The Beef I’m talking about is my latest adventure via Netflix.

So, during this current bout of whatever it is I’m going through, it was my destiny to finish watching Manifest and also to Keep Breathing. I finished the sixth and final episode of KB in the wee hours of my sleepless morning.

I read a couple of reviews for shits and giggles, and the audience score at Rotten Tomatoes was a paltry 37%, so it appears I wasn’t alone in my assessment of mediocrity.

I’m enjoying Beef a lot more so far. It has a USA setting but a Korean tone about it. Here’s a taste of the meat from the trailer.

The current state of my health precludes hiking and prevents sleeping (I have coughing attacks when I lie down). So, I’ve watched more TV in the last week than I have since the scamdemic lockdowns.

The only walking I did yesterday was a late afternoon stroll to Sloppy Joe’s. At least I made it, but it was a close call. Once again, I was breathing hard before I even made it out of Alta Vista. The shortcut I usually take to town requires an uphill path, which is about the equivalent of two flights of stairs. The way I was puffing on flat ground, I knew better than even to try the up and over. I figured when I got to the highway I could grab a trike if need be, but I sucked it up and hoofed it all the way.

Erik, Jim, Ken, and Simon also showed up at Sloppy Joe’s to start their evening bar crawl. I knew I was not going to leave the relative safety of The Maze, so we went our separate ways. My next stop was The Green Room, where I entertained myself watching some pool games. I also shared a batch of fresh-baked brownies with the crew. I finished my night out with the Wet Spot crowd. A trike driver called me by name as I left the bar and safely delivered my tired old body to the house.

I only managed about three hours of sleep last night, and I’m feeling it today. I’m scheduled to see the cardiologist this afternoon to finalize the surgery clearance, and I’m also hoping to revisit the pulmonary specialist for guidance on improving my lung capacity. I know it would be a miracle if that works out, but we shall see.

I’m as tired of feeling this way as my faithful few readers must be hearing about it. I’m hoping for better news soon.

Alright, I’m going to keep trying to maintain a positive attitude. More to come tomorrow. Hopefully.

Welp, I guess yesterday qualifies as a step backward. Or maybe a leap. Whatever progress I thought I was making on the road to recovery reversed itself. Or so it would appear based on my inability to walk the 2K from my house to Hideaway Bar.

But before I was even out of the neighborhood, I was huffing and puffing so bad that I thought I was going to have to sit on the curb to catch my breath. Then the rare trike came by after dropping off a passenger and asked if I wanted a ride. And for the first time ever, I accepted.

I was equally distressed and depressed when I took my seat at the bar in Hideaway and ordered a beer. This is getting downright scary. Luckily, I had the foresight to bring along my portable nebulizer.

I loaded it up and went outside to fill my lungs with sulfate bromide. That did the trick, and soon, I went back inside to commence with the feeding. I knew I’d be making it an early night, though.

I had an SOB coupon to use at the Green Room, and the walk there from Hideaway went without incident. Jim joined me for a couple of beers, and then I got a sandwich from Sit-n-Bull to go and headed home.

Another rough night sleep-wise–lying down exacerbates the shortness of breath. This morning, I had my helper order me a pillow something like this:

I recall a long-ago visit to Monticello, the home of Thomas Jefferson in Charlottesville, Virginia. His bed was designed in a manner that required him to sleep sitting up.

But it turns out that was just one of Jefferson’s healthy lifestyle choices. “Jefferson slept five to eight hours a night in a semi-reclining position since his bed was too short for his height. This position facilitated his habit of reading in bed. “I never go to bed without an hour, or half hour’s previous reading of something moral, whereon to ruminate in the intervals of sleep.”

There is no mention of boinking the slaves, but he did live to be 84. Anyway, that’s enough history for today.

Dr. Jo’s advice is to continue using the nebulizer every couple of hours and the oxygen tank in between. The antibiotics she prescribed will hopefully clear the mucus that is causing my hacking cough. We’ll see. I’m also going to try to do another consult with the pulmonary doctor at Baypointe Hospital tomorrow.

I’ve been resting and napping all morning (I had the helper walk the dogs). I took advantage of the downtime and completed watching the Netflix series Manifest final episodes. The fact that I was motivated to see it through until the end is probably the best review I can offer. The religious overtones were lost on me, but the story of an airliner returning after being missing for over three years was pretty compelling. And there was some pretty tasty eye candy to enjoy:

Scrolling through the Netflix offerings for “What am I going to watch next?” this morning, I felt compelled to give one called Keep Breathing a look for some reason. I mean, that’s my goal, too. I’m on episode two (there are only six), and I’m not grabbed yet. We’ll see.

Look at me, revisiting my passion for American history and spending time in front of the television, both in the same post! What am I thinking? Well, don’t worry; I’m going to attempt the walk into town again tonight and hope it goes better than yesterday.

Seriously, though, I do want to be back into my hiking mode as soon as possible. And I look forward to scheduling some trips, both inside and outside the Philippines. That will be especially nice since I have a traveling partner now. Swan has been an angel in her efforts to comfort me during these troubled days. I am blessed to have her here to care for me.

Life goes on until it doesn’t, so I tried to get some living in yesterday. I picked up my electrocardiogram results from the hospital in the morning, but there is STILL no cardiologist available to review them and consult with me for my surgery clearance. Truth be told, though, I’m not sure now is the time to go under the knife. I have a hard time sleeping at night because lying down exacerbates my cough. What happens when I’m unconscious on my back with a tube down my throat?

I restocked the groceries for another week with an excursion to the Royal supermarket. Then, I got a long overdue haircut. Back home, I baked up a batch of brownies, and at beer o’clock, I walked to Baloy Beach for my weekly floating bar experience.

A pleasant couple of hours chillin’ on the water. Erik joined me shortly before I departed for his first experience on the floating bar.

I did my nightcap at Da’Kudos and enjoyed chatting with Jessa, who is now the bartender there. When I first moved here, I lived on Baloy, and Jessa worked at Treasure Island. She was my first Filipina crush as a resident, and we dated a few times before I fucked things up by being me. Still, sitting and reminiscing with her about the old times was nice.

I made it until almost 8 p.m. before catching a trike for home. Got in nearly 10,000 steps yesterday, which ain’t bad for a no-hike Tuesday. I felt like I had taken a big step forward on the road to recovery. And then I experienced a sleep-deprived night because of coughing while prone. I’m using my nebulizer and oxygen on a regular basis, but alas, I just now checked my blood oxygen level, and it is lower than ever.

Oh, well. Nothing to be done but keep on keepin’ on and hope for the best.

I’m going to attempt the Hideaway feeding later this afternoon. I’ll do my best to pace myself when I’m steppin’ out.

