I am not a Vietnamese prostitute. I am sorry that I let this charade go on for so long. In other snooze, I have written a children's book on the art of taxidermy. In other, other snooze, I lied about writing a children's book on the art of taxidermy. I am so sorry that I let this charade go on for one entire sentence. I blame the Liberal media for the first and Fox News for the later.
Now that things are straightened out, I need to attend to more important matters. By the way, if I were really a Vietnamese prostitute, I would go by the name of Netflix.
Who would like the challenge of defining my newly minted word? It's the title; I made it up. Yes, I'm silly and have no life, but help me anyway.
In other snooze, I did manage to sneak up to the hills on the weekend, during a break in the bad weather. I tried to excavate what I was talking about in the previous post and it wasn't even a "Geraldo" moment. What I thought was the entrance was a pocket, but through more digging found large slabs of rock collapsed on top of each other. I did find a bunch of ash, possibly from an old miner's campfire. So, I determined that it was foolish and way too dangerous for me, all by myself, to proceed. There is a tunnel back in the mountain some distance further, but it is beyond reasonable effort and risk to uncover. This is fine, however. This is just tunnel #1 of 4 in this camp--the one in the picture found here. I will have to post pics later. I'm hoping to at least have something interesting, besides dirt, to show.
I remember watching Geraldo Rivera excavating the "secret" vaults of Al Capone with great anticipation of him finding a cache of loot or human remains. In the end, all that was found was a couple of broken bottles. My "Geraldo" moment may come soon. I have found an intriguing old mine that I discovered from a misidentified photo on the Utah Historical Society website. I located the mine camp last weekend and the mine entrance has long since been covered over by erosion. There is very little indication of human activity in that area, due to its overgrowth and difficulty of access.
Anyway, I started prying around with a branch and found the earth coming out with ease--the opening starting to reveal itself. While this is not a good idea, I have got all excited with thoughts of finding some cool artifacts left behind. This is probably unlikely, but I intend to find out anyway just for the hell of it. So this weekend, it will be me + pickaxe vs. landslide. I might be able to talk one of my friends into coming along and bringing his gullible brother in law along to do the brunt of the work. The only problem with this is that if any real loot is found, then you have to split it up. Well, the solution to that is to bring a gun and kill them right after they hand me the goods. I will already have a ready-made crypt for them; now all I need is a giant stone to roll over the hole.
Wait, you guys do read every word I write in my posts, not just the first couple of sentences, right? Drat! Okay, forget the part where I murder two people and pretend I said that we gave our riches to the starving orphans instead. I'm probably just going to find a couple of old, broken bottles anyway.
So, with the deaths over the past two years of my sister and mother, I tend to expect someone else close to me to kick the bucket. It's not that there is a person in my family that I feel is near death at the moment, but I've gotten used to the idea that death has come closer to me. The reason I bring all of this up is that I have been looking at my dad and wondering when and how it's going to end for him. I wonder if it will be quick or drawn out. I also wonder if it will be me who finds him, how long he will have been dead before someone is to find him, what he'll look like, and if I find him, if I'll be ready. When he and I are around each other I can't help it; he tends to get stuck in these story-telling loops and all I can seem to think about is his mortality. I should be listening to him and taking down all I can of his life.
So, is this abnormal of me to think about? Images of my mother's last moments flash in my head now and again. While I have long accepted her death, those difficult images of her struggle and death remain. Even though I handled her last moments as best as I could, I still don't want to ever go through that experience again. But since my brother and I are the ones taking care of my dad, it is highly probable that it will either be one of us to handle his death and my job to handle the funeral and affairs of my father's estate. I am not ready for this at the moment, but when would I ever be? What a sad apprenticeship I've had helping with the last two family members' deaths. It has been an honor, but not something that I look forward to doing again.
I hope I get a break in this department and more joy all around.
