I’m a little worried about my wife who has been having headaches since she fell. Her hand has healed, the cut and scraped skin, but artificial knee is also giving her fits. Her headaches come and go and move to diffrent locations around her head and they do not leave her for long. She seems to have lost some vitality.
Awwww, Bill, I sorry to hear that. Is there any way you can get her to somewhere that she can be checked over? {{{{{Hugs}}}}} for her and you.
I'm sorry she is still having trouble, Bill. Did she hit her head on anything when she fell? Maybe you should mention it to your son and see what he thinks.
Yeah, she fell on concrete but hit her head on a partially rolled up electrical chord inside the door
She's getting better. My son came over this am and swept and mopped the floors. He's a good kid for a teacher.
So glad to hear that she's better, Bill. And you raised that kid right! He sounds like a chip off the ole' block.
I live in Oklahoma. Oklahoma is the former Indian Territory. There are thirty-nine different Indian tribes in Oklahoma. There may be a couple of states who have more reservations than we do, but we have enough for this writing. Most tribes have one or more casinos. For you who might not know, a casino is a place where you can walk into and have a drink, a meal, and gamble the night away. I know people who go every weekend or did before this CD-19 came along. We have one here in the little town I live in. It’s about three miles south of my place. I’ve been there ones. I went with my son and my grandson. I just looked around and choked, the cigarette smoke was so heavy. I had to stick my head out several times into the fresh night air merely to keep breathing it seemed. My grandson won four hundred dollars. My son didn’t gamble. He was in another area listening to the evenings entertainment. That’s the only time I have purposely visited an Indian reservation, although I have been invited a couple of times by Mickey Raphael, who plays harmonica in Willy Nelson’s band. That’s him on the right side of Willy in the background. Now you may be one of those who doesn’t like the little harmonica. I think I can assume most people don’t. I love it. I can play anything I know, and some stuff I play really well. But that is all I’ve done, practice for many years. With the little harmonica I have toughened up my diaphragm, stretched and motivated my lungs to not quit on me, to last a little longer. I had a point to make when I started out writing this whatever it is. I forgot what it was. I’ve been trying to remember between paragraphs. Was it something funny or something sexy. No, that’s not something I’d usually try to point out. I’ve forgotten. Maybe it was about Oklahoma or Indians or how powerful and mighty the white man is with his guns, his wisdom and ignorance. But then everybody knows that story. How they shipped over from ole England, hungry and seeking religious freedom and tamed this raw, new world. How when they ran out of anyone to fight then fought themselves. The people who lived here when they arrived was mean to them so they fought their host, taking all their land, finally rounding a big bunch of them up in Blanco and Palo Duro Canyons, forcing them all to Oklahoma. I was going to say I/we here in Oklahoma live in between and around and on the other side of these reservations. Unbeknown and not willing to tell, many of us may have a little Indian blood cruising through our veins. Long ago it was said my mama was one sixty fourths Cherokee. Ain’t that a pistol Many of us did and some did not like it the other day when a few thousand of those Trump supporters broke into the Congressional building to make a mess, litter, steal, and generally trash the building and killed a couple of cops or something with an altitude of "That’ll learn'm, darn’m.” Maybe so, but the Feds are trying to identify and arrest as many as they can and the charges will be greater than the charges they are arresting and holding then under. A stronger charge will be added so that a conviction could mean from a fine to ten years or so in the jug. Now that little action has National Guard units bivouacking in all fifty capitals. Looks like somebody ought to start a war or we’re likely to start fighting among ourselves again But that wasn’t the point I wanted to make. But it will have to do. I can’t remember what it was.
I was up at 7:15, turned on my computer to see if the world was still spinning just so on it’s axis. Went back to bed after breakfast for a couple of hours, read some, then watched some tele my roommate had on. A wasted day, more or less. There were three of us, Larry, Willie, and me. Now there are two. Larry King died. No cause of death was listed but he had been hospitalized with covid-19 and he had lung cancer. Larry was a long standing broadcaster. Willie on the other hand is still making his music and smoking his pot, still active, still busy. I on the other hand am just laying a round and hanging out. Waiting I suppose, to die, wondering is this all there is. We were all the same age. Maybe I should get a hobby or learn to write or maybe become an alcoholic. There ought to be something I could do. Today is dark and gloomy. Maybe tomorrow the sun will shine.
In case you might wonder what is the meaning of this picture... it doesn't mean a thing. Good evening, Bill.