It’s been a rough few months in the Cactus Patch. A pesky winter turned into a monsoon-like spring, and bandit Squirrels raided my bird feeders. Now, I have to contend with the sitcom on television known as politics. A demented, crooked old man holding off a bit younger old man, and one of them will wind up in the most expensive nursing home in our nation. My political wound was about healed, and now this indictment thing knocked the scab right on off, causing me extreme discomfort. Momo, my nurse wife, wants to stitch it up with sewing needles and thread. I rubbed some Whataburger ketchup on the wound and took a double shot of Irish Whiskey, and it’s healing nicely.
We took a trip to Colorado last week to visit Momo’s daughter and grandkids and sell Momo custom purses at a craft show, but that didn’t pan out. As most of you know, Colorado is one of the most liberal states in the union. California used to be, but folks moved from there to the rocky mountain high that old John Denver used to warble about. We saw plenty of trippy folks when we shopped at Sprouts for regular cereal and milk. Everyone in the store looked like models from an L.L. Bean catalog. Lots of flannel, leggings, facial hair, patchouli oil fragrance, and expensive hiking boots. We found some all-natural, gluten-free, free-range raisin brand and Tibetan goat’s milk, as well as some Mrs.Sasquatch gluten-free, sugar-free cookies. The girl at the checkout had so many piercings on her face that she looked like she took a head dive into a tackle box. She was very mountain trippiesque. The 6,588-foot altitude played hell with my breathing, so I figure most of the folks in Colorado Springs are perpetually high from oxygen deprivation, and you add weed on top of that.
Notes From The Cactus Patch 