and the summer
and the fall
and spending the winter
planning all those things we're gonna do
when the sun comes out

j