i took the trike; it was such a GLORIOUS day. a few teenagers made fun of me, a few teenagers thought it was cool, and a few people stopped to ask me more, including a mother of a woman with Down's. i hope that she can get it, if no one else, and that it works out.

i saw a man with a Persian Gulf cap and, as i always do, i offered to shake his hand. (unlike the homeless man to whom i tried to give money on friday, the Veteran wasn't afraid of me!) we talked for a while. he told me about being the only survivor in a jeep that hit a land mine. he told me stuff that i told him was none of my business, but that he wanted me to know because people look down on him. he gets crap for serving in Bush Sr's war. what the HELL - he did his job!? any of us refused to do our jobs, and we'd be screwed; i bet he'd get worse. he's homeless, sleeping in ball fields and eating slugs and bugs. (i know they're a good source of protein, and he's using his survivor skills but, as a vegetarian, i'm bugged by that. he found "bugged" very amusing!) he was eyeing the stinky food stands, and i did have $10, and i told him i'd be honored if he'd allow me to buy him lunch - because of what he did for our country. (i don't know if we NEEDED to be in that war - i was very self-absorbed at the time - but i respect soldiers.) he wouldn't accept. at all. he wasn't offended, but damnit he's a man and can makie his own way... we got to talking about the VA, and he was pissed because of the disability rating he got. (his leg is FUCKED from that jeep explosion.) i explained that he can't get 100% because his spine works, and explained how i know (it's my job to collect medical records, and i read them to make sure i don't need other files. plus, there's my own rating...) he took it better from me than from the doctor, i'll tell you... he hit the doctor. he went back to the jeep accident, and walked away. he came back long enough to say that he couldn't talk anymore. (he couldn't. period. i was surprised he came back.) he will haunt me. i will assume he wasn't scamming me, since he didn't take my money, and i have to wonder how often women stop him to talk (even if we're not on tricycles). that truly sucks. i wish better for him. he's only the second homeless vet i've met since i began my crusade of shaking their hands, which i guess is a good ratio... but he's a man, not a statistic.

on the way home, after getting air in the tires (and having to tip because i couldn't hold the gauge), i ran into shelly, bringing lily and dahlia to the apple fest. for those who know the couple: shelly's phish's wife - phish, the former piercer, now bail bondsman. i like her a lot and would like to hang out with her again. so many of my friends don't live nearby. and those who do... there aren't a lot of women around HERE with tattoos, and the only reason i'd stand out next to her is that hers are better. she's a nice lady... anyway, the kids look GORGEOUS.

today, i had a nuclear bone scan. i'm not radioactive anymore :) and wonder if THIS test will have a diagnosis for me?

One of my favorite blogs shares great quotes from the author's vast book collection. Since there are, so very often, poignant lines in the books I read, I have decided to steal the idea from him. The following is actually from a television transcript, but it's BY an author, so I think it fits.

"I guess it doesn't make any different once a man is gone. Medals and speeches and victories are nothing to them anymore. They died and others lived, and nobody knows why it's so. There's nothing we can do for the ones beneath wooden crosses, except perhaps to pause and murmur, Thanks, Pal."
- Ernie Pyle, WWII Journalist, via History Detectives:
Episode 4, Ernie Pyle’s Typewriter, Albuquerque, NM Bloomington, IN and Portland, OR

His writing from the perspective of "the common soldier" won him the Pulitzer in 1944.

Thanks, pal.

after seeing the cricket this afternoon, i walked into the house. my mom hadn't gone to the supermarket yet, so i offered to take her. (i know [a]that she can see enough to drive and [b] that, when she can't, she doesn't drive - but she also knows that [1] i'm feeling well enough to drive and [2] when my pain pills make me even the slightest bit woozy, i don't drive. we have the understanding and, while she could see today, i'm thinking that she prefers when i drive. so now that you know why i drove her just a few miles away...)

it was so damn gorgeous that we parked as far from the store as possible, talking about how sunshine on our sun-starved skin made us feel. we walked to the store and passed two older men getting out of a car in a handicapped spot. i spied a hat with decorations.

"'scuse me, are you a vet?" he sure was; so, of course, i offered my hand and said Thank you.

he called over his buddy, who returned to the car to honor me with a hand shake, as well. they thanked me. i told them that they didn't need to and the first man said, "This made it all worth it."

brings a tear to my eye now: they risked their lives, and i didn't ask where or how or why. risked their lives and a random Thanks in the supermarket parking lot from a zaftig woman wearing glasses "made it all worth it"?

i'm thinking, these fine people aren't getting thanked nearly enough.