One of those freakin' days....
...and you must understand that "freakin'" above stands in for a word I can't make myself use in polite company.
I should be happy today. I've been released from the pokey, I'm feeling much better than when I went in (which I guess is the point of going to the hospital in the first place) and I lost a whole LOT of weight in there. Okay, it was water weight, but I look like a whole new woman here. To top it off, Sis has finally stopped diddling around and bought the laptop she's been wanting, so no more long on-line hunts and discussions of what she wants and doesn't want.
But I'm not happy. It came on the 11 o'clock news last night, the word that Steven Irwin, "The Crocodile Hunter," was killed by a stingray while diving on the Great Barrier Reef. A completely freakish, even absurd way to die. And I cried, alone there in that hospital bed. For his family, especially his 8-year-old daughter Bindi Sue, whose personal sun rose and set on her daddy. Their son is only just three, he won't have a memory of his father. There's Terri, his wife and partner of many years, a soulmate if ever there was one. There's so much work that Steve left incomplete, that's bound to suffer now without his driving force behind it. Important work for animal and wilderness conservation, so much of which was supported by his television appearances.
He was only 44. He was supposed to grow old and watch his daughter take over the family business, Australia Zoo. Okay, some people thought he wasn't the right image of Australia for the rest of us to see, and I admit that for a lot of people he WAS Australia, right or wrong. But behind the persona was so much, intelligence, energy, passion for his chosen calling--life. I just can't believe he's gone.
Without being in the least melodramatic, I can say that I feel I've lost a kinsman. I expect most animal lovers feel much the same.
On to something maybe a little happier. I'm out. Had a long nasty bout with pneumonia. The letters on the screen are still a bit blurry, which always happens when I come home from the pokey. Probably something to do with the high oxygen levels I've been dealing with. It'll straighten out. But in the mean time--forgive the typos. They're not only there, I can't find them to read them because my eyes are trying to crawl into the same socket.
Got a ton of mail that needs answering. It any of you are waiting on it, forgive me, I'll get there when I can. In the mean time I'm going to take a nap.
I should be happy today. I've been released from the pokey, I'm feeling much better than when I went in (which I guess is the point of going to the hospital in the first place) and I lost a whole LOT of weight in there. Okay, it was water weight, but I look like a whole new woman here. To top it off, Sis has finally stopped diddling around and bought the laptop she's been wanting, so no more long on-line hunts and discussions of what she wants and doesn't want.
But I'm not happy. It came on the 11 o'clock news last night, the word that Steven Irwin, "The Crocodile Hunter," was killed by a stingray while diving on the Great Barrier Reef. A completely freakish, even absurd way to die. And I cried, alone there in that hospital bed. For his family, especially his 8-year-old daughter Bindi Sue, whose personal sun rose and set on her daddy. Their son is only just three, he won't have a memory of his father. There's Terri, his wife and partner of many years, a soulmate if ever there was one. There's so much work that Steve left incomplete, that's bound to suffer now without his driving force behind it. Important work for animal and wilderness conservation, so much of which was supported by his television appearances.
He was only 44. He was supposed to grow old and watch his daughter take over the family business, Australia Zoo. Okay, some people thought he wasn't the right image of Australia for the rest of us to see, and I admit that for a lot of people he WAS Australia, right or wrong. But behind the persona was so much, intelligence, energy, passion for his chosen calling--life. I just can't believe he's gone.
Without being in the least melodramatic, I can say that I feel I've lost a kinsman. I expect most animal lovers feel much the same.
On to something maybe a little happier. I'm out. Had a long nasty bout with pneumonia. The letters on the screen are still a bit blurry, which always happens when I come home from the pokey. Probably something to do with the high oxygen levels I've been dealing with. It'll straighten out. But in the mean time--forgive the typos. They're not only there, I can't find them to read them because my eyes are trying to crawl into the same socket.
Got a ton of mail that needs answering. It any of you are waiting on it, forgive me, I'll get there when I can. In the mean time I'm going to take a nap.