What a day yesterday turned out to be. I never left the house, not even for the dog walk. I was just running on empty energy-wise and had seemingly zero lung capacity. Walking to the toilet and back would leave me practically breathless. Previously, even my worst breathing attacks would pass relatively quickly once I sat down and rested some. Not this time–I was wiped out all day and all night long. Laying down seemed to exacerbate the situation, so I sat on the couch in front of the TV, finally moving to the bedroom and getting a couple of hours sleep around 4:30 a.m.–my usual wake-up time.

I don’t want to be overly dramatic, but in the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but think, “Is this how it is going to end for me?” Of course, I’m still in the fight, but I hope I never experience those feelings of helplessness again.

I’d been using my usual devices throughout the day, especially my nebulizer, but to little effect.

When beer o’clock rolled around, I decided I should get tanked.

I’d never used bottled air before (except in the hospital), and I was relieved to see my oximeter hit 97 after a few minutes of breathing in some imported air. And then, a few minutes after I stopped the ingestion, I’d drop back down to the low 90s. So, I was sucking air off and on all evening, and then Swan noticed that my just-purchased tank was running low. She said I needed to get a larger tank. Well, yeah, but it was now midnight. My helper, Teri, who is a certified caregiver, suggested I take an ambulance to Baypointe Hospital’s emergency room. I told her there was no way I was going to do that as long as I was conscious. Suffice it to say, I’ve not been inspired by the competence I’ve witnessed at that institution, and I wasn’t willing to sit around in an ER at o’dark-thirty waiting to be cured. And actually, other than ingesting oxygen, I don’t know what else can be done for this situation.

Anyone, Swan got on the phone and called a friend whose husband uses oxygen and she said they had an extra tank available. Cool, I was impressed that at this late hour they were even willing to be bothered trying to help. I guess the plan was to have their private trike deliver the tank, but Swan came back a bit later and said the tank was too large for the trike. Oh well. So, I was surprised when about thirty minutes later a pickup truck pulled up in front of my house and two guys rolled this into my living room:

So, I survived the night, and I feel somewhat better today. I still haven’t left the house, but I’m ingesting air now whenever I have the urge. Dr. Jo is supposed to make a house call later (they live in the neighborhood), and I hope to consult with her about what might be causing this flare-up (is it an exacerbation of my COPD or something else?) and whether there is any magic formula that will allow me to breathe freely.

The day wasn’t a total loss, though. I fired up Netflix and binge-watched most of Season 4 of Manifest. I viewed Seasons 1-3 early last year, and then Season 4, the final season, was released last November. I saw thirteen of the twenty episodes yesterday. I was amazed that I never got sleepy. Even when I finally went to bed, I didn’t feel tired; I just knew I needed to get some rest. Coming from someone like me, who is famous for being asleep a nine every night, that’s pretty damn miraculous! Still, I prefer my customary daily rituals. I will breathe easier once I know I can be out and about spreading pesos in the bars again.

I’m hopeful the girls at Hideaway won’t be going hungry tonight. That will be contingent on me having the lung capacity to walk to the far side of town. I’ll let you know how that works out tomorrow.

Check back here tomorrow for the latest updates.

I’ve been feeling like shit lately. The worst aspect of my ill health is my labored breathing. Coupled with that, there has been an intermittent cough these past few days, which is at its worst when I’m in a prone position when trying to sleep. I got less than three hours in last night, and so on top of everything else, I’m feeling weak and drained. I was headed for the door to try and get a walk in this morning, and Swan convinced me to give it a rest. So, I turned on Netflix and randomly selected a movie called “It Could Happen to you” to watch.

Yesterday, I went to the meet-up with the Wednesday Walkers but bailed on joining the group hike. The slightest incline gets me sucking air, and I just hate to hold the other guys back from a more challenging trek. I still did a flat walk through several neighborhoods and kept going until I hit 8K. I felt pretty good about that accomplishment.

I came home, took a nap, wrote TWO blog posts, showered, and then headed into town again for the Wednesday feeding at Hideaway.

I only stayed about an hour, then headed back up the highway to my side of town. As I passed by the new Oasis bar, I saw my pal Mark, who is the bar manager, out front. Naturally I felt obligated to stop in for a beer. Or two.

My waitress said she remembered from when she worked at Queen Victoria. That is a very infrequent stop on my barhops, and she didn’t even look familiar to me. They’ve opened a kitchen at Oasis now, and the head cook, Rica, is also someone I know from my dart league days. She brought me out a free order of fries. I tried a couple to be polite, but I wasn’t hungry. The other girls finished them off quickly. I was the only customer at the time and felt like I should show my support, so I told the waitress she could pick three sandwiches for the girls to share (there were six on duty upstairs). Two club sandwiches and a burger order were placed.

I did my nightcap at Wet Spot, then headed home a little before 8:00. I went to bed early, but a hacking cough is not conducive to sleep, so I was up and down all night. The only good news is that my tooth has stopped hurting, at least for now.

Oh, and when I got home, I showed Swan my lipstick-free neck. She laughed. She’s really been an angel trying to comfort me during this uncomfortable time in my life.

Yesterday proved to be quite a pain in the ass. And back. Even my tooth hurt. And it ended with a pain in the neck. Here’s how that all went down.

My morning started with a visit to Dr. Jo for the beginning of my sciatica treatment. The first step was withdrawing a sufficient quantity of blood to harvest the needed stem cells. A needle in the vein of my arm was only the beginning of much more to come.

I left Dr. Jo’s office with instructions to return at 1:00 p.m. for the injections into my damaged back areas. So, it was off to Royal to do the weekly grocery shopping. No pain involved in that, other than paying the tab ($267.00 this week).

We drove back to Barretto, dropped off the groceries, and then returned to SBMA and the Baypointe hospital for my electrocardiogram scheduled for 11:15. I was seen right on time and they took the images of my heart in action. That’s when I learned that due to a personal emergency, the cardiologist would not be available to review the results or grant my clearance for surgery until next week. When I asked about using a different cardiologist, I was advised that there was no one else. So, my hopes for surgery this Sunday were painfully dashed.

Oh, on the way back to Baypointe, I stopped at my dentist’s office to get an appointment for this aching tooth. He’s good, but damn, no available appointments until November 17! I can’t put up with pain that long. And this treatment I’m getting from Dr. Jo precludes taking aspirin. Luckily, Paracetamol is acceptable, and it seems to be helping.

We once again returned to Barretto and had some time left before my follow-up with Dr. Jo. So we lunched at Angel’s Bakery, conveniently located below the health clinic.

After lunch, I climbed the stairs to Dr. Jo’s, and she was ready and waiting for me. This part of the treatment is where the extracts from the blood drawn earlier are injected into the damaged areas of my back. I was expecting it would feel like a shot in the arm. It did not. Much, much more painful. And I got stuck about ten times. It felt like torture. When that portion was done, I moved to a comfortable chair and had something inserted into my body intravenously. That needle insertion was comparatively painless. Had a nice chat with Dr. Chris during the thirty minutes or so it took to drain the bottle. And then it was time for the testosterone injections–in my ass. Ouch! One in each cheek.

