I was going to call today’s post “Ruby Tuesday,” but a quick search revealed I had used that title back in February 2021. I reread the old post, and in the comments, Brian suggested, “You can’t always get what you want,” would have been a more appropriate title. So, here you go.

Shopping at Royal is always hit-and-miss. This week the sugar-free pudding that has been satisfying my sweet tooth’s desire for dessert was out of stock. On the other hand, they did have Coke Zero in the 16oz bottles I prefer for the first time in several weeks. In the end, I guess I got what I needed.

My mountain mama friend MJ whom I support came by for her weekly stipend. I mentioned I had a doctor’s appointment that afternoon, and she asked me what was wrong. I told her I was being treated for AIDS. The look on her face as she jumped back, was priceless! I quickly reassured her that I was joking, and while relieved, I don’t think she likes my sense of humor much.

My visit with Dr. Jo was for another B+ shot, which she recommends I get every 7-10 days. The injection is supposed to help my body up my red blood cell count, which is below normal and may contribute to my periodic breathing difficulties. I also asked if I should get one of those kits to monitor my blood sugar, and she said she didn’t think that was necessary at this time. I’ll return for another blood diagnostics session in a couple of months to check my progress.

It was only 3:30 after my appointment. Too late to go back home and too early to start drinking, so I decided to find something to eat (I had skipped lunch). With time to spare, I made the trek across town to John’s place. My waitress asked if I was interested in the day’s special–Philly cheesesteak. I responded that’s what I came for!

John stopped by my table and asked me what I thought of the sandwich. I told him it was the best I ever had. I said I was especially surprised by the cheese sauce. He told me that was also something he made himself from scratch. Also, the beef was USDA ribeye, which was very tender and tasty. Well done, Mr. Kim!

After my meal, I headed back across town to Sloppy Joe’s. My buds Chris and Jim were there, and I joined them in the pursuit of happiness by downing alcoholic beverages. I can only stay in one place for so long, and when my feet got itchy, I invited Jim to join me in a bar hop.

Neither of us had been to Adam’s bar in a long time, so we went in to check it out. We were the only customers. They had several bargirls sitting around waiting for something to do. At least they didn’t accost us for lady drinks, which I always appreciate. I’m unsure why Adam’s isn’t doing better; it’s a nice venue with a pool table and dart boards. If I had to guess, I’d say the problem is simply more bars than available customers. That seemed to be the case last night, at least. We finished our beers and departed.

I suggested we pay a visit to Whiskey Girl next, and when I mentioned the “buy one, get one” deal, Jim was sold. My old favorite, Jen, was outside as we arrived, and she escorted us to our table. We ordered our beers, and I bought a lady drink for Jen. I asked about the new girl I had met on my last visit, Niki, and they pointed out that she was on the stage “dancing” (it was more like the typical Barretto shuffle), so I called her down to join us.

Jen asked me about brownies (I guess that’s becoming my nighttime claim to fame, similar to the cookies I hand out during the day), and I pointed out that the last few times I’ve visited the bar, she’s been with a customer or absent, so bringing her brownies hadn’t even occurred to me. Then she told me it was her birthday. I felt bad for her, but as I noted, how was I supposed to know what day she was born? She said she had told me the last time I was there, but I have no recollection of that. Anyway, I promised I’d bring brownies the next time I visit. And then a flower vendor came by, so I bought Jen a rose.

Jim wanted to make Alley Cats the final stop of the evening, but I knew I’d already had enough, so I declined the invite and caught a trike home.

I don’t hike on Tuesdays, but I did find this and found it interesting:

Nearly 150 years ago, in 1874, Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens) and his pastor, Joseph Twitchell set off to attempt a walk of 100 miles from Hartford Connecticut to Boston, Massachusetts. They hoped to finish within 48 hours. They often took ten-mile jaunts together, only suffering “jaw ache” from gabbing so much. With this walk, they could store up enough “jaw” for the winter.

The two passed through hamlets along the way and after ten hours and 28 miles they stopped for the night. “Before retiring, they had a consultation and decided that their undertaking had developed into anything but a pleasure trip and was actually hard work.” In the morning they reached mile 35 and then boarded a train for Boston. Twain said, “My knee was so stiff that it was like walking on stilts.” He never tried a 100-mile walk again.

From my new book: Running 100 Miles: Part One (1729-1960), https://ultrarunninghistory.com/100miles1/

Yep, keeping it fun, or at least enjoyable, is my goal these days.

I shared the photo of my mom and dad from 1950 (posted here yesterday) on Facebook, and it generated a lot of feedback. In response to a question, I noted that the marriage was far from perfect, but it had lasted a lifetime (almost 60 years when they passed away).

This fruit fell far from that tree–I’m a four-time loser at marriage. And love seems to be the bane of my existence. Well, you can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need.

Here’s hoping.