I feel a little more less cracky today. The B12 may have evened out a little. The neurons seem to be firing in alignment so my mind channeling is a little less random and ping pong bally as WSF would say. Next time I'm going to ask the doc to give me the shot in one of the legs instead of the left arm so I run faster. Good thing she didn't give it to me in the mouth. Imagine that one.
Saturday as you know, I embarked on a dangerous journey and opted for a DQ burger with my friends because...well...there was nothing healthy on the menu, so I jumped right out of that plane into burgers. It took two days for me to not have stomach pains and the running sharts. I shit you not.
|Fargo needs to go shopping. Said no one ever.|
I was certain Baltimore rioters had set up camp in my gut and were there for two days too many. Painful twangs occurred at inopportune moments, but I muscled through it. Although I have gone off the proper food train before, I never experienced such a lengthy derailment. Perhaps it was a hard lesson learned...once again. Is it worth it anymore? For that one sugar cookie or that one chicken strip?
Is it going to happen again?
Inevitably. It's how I work. I'm a cycle.
It got me thinking that fast food burgers are mad of angry cows and not the nice docile type you get at the food market. It's like the funny farm for meat...all the psycho, diseased, and federal incarcerated Angus get put in one place and sent over to processing together in a lot I will call "Q" for quarazy. That's the Fargo spelling of "crazy" which gived extra emphasis on the meaning of it. Super inflated crazy begins with "q".
These bovine must be separated from those who can maintain straight lines and poop in a nice pile rather than all over their asses. Lot Q are those you know when you see them. They lay or stand in the middle of the road and look at you without a blink thinking to themselves, "Go ahead and tap that ass and see what it does to your car." Then they snort a little. Perhaps you have to drive around them, while they give you the stare down, but they make no effort to move their fat asses out of the way. Excessive honking does not work. They are not deaf. They are ODD (oppositional defiance disorder).
The top of the line Lot Q's are the ones who run little children out of corrals and throw cowboys off their backs at rodeos. They might even break fences because they are too stupid to know that barb wire is the universal cow sign for "stop".
Meanwhile, the prime cows which make great steaks and super burgers are on the grassy knoll switching their tails in happiness.
Yeah, I didn't get one of those Happy Cows.
Last night at about 10:00 PM, I ran for an hour outside in the farm country. It was bliss with the smell of fresh black dirt as the fields had been worked and nearby flowers. The stars were out, no wind, and the air was just right although thick with humidity, as I moved along in the 75 degree-ish weather. I sliced through it with my ninja speed. Not really, but is sounded good.
God hit me on the head with a 2 x 4.
Just like that.
Being homesick tugs at your heart like you lost your best friend. It is really painful if you let it go on.
I needed to stop longing for home. I needed to bloom where I am planted. One day I will return to the west, but for now, this is where I am. I needed to make the most of it.
When I returned back, I admired the Harry Potter House in all its peeling paint. It looked happy. And loved. As I ran past the east side of the house back to the barn, my lilacs were fragrant. They are a flower which will forever remind me of my childhood back on the ranch. It took me to a good place.
|Not this place.|
And after smelling the damp old wood of the barn and finishing my workout, I went back inside. Bug was in bed. The puppies were wagging their tails waiting for me. I petted their furry little heads and kissed their butt smelling faces.
The secret to happiness is accepting where you are and making the most out of each day.