With the medical procedures done for now (I will repeat this process twice more at three-week intervals), it was time to pay the piper. Dr. Jo has a dollar bank account, so I was able to write her a check for the $6400 I owed (that covers all three sessions). It has been years since I last wrote a paper check. I didn’t recall it being so painful in the past.

Headed back home feeling tired and sore, and took a much needed nap. Woke up at 3:30 and knew I was going to be pressed for time as beer o’clock was rapidly approaching. So, I opted to do a short post, saving the Hash story and this one for today. I guess that worked out. But there is still a bit more about yesterday to tell. Here’s the rest of the story:

Tuesday is the day I set aside for the Baloy Beach experience by spending time on the Kokomo’s floating bar. I was getting a later start than usual, and it was strange how much difference an hour or so can make.

The vibe was different than I have experienced previously. There were a lot of big spending customers and some of the girls were drunk. I don’t care about that normally, but some were randomly giving me hugs, and I really don’t like that.

Some other weird things were happening, including a couple of guys coming close to exchanging blows, but that’s what I get for my late start, I suppose.

Did my nightcap at Snackbar and then headed home to my final pain of the day.

I had invited Swan to join me on the floater, but she had a tutoring session to conduct. It was dark when she was done, and I didn’t blame her for not doing the walk out of Alta Vista at night. We agreed to go to the floating bar together on Saturday. So, anyway, when Swan greeted me at the house with a hug, she asked me what was on my neck. I had no idea what she was talking about, so she took a picture so that I could see.

So, there was no cuddling last night. We talked some more this morning, and things seem much better now. And yes, my commenters had warned me about something like this happening. Still, this was closer to me being raped than me cheating. Just sayin’.

And that’s how that my day went down.

Man, oh, man, what an afternoon. Patience isn’t my strong suit, but damn, I was sorely tested yesterday. Here’s the fucked up story.

Okay, my mission was to complete the process of getting “approval clearance” to undergo the surgery I need to remove the polyps in my nostrils. My last two steps were getting a sign-off from the pulmonary doctor I saw last week and then the cardiologist’s approval that my ticker would keep on ticking while I’m under the knife. The complicating factor is the insane process where doctors don’t make appointments; you sign in and are served on a first-in, first-seen basis. Under the best of circumstances, I find that irksome, but yesterday, I thought my head would explode.

So, my helper/caregiver, Teri, is entrusted with making all the arrangements. The pulmonary doctor was scheduled to report for duty at 2:00 p.m. and I was #4 on the list of patients to be seen. The cardiologist would be available at 4:00 p.m. and I was #2 on her list. Accordingly, I scheduled my driver to pick me, Teri and Swan up at 1:00 to take us to Baypointe Hospital. And then things started to go wrong. The scheduler said the pulmonary doctor was running “late.” Well, I didn’t want a repeat of last week’s sitting in the corridor waiting for hours to be seen. So, I had my driver take me to the mall ten minutes away from the hospital to pick up some things I needed.

Teri reported the pulmonary doc would arrive at 2:20, so we headed back to Baypointe. There, we discovered that the pulmonary doctor had been diverted to the ICU, so the wait commenced without her. She finally arrived at 2:45 and took the first of the three patients ahead of me. Forty minutes later, it was #2’s turn. I was getting nervous that, at this rate, my turn with the cardiologist would arrive before I had my pulmonary clearance. So, I devised this scheme: I’d send Swan to sit in front of the cardiologist’s office around the corner in the next hallway and to message me if my name were called. This required that my scheduling paperwork be moved to that office. So what, I figured, I’d be waiting my turn to arrive with the pulmonary doc and then move over. Nope, the hospital bureaucrazy doesn’t work that way. It was one or the other. Welp, I’d already invested over two hours of waiting time with the pulmonary doc, so I wasn’t giving up my place in line with her. If that meant rescheduling with the cardiologist, so be it.

My turn finally came with the pulmonary doctor at about 4:15. She reviewed my paperwork and the chest x-rays. Since the radiologist hadn’t completed an assessment, she went downstairs to review the actual film. She was gone for about fifteen minutes and said my lungs were clear (at least as clear as they would ever be). A few more questions, and she signed off with her approval for surgery. Now, to see the cardiologist.

The good news is I somehow managed to be next in line and only waited five minutes to see her. The bad news is my ECG showed a “slow heart rate,” and she wanted another test done. That has to be scheduled, and once the results are back, I’ll need to navigate the process for some face time with the cardiologist once again. So, I’m hoping to get all this done early next week. I’m going to see the doctor who will do the actual surgery (the one way out in San Marcelino) on Tuesday morning, and hopefully, she will schedule my operation for Sunday the 12th. Fingers crossed I can get everything done between now and then.

It was now a little after 5:00 and my hopes for attending the SOB were dashed. Checking my wallet, I saw that the doctor’s fees had depleted my cash (3500 pesos for the pulmonary and 2000 for the cardioligist) to the extent that I couldn’t pay my driver and have enough for beer drinking, without going home and restocking the billfold. Fuck it, everyone was hungry so I treated them to dinner at John’s place on the way home instead. Then back at the house, I grabbed some cash for the driver’s pay and just decided to stay at home on a Friday night. Will wonders never cease?

Teri and Swan watched television and I drank alone while singing along with some sad songs on my Spotify app. That’s even more pathetic than buying lady drinks in exchange for some company.

This afternoon, I’m headed for Angeles City. A change of scenery is bound to do me good.

I’ll be greeting you from AC in the morning. Stay tuned.

You ain’t got nothin’ to lose. Or post about—just another walkaholic/alcoholic day in the life. Well, I did change things up by turning on my TV in the afternoon to pass the time until beer o’clock. I started watching “The Ballad of Buster Scruggs” on Netflix. The link goes to a review written by reader and frequent commenter here at LTG, Kevin Kim. He tells the story much better than I could. I’ve always liked the Cohen brother’s films, and this was no exception. I especially liked that the movie is done in six vignettes, which is pleasingly appropriate given my short attention span. Well worth the watch!

I began my beer-drinking routine at Sloppy Joe’s. Jim arrived shortly after I did, so I had some company. Dave and his gal Jo showed up later and joined us. Then we all moved next door to Wet Spot, and another Hasher, Ken (Bug Fucker), filled out the group.

I’ve got more medical shit to deal with at Baypointe this afternoon. If I get done in time, I’ll attend the SOB this evening. If not, well, there are thirty-five bars in Barretto to choose from.

Tomorrow afternoon, I’ll be traveling to Angeles City to participate in Sunday’s ACH3 Anniversary Hash. Should be fun. Looks like Swan is going to come along on the condition that she doesn’t have to Hash.

The Big Hominid posed this question on his blog:

Are the words mephitic and Mephistopheles etymologically related?

