Saturday, June 16, 2007

Down the length of my thigh, Sharona

It was a fluid day.

I woke up at 6:30.

(Why, why?)

Why? On a Saturday.

On Saturday ((Sabado, para mis amigos en Mexico. Con mi passaporte. Hola, pendejos.)) I wake up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at 6:30.

How come that never happens on Monday?

Or Tuesday? Screw Tuesday. Nothing good ever happened on a Tuesday. Pearl Harbor was bombed on a Tuesday. Hitler invaded Poland on a Tuesday. John Lennon was shot on a Tuesday. (((Why? Really, why? Why shoot John Lennon?))) Dude's rug was soiled on a Tuesday.*

Christ died on a Tuesday. It was around Easter, if I remember correctly.*

I lost my leg on a Tuesday. I stepped on a land mine in Nam. It was 1971.*

Kurt Cobain blew his brains out on a Tuesday. JFK had his blown out on a Tuesday.*

I haven't told many people this, but around fifteen years ago, I was hanging out in a fishing village in Mexico, down on the baja. San Felipe. It's on the Seea of Cortez, there on the eastern side of the baja.

I was enjoying the sunshine and cervezas.

One morning, I was eating some huevos rancheros. I lifted the cloth off of the tortillas, grabbed one and started to scoop some soupy frijoles and huevos goodness onto the tortilla.

And there She was.

The Virgin Mary.

The Holy Mother of God, right there on my tortilla.

That was a Tuesday.*

*I'm pretty sure this stuff happened on Tuesday. I mean, I didn't look it up or anything. Said events could have happened on a Tuesday. I am fairly certain, though, that it was Tuesday. Pretty sure, anyway.

Plans changed, went to the gym early, rode our bikes all over town, had breakfast, went to the river late, dropped a car at the takeout, drove back to the put-in, started to inflate the kayaks, some weather came in, we hung out, looked at the river and listened to some Howard Stern on Sirius.

The raindrops fell. There was a tornado warning. We left, got the take-out car, went home.

If it is nice tomorrow, we'll try again.

There are also some caves I would like to explore.

The bike ride was really nice, though. Our first of the season. We tried to go to this place called The Stockyard for breakfast. It is adjacent to an actual stockyard. It is ((((was)))) an old school, horshoe counter greasy spoon breakfat joint.

It was closed, so we ended up riding downtown and eating at the Nova Cafe.

I love that place.

I'm going back to Wisconsin in a couple weeks.


The Dam.


Roger Waters.

(((((10th row, center. Dude. For real. Not kidding. Trust me, I'll take pictures.))))))

Mom and Dad.

Tony, Alison, JM, Birdy, Vaughn, Kris, Eck, Leo, Nanner, Manning, maybe Dr. Dan, who will hopefully write me a script for something that will help me with my priapism, and hopefully Curt.

It's gonna be fun.

Peace out.

I swear, I'm gonna go kayaking tomorrow if it's nice.

Maybe a hike or a run.

Take Sunday back.

To appreciate a Sunday, you really have to be in the moment.

It is still the weekend. Don't think about Monday.

Enjoy Sunday.

Flip the bird at Monday, because Monday is basically bent over in front of Tuesday like he dropped the soap in Joliet.

Tuesday sucks.