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Get off my LAWN! "Grumpy Old Farts"

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My Wednesday doctor's office visit revealed I've lost 8 pounds since surgery. Ring's a bit loose, yet a comfortable fit.

What I know now is come next surgery, the freezer will be well stocked with quick eats.
Glad you finally got your ring. :)

As to the loose fit, duct tape is the correct solution.....................
 
My Wednesday doctor's office visit revealed I've lost 8 pounds since surgery. Ring's a bit loose, yet a comfortable fit.

What I know now is come next surgery, the freezer will be well stocked with quick eats.

Talk about a lousy weight loss strategy. :rollno: (Kidding - keep on healing!) Another effective weight loss strategy that I can't recommend is divorce. That's a beautiful ring. :)
 
Tell me there's a morgue in your story?

Halloween, ya' know?
You asked for it.

A true story I haven't thought about in years.

New Year's Eve, 1971, I admitted myself to the Army hospital in West Berlin. Spent two months there, where they decided I was no longer fit for active duty, and sent me back to the States. I couldn't sleep for squat, and got to know the night staff of the hospital pretty well. OK, better than pretty well. They had some hash that really helped me sleep. One night, after a few of us toked up in an empty patient room (remember, this was an Army hospital (I loved those guys!)), one of them suggested to the others that a field trip was in order. They got all covered up in fatigue jackets and boots, but I had to go with my hospital jammies and slippers. We walked across the courtyard in a couple of feet of snow.

To the morgue.

OK, I'm started to freak out a bit. They said "no, wait!" Once inside, another key on the ring opened an unmarked door that revealed steps going down.

We went down...to a Nazi autopsy room! It was empty except for a large marble slab on a pedestal and a large painted swastika still on the wall.

And me in a hospital gown and slippers.

They all got a good laugh out of my discomfort.

I still got the best end of that deal, with them cutting me in on their nightly puff club.
 
Tell me there's a morgue in your story?

Halloween, ya' know?

In those 11 years before I was born, and before the family moved, my older sister enjoyed playing in the funeral home next door. I grew up two doors down from a synagogue but it never struck me as a place to play?

A talent, or skill, I don't know? but befriending funeral directors came easy to her. What I know as a fact is the funeral director hated dealing with her as she bargained down to what she knew as a fact were rock bottom deals.

What I can speak to along the order of a — at least a temporary — morgue in a bus with wings looks a great deal like an out-of-service toilet.
 
That'll do it for the day. Ciao!

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My random quotation feeds from Moby Dick and Shakespeare's works makes pre-dawn bio runs a little more or a little less weird, depending on my frame of mind.

The new henna batch worked brilliantly and I'm completely pleased. I'd forgotten the feeling with the advance of age. Yes, I am now as red as intended.
 

Thank you, I feel it's truly exquisite.

The return of the ring holds some personal significance. It was in late February, that, with the lion's share of my personal work complete, I saw the intent of the original ring was complete. The original was created as a bespoke piece five years ago that month. I shared some ideas for an upgrade with a friend whose own travel plans took her to the same jeweler in Italy.

Shipped her the ring on an overnight deal, because it absolutely had to be at her house before she flew. The ring arrived at her house on exactly the day of the shutdown. Six months later ...

She's in Italy with my ring at the jewelers' on the eve of the autumnal equinox. A flurry of emails, an agreement, and it's a done deal. Takes her a good while to get back, mail arrives Friday and

I'm very red again. Just in time for my final video (this year) with my bass!
 
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