I’m not sure if I’m ignorant or just apathetic, but I don’t know, and I don’t care. If you do, click the link above for the answer. I thought of that post when I saw this meme today:

And as long as we are on a roll with Star Trek humor, how about this?

Room for one more?

Anyway, it’s bound to get better around here soon.

Someday I’ll have something interesting to write about. Today is not that day. So that leaves yesterday.

I bailed on the Wednesday Walkers hike. Until I get squared away physically, I’m just unable to keep up or do anything overly exhausting. For now, all I am exercising is caution. So, the three healthy members went off to do their thing, and I joined Scott for a flat street walk.

When beer o’clock rolled around, I made my way to Hideaway to feed the girls.

When it was time to go, I checked my wallet and saw that I had a “buy one, take one” coupon good at Wet Spot and Green Room, so I headed up the highway.

I had planned to use my coupon at Wet Spot, but when I got there, I realized it still wasn’t 6 p.m. opening time, so I went next door to Green Room. And that’s where I stayed for the next hour and a half, being entertained by watching the pool players. It seems I’m easily pleased these days.

It was All Saints Day, which is a pretty big deal in this religious culture. People with deceased loved ones visited the cemeteries and were lighting candles everywhere, including the CR at Wet Spot. I asked about that and was told it was for the six souls lost in a fire that occurred in the hotel upstairs several years ago. And then when I arrived home I observed this in my carport:

I survived another night and was greeted with another fine dawn:

And Easter Mountain had a different look this morning on the dog walk:

And I was in for a surprise when Swan joined me for the dog walk:

That’s all for now, folks. Hope to see you back here someday.

I had a busier than usual Tuesday. Here’s a recap of how it went down.

The morning began with a visit to Baypointe Hospital on SBMA. I had another chest x-ray taken because last week’s was unclear. This time, the technician checked his work after each shot and repeated the process as needed. Then, it was up to the hospital’s fourth floor (there are apparently five) for a visit to the pulmonary section to measure my blood oxygen level. This was a rather painful procedure as the lab assistant withdrew blood from my wrist. She was rather cute so I had to pretend it didn’t hurt though. The results showed that my blood oxygen is in the normal range, so that was good news.

I’ll be back at Baypointe on Friday to be seen by the cardiologist and then the pulmonary physician for final clearance to have the nasal surgery performed. What a process, eh? The surgeon, Dr. A in San Marcelino, indicated she would do the operation on a Sunday. I’m hoping we can schedule this for November 12.

After Baypointe, it was time for my weekly grocery shopping at Royal, then back home for a quick blog post before heading out to see Dr. Jo. I did a brisk walk from Alta Vista, then climbed the stairs to the second-floor clinic. Dr. Chris commented on my heavy breathing when I sat down for the interview, and I told him it was pretty much my ordinary state of being. We are all hopeful the upcoming surgery will correct this issue.

Next, we discussed treatment options. Dr. Jo said that she has successfully treated sciatica with stem cell therapy. The process involves harvesting stem cells from my blood and injecting them into the damaged areas in my back. You can read more about how that works here if you are curious. Dr. Jo said that most of her patients have shown significant improvement using this procedure. So, I’ve scheduled four sessions to have this done. I’ll come in on Tuesday mornings and they’ll do the blood extraction. I’ll go on with my day (grocery shopping for me) while they use the lab at the clinic to isolate the stem cells. I’ll return four hours later for the injection. Dr. Jo said I might feel some improvement as early as the first week. My condition really isn’t that severe, but my hope is to heal and prevent worsening.

Oh, and I was shocked at how expensive this procedure is–each session is two thousand dollars. So, my four-week program would run eight thousand bucks, but I’m getting a discounted rate that reduces the charge to “only” $6500. Yikes! Still, it will be worth it if it works.

After my visit to Dr. Jo, I took a walk on the beach in Baloy.

It was kind of funny last week when the Kokomo’s Facebook page announced the re-opening of the floater. I mentioned in the comments that I would be out of town but was looking forward to visiting when I returned. The person posting for Kokomo’s said they look forward to seeing me again and that they missed my brownies. Heh. It’s nice to be famous! Naturally, I baked a batch to bring with me. Sadly, the poster wasn’t working yesterday, but the bartended promised to save her some. The rest of the girls really seemed to enjoy the chocolaty goodness.

I was surprised to be greeted by name by my next-door neighbor, Jeff. I’d only met him once since moving in, but it was nice to see him out enjoying a cold beer. Also, there were the owners of Treasure Island and Kokomo’s. I can’t remember either name at the moment, though. Shortly after I sat down, a young lady approached and asked if I remembered her. I never do, so she reminded me that she previously worked at Blue Butterfly. Oh yeah. Nice to see you again, Vanessa. Naturally, I bought her a welcome to Kokomo’s drink.

Some views from my floating vantage point:

Anyway, it’s nice to have the floater back again after the rainy season hiatus. I really enjoy the ambiance of gently rocking on the water and taking in the unique views from an offshore perspective.

My destination was Snackbar, a venue I rarely visit these days for a myriad of reasons. The owner sent me a message saying that waitress Anne was celebrating her birthday and invited me to join the festivities. Oddly enough, a Facebook memory had popped up a few minutes earlier with a picture of me and the birthday girl from last year. Since I was planning on the floating bar anyway, and the walk back up Baloy Road takes you right past Snackbar, I added a drop-in visit to my itinerary.

I arrived shortly after five but there wasn’t much of a party going on. Anne and another old favorite, Jenn, welcomed me back. There was some food prepared, but I noticed there was no birthday cake. Some party, huh? I gave Jenn some cash and sent her off to the local bakery to buy Anne a proper cake.

The food was served to the several customers, Anne blew out her candle, the birthday song was sung, and the cake was cut. And that was pretty much it.

I called it an early night and headed home. It was quite a day.

My room came with a free breakfast, but the omelet option didn’t include meat, so I ordered a side of bacon. I also ordered a Coke Zero. When it came time to pay up, the waiter handed me a bill for the bacon, one for the Coke, and one for a scoop of ice cream and a beer. He told me I had come in the night before, had the ice cream and beer, then left without paying. “You were very drunk, sir.” he stated matter-of-factly. After he mentioned it, I vaguely recalled having a nightcap. And yes, after three beer stops on the Hash trail (two beers at each) then the Hash circle and aftermath, I was more toasted than usual. Plus, I was drinking San Miguel Lights with 5% alcohol (versus the 3% in Zero).

Commenter Kevin asked if I thought it was a worthwhile trip overall. It’s good to get away from the day-to-day routines that make up my life, and as I mentioned, I enjoyed the Hash trail very much. La Union has a totally different vibe than Barretto, and I kind of like it. I could see myself living there if I ever felt the need to break away and change my life. I had pictures in yesterday’s post of that blue house on the beach next to the abandoned open-air bar, and they really fired up my imagination about the things I could do with what’s left of my life. Not likely, of course, but it is good to have options.

