Showing posts with label Journey To The Center of Your Guts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Journey To The Center of Your Guts. Show all posts

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

The Bottom Line

Greetings friends and hello from the deadbeat vacationing author of this blog. It truly has been a near Tibetan monk retreat time. You may or may not have noticed my absence on your blogs and even my complete avoidance of email connection. In true Tibetan style I have chosen to eschew the modern trappings of electronic communication and have, instead, immersed myself in unbridled electronic entertainment - oh, and books.

I have become addicted to Monarch of The Glen, a lovely BBC series the whole family is now unreasonably invested in, reveled in Cranford with Judith Dench, buried my nose in Two Years Before The Mast which I’m nearly reading at traffic lights due to utter fascination (and the idea of a nearly empty California which baffles the mind of this California citizen – one among 37 million), and have consumed yet more books on healthy eating, organic food growing, and politics, while falling even more in love with author Michael Pollan and Polyface Farms owner, Joel Salatin.

It has been a lovely retreat and, frankly, I think I look great in the vibrant colors and jaunty hat. (Unfortunately, I was JUST out of the frame on the right there.)

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Now I come to you on the eve of an event I knew you wouldn’t want to miss: my colonoscopy.

Yes, that’s right saddle pals. It’s time to once again purposely inflict upon my person nausea and epic evacuations, all in the name of health. Oxymoronic though it may seem, I will chug volumes of nasty tasting salt cocktails whilst rendering myself permanently adhered to the porcelain throne. If you’ve never read Dave Barry’s account of this marvelous adventure, I encourage you to click http://www.miamiherald.com/dave_barry/story/427603.html.

But don’t eat or drink while reading or you could cause severe damage to yourself or your computer. Especially if you’re prepping for a colonoscopy. The damage could even include others.

You may remember Katie Couric, in near Jules Verne style, grinning at us in her drug-induced stupor atop a hospital gurney while inviting us to go journeying into her “center of the earth,” as it were. We were treated to pictures of her cavernous insides so that we, too, might see how simple this procedure is to endure. No offense, Katie, and I know your heart was in the right place (I think I saw it), but big deal. It’s not that phase that’s really the problem. Please feel free to bring cameras along and don your headgear for the spelunking part of my adventure tomorrow. I’ll be like you, blissfully drunken, or if I’m really lucky, knocked out. But where were the cameras and where were you (like we don’t know) during the PREP part of this mission? Not nearly as filmable. We all know how that part works:

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I knew you wouldn’t want to miss this deeply important aspect of my life so, out of the goodness of my heart and typical thoughtfulness, I return to include you.

I don’t know. Maybe this was a crappy idea.




© Copyright 2010

Photos Courtesy of: Flikr/Wallpapers Desktodesk