Hidey-Ho, There…
Here I am, back in blogland after a week in the wilderness of "other stuff to do."
Katherine, the wife person, and I spent a day at the Pima County Fair looking at the livestock, wandering through the hall of pitchmen, and marveling at the availability of deep fried foods. We also marveled at the crowds of people who had apparently prepared for this colorful fat food orgy for years.
Man, that midway was a fabulosity of fatness, an oblation to obesity, a demonstration of failed body-shame. Actually a very healthful experience. When I was recovering from major heart surgery three years ago I re-upped my exercise program by walking in the mall. We called it "watching the fat people" and it was a continuing reminder that it’s possible to dig your grave with your teeth.
And the pitchmen were wonderful. The fair and carney pitchman is piece of pure Americana, the first and greatest American salesman, a man who sells as much for the pitch as the product. Super absorbent sponges, miracle cleaners, fifteen hundred dollar sets of cookware, are the excuses for the pitch, and the pitch is prose poetry, verbal break dancing.
Other stuff…
We celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary. For a couple of days.
And still other stuff…iness…
I love living in Tucson. It’s a desert Eden, but that’s the problem: There’s a snake in every Eden and here in the Old Pueblo the snake is allergies. When people started to move to Tucson from places like Moline or Cleveland they wanted their yards and gardens to look like Moline and Cleveland. The planted non-desert plants, ones that pollinated by casting pollen to the winds and the collective nasal passages. (Most desert plants are pollinated by insects and bats and critters like that.)
Over the years of living in an extremely dry climate with ferociously high temperatures the collective nasal passages turned into cracklin’ and looked like the parchment on a well-cooked leg of lamb.
Hey, Presto! Allergies.
This is the only town in America where they sell nose spray in pint bottles.
I have found that not breathing disturbs my sleep and sleep deprivation in turn reduces me to something with the alertness of a mushroom. It is hard to be blogalicious if you are a mushroom.
I’m feeling better now, thanks to massive homeopathic doses of stinging nettle. Don’t ask.
9:22:25 PM 
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