Gotta do something....anything

Boy howdy, sit'n round all day do'n nuttin sure do get boring.

The ol' big toe is much better this morn'n, although there is still swell'n. At this point I don't give a flip if'n it's broke or not. It will heal either way. But what condition is it gonna be in onest it heal? Ya know I already have arthur-itis, gout or some kind of crud in my right foot. That why I cain't wear no shoes like "normal" people do. Is it gonna be worse when all of this is over? I sure don't want to be hobbl'n round on a walker or ride'n in one them Walmart electric go carts when I go shop'n.

I 'member when I had my heart surgery, I rode them handicap golf'n carts at Walmart. Boy howdy you talk bout hav'n some fun.....Yeeee Har....here come the Billy Bob. Bump into all kind of stuff. Piss regular shoppers off go'n down the middle of the aisle. I wonder if'n when you get temporary handicapped if'n it affects your mind too. Ya don't drive down the middle of the aisle an' ya don't purposely run into other shoppers. Sheesh!

When I was in a VA hospital for 3 weeks from a back injury, they give me a brand spank'n new wheelchair to ride around in. I mean to tell ya, this was a smooth run'n wheelchair. But I didn't ride in it. I walk behind it....use it for support ya know. Another feller had him a "old" wheelchair. Wheels squeeked, paint was peel'n, brakes didn't work....that kind of stuff. Well, this guy steal my wheelchair one day while I was sleep'n....an' leave me his old piece of junk wheelchair. If'n ya ever been to a VA hospital, ya know that the first thing they do is "dope" ya up. I think thay call that "patient control" or something like that. Anyhows, I was all "doped up" an' went look'n for my wheelchair. When I fount it, that "grand theft wheelchair" guy turn white as a sheet. He was busted....I catched his ass sit'n in my brand spank'n new wheelchair.  I were swing'n one them aluminum canes with 4 feet on it an' cuss'n up a storm. Dope induced ya know. I got my chair back all right, but the damn VA police....security or what ever they was put me in a room all by myself for a few hours. A bed, no winders to look outside an' me strapped in my brand spank'n new wheelchair. They said it was the "cool'n down room".  

 I ain't been think'n bout much other than a round of golf ball swak'n. Now let me 'splain something bout golf ball swak'n. It ain't got nuttin to do with go'n out there beat'n the other guy or nuttin like that. It's all bout how freak'n far ya can swak that little white ball with your driver. It's something that brings out the "macho" in ya....poke yer chest out, stuff like that. "I hit that ball so far it gonna take a week to find it". That what I'm talk'n bout. It's a personal thing. Your one chance to beat yourself.  Did ya know that the "Holy Grail" for a amateur golfer is to break 80. Break'n 80 is to score under 80....not 80. The closest I ever come to the "Holy Grail" was 80 when me an' old "pesky neighbor" Wayne was play'n together. That was before I had heart surgery an' old "pesky" almost died. I came }{ this close.

Today is a beautiful day. Temp is hang'n round bout 89 degs, sun is shin'n an' bout 12 mile a hour sooth'n breeze. There just ain't no way ya could ask for a better day.

"how much this gonna cost"????

My foot is wide and fat. That's the best I can describe it this morn'n.

I was sit'n there on  the couch yesterday an' I got to look'n at my pooor ol' toe. "That ain't supposed to be that big Billy Bob". Then I got to look'n at my whole foot. That ain't supposed to be that big neither. My freak'n foot is all swoled up. I diped it in hot water a few times think'n that would bring the swell'n down. Nope.....didn't help. BUT.....it don't hurt like it did the day before. Bout a #5 on the pain scale (little bastard with a hammer beat'n on my foot). "Somebody git this guy off'n me".

I been think'n bout that Louisiana trip. Damn, I ain't excitis no more like what I was a week ago. I'm think'n I don't need to be mak'n no plans for a trip. If'n I get me a wild hair to go somewheres, just go. No plans. No research. No nuttin....just go. Or not go at all.

Lot of RV'ers base their travels on "how much this gonna cost?". I ain't never done that in 11 years of RV'n. Cost don't matter. Pay as you go. Even fuel costs don't matter. I seen whole families jump on a big ol' 747 airplane an' fly across the country to see Grandma, never once think'n bout how much it gonna cost. But ya stick them in a little pop up camper for a week-end camp'n trip an' they whine, bitch an' moan bout "how much this gonna cost" for fuel an' something to eat.

Money don't matter....ya gonna spend it anyhows. Don't get me wrong now, I ain't got money stick'n out all my pockets or nuttin like that. I'm a "poor ol' boy" just like some the rest of ya. Social Security an' a small retirement check every month. Poverty level....that what it are. I just learn how to stay within my means and still be happy.

