Elvis on the brain …

Day 297

I saw Elvis today at the post office. Alive and well with thick side burn choppers to boot. He was not, however, sporting his light blue leisure suit … but jeans and a black jacket. Somehow the outfit was not complete.

I was never an Elvis fan. I was too young when he came onto the scene and if I were to ever pick him to be a singer or an actor, I’d say the latter. I liked his goofy beach/army movies so much more than his singing.

I just never “got” what all the hype was about him. Never liked his music either. And what is it about Graceland?

In any case … he was a few people ahead of me in line and I wanted to tell him as he passed by to get himself to a barber pronto because he looked ridiculous.

But I didn’t. I held my tongue. I refrained from insult. I minded my own business.

There is a dip at the post office (and I’m not referring to Elvis or any of the postal clerks) … I mean an actual dip in the sidewalk. And I know it’s there. I know it’s there because almost every  time I am at the post office I tell myself to watch out for the dip in the sidewalk as I go into the building … and on my way out I forget and am walking along and take that one step – where the sidewalk dips down about an inch more than the rest of it – and BAM! Those lightning bolts of pain shoot up my back and down my legs and the dip gets me again!

I feel like erecting a sign right at that spot to remind myself (and others) to watch the dip! It’s infuriating! It’s frustrating! It’s painful! It’ll never happen. And it’s also on government property meaning it’ll never get fixed.

It was Moby’s 12th birthday today. If the seven years of human life equals one year of dog life theory holds true … she turned 84 today. My big ol’ baby. (She and my parents are the same age!) I took pictures of her wearing her party hat, gave her a Little Debbie snack coffee cake and sang to her after giving her a nice doggie massage. She has a rough life! And before we all came up for bed we played Big Bad Wolf.

She lies on her back and I sing the “Who’s Afraid of the Big, Bad Wolf” song and wiggle her feet back and forth … and then she wrinkles up her nose and shows her teeth when I’m done singing (though most of the time she needs prompting!). She’s a goofy, sweet dog.

And as weird as this is … at the end of the song tonight she made a funny noise … and it, somehow, sounded very much like the beginning of Blue Christmas by, you guessed it … Elvis!

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