Another aspect of this trip was having time to reflect on how much I wish I had someone to share my life with. Seeing all the happy Hash couples reminded me of how much I used to enjoy having a partner to Hash with. I guess I should be used to eating and sleeping alone by now, but that doesn’t stop me from thinking about how nice it would be to have a woman by my side on this journey of mine. And no, I haven’t given up on Swan; it is just a sad fact that she has no interest in doing the things I enjoy.

I arrived back home around 3:30, unpacked, and then headed back into town for the Sunday feeding at Hideaway.

I wasn’t sure where, if anywhere, I wanted to go next. I was tired and feeling shitty, but I didn’t have change for a trike, so I wound up at the Green Room for a nightcap and to break a thousand peso note. My waitress gave me a nice back rub, and I rewarded her efforts with a lady drink. Then, I was on my way home before 7:30.

I had a pretty rough night with a cough and body aches. I was up before the moon went down.

It’s Hash Monday, and I’m on the fence. My back hurts, and I’m in a low energy mode. My plan at the moment is to walk out to the start of the trail (about 3K up the National Highway towards Olongapo) and see if I feel like a hill climb when I get there. If not, I’ll just keep it flat and walk back to the On-Home at the VFW.

Oh yeah, I did my weekly weigh-in this morning. 245.6, down nine pounds from last week.

Facebook memories carried me back to my last Halloween in Itaewon.

Another day spent almost entirely chasing healthcare unicorns. Before it was over, my patience had been severely tested to the point where even my mantra (take a deep breath, relax, and accept the Filipino way) stopped working. I almost resorted to my American response of “fuck this bullshit,” but once I had wasted invested so much time and effort into the process of getting clearance for my nasal surgery, I couldn’t just walk away. Here’s the blow-by-blow account as I navigated the pitfalls of medical practice in the Philippines.

My driver picked me up at 7:30 a.m. for what is normally a fifteen minute drive to Baypointe Hospital on SBMA. About halfway there we encountered a traffic backup on the highway that slowed us to a crawl. Apparently this was caused by a combination of normal rush hour traffic and road construction. We arrived at Baypointe a little after 8:00. The first order of business was getting my blood and urine samples taken for testing.

During the pre-submission interview, I was asked when I had last eaten, and I responded it was nine o’clock last night (the doctor requesting the blood work told me not to eat after midnight). I was surprised to hear that I had “over fasted,” at least according to the protocols at Baypointe (they claim 6-8 hours is the optimum). I told them I was following the doctor’s orders, so they proceeded with the test. They told me to come back at 2:00 p.m. for the results.

The next step was gathering the results from the tests I had taken on Tuesday (ECG, chest X-ray, and MRI). That process went without a hitch. Results in hand, we went upstairs to schedule an appointment with the pulmonary doctor I had been referred to for a pre-surgery clearance. We were told she would be available at 2:00, so I left, assuming everything was good to go.

My stomach told me it was time to end my over fast, so I invited my driver, helper, and Swan to join me for breakfast. We gave a new place on SBMA called Maple a try. I didn’t see any healthy options on the menu, so I rewarded myself with an order of French toast.

I had my helper contact Dr. Jo about an appointment to review the MRI results. She was booked but offered to have a look after her 10:30 appointment. So, we headed for her office in Barretto. Unfortunately, the 10:30 patient exam went long, but her hubby Chris came to the waiting room and looked over the MRI. He said it did show the suspected spinal compression on the nerves that was causing my leg issues. Treatment for this condition is within Dr. Jo’s expertise, so I will schedule with her next week and get started.

I went back to my place and blogged yesterday’s post, then we left at 1:00 o’clock for my doctor appointment at Baypointe. I arrived early, picked up the blood and piss results, then went upstairs to see the doc. And that’s when my day really went to shit. It turns out I didn’t have an appointment at all, rather I was third on the list of patients to be seen. That’s typical in this country, it’s all hurry up and wait, no set appointment times. I had been misled to believe I would be seeing the doctor at 2:00 so I was not a happy camper. Then it got worse. The doctor was still “enroute” at 2:00 and when she finally arrived sometime close to 3:00, she had two patients ahead of me to see. And she took her sweet time with them. My turn finally came at 4:15. I was not a happy camper.

Anyway, I can’t blame the doc for hospital policy, I suppose. And I was really impressed with the questions she asked about my COPD and her attention to detail regarding the medications I’ve been taking for years. She had over a page of notes by the end of our session, which ran about 45 minutes. She referred me for a pulmonary functioning test, which I haven’t had since I was first diagnosed with COPD seven years ago. She also referred me to the cardiologist whose clearance I will need prior to surgery. She also asked me to retake the chest x-ray because the one I had on Tuesday was of poor quality. So, it looks like my medical jungle adventure will continue next week.

When we finally departed Baypointe, we were stuck in a rush hour traffic jam just trying to exit SBMA. So, I invited the crew to have dinner at my favorite Korean place, the Seoul restaurant. I ordered us beef bulgogi stew and thick-cut samgyeopsal (menu spelling) with several sides (you have to order the side dishes separately here)

Anyway, it was all quite tasty, especially the bulgogi, even though it lacked those string mushrooms that are standard fare in Korea.

It was almost 7:00 by the time we got back to town, so I visited the pub on my patio:

I’ll need to drink here more often!

Alright, my ride is due to arrive for my trip to La Union. So, look forward to an out-of-town post tomorrow!

Please bear with me and have a little patience for my grammatical puns, okay? I want to talk about my yesterday and the potential implications for my future. That’s an overly dramatic way to put it, but when your post is about medical testing for an upcoming surgery, it has a ring of truth to it.

Nothing unusual about my day so far; getting up early is just the way I roll. What was different was that I needed to make a trip out to San Marcelino for an 8:00 a.m. doctor’s appointment.

I’d never seen this doctor before, but she’s the one who will be doing the surgery to remove my nasal polyps. I was disappointed to discover that I didn’t really have an appointment after all. Her clinic opens at 8:00, and in typical Filipino fashion, patients are seen on a “first come, first served” basis. There must have been twelve other people in the waiting room ahead of me. I was tempted to say fuck it and go on about my day, but I’m committed to finally getting this procedure done, and if that means waiting in line, so be it. Actually, I waited in the car. About 45 minutes later, my helper fetched me and said the doctor would see me now. Hooray!

First impressions of the doctor I’m entrusting with my future were for the most part positive. She requires everyone to mask up which seems ridiculous, but whatever. I was given a complimentary mask since I don’t carry one these days. She took a look up my nose with her scope and confirmed what every ENT specialist I’ve seen previously has said. The nodules are so far overgrown that only surgery can resolve my blockage.