I learned me a failsafe way to save money. 'Don't spend it'. Works every time. Ya see, when ya boondock camp, ya don't have to pay rent to some hi dollar RV' Resort.....it's free, money in the pocket. When ya camp at nephew's "El Rancho Abraham RV Park an' Goat Farm", ya don't pay no rent.....more money in the pocket. When ya eat balony an' hot dogs, ya don't have to pay for T-bone steak an' lobster tails. I live on the cheap. I save money by liv'n on the cheap. That why I don't worry bout "how much this gonna cost?" when I fire up "Sally da house" an' head down the road a piece.

I were think'n yesterday bout head'n up the Texas coast, camp'n at a few places along the way. Maybe a stop in Galveston. I lived in Galveston back in the 60's ya know. Catched my neighbors car on fire "fix'n" something on the motor. Boy howdy was my neighbor jump'n up an' down. Good thing I had firefight'n train'n in the Navy. I can fix anything....an' know how to put the fire out.

Last time I was in Galveston, I couldn't find no place to camp. Got throwed out of a big grocery store park'n lot at 3 oclock in the morn'n. Park on the seawall, what surrounds Galveston, an' here come the cops....."git out, no camp'n". Park down on the beach an' here come a hunnert wild kids hav'n a party till 3am. Ya know how that went....right? I'm think'n Galveston ain't RV friendly. Anyhows, I'm just think'n.

Sure do hope I'm fit for a round of golf Friday afternoon. If not, I rekon there's always Monday. I'll go Monday if'n I feel like it or not. I got me a challenge ya know. Oh wait.....weather permit'n.   

Big toe recovery

How do ya make a short post when ya got a mind that just "keeps on tick'n"? I had thought bout Timex when I said that, but done forgot what that damn rabbit said. It WAS a rabbit....right?

So how's the big toe? This morn'n it's much better, thank ya very much. How much better I don't have the slightest idea 'cause I don't know what "pain" numbers mean. You know what I'm talk'n bout....them numbers the doctor ask ya when he wants to know how much pain you in. Anybody with a lick of sense knows that number "0" mean you feel'n like ya got the world by the tail. I don't recall ever be'n a number "0" in my entire life. So....if'n you stand'n on a railroad track an' get run over by a train...is that a number 10??? If ya live through it that is.  Would dead be a number 13? Or from the doctors standpoint, be a number "0"? See what I'm talk'n bout? Them numbers are screwed up.

Sunday night I was lay'n there on the couch. The ol' toe was feel'n a bit better. So's I go to bed think'n a good night rest would fix all that ails me. Then the throb'n starts. With every beat of my heart, some little bastard smaks my toe with a hammer. Sit up, lay down, sit up, lay down....look for the little bastard with the hammer. The rest of the night was spent on the couch. Soak'n, sit'n up, lay'n down, still look'n for that little bastard with the hammer.

Right bout 8am, I was finally able to close my eyes an' fall into a deep sleep. Sadie Mae jump up on the couch, land on that toe an' it all start over again. Sadie Mae had waked up "the little bastard". Throughout the day the poor ol' big toe began to feel much better. Some of the swell'n went down. I could walk on my right foot....Yeee Haw Billy Bob....you gonna live.

Slept all night (Monday) in the bed. Only waked up one time to pee. So I rekon I'm on the heal. But I sure as hell ain't gonna push it an' go danc'n or nuttin like that.

Holy crap.....did ya look at the weather thingy? It's summer already in some parts of the country. It was rather warm at "da house" here in the Texas coastal bend. Accord'n to my Walmart special temp thingy, it was 94 degs yesterday afternoon. What I do believe lies to me on the warmer days. I don't trust the accuracy of electronic gadgets made in China.

I don't rekon many of ya been watch'n "The Voice"? The old Billy Bob has an' let me tell ya...."Holy Shit, them kids can sing". If'n they was to ask me to choose just one for a winner, I couldn't do it. As much as I like country music an' country music be'n red blooded American music, that chick with the horn rim glasses.....Wow Boy Howdy. There gonna be some upcom'n stars come out of all this competition.

I'm out of here....just see that little bastard with the hammer. I'll feed his ass with a couple 500mg Bayer.
Laters....

UPDATE....Broke toe or not

Dang, I broke my big toe. That what I thought anyhows. Ya see, bout 5:30 this morn'n I notice it were cold in "da house", 64 degs. My feet were cold stick'n out the bottom of my "summer" blankie. I got a cramp in my secondary leg. That's the left one ya know. I scramble out of bed....fall flat on my ass. In the process, my right big toe slam head long into the hardwood floor. I hear a crack, or what sound like a crack an' my big toe start scream'n in pain. I cain't get up...."where's the beef" or something like that. My left leg is still got a cramp in it an' the right one ain't work'n. I crawls down the hall, voic'n my opinion....cuss'n words an' stuff, an' grabs holt to the bathroom door handle thingy for leverage. 

