HOW DO THEY DO IT?

The cactus wren. Basically I understand how birds stand on power lines and don't get electrocuted. But how does a cactus wren stand on a cactus and not get stuck?

Not only is the wren our state bird, which, to me means they do a lot of standing on cactuses. It's not a rarity. But they also build nests in the saguaros.

Now, I've gotten burs and stickers from picking up an orange that has dropped near the big paddle cactus in our backyard. I've gotten those invisible needles in my hand from retrieving a golf ball in the desert.

So how do they do it? And why do they do it? For water that a cactus, especially a saguaro holds? I mean there has to be an easier way. We're not the Sahara. And what a price to pay to get stickers that hurt and bug you all day.

It sorta reminds me of the stimulus package. Some will get a little. But the pain of what little one gets in return for the long term suffering is not worth it. There are other alternatives.

WALKING MAN

That's me. Three to five miles daily. I've been a little short on the 5, but I have hit the 4 mile barrier a few times, including yesterday.

So if you don't mind reading about someone's aches and pains, then read on. Feb 16 marked the first of 5 leg surgeries for me. All out-patient. They're called EVLT.

Now, I'm not going to get too medical or too specific. Thrombosis or enlarged veins in both legs were the cause of the needed surgeries. They weren't varicose veins; they weren't purple. They were just big. One especially in my right thigh. So they needed fixed.

What Dr. Pang (is that the coolest name for a Doctor ever) sealed them off with wires and lasers. Somehow he numbed my leg, then shoved some kind of wires in there. Then he lasered me, asking me to tell if it got too hot. It did. He shot me with more numbing med and went on.

Then I had to wear support hose. After a few days I could sleep without them. Pain pills helped. Diuretics and potassium pills help relieve the swelling--my main problem.

While I was required to walk those miles, actually that's when I felt the best. Sitting is still painful. Elevating the leg helps some. So does ice. But it's hard to sit when you can't bend at the knee or ankle.

So I'm recovering. Nicely but too slowly for me. I have lots of people praying for me. I love prayers and could use more. So feel free.

My targets are church on Sunday, then BSF on Monday night and golf on Tuesday and Wednesday. With or without my support hose, which I can never keep up.

IT'S THE WEST, YOU KNOW

Some have accused golfers of only playing the game so as to get an opportunity to wear wild looking clothes. It's that way in the West, too.

Friends of ours from Missouri are visiting and they got outfitted in cowboy hats that were made to order. It took about 3 hours but their hats fit them perfectly and they look good, too. I started to show them mine, but I was reminded I left it in MTV. I wore one to President Reagan's first inauguration when there was something to celebrate. But my hat didn't survive the move. Probably our grandkids have played with it, beat it up, pulled out the feather. But hey, if it brought them some pleasure, then that's ok by me. I probably wouldn't have worn it anyway.

Cowboy boots? Never had any. Never want any. I'm too much like another President who feels most comfortable in flip flops. But actually I don't like the ff's like W because that piece of leather between my big and index toe (do we really have index toes?) hurts my feet, so I go with a slip on sandal. If I'm getting more comfortable, I may wear my slip on tennis shoes. I like to keep things easy and simple as I get older.

But boots? Nope. I'd have to wear socks. That would never do. Ever since a neighbor friend of mine introduced me to penny loafers and boat shoes without socks, I've been a fan.

Fringe on a coat? Not for me. I'd get it caught in a door or decide to chew on it. Fringe looks good, but it would just get in my way.

So I guess I'll have to confine my wild clothes to the golf course. Now one of my friends is a cowboy, too. He lights up the old links when he plays. I always let him beat me, too. You never know if someone's packing or not.

AND THIS IS DALE CHIHULY

I've mentioned him a few times in recent entries and thought you might like to see some of his fabulous blown glass art work.

The one on the left is from a bellegio ceiling somewhere. Maybe Chicago. The one to the right is from Phoenix at the Botanical Gardens.

