This day comes around every year and I know you all expect the usual January 17th report of how I'm doing, right? This is the day that I have been married to my second wife for 26 years (divorced 21), It's 25 glorious years since I stopped putting cigarettes in my mouth and sucked on them and of course it's 22 years since my first hair transplant.
My second wife passed away about 2 years after we split up, she was found dead in a parked car in Northern California. I finally quit smoking as a one year anniversary present to both my new wife of one year and myself and the hair transplant was so painful and expensive that I swore I'd NEVER do it again! Then about 3 years later, before caller ID, I answered a ringing phone and it was the doctor's office calling, telling me that they had a last minute cancellation and they offered me the $500 deposit off of my procedure price, plus they were willing to do it for a mere $5000, compared to the $7500 I had paid for the first one, if I could schedule it for the following day, assuming I would have an HIV test today, before coming in, because they refused to work on anyone with HIV. Being of Jewish heritage, I loved a good deal and took the opportunity to look like my old hairy self, ouch! I guess I had been doing the hard to detect "comb-over" long enough. Isn't it funny how the memory of pain fades away so quickly, with the thought of a discount just over the horizon?
So today was rather unusual. I needed to go to Fry's pharmacy to pick up some prescriptions and I hadn't driven my car in a few days due the weather being so frigid. One night it was actually in the upper teens and this is Scottsdale, AZ. So I walked back to where my car was parked, away from the severe elements and as I walked, I heard this God awful screaming coming from somewhere behind the garage. When I turned the corner, I looked up on top of a telephone pole and there stood 2 Chicken Hawks, just looking down at me and trying their best to poop on my red Corvette. I waved my arm and clapped my hands, but to no avail. I don't know if you're familiar with Chicken Hawks, but they're big enough to killed chickens and carry them away, thus the name. Now, if I were good at this writing thing, I'd be able to give you a link to see how big these suckers are, but that's not me, so you're on your own!
I fired up my car and fought my way to Fry's in 3 PM traffic. When I got there, I was required to pay a new copay for the same drugs I'd been getting for free with my health insurance. I got stuck with the Middle Eastern fellow that always waits on me and never ever gets anything right. I decided to just pay the copay and hope for better help next time. I drove home without incident and when I put my car away, there on the ground laid one of the Chicken Hawks, deader than Kelsey's nuts! (An expression that my father-in-law used regularly) I kind of felt bad for the poor guy, like we had bonded in some way. I kind of touched it with my shoe and gave it a little nudge............nothing! Yep, it was surely dead. Did it's mate get pissed and finally push it off the telephone pole? Even if it had, why couldn't it just fly away? Maybe it's mate just got tired of all that constant screaming and gave it a lethal peck to the brain? Or was it just plain old, old age and natural causes? I've decided not to have an autopsy, but the funeral is planned for tomorrow. I'm inviting the cat!