Before the surgery can take place, there are several hoops I must jump through, including clearance from a cardiologist and several medical tests and blood work. Since I’d eaten a muffin for breakfast (yeah, high in carbs, but sometimes you gotta cheat), I’d have to wait until I fasted to schedule the blood work. I’m planning to do that in the morning. Provided all the results indicate I’m a good candidate for survival, Dr. A (can’t remember her name at the moment) will schedule the surgery at Baypointe Hospital on SBMA (the old Navy base). I also need to consult with the anesthesiologist at Baypointe, which I hope to accomplish tomorrow. Dr. A told me she would perform the surgery on a Sunday (I’m unavailable the next two Sundays), and I could be released from the hospital on Monday. Unless I’m a bleeder, then she’ll have to pack my nose. I don’t even want to think about that scenario; I’ll just trust that I’m in the majority of patients who don’t have that issue.

So, I left San Marcelino with a list of tests and procedures I needed done and headed for Baypointe. I also required an MRI of my back and leg so Dr. Jo can diagnose and treat whatever ails me there. I arrived at Baypointe around 10:00 a.m. and was advised the MRI could be done at noon. So, I went about getting the ECG and chest X-ray Dr. A requires. I got called in for the MRI right after the chest X-ray was completed, so I felt good about that.

I hadn’t undergone an MRI in over twelve years, and I didn’t remember it being anything like this experience. I had two separate procedures, both lasting approximately fifteen minutes, but it sure seemed longer inside that tube. I’m not typically claustrophobic, but damn, I was feeling trapped and needed to send my mind to a happy place, but that was impossible because of all the noise generated by the MRI machine. The operator had warned me, but I still wasn’t prepared. Even with ear protection, it was the loudest sound I have ever been subjected to (and I’ve been to lots of rock concerts back in the day). I wondered if the noise was supposed to trigger brain waves, but apparently, that’s not the case. After a while, the sounds became voices in my head, but at least those messages were positive. It’s so weird and also relatively expensive. Both scans totaled 25,000 pesos ($500.).

Oh, and as I was checking for title redundancy, I came across this post from 2006 telling the story of my first ambulance ride and stitches. That was also in Seoul.

So, back to Baypointe in the morning for my bloodwork and hopefully I’ll be able to get in to see the doc that will be putting me to sleep.

Once the medical stuff was done yesterday, I went to Royal and got my weekly supply of groceries. What was different this week was I spent some time checking the labels on things I usually buy. I had to reject some that were just too high in carbohydrates. I want to keep this diet as simple as possible, so hopefully, eating low carb combined with eating less will get me to where I want and need to be.

I’ve still not resolved where my beloved alcoholic beverages are going to fit into my future. Thanks to some of my commenters, I’ve been learning about how insulin spikes are detrimental to losing weight. I think there is a balance I can find, but I need to work on that plan some more.

After my stressful day dealing with the world of medicine, I needed to do my own self-medication in the form of San Miguel Zero. Twelve-ounce bottles, sixty calories, 3% alcohol. It’s a healthy choice, at least compared to other beers.

I made Sloppy Joe’s my first stop for no other reason than it is the first bar I come to on my walk into town. I was still on my first beer of the evening when Jim showed up and joined me at my table. We each treated the other to a beer, then headed out for our next venue. Our plan was the Annex bar, but it was packed. So, we did the Oasis next door instead. Two beers there, then on to one of the other new joints in town, Red Bar. We liked it here well enough to have two more beers.

We decided to check out Whiskey Girl next. I forgot they have a live band on Tuesdays and I wasn’t really looking forward to that. But the band didn’t start until 8 p.m., and I left shortly after they began to play. It was good to briefly see my waitress pal Jen again.

Two more beers (that’s eight on the night if you are counting), and I headed out to find a trike for home.

So, twelve beers on Sunday’s Hash bar crawl, ten beers at the Hash on Monday, and eight beers last night. Am I detecting a trend? Slowing down my rate of consumption is one strategy, but I’m not sure I can go much lower than this. Tonight I’m thinking I’ll do the gin and soda thing and see how that works. I’ll do one shot in a tall glass and have a can of soda water served with it. My second round will just be the water. Then I’ll get another shot, and so on. This plan is a pretty big reduction in both alcohol intake and carbs. That should also help on the insulin front as well. We’ll see.

Time to shower up and get ready. I’ve got a feeding at Hideaway to attend to.

And now it is the first day of the rest of my life. A diet and a Hash bar crawl don’t exactly go hand-in-hand, but I have no control over the calendar. And the Hash anniversary only happens once a year, so what are you going to do except make the best of it, right?

My first stop was at Hideaway to feed the girls and help Mhel celebrate her birthday. I only stayed long enough for two beers, then headed over to It Doesn’t Matter for the Hash bar crawl meetup.

According to my carb/calorie tracker, the damage from last night’s over-indulgence wasn’t all that bad.

I don’t expect I’ll be replicating that number of beers in one night again any time soon. Oh wait, today we have our special anniversary Hash run. I guess exceptions must be made as circumstances warrant. To my credit, even in my drunken state of being last night, I didn’t indulge my sweet tooth like I normally would. It helped not having any ice cream in the freezer to tempt me.

This morning, I tried out a second elongated dog walk.

I am heading out for the Hash at noon today. Going to the the start of the long trail, but I will shortcut as needed to appease my leg/lungs. I have a visit with the doctor who will perform my sinus surgery on tap for in the morning, and then I’ll check on getting the MRI at Baypointe Hospital. I’m ready to turn the corner and start feeling like the young man who resides in this old temple of a body again soon.

And thanks to the commenters sharing some diet tips and offering support. Much appreciated!

Or at least I hope to be. Today is the first day of my new diet and exercise discipline program. I got on the scale this morning for the first time in months and was shocked to see just how far I’d regressed and how much work lies ahead as I strive to reach my goals. So, I begin this journey at 254 pounds (115 kgs), and my target is 195 pounds (88 kgs). I’m going to need to be a BIG loser, indeed.

I did a search this morning looking for some tips on losing belly fat and found quite a bit of information like this from Healthline, with eighteen science-based tips for busting a gut. I also got a laugh at how they danced around the gender issue:

We use “women” and “men” in this article to reflect the terms that have been historically used to gender people. Your gender identity may not align with how your body responds to weight loss. Your doctor can better help you understand your circumstances and weight management goals.

I guess if they know what a woman is, they aren’t saying. Anyway, none of the tips were things I hadn’t heard before, but they reinforced the things I know I need to do to achieve significant weight loss. I’ve been down this road before. I’ll be going with a low-carb, reduced-calorie approach coupled with increased exercise. That means overcoming my addiction to ice cream and other late-night sweets as a start. I also need to do better at reducing foods that provide empty calories and/or do little to squelch the impulse to overeat. I know what to do; I just need to keep focused and disciplined enough to accomplish my mission. Wish me luck.

I’ve added a tracking app for carbs and calories to my phone to help me monitor my performance. It also tracks exercise. The latter may prove the biggest challenge. I had to limit my Sunday solo walk to 4K this morning because my left leg was acting up again. Next time, I’ll bring my trekking pole cane as a crutch against excuse-making.