Well, I might as well stay up since I hobbled my way to the kitchen. Brewed me up a pot, sit down on the couch sip'n up a cup....an' hugged my big toe. By now, 8am, if'n it was broked, it would be as big as a sore thumb. But it ain't. I won't be do'n no hikes in the woods today.

One other reason I won't be do'n no hikes today....it's rain'n. I'm tell'n ya right now, weather has got a thing against us older people. I remember back when I was just a little tyke, if'n it rained, we was out in it play'n all sorts of fun games. Splash'n through mud puddles....barefooted, stuff like that. Get all sop'n wet. "Moms" holler'n, "Billy, get out of that mud puddle fore I wear you out". Rain was good back then.

Bout 3 or 4....maybe 5 year ago, rain follow me around everwhere I go. I were under a black cloud that year. I went to the "slabs" to spend the winter. It rained. My front yard was a lake.....what was named "Lake Billy Bob". NOTE! Somewhere's is a whole year of lost photos....gone, pooof, just like that. Well, I guess I have no proof of my own lake. Maybe in a earlier blog. I'll check an' get back with ya.

 See....I tole you I would find it.
But anyhows, that year rain was my worst enemy. I would travel mile after mile in beautiful weather, set up camp somewheres, an' the next day it would rain all holy hell. Some were just a little gusher shower.....bout half a inch, something like that. Just enough to make mud pies an' float a boat. Others were torrential....ya don't even wanna think bout go'n outside. It happened every where I went that year....2007 or 08 I think it was. Rain sucks.

I were sit'n there on the couch watch'n golf. Sadie Mae says...."HEY WAKE UP, what's for supper"? How bout a big ol' pot of Billy Bob Beef Stew Soup?

That's bout two gallon of soup in that there pot. Tastes pretty good if'n I do say so myself. Ain't the best, but it'll do. Sadie Mae says it's excellent.....long as it ain't got no dry dog kibbles in it.

*******************************************************************************
4pm update:
Ok, I think I may have made a poor diagnosis of my poor ol' big toe. Now I'm think'n it is broke....or a severe jam.

 It swoled up pretty good.

Been very painful all day since this morn'n. Cain't move it without a bunch of pain. Well, I can move it with my fingers, scream "MOMS"....if'n that means anything. Cain't do no walk'n on it at all. Warm water soak and ice packs didn't help. How do ya fix a broke toe if it's really broke?
 Anyhows, I'm gonna stay off'n it for a couple days....see what happens.

Saturday already???

Boy howdy, there been a bunch of talk on the blogs bout not be'n able to do stuff no more. They all have one thing in common....they older folks. When I says older folks, I ain't talk'n bout no 60 year old. 60 year old folks is all full of piss an' vinegar...energy to spare. After that, it's a downhill trek....stumbl'n over rocks, fall'n down, aches an' pains, heart pound'n a hunnert mile a hour....cain't breath. Stuff like that.

Days turn into weeks......poooof, just like that. Here it is Saturday already an' I ain't even got my last Monday chores done yet. I really ain't got no daily chores, but was just mak'n a point that I ain't done nuttin since last Monday. What little I got to do, can be done in bout a hour or two.....or less if'n I don't take no smoke an' coffee breaks. But I don't mind step'n over stuff lay'n on the floor, so what's the hurry?

I bet ya folks think the old Billy Bob is a disgust'n trash bag kind of guy what live in a disgust'nly filthy house. Well, I ain't.....I'm tidy. Not "spic an' span" kind of tidy, but I knows where everthing is what I layed down. Well, everthing but in the kitchen. I done give up on that thing.

 There jist ain't no hope for a "bachelor pad" kitchen.

You think State Parks are expensive in Texas, you should check out Louisiana. I'm think'n if'n I goes to Louisiana, I ain't gonna be stay'n no state parks. Research has bout wored me slap out, so "that's all I have to say bout that"....Gump. "So what ya gonna do Billy Bob". I don't know...go to the golf course an' "B-slap" a golf ball?

Sometimes when I go to the golf course, I get so pissed at that golf'n ball I want to "b-slap" every tree on the course with one my golf'n stiks. You can ask old "pesky neighbor" Wayne bout that. Wayne says to me...."NO NO NO". I "b-slap" the hell out that golf cart with a hi dollar golf'n stik. Break that sucker slap in two. No I ain't no violent kind of guy. I love animals. Break'n golf clubs is a normal approach for a wonderful fun filled golf'n day. But then ya got these golfers what have self control. Don't break nuttin no matter how bad they swak the ball. Them guys ain't got no redneck blood in 'em at all. Ya gotta break sumthing guys.....Sheesh!

