Later this morning I go into my health provider for yet another “fantastic voyage” as part of their overall campaign to help me get healthier and become aware of how my body parts are holding up to the wear and tear of my somewhat spastic but active lifestyle.
At the moment, I’m hungrier than a coyote enforced to live warily on the outskirts of the Donner cabin in the Sierra. Coffee and bland
Jell-O just doesn’t cut it for breakfast. I’m also nervous. But the good news is: just two more intrusions and it’s done. That’s just great. The better news is that after this is all done, I’m going to the LA County Fair to indulge in my secret vices of betting on large horses that have almost now chance of ever winning a race, and kicking tires of new tractors in the farm implements exhibits.
I have an unusual horse racing routine I practice at the LA County Fair. I park my friends and picnic lunch under a tree well beyond the turn into the backstretch. I enjoy my kosher hot dog, slurp my fresh-squeezed icy lemonade and wait for the starter’s gates to clang open. Then I lie down on the grass near the fence and put my ear to the ground and listen for the thunder as the horses come on around*. It’s then that I know I’m back in Pomona at the County Fair**.
It will be then that I realize my day of indignity at the gentle hands of my health provider are done. It could be worse. I could be my dog. “Sr. Perro” who’s been forced to have several exams this week. I’m so glad I don’t come from a species that scent marked its territories using anal glands. I feel more for the indignity of Sr. Perro than I do for myself.
But hey, someone has to be the pack alpha here on my little mountaintop in rural northern San Diego County. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it—Jim Forbes on 09/14/2007 on my way to Kaiser for my doc's version of "a fantastic voyage.". Yeow!!!!
* and ** both inspired by and copied from folk rock pioneer John Stewart's album, California Blood Lines.