Saturday, December 28, 2002

Gladys, my wayward ovary, is now scheduled for laparoscopic repairs on January 30. Personally, I'd prefer to just take her out to dinner and a movie and try to patch up our differences, but there you are. She remains completely unrepentant, and oblivious to the fact that her partner, Muriel, hasn't given me any problems in --oh, I'd say a good twenty years. There's no pleasing some folks.

Went out sledding yesterday for the first time in at least two decades; this is one of the benefits of having a niece and nephew, of course. A whole bunch of assorted relatives and friends hauled various slippery objects out to an Indianapolis golf course, then deliberately sat or lay down on said objects and allowed other relatives and friends to push us down the hill. Someone had previously constructed a little hillock in the snow for everyone's coccyx-breaking pleasure; this permitted us to make two discoveries:

1. When you're trying to hit a big bump in the snow on purpose, you'll find the task quite difficult.
2. When you're hoping to miss the tallest part of the bump, you'll usually hit it dead-on.

Rick and I now hold the men's and women's solo altitude and hang-time records for the Sarah Shank Golf Course sled run in the over-45 division. We are now entertaining bids to endorse two different prescription anti-inflammatory drugs. Just wanted the big pharmaceutical companies to know we were available.


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