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Year 46 almost in the books
In less than 12 hours–tomorrow at 0916 Central Daylight Time–my 46th year of life will end.
The 46th year began in beautiful Denver. The night before, I ate Rocky Mountain Oysters for the first time at the Buckhorn Exchange, one of Denver’s oldest and best-known restaurants. It’s just south of the Broncos’ and Rockies’ stadiums on Interstate 25.
The oysters–fried bull testicles–were delicious, and so was the elk I ate there as well. I got an order of oysters to go, but unfortunately, housekeeping at the Marriott Westminster threw them away. It was a not the best way to start the 46th year.
I drove to Boulder the day after my birthday. Gorgeous drive on US 36. The oysters I ate at a pub there were just as good.
I haven’t been back to Colorado since. I want to get back. Badly. I’m craving Rocky Mountain oysters just as much as real oysters. To satisfy my craving for the real ones, I’m going to have to get back to Louisiana. Soon.
My other travels during my 46th year took me to Des Moines a few times (and once for a side trip to the Quad Cities), to Omaha a few (not for the College World Series, but it’s the only place I can find PIbb Zero these days), to Kansas City more than I can count (no St. Louis since July 2021), and most importantly, back to northwest Arkansas for the first time since 2003.
Des Moines has the only Joe’s Crab Shack within 500 miles. Whataburger has expanded in Kansas City, and now some locations have mobile ordering. I splurged on Whataburger in Arkansas. Plus Fayetteville has the only Whole Foods I have seen with self checkout. Hopefully the new one being built in Overland Park will have it.
I lost a toe in June. I had a very nasty infection pop up on Memorial Day, and it oozed foul-smelling pus. It was grotesque. Amputation was the only solution.
The worst part was staying in the shitty Russell hospital overnight, being stuck with an a-hole who wouldn’t shut the f**k up, who hogged the TV, and worse, being on the side of the room with a window in the midst of a heat wave. If I had to stay more than one night, it would have gotten ugly.
Once I got out of the hospital, it was easy. I only had to go for IV antibiotics for six weeks, no more than two hours per day. I’ve been on oral antibiotics since August, and things are looking better.
Compare that to last year when I had two months of twice daily IVs, not to mention eight weeks of hyperbaric oxygen.
Honestly, if the toe had been removed last year when I had my first surgery, this probably could have been avoided. Better late than never.
I’m going to make it fine without the second toe on my right foot. Now the key is not to lose another.
I see Dr. Custer in a week. I’m glad I won’t have to show her something gross. I have shown Dr. Jones, but not Crista.
I saw Bill, Chris Blair and Dan Canevari in Arkansas in April, along with longtime Razorback athletic administrator Kevin Trainor and Bob Holt from the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette.. First time seeing Cano since my ill-fated brief time working at Southeastern Louisiana University. He’s forgiven me for the shit I caused him in Hammond. I felt bad about it for a long time.
I haven’t seen Peggy since last October. I haven’t seen Caitlyn since November 2019. I haven’t seen Brenda since April 2018. And there are some I haven’t seen in much longer.
I hope this changes during my 47th year.
Another thing I need to change in my 47th year: going long stretches without posting.
I need to discipline myself to post more often, even if it’s something short and pithy. It would probably help in other areas of my life.
The next time I post, I will officially be 46 years old. Time flies.
Your lazy blogger returns
Call me lazy, disinterested, whatever you will. I deserve those epithets for going almost three months without writing something, anything.
The last time I posted was 20 July, the night the Bucks won their first NBA championship in 50 years.
Today, Milwaukee is in mourning. The Brewers were ousted from the National League Division Series in four games by the Braves, the team which occupied that city from 1953-65.
Milwaukee’s offense was putrid, which negated possibly the best pitching staff in the franchise’s 53 seasons (counting the first as the Seattle Pilots).
That was the reverse of 1982, when “Harvey’s Wallbangers” terrorized American League pitching, winning the pennant and blowing the last two games of the World Series to the Cardinals.
My first trip to Colorado was going great…then it wasn’t.
I returned to my room this afternoon and discovered the order of Rocky Mountain Oysters I got to go from the Buckhorn Exchange, the oldest and most famous restaurant in Denver and possible all of Colorado, were gone.
Housekeeping at the Marriott Westminster threw them away.
First, I had no idea housekeeping was coming into the room. I have stayed in at least 15 different Marriott properties in Kansas City, St. Louis, Wichita and other locales, and only once or twice did housekeeping come in, and that was only after I had been at the hotel for three days.
Second, housekeeping is not supposed to touch anything in the room except dirty towels on the bathroom floor.
I made sure the front desk realized it. I would settle for two orders of oysters (not the kind I inhaled in Louisiana). I thought about asking for having at least one night of my stay comped, but I am not that greedy.
The good news was I did get to eat oysters last night at the Buckhorn, as well as elk and bison. I love beef, but I told Andrea, the lovely waitress who took care of me, that I can eat beef anywhere, and it was time to try something different. Great move.
I do well grilling steaks on my George Foreman grill in Russell, just as long as I take them off the grill after three minutes. I can’t remember the last time I ate a restaurant steak. Outback used to be my go-to- in Kansas City and Wichita, and before that, Baton Rouge, but not now. Ruth’s Chris is in Denver, but I’m more than halfway to Boulder, and both locations are a good drive.
Gas is EXPENSIVE in Denver.
When I bought gas this morning, the price listed on the marquee in front of the station was $3.40.
Unfortunately, that was for 85 octane, which is okay in higher elevations, but in almost all of Kansas (except Goodland and a few places which border Colorado), it’s no go.
The 87 octane cost $3.75 a gallon, making it the most expensive fill-up since 2008, when gas was north of $4 a gallon.
Sorry for burying the lead, but I turned 45 at 08:16 MDT (09:16 CDT). I figured I’ve had too many birthdays in Kansas City and it was time for something different.
I was born in the same hospital in the same year as Reese Witherspoon and Peyton Manning. I feel like apologizing to them, not to mention Archie and Olivia Manning, for tarnishing the hospital’s good name.
Last week, I spent time in another state for the first time. More on that later. I promise it won’t be three months.
Foots Prints 