The slog I refer to is what I was hoping was my long slog into middle age. That slog is getting shorter. Precipitously. And I don't like it. I've spent the last couple of days of my leave bouncing from doctor to doctor for various check ups. One visit ended better than I expected. It did not involve, as I had feared, a scope where a scope really is not welcome. Need I say more?
The other ended up with me getting these:
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| Readers, seriously... |
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Is it not enough that I already where bi-focal contact lenses? No, apparently, it is not. It is now necessary to throw readers on top of them as my eyes have decided to throw in the towel when it comes to reading while wearing contacts. That's delightful. No, it isn't.
Ah, middle-age? I ask you the following: Is this
MY future?
I don't think I'm quite ready to embrace a mansierre (thank you, Kramer). Really, I'm not. I promise.
From the journal 25 years ago today: I am in the Hialeah Chapel listening to President Benson speaking (Editorial aside - it was General Conference, April 1986.
He just posed a very good question: Is all well in Zion? It appears that things could be better...
Pride really is dangerous says Presidente Benson. It's looking after our very own interests an on one else's.
You will always be my hero Mike, until your moobs are a c-cup or more.
ReplyDeleteI remember that conference, it was President Benson's first as prophet. (I bet your mission call had Pres Kimball's signature on it.) Did you go to Coco's for a cheap steak and black beans and rice in between sessions? Wasn't that place called Coco's? It was up the street from the church.
That was King Yayo's, brother.
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