Oh, and every website I looked at for advice recommended reducing alcohol intake by ridiculous levels. Two drinks a night? Get real! Now, I am already drinking low-calorie beer (60 per bottle), and I plan to drink fewer beers per week than my current consumption level. I will also occasionally fill in the gap with the gin and soda water routine. I’ll need to do better this time at limiting my intake of that more potent beverage to avoid the faceplants that accompanied my previous attempt to replace my beer calories.

Anyway, baby steps as I move forward. I had bacon without toast for breakfast this morning. And I’ve elongated the morning dog walk to almost 2K.

Here’s a better view:

And my pain-induced shortened morning walk:

I limited my lunch intake to some celery sticks and a couple of tablespoons of peanut butter. I’m on my way!

In other news, this article in the New York Post about the most promiscuous nationalities was interesting. Americans average 10.7 sexual partners over a lifetime, which ranks us at only 15th in the world. The Aussies lead the pack with 13.1 lifetime couplings. Well, I’m not here to brag, and I really don’t keep track, but I’d hazard to guess I’ve had well over 100 sexual encounters over the years (I lost my virginity at 15). Hell, I’ve had more than ten since moving to the Philippines. Hmm. That gives me an idea! Maybe I need to incorporate sexercise into my weight loss regimen. Something to consider in my quest for a healthier lifestyle.

My last pre-diet supper was a healthy one. I went to John’s place, got an order of bulgogi and some Korean-style chicken wings to go, and took them across the street to Hideaway to share with the girls.

I’ll be cutting my Hideaway visit short today because the Hash is having a bar crawl as part of the anniversary celebration. We are starting at It Doesn’t Matter at 5:00 p.m. Where we’ll go from there remains to be seen.

Today’s humor is grammar themed:

Back with more of this goodness tomorrow. But soon, I hope you’ll be seeing less of me.

Life goes on.

I don’t care much for this old Beatles tune. I like it even less when played at an ear-splitting volume and sung in Tagalog. Even more so when it is being broadcast from somewhere over the river.

I told my helper in disgust that playing something that loud would get you arrested for disturbing the peace back in the USA. She matter-of-factly responded that it was election season (voting is on the 30th) and that song was part of the campaign for one of the candidates. Wow. I had to invoke my mantra: Deep breath. Relax. Accept the Filipino way.

The big event in my day yesterday was a visit with Dr. Jo and her hubby, Chris. We discussed my leg issues, and she had me demonstrate where the pain and numbness emanated. They believe I’m experiencing sciatic nerve issues and suggested I get an MRI to confirm that diagnosis. So, I’ll try and get that done on Tuesday at Baypointe Hospital. I also agreed to have the surgery I require to remove the nasal nodules that are blocking my sinuses at Clark Medical City in Angeles. Dr. Jo will make the arrangements through a physician friend and has assured me I’ll receive the best care available with a competent surgeon and anesthesiologist. I warned Dr. Jo that I’d never speak to her again if I don’t wake up after the operation. Anyway, we are shooting for early November.

I also discussed my plans to begin a weight loss effort. My belly is just ridiculous, and it seems like it came out of nowhere. Dr. Jo said that weight gain is one of the side effects of the steroids I was taking in an effort to open my sinuses. I had wondered about that because I really hadn’t undergone any significant lifestyle changes in diet or exercise prior to the explosion in weight. I asked about a diabetes drug called Mounjaro that studies have shown is also effective for weight loss. Dr. Jo and Chris both thought the side effects associated with that medication were not worth the risks involved. As an alternative, they recommended I try a drug (metformin) that reduces blood sugar (my latest blood work showed my levels were above normal) and has also been shown to help with weight reduction. And so, I have added another pill to my daily regimen (this one is taken once a day after eating dinner). I plan to officially begin my diet on Sunday, and I intend to reduce my carbohydrate intake and increase my daily exercise routines. Stay tuned.

When I returned home after my doctor’s visit, Swan prepared me a tasty lunch.

Beer o’clock inevitably rolled around, so I headed into town. And yes, I will be reducing my beer intake as part of my diet plan. I had a couple of free drink coupons at Johansson’s I’d earned at the dart league on Wednesday, so I put them to use to start my night. I ran into Sean, a former Hasher I hadn’t seen for a while there, and we had a nice catch-up conversation that lasted for three beers.

I decided to visit Oasis bar again and take advantage of their opening week fifty peso beer promotion. I was surprised to see Jim, Simon, Ken, and Steve there, and I pulled up a stool and joined them. Four beers later we moved up the road to Cheap Charlies. What an experience that turned out to be.

There was a “two-week millionaire” (what we call tourists who go nuts in the bars) present. He self-identified by ringing the bell (buying all the girls a drink for 1500 pesos) FOUR times in the fifteen minutes it took me to finish my only beer there. Of course, the girls were going crazy over his generosity (and getting drunk), so they were happy. But here’s the thing. The bell-ringer was sitting with three or four girls, and the rest, including my two favorites, were just scattered around the bar. Even so, Alma and Nerissa completely ignored me. It felt like being invisible. Now, I get it when a guy is buying a girl drinks she’s his for the duration. Although I’ve also had girls tell me, “My regular is here; I need to go to him,” and that’s okay with me, too. But last night, “my” girls weren’t seated with the drink buyer, although I guess they didn’t need what I usually provide them. It was a good reminder that despite what I pretend to believe, I mean nothing to them beyond a drink commission. I left after one beer.

When I got to the bottom of the stairs, I was surprised to see Nerissa standing down there, and I let her know how disappointed I was and that I wouldn’t be coming back to see her again. She just gave me a blank look. Yeah, I was a little buzzed by now and should have just kept my mouth shut, but whatever. That’s the bar life.

I made Wet Spot my nightcap venue and wound up having a very pleasant conversation with owner Daddy Dave. He’s a retired physician and agreed with the course of action I intend to pursue on the road to better health. So, it was a nice finish to the night.

In the land of Facebook, one of my friends had a post that spoke to me.

Have you ever thought: “I’m fat.” “I’m old.” “I’m not enough.”
I was young once.
To all my Male friends from 50 years and up:
Most of us are going through the next phase of our lives.
We’re at that age where we see wrinkles, gray hair, and extra kilos.
We see the cute 25-year-olds and reminisce. But we were also 25, just as they will one day be our age.
We aren’t the “boys” in their summer clothes” anymore.
What they bring to the table with their youth and zest, we bring our wisdom and experience.
We have raised families, run households, paid the bills, and dealt with disease, sadness, and everything else life has assigned us.
Some of us have lost those who were nearest and dearest to us.
We are survivors. We are warriors in the quiet.
We are Men, like a classic car or a fine wine.
Even if our bodies aren’t what they once were, they carry our souls, our courage, and our strength.
We shall all enter this chapter of our lives with humility, grace, and pride over everything we have been through, and we should never feel bad about getting older.
It’s a privilege that is denied to so many.
Men, I challenge you to copy and proudly paste with your picture and age. Recently turned 68! and grateful to reach such an age…. 

