Read an article from sciencedaily, Running a Marathon Hard On Heart.
Well, that does it for me then. I’ll just continue sitting on the couch, reading Uncle Walt, and drinking beer.
For Three Word Wednesday, prompt words battle, fluid, harvest. Also submitted to dVerse. I don’t know how much chance I’ll have to visit other blogs this week–work calls me, which may explain the subject of my poem this week.
I don’t like doctors. I suppose doctors, as people, are tolerable, but I don’t like waiting interminably with my clothes off just in order to be poked on. (I know, putting it that way sounds half-way enjoyable, but you know what I mean.) I don’t have a primary care physician, since I so rarely go, and only go when at death’s door–my physician is whoever happens to be manning the ER at the time. At my last doctor visit–I was delirious with fever–I was in the ER for about 6 hrs. They ran a few simple tests, gave me some Tylenol, and charged me several hundred dollars for the honor. (I’ll pay up eventually, St. Joes.) Anyway, I’ve been sick for the past few days, so I figured it’s time to pull out the cure-all. I’d rather not have another violating visit to the ER.
What we have here is homemade chicken noodle soup, lovingly assembled by The Good Wife. Chicken, noodles, carrots, onion, garlic, the usual. Since I firmly believe in the healing qualities of hot stuff I added a special feature, Georgia Peaches hot sauce. Simple ingredients: peaches, habanero peppers, onions, celery, sugar, peppers, sour mash bourbon, and spices. (I covered up part of the label for my younger readers’ sake–the well-placed peaches on the model look surprisingly like boobies.) The beverage is a SweetWater porter, Exodus. Strong, thick, and chocolaty. I should be better in a couple of hours.
|(Image credit: http://www.justjared.com/)|
I’m going to take a chance here with a political post. I know how divisive this can be, and I have no wish to start an argument. But I am a one-issue voter this year. Let me walk you through my penetrating analysis of the current political situation. Read intelligently, and then deal with it.
Here’s my issue. As a good Mormon, Mitt does not drink. This means that I stand no chance of being called to a Beer Summit at the White House should Mitt win the election–there will be no more Beer Summits. Sure, it’s a long shot with Pres. Obama that I will be called up to add my expertise at the next Summit, but at least with him there is a chance. And from what I understand, the last Beer Summit featured SweetWater beer, my favorite brand. I cannot vote against a man who showed such great taste and sensitivity–it would violate everything I believe in, everything that is great about America, land of the free and brave and thirsty. God Bless America!
**UPDATE**: I stand corrected–SweetWater did not play a role at the last Beer Summit. Treason! Whoever told me this should be thrown in prison for life. Evidently the Pres. drank Bud Light. Is a Beer Summit featuring Bud Light better than no Summit at all? I’m going to need time to consider how this changes things. Certainly Pres. Obama has fallen a few rungs in my estimation.