New Turkey month already

Morning ramblings:
Sitting here real quiet this morning, while I waited for the inevitable freight train to batter my head, I took my blood pressure. I found something else I can’t do with that autotronic cuff on my arm... Let me put it this way, I guess picking one’s nose is reserved only for sitting/waiting for light changes at the corner. Owe, BP-139/87 PR-47.
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Continued sitting here in the predawn light, not particularly hungry just yet, all I can think about are all the breakfast foods I can’t have. That is until I’ve completed my participation’s part in Doc’s sugar tolerance tests. Then look out. Seeing as it is gonna be near noon when Doc’s finished me, I’m gonna either hit Arlene’s or Sam’s dinner mighty hard and deliciously sin sin sin my growin’ hunger away.
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I remember as a child I was always waiting (I waited 21 Years) for childish things: Dad to come home, Xmas, first hunting and driver’s licenses. June 1958 I was given an adults responsibility to look after another, to make and nourish new life. In that month I had found my equal, my other half. Childhood waiting for things I set aside. In a blink of an eye one rainy evening I had assumed an adult life and set about doing things for an us. The courtship on, I never waited for anything again since. However, this postponing an adult breakfast has so simply reminded me of one spectacular life’s changing day of old.
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Saw Doc and didn’t get the sugar tolerance test. I have to go a special lab for that? Nonetheless I got the standard diabetic blood test and found well within limits, as in being good. More blood was drawn, plus blood pressure taken laying down and standing up. Having skipped my morning’s pain reliever dose I was well primed by the time I got to his office and as my appointment was wearing down my lightening strikes were gearing up. Bam bam bam I saw me shudder from the invisible blows. Getting these spikes coming in bunches about three times while I was there, he’s decided I need a second neurologist opinion. This could be as early as Monday and hopefully not beyond Tuesday.
Before I motored any further I took another Darvocet. Leaving Doc’s office I did just as Frieda instructed me, my every now’n’then dutifully obeying her. I went by Sam’s dinner. I had a short stack drowned in honey under lots of butter, two sausage patties, two scrambled eggs, hash browns, whole wheat toast, and at least two cups decaffeinated coffee to wash it all down. I felt so much better. Breakfast, brunch, and lunch out of the way I went straight for filling fuel cans, loading supplements, and picking up empty ground grain wagon. On my way home I spotted Handy out in his yard. I stopped and bless is heart he’d came with me the rest of way home do my grind’s lifting for me. Grind finished I dropped Handy off where I had picked him up and eventually went on to do my haying.
My hay raked I saw Brother had made it a-field and breaking in next hay field. Wonderful. I was glad I didn’t have to concern myself with that bit of pressing my time work. I all but finished my baling, but managed to feed my ladies before sun down. What hay’s left in last field I’ll bale with what’s cut in new field tomorrow.
Glad this day’s done, my last three months medication’s printed out for next new neurologist appointment coming up, it has been a full day. Best of all I think I’ve remembered just about everything I was involve in in spite a few spiked pains and a couple staggering.
Supper smells good, homemade soup baby daughter brought in.
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Cheese and crackers, damned rumor mills are alive, down and dirty amongst some family principles. It’s alright, Frieda’s already told the principles these foul rumors are pointed at to ignore the less fortunate. The poor less charitable fat-assed assholes so unhappy in their own skins and lives, so wrapped up within their petty jealousies, can’t seem to do any better with their own lots that they to try bringing down those what have lives, to their own levels. Fine with me, I’ve a sinking feeling it’s about time I rewrite my will.
Tonight’s BP136/81 and PR 53.
From my Shorthorn country to your country style. BGKC.
Fernan