I almost never do the copy-and-paste thing, but those words resonated with me somehow, so I made an exception and did so. I’ve gotten more than the usual number of likes on that post.

Also from the land of Facebook, I get several humor sites in my news feed, including one of my favorite comics, The Far Side. This one showed up today (although looking at it now, I see this is not an actual cartoon from Gary Larson):

And on the subject of humor, this one gave me a chuckle:

I couldn’t find the Tagalog version, so here’s the Beatles:

Back home to my Barretto routines, such as they are. Fed the gals, beers at IDM and Sloppy Joe’s, then back to the house for sleep. At least I have running water again. Maybe the ambivalence I’ve been feeling is just one of those things that are part and parcel of growing older. I’ve been feeling the effects of age physically for a while now, but this dysphoria aspect is also a struggle at times. Or maybe I’ll shake it off and regain the comfort of blissful ignorance once again. Regardless, I’m in for the duration, and hopefully, I’ll avoid subjecting my faithful few readers to future posts like this one. Bear with me!

It’s odd realizing that your mind isn’t what it once was. Maybe that goes away as the mental deterioration progresses. Joe Biden certainly doesn’t appear to possess an ounce of self-awareness these days, so perhaps I’ll stop caring one day soon. I’m especially bad at remembering names these days. I see people all the time that I recognize but can’t place in a “where do I know them from?” kind of way. I can see it in my writing, too; I’ve always sucked at punctuation, but nowadays, I’m leaving out words or using the wrong word, even though I know better. Their is nothing more embarrassing than that, is they’re? That’s an intentional example, of course, but it happens with increasing frequency. As bad as what I post here may be, you would hate to see what I catch when proofreading.

On the flip side, it is bizarre that I remember obscure things like old song lyrics from records my dad played when I was a child. Today, when I saw the cartoon I posted above, I remembered back in my pothead teen years reading what we called underground comic books. My favorite was R. Crumb and one of his monk-like characters, Mr. Natural. The memory that was triggered was of the comic below:

Alright, that’s enough of this navel-gazing. I have a life to live, such as it is, and part of that life is the Monday Hash. I’m going to attempt at least part of the trail and see how the leg holds on the ups and downs of the off-road.

Speaking of hiking, I’m now on day three of my Incheon to Busan cross-country Korea trek.

Of course, I’m only vicariously doing the hike. Kevin Kim is doing all the heavy lifting. You can join in the fun, too, by following along with the journey’s progress here. Happy trails!

Greetings from barangay Pundaquit, city of San Antonio, in lovely Zambales province. I am safely ensconced in my comfortable room at Monty’s and enjoying my mini-vacation from the land of no running water.

The 35K from Barretto to Pundaquit would be all in a day’s walk for Kevin Kim. He’s just begun this year’s top to bottom of South Korea trek (635K), so be sure to follow along at the link above. Sitting at the bar in Monty’s last night, I imagined what his average daily hike of over 30K would be like. Then I thought about walking from Barretto to Pundaquit. Nope, I don’t think so. Not in this lifetime anyway.

Arrived here late in the afternoon, so didn’t do much other than get settled in. I’ve been to Monty’s before, so the isolation that comes with it wasn’t a surprise. It was a little strange to be the only guests on a Friday night. I guess the locals were not out and about or went somewhere else to grab a beer.

I lasted at the bar until seven or so and was the only customer (other than Swan). Then it was back to the room and early to bed. I did make arrangements for an island boat tour this morning, and I’ll post about that adventure tomorrow. Later this afternoon I’ll hire a trike to take me to my favorite Pundaquit watering hole, The Car Wash, for the night’s beer ingestion. There is supposedly going to be a live band to provide some additional entertainment. Should be fun.

In the meantime, I’ve got your daily humor dose ready to go:

Maybe I should feel more guilty about posting memes:

For my closing number, I was going to use one of my favorite Neil Young songs, “Down By the River,” but I discovered I’d already used that song for a post last year. And then I came across a song called “Riverside” that I’d never even heard of (nor the singer, Agnes Obel) before. I kinda liked it, though, so here it is:

Those hours aren’t going to fill themselves, so here are my contributions from yesterday.

It had been quite a while since I’d last taken a stroll on Baloy Beach, and I remedied that with a visit for my morning walk.

Despite this being a relatively short walk, the leg was acting up, so I decided to give it a rest at the Treasure Island Resort.

After my breakfast, the leg had rejuvenated, and I walked back home without any issues.

Got home, rested, blogged, and booked my hotel for tonight and tomorrow at Monty’s in Pundaquit. I’ll be San Antonio bound early this afternoon, hence the rare morning post here at LTG.

As beer o’clock neared, I went back to my room at the Pub Hotel and showered up for my evening on the town. Clean and freshly shaven, I started things off with a visit to Sloppy Joe’s. Chris and his gal Sheryl were there, and I enjoyed some chat and the tunes Chris played as the DJ.

It was nearing dinner time, and I had a hankering for the best pulled pork sandwich in town, so I headed up the highway to John’s place.

When I left John’s, I decided I should keep with the day’s theme of doing what I hadn’t done for a while, so I paid a rare visit to Blue Butterfly bar. I was the only customer in the outside area, and four or five gals were sitting around looking bored. Well, I wasn’t going to buy them all a drink, but which one do I reward? So I decided to use one of my jokester tricks. I called the waitress over, asked for another beer, and told her “and get a lady drink for the bitch.” The waitress looked totally confused and asked who’s that. I responded you should know better than me. About this time one of the girls spoke up and exclaimed, “I’m a bitch!” And she got the drink.

I attempted to explain the humor to the waitress and told her it was just a ploy, but she insisted she was not a bitch and would never say she was. Oh well. I gave her a nice tip instead of a drink.

Next up was Mugshots, another seldom-visited bar. Nothing is wrong with the place; I just have more options than my limited capacity can satisfy. I did my nightcap at The Green Room and enjoyed watching some pool games by a very skilled player. Then it was back home for a bowl of ice cream and a refreshing night’s sleep.

Another issue associated with a lack of water is an inability to do laundry. Luckily, there are options for dealing with that.

Today’s song is a classic by Judy Collins. I checked Wikipedia to see if she was still alive, and amazingly, she is (born in 1939). She has had a hard but interesting life. I also learned that “Who Knows Where the Time Goes” was written by Sandy Denny, a British folksinger. Her life ended tragically at only 31 years old.

Sad, deserted shore, your fickle friends are leaving
Ah, but then you know it's time for them to go
But I will still be here, I have no thought of leaving
I do not count the time

For who knows where the time goes?
Who knows where the time goes?