Rain half the night. Lightning strik'n out there in the yard. Thunder sound like dynamite. Scare hell out of Sadie Mae an' keep me awake for hours. All sunshiny today with a little 15 mile a hour breeze. 

Excuses

It just stopped rain'n. Not much rain, but enough to spoil a good golf'n day. Ya see, when it rains on a golf course, they put out signs what says..."cart path only". That means if'n ya don't hit your golf ball close to the cart path, you gonna be go'n for a long hike. Carts must stay on the cart paths.....or the cart path cops is gonna git ya. Make ya read out loud the hand wrote cart path only rules of the ins, outs, why fors, whens an' wheres....stuff like that bout. By the time ya finish, ya don't want to play no more golf.

I surely ain't got nuttin to discuss today. I rekon I done wore out all the talk of a Louisiana trip. But I did enjoy it. Got myself all excitis think'n bout it. The trip is still not set in fresh concrete. Or to be PC, not set in stone.

I don't know what the hell I wanna do. Yesterday I went outside to walk around the yard a bit. That when I realized "I cain't breath". Took a shot of my Advair breathalyzer thingy think'n that might help by open'n up my air pipes an' I would breath like a 20 year old. "Well Billy Bob, ya can forget that shit. You ain't walk'n nowheres no more".
I exercise my lungs on a daily basis. I breath in an' out bout 40/50 times a minute.

Old string bean/coffee bean.....Butterbean, that's it, sure did make me do some think'n. Not bout stay'n in Texas instead of go'n to Louisiana, but when he says..."I sure hope ya don't back out". Here lately, I been find'n any excuse in the books to not do something. Bad weather has been my all time favorite (but I'm right on that one). I have me a bunch of "issues" what I been fall'n back on as a excuse when the weather is nice (but I'm right on that one too). I need to get excitis, that what I need.

I know how long it take me to hook up an' get on the road....pick'n up stuff I throwed in the yard, disconnect'n water an' electric, hook'n up "that jeep"....stuff like that. Right bout a hour all total....onest I get off'n the couch an' away from this damn computer.

I crank up "Sally da house" yesterday just for the hell of it an 'cause it needed cranked up. I were think'n the sound of a big ol' powerful V-8 engine would stir up my excitement, but it didn't do nuttin. So's I crank up the Onan generator for the same reasons an' that didn't do nuttin neither. Now if'n I was to hear the sound of a golf'n cart crank'n up, I betcha a dollar I gonna get all excitis.

I suppose what I'm try'n to say is "the old Billy Bob ain't excited". Refer back to the excuses.

In the mean time, I got things to do. Laters.... 

Cajun Country...in the mak'ns

Nephew Joseph says....."WHAT??? You're go'n to Louisiana just to listen to music an' eat cajun food"?

Well, no, not exactly. But yes to both them questions. Everbody what parks within a block of "da house"  know's the old Billy Bob is got cajun music on this hard drive. I remember one time I was on the ferry at Galveston, Texas. I had cajun tunes what was play'n on the CD player....what I had put on a CD. Half ways across Galveston Bay, there was a crowd of people what had congregated around "Alice" stomp'n their feet an' slap'n knees to the beat of cajun music. Nobody was complain'n "turn that shit down".
But anyhows, there ain't nuttin like be'n right there amungst a hunnert or so people listen'n to "live" cajun music. What better place to do that than Louisiana? As far as cajun food goes, I can make my own no matter where I'm at. I know how ya know. Well.....some of it anyhows.....like awethentic cajun gumbo. But there ain't nuttin like sit'n in a little Cajun eat'em up be'n served by a good look'n "hoochi coochi mama" cajun waitress.

And then there's the culture. Little house shacks build along the bayous. Homemade wooden skiffs park in the front yard half full of bayou water. Clothes dry'n out on the line. Kids run'n round half neekid. A alligator chained up to a tree. That's Louisiana folks.....country.

Holy crap....I could live in that there shack. Sit out there on "da porch" sip'n up a cup an' catch'n me some big ol' catfish right there in the front yard.

I always have a place in my heart for Cajuns.  'cause they are country an' know how to live country. Ain't no need to say no more bout that. A unique people what will one day become extinct. Due to government regulations on housing, fish'n an' sanitation issues (outhouse). Just had to throw that in there ya know. 

So how does the old Billy Bob feel today? "OLD" for one thing. My damn back is kill'n me. I'm freak'n depressed with all this weather stufff. Yup, it's nasty outside, wind blow'n, look like it gonna rain....ain't the first sign of sunshine.

Caught that "damn goat" eat'n my stuff yesterday. He done eat the seat off'n my chair and chew up a handlebar grip on the "billy bike". 

 Damn goat......

A rare moment....Billy Bob is hold'n a baby. Last one I held, I drop on the floor. Sheesh!!!!....I'm just kidd'n, don't believe that shit.