480 Minutes To and From Moab

I had a crippling allergy attack last week. I ate bee pollen all winter in the hopes of self-inoculating myself. I bought the pollen from a local bee guy, and had to listen to him tell me how honey can cure cancer, aids, burns, in-grown toenails, insomnia, and gout, but cannot cure motor-mouth. Actually, the pollen seems to have helped, but not as much as I had hoped. I just found out that the bee keepers in Utah ship all their bees off to California all summer. I was eating California pollen. That loquacious bee rancher lied about his pollen. Now I am tainted. This is what happens when you try to be holistic.

I also spent the weekend in Moab with Elizabeth and some of her family. I probably shouldn't say anything snide or sarcastic about my in-laws.

Moab was gorgeous. Perfect hiking weather. Lots of rocks. A few little lizards (or Geico's as my mother-in-law calls them). I discovered, as I climbed on a rock that I once climbed when young and spry, that I am wiser, more-well rounded, and intelligent (or as my sister-in-law would say: older, fatter, and more cowardly) than I once was. (See thefunseeley.blogspot.com for real details of the trip (coming soon)).

The mechanic looked my car over. I spent $90 to find out that it will cost $250 more to fix the a/c. My car stinks.