Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Gulfport II: We can rebuild her . . .

It's a day for fixing wonderful ladies.

Let's start from the outside and work our way in shall we?

It was right around midday in the capital of that lovely lady named America I've been exploring that a Presidential transplant took place. The nation got a new heart in Obama but perhaps the thing that I respect the most about the man was his frankness and turning the responsibility back on the people of the country. He may be the heart, but we are the blood and it is time that everyone steps up to better our land, I know we can. If people acted towards each other as they had acted towards me on this trip even a percentage of the time, we would be in a remarkably better place over night.

In my mind, I haven't walked all that far, but far enough to see a spirit I never knew existed in my homeleand and a kindness and hope like I have never seen before.

Second, my Grandma underwent surgery today. It sounds like things went well and she's doing okay, I wish her the best and a speedy recovery so she can enjoy going to Hawaii soon. During this trip I have felt a lot closer to people in general but in particular my Grandmother who is possibly the most loving human being in existence, even if the love often comes out in the form of paranoid worries and gratuitous and insistent food offers that make you suspect she may be pulling a 'Hansel and Gretel' on you.

Lastly comes Cherry. I didn't want to worry any fans of my little stroller (which oddly enough I believe actually might exist) but recently a not so easily fixable part of her broke and I was worried she may shortly end up on the side of a highway somewhere with whatever I couldn't carry on my back. The kindness of strangers came to my rescue
(and Cherry's, who as I figure is about 150 'stroller years' old) again though and I've included yet another video.

Gulfport Garage

Don't blame poor Cherry either, I've made that poor little thing do things no stroller was ever even supposed to even know about.

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