Well, while waiting for my butt exam tomorrow,  I decided to get off my butt and go see Mrs. Feller at the nursing home. Her birthday is on the 23rd and she will be 94. She asked about Sydney and Shane and I told her Shane was up to his old tricks – digging holes.  For a couple of years  I was really nurturing my grass in the back yard . . . and my hostas. The hostas are now ghost holes and will new ones will be replanted behind a little fence I am putting up. The grass, well it was the first casualty, I filled in the holes this fall and put some grass seed out (I think) and hoped winter would give me run at it.

HA!

Not only do I have no grass and three holes, Shane has decided to plant a Wubba to see what happens. Or, perhaps, when you trip because of the hole, he will run up and say, “Since you are already down, would you mind throwing that Wubba right there by you?”

This picture will also be posted on www.keepingsanewithshane.blogspot.com along with the others we have taken to help Quentin stay abreast of his dog’s boarding school days here.

I have my prep stuff I need to start drinking this afternoon and my laxative pills – six of them, all a once. I have Jell-O; I have clear sodas and Crystal Lite Packets, I rented two films from Redbox and happened across a copy of  Wolfen – not the best movie made but the first one we watched almost three decades ago on our new VCR. The book is quite a bit different because you can do a species such as werewolves more easily in writing than in film. Well, unless you’re Jack Nicholson and he was quite convincing.  Albert Finney was in Wolfen, but he wasn’t one of them. The movie was more Albert Finney vs. The Great Furry Things.

Enough of that.

I watched an episode of Fatal Attractions last evening about 1) a lady who kept venomous snakes in her trailer home and got bitten by her Gaboon Viper and died and 2) a man who kept cobras and was also bitten but was saved when his neighbor returned something he had borrowed and found him. Then I dreamed and woke up in an anxiety attack involving really scary and tense situations that I don’t remember now. I would guess that dreams can take werewolves and snakes and do all sorts of things with them that film and language can’t even begin to encompass. I do remember thinking I was concerned about going back to sleep.

I am not supposed to remember my experience with the actual colonoscopy. I wonder, though, if on following visits to the hospital, I will suddenly spread my arms and legs like a cat when I approach the door. Of course, the automatic sliding doors could make that interesting. A news photo wouldn’t do it justice; they would have to use the film option. YouTube, here I come.