I haven't written lately because I have had a touch of bronchitis. The bad part is it touched both my lungs at the same time. I get really maudlin and rather morbid when I get sick also. But I have been able to draw and paint a little so I thought I would just post them.
As I laid in bed hacking up lung snot feeling sorry for myself I thought of my dad. Smoking two and half packs of cigarettes a day for thirty years left him with emphysema that lasted over ten years. Towards the end, his days were filled with constant coughing fits and a decreased lung capacity. How can the human body tolerate such punishment for so long? After just a week of this I was asking my wife to pull the plug on my humidifier. Why is it that it takes a sickness or injury to appreciate how fortunate being well really means?
I just hate being sick or laid up. When my time comes I would rather it was from an animal attack than a prolong and chronic ailment. Well, not any animal. Not a shark or bear because they bite pieces off while you're still alive and then come back for more. A big cat would be fine, such as a mountain lion, or leopard. They strike from behind and most cases you don't even know what hit you. Snap goes the neck and there you are, predator take out. A poison dart frog would probably work. The curare in their skin gives a hallucinogenic affect that might be sort of cool. But I don't think they attack too often. Did I mention how morbid I get when I'm sick? Why don't you just look at the pictures? Good health to everyone out there!