I am happy to report that I once again feel almost normal. I was beginning to have some doubts that I’d ever recover the strength to engage in the lifestyle to which I’ve become accustomed, but yesterday, I felt like I’d turned the corner on the road to recovery.

The day didn’t start out looking so positive. I had a near sleepless night, and the pain in my side was back, although diminished. I did an abbreviated dog walk and then began to doubt the wisdom of participating in the Friday group hike. Ultimately, I decided to join with the caveat that I’d bail out as circumstances warranted. So, I took a pain pill and headed out.

Only four of us were in attendance, so the decision was made to trike out to the end of Sawmill Road and commence our hike from Bridge #6. Two trikes at 200 pesos each had us there twenty minutes later. Then, we commenced with the mostly flat 5K walk back to Barretto. It was really enjoyable for me to be off the streets for a change, and the route we took was one I’ve rarely traversed. The hike went surprisingly well for me, with only one minor breathing issue near the end after our only climb. I had debated taking a longer route to avoid the hill but ultimately decided I needed to challenge myself. No regrets.

I have lots of photos to share, including the usual contributions from Scott as well as some from the newest member of our group, Bhel. Let’s get to it, shall we?

It was so good to be back on trail again. Sorry for the overload of pictures, but it was great being back in the embrace of mother nature.

A nap, some blogging, a shower, and then I looked outside.

I had decided not to attend the SOB competition this week. Once or twice a month keeps it fresh for me. And with freshness in mind, I plotted a bar crawl featuring rarely visited venues beginning at my end of the highway. My plan was two beers per bar with a finish no later than 8 p.m.

The next “bar” on this side of the street is Johansson’s. While it has a bar and serves alcoholic beverages, it has more of a restaurant vibe about it. Again, nothing wrong with that, but I got bored before I finished my first beer, so I moved on. I’ll be back on Monday for the Hash On-Home.

Then it was Alley Hideout, aka Alley Cats, my old dart bar. Lots of turnover in staff with only one familiar face amongst the waitresses. A dart tournament was in progress, and I recognized some of the players. Jim came in as part of his own bar crawl, so I had someone to chat with as I downed my beers.

I moved up the highway to the next venue, Rosies. This is a bar I might visit twice a year. Before the scamdemic, it employed dancers, but those days are now over. Rosies now has more of a pool hall vibe. There was a pool tournament taking place during my visit. The waitresses were friendly, and one in particular was pretty aggressive in seeking my attention. So, I answered the usual questions and heard her sad story (her boyfriend makes a baby and then leaves, so working in the bar was her last best option). Still, she was pleasant enough to talk to, and I rewarded her with a lady’s drink.

And that was the end of my crawl–five bars, nine beers. Another sign that I’m back to being my old, hardy self. I headed to the trike stand at the Maze and stopped at Sit-n-Bull for the pecan pie I missed on Thanksgiving to bring home to share with Swan and Teri. Home and in bed before nine.

And here is maybe the best news of the day:

There you have it–back to my walkaholic and alcoholic ways, with the added ability to sleep it off and start over again the next day. Life is good!

Yesterday’s joke was older than I realized and had been used here twice previously. So, let’s try this one and see what happens:

On a bus two men with strong accents begin a conversation. The lady next to them is eavesdropping.

“Emma come first, the I come. Den two esses acoma together. I come once-a-more. Two esses, they comma together again. I come again, then pee twice. The I come one lasta time.”

“You dirty bastards!” the woman exclaims. “We don’t talk about our sex lives in public in this country!”

“Hey, whattsa matter with you?” the man asks. “I’m justa tellin’ my friend how to spell Mississippi.”

I have a date night with Swan later. I’m going to take her to the floating bar and then we will have dinner at Treasure Island. It’s good to be alive!