No rhyme or reason to this post folks, just random thoughts swirling through my mind. To paraphrase our favorite Philadelphian (Anne Marie of Philly), I need to "flush this out of my head."
Update: he actually took three "samples." One off the middle of my back (which I didn't and couldn't see) which he thinks is basil cell carcinoma. Clock is a ticking folks.
Next Thursday I have a "similuated seed implant." I was advised to wear loose sweatpants. I don't own a pair of sweatpants but I do own a hoodie. Maybe I can wear the hoodie and no pants. Whaddya think? I asked my oncologist "Is this another invasive procedure?" meaning "Are you going to ram yet something else up one of my orifices that takes me three weeks to recover from?" With a resigned and exasperated look that one gives a whining child he assured me that this procedure was non-invasive. He said it was a CRT that would monitor my implanted radio active seeds to make sure they haven't moved. Moved? Sounds to me like it they moved I have to go directly to jail, do not pass Go and start the whole procedure all over again. We shall see.
I'm looking forward to spending the rest of the summer tending my garden, taking afternoon naps, makeing homemade soups from fresh local veggies, oranizing my 70,000 plus digital photos and scanning the rest of my old print photos, reading more Holocaust book and celebrity biographies (an odd combination I admit but hey, it's what I enjoy reading), updating my Ancestry.com account, planning next year's Bloggerama Ding a Long Rama Lama Ding Dong, and....oh yes....getting married. That should happen around the middle of July.
New subject, new paragraph.
So here's the deal on the wedding. We were going to have it in our backyard but things started to get complicated (big) again. Both Bill and I want a simple wedding with a minimum of fanfare (actually none). However, I would like some of my friend Mark H.'s photos but that's up in the air because Mark has other committments and can't make a solid committment to me. I was going to have the local justice of the peace (no pun intended) marry us but my boss suggested a friend of his. I checked out the friend, a former priest, who specializes in non-demonational weddings, and was immediately turned off by his website that says he travels the world for weddings. Also, neither Bill or I want any regligious conotations to our wedding. None. We don't need any swinging, smoking incense pots at our nupitals. Not that we have anything against religion or that this former priest would do that, but it's not for us, heathens that we are. We know that when we die there is nothing. A BIG BLANK so what is the point? Yes Virginia, when you die that's it. End of story.
Then there was the guest list which kept growing and growing. "How can we leave them out if we invite them?" That kind of thing you know. I briefly considered having a catered affair at our house after the ceremony then got to thinking all those shoes walking on our carpet and who knows where the soles of those shoes have trod? Anyone who has been to our house knows that you take off your shoes before you enter Casa Tipton-Kelly. It's our thing. People spit in the streets, greasy gas stations where one gets gas, pee on the floor at the bottom or public urinals, and what not. Bill and I are not only queer we're quirky. Two Q's for R & B.
So now we're back to the Justice of the
A long blog post here but I have to clear these things out of my head. All this "invasion of privacy" bruhauhau that's going on now. Hey folks, check it out. Put your name in Google and everything you ever put on the Internet (Facebook, Blogger, etc) shows up including all the photos you've ever posted. If you think you have any privacy left you are seriously blowing irrediscent bubbles out of your rear end. There is no privacy today. Having said that, there is one thing that angers me about this current controversy. And that is the continuing lying about it. Come one gubment, fess up. Republican or Democrat, they all do it.....lie. Even as I type this diatribe, I know it will end up at the NSA monster data bank in Utah to be analyzed by some overpaid security analyst. You know what folks? I'm too old to be bothered by this petty crap. I really am. So here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to live my life (in between doctor's appointments which I think is pretty much of a permanent fixture in my life from here on out), try to stay out of people's way, try not to piss too many people off, try to protect what little money I have left from scammers who prey on old folk like me, and try to have a little fun (non-sexual of course) and laughs until the final curtain comes down on this show called Ronald W. Tipton. As the first George Bush said referring to his one term presidency "It's been a helluva ride." And indeed it has. And I ain't finished yet.