I finally got my new passport in the mail, so I’m ready for International travel once again. I find it odd that there’s not a more secure way to apply and receive these documents other than the U.S. Mail. I was worried when I had to return my current passport that had yet to expire, concerned that it might get hijacked, lost, or stolen. It’s like having a colonoscopy, good for another ten years. Thankfully, everything went smoothly. Now, if there was just someplace to go. 

We got a few more home decorations hung yesterday as we continue to prepare for October guests. Friends and family are headed this way, starting in just a few weeks. Today, would normally be “Tourist Thursday” but my wife accepted a friend’s offer to go shopping and visit a Selby Gardens, a place I’ve already been. That clears me for lunch with my son and granddaughter while the cleaning crew does its work. As long as my wife stays busy, she’s happy, plus we’ll have an extensive touristy experience together in Pittsburgh next week. 

I’m all set for my CTA scan in a few weeks. Computed Tomography Angiography is what it’s short for, combining a coronary angiogram with an injection of dye to track blood flow though the heart.  It’s like taking your car in for a routine service check, it seems like they always find more to fix. I’m sure that after seventy years I have several rusted out parts. It reminds me of a poem I wrote many years ago (See Post #17):

Rust In Peace

People say I’m younger,
Than others my age look.
That my body’s youthful,
In any fitness book.

They like the way I dress,
And my childish grin.
My hair’s still there,
My figure thin.

But trapped inside,
Many years of stress.
Anger and pain,
I must confess.

Disappointment,
Pain and loss.
Troubles at home,
A demanding boss.

Looks good outside,
But rusty inside.
So many cracks,
I’m able to hide.

Like a vintage auto,
Shiny and sleek.
But my undercarriage,
Is rusted out and weak.

Blood pressure high,
Reflexes slow.
Another gasket,
About to blow.

Used to be fast,
Much in demand.
Cocky and confident,
The world in hand.

Just a few wrinkles,
Teeth still white.
A couple of dents,
From a fist fight.

Tan and fit,
You think I’m lookin’ good.
Just wait until,
You look under my hood.

Looks good outside,
But rusty inside.
So many cracks,
I’m able to hide.

Like a vintage auto,
Shiny and sleek.
But my undercarriage,
Is rusted out and weak.

Rev up my engine,
And hear it sputter.
My arteries clogged,
With too much butter.

A little beer gut,
But you should see my liver.
A little soft in spots,
But I can still deliver.

In no time flat,
Zero to Eighty.
Driven only on Sunday,
By an old lady.

When my time runs out,
They’ll look at me and say.
What a good looking corpse,
He even hid the gray.

Looks good outside,
But rusty inside.
So many cracks,
I’m able to hide.

Like a vintage auto,
Shiny and sleek.
But my undercarriage,
Is rusted out and weak

johnstonwrites.com
Copyright April 2009