Not a good weekend here at the old homestead. Woke up Saturday, and spent the next seven hours in an intestinal nightmare. Then I shivered and napped for another eight hours except for three calls from the Clinton campaign. Ate a baked potato. Slept another eight hours. Woke up Sunday with a calm stomach, but weak knees, sore abdomen, and pinchy twinges in my back, not to mention three more calls from the Clinton campaign. Ate another baked potato.
I believe strongly in the healing power of a baked potato for most of what ails me. Wish I believed as strongly in any candidate for public office. I was beginning to believe Hillary had called down a curse upon me after I cast my early ballot after the luncheon Friday afternoon. My brain was set on High Foggy all Saturday. Everything seemed like a bad community playhouse production of the Wizard of Oz. That Yellow Brick Road is just your intestine, Mama, and dang if those flying monkeys didn't get inside it!
Turned out six of the seven school staff members at our annual luncheon Friday had the same churning gut weekend. I'm not sure if they voted, but I bet Hillary and Bill kept their phone ringing. Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain. It's just Bill [and his little dog Toto]. And please pass the soothing pink Pepto Bismal.
© 2008 Nancy L. Ruder
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