We haven't gone yet though we have tickets for next month. Our botanical gardens are so beautiful anyway, especially this time of year when cactuses are blooming. It probably will be just a little early for the saguaros to bloom, but with an early Spring and warm temps--we almost made it to 90 degrees yesterday, we could be in for their beauty as well. Add some Chihuly and as one of my out-of-town friends who has viewed the exhibit said, "It was truly one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen." A world traveler, he has been blessed to see a lot of beauty in a lot of different locales. (I wonder why some English teachers didn't like the use of a lot? Some would say use only if you're writing about a parcel of land. So does many sound all that much better? How about a bunch?)

There's so much beauty in this world. From a sunrise and sunset. From a night sky filled with distant stars. To a painting or sculpture. To children playing. To a perfectly executed fast break. Don't be too absorbed to miss any of it.

Chihuly awaits. Don't pass him by.

SO KISSABLE

As puckered up as a river otter can be, she awaits the smooch. How otterly embarrassing if he only moved in for a sniff. But that's the risk, the chance you take when you get into the kissing game.

Last night at supper, I looked outside our window and saw two rabbits kissing. Twice. After each kiss the aggressor jumped straight up into the air. Two was enough though. After that he ran away.

Do I think animals really kiss? Not really. Not anymore than I think Eskimos rub noses or that eyelashes batted against one's neck qualifies as a kiss. Even though it's called a butterfly kiss.

First kisses. Long kisses when one decides to come up for air. Pecks. Cheek kisses. Good night kisses. French kisses. Goodbye kisses. Wet kisses. Kisses that are like a drill press. Kisses that are done where you wonder where her/his lips are. Kisses that literally suck you in. Ok, graphic enough. Time to quit.

But an experiened friend of mine tells me there are good kisses and then there are good kisses. He never had a kiss he didn't like.

THE SACRIFICIAL BEAR

One of my favorite baseball players is Lee Smith. The all-time leader in saves who's been denied entrance into the Hall of Fame. For some unknown reason.

Standing 6'6'' and weighing in the neighborhood of 275 pounds, the man was an imposing figure. Once he was walking near the wall in St. Petersburg, Florida, during Spring Training when a young fan yelled, "Ozzie," thinking the Smith on the back of his jersey denoted Ozzie Smith. Lee stopped, smiled and corrected the fan saying he was Lee Smith and not Ozzie "who's a little bitty man standing only about this tall," as he gestured about waist high. I hope the humor of the situation came through in writing, for it was one of the funniest lines I've ever heard.

But I liked him long before I heard him say that. In fact, I even liked him when he wore the Cub's uniform. In the late hours of the afternoon with the game on the line, big Lee was summoned from the Cubs bullpen to finish the job. Which he usually did. He was that shutdown.

But in this morning's paper. I read why it took him so long to make that walk from the bullpen to the mound. He was trying to help out the grounds crew. If they had to work past 4:30, they got paid overtime. So here's a professional player taking care of members of the grounds crew. And without fanfare.

That's the kind of guy Lee Smith is. And as much as I like him and think he deserves the Hall of Fame, he is one player I think should wear the hat of the Cubs upon his induction. As long as he pitched well for the Cardinals, as many saves as he had for my team, he is and was a Cub. A sacrificial bear of a man.

WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE?

When we were in South Africa, one of our guides at a game lodge told the story of a woman who was given a very sad report from her doctor. She had inoperable cancer and less than one year to live.

She decided to spend her last year traveling and identifying as many birds as she could see. She went to far away places, off beaten paths and actually is credited with bird sightings that no one had discovered. Some of the weavers bear her name if I recall.

Some friends of ours really like butterflies and lady bugs. Not to any extent like the weaver woman, but they wouldn't miss a chance to spot some. The rarer the better. Other friends of ours love the glass work of Dale Chihuly and would go to great lengths to see a new exhibit.

As for me, well I like a whole lot of stuff including Chihuly. But I don't think I'm that attracted to any one kind. I guess I'm a generalist instead of a specialist.

But I love to see passion in people. Whether it be over an object or a person. An author or a movie. A team or a cause. As long as we're alive and act like it .