Author: Fuzzygalore

Rider, adventurer, traveler, weirdo, lover of love, and all around curious person. Trying to squeeze the fun-juice out of each and every day.
Mother Goose in Hazard, Kentucky

Mother Goose in Hazard, Kentucky

Sometimes people ask me how I find funky stuff while out on the road. One of my favorite ways is by chance. While satisfying an itch by navigating to something has its own reward, seeing something unexpectedly adds to it the delicious element of surprise.

In October of 2018, I rode through Hazard, Kentucky after stopping in Dwarf. Hazard was one of those town names I’d often seen on a map and thought, I should pass through there. No doubt this inclination was fueled by my childhood crush on John Schneider as Bo Duke on the Dukes of Hazzard. (Don’t judge me!)

After having a look-see around the town, I continued east towards I have no idea where. Suddenly I found myself looking at a giant Goose building on the side of the road. Yeeeehaw!

Keep exploring, my friends.

Mother Goose House
2906 N Main St
Hazard, KY 41701

Whispering Giant: Sequoyah of North Carolina

Whispering Giant: Sequoyah of North Carolina

Back in 2015, I participated in the Whispering Giants Grand Tour. It was an awesome push to get out for a ride. It was exciting to see these fantastic carved Giants. Each one has so much character. Though the grand tour has long since passed, I still stop to see the giants when one is close by.

This giant, Sequoyah, stands in Cherokee, North Carolina.

Fuzzygalore Whispering Giant Sequoyah

Sequoyah stands outside of the Museum of the Cherokee Indian.

Museum of the Cherokee Indian
589 Tsali Blvd
Cherokee, NC 28719
Gmaps: https://goo.gl/maps/f482LkSTNB5xRUmM7

Other Posts about Whispering Giants

Today is Yesterday’s Tomorrow

Today is Yesterday’s Tomorrow

Since I have a little downtime away from the bike for a few weeks, I’ve been looking through photos that have accumulated over the years.

As I flip through the images, sometimes it surprises me that I haven’t posted about a place I went or something I saw. There’s some good stuff lingering around. But, I start out with grand plans and get sidetracked. For me, there’s always tomorrow.

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

from Macbeth
by William Shakespeare

Anyway, I just like this picture. Everything looks so green and vibrant, so full of new life. It just looks so stinkin’ hopeful to me.

That Time I Had My Coconut Removed

That Time I Had My Coconut Removed

There are periods in your life when you think that your self-esteem couldn’t possibly get any lower, that the only way to go is up. Then with a maniacal laugh and a wag of the finger, the universe says, “No, girrrl. Uh-uh” and hands you these.

Ladies and gentlemen, my hospital issued underwear:

I can’t rightly say just what fabric these medicinal underpants are made of. Nor can I fathom what the banded design provides other than another unflattering aspect. But what I can tell you is that these babies are purpose-built for comfort. They possess unparalleled super expando capabilities. It wouldn’t be a stretch to imagine that I could’ve safely jumped from my fourth-floor hospital room window touching down as light as Mary Poppins, seeing as how they would’ve ballooned to parachute size without so much as a whimper.


Pre-op

Two weeks ago I had another procedure on my middle bit. (I’m fine, no cancer.) I have 2 previous laparoscopic scars on the sides of my tum-tum, one in my belly button and now, a niiiice big smile to round out the package. Add to that some baby-havin’ tiger stripes and my stomach looks like a demented smiley face with terrible skin issues.

Immediately following the surgery, my lower belly was so swollen and puffy that it looked like I was wearing a floaty inner tube, but on the inside. Kind of like wearing your socks over your shoes.

Post-op

I’m bringin’ sexy back, alright.


While in recovery, I didn’t know if I was just loopy or if what my surgeon was saying to me was real. He made a pluck sound and said “we removed your coconut,” and motioned with his hands an imaginary coconut shape. My coconut? I had a secret coconut?

I was reassured that I wasn’t crazy when he repeated the statement a day later. Now fully coherent when he stopped in to see how I was doing, he again motioned the imaginary coconut but clarified what they removed was the size of a coconut. I have to admit, it was disappointing not to have an actual inner coconut.

The view before heading under the knife.

One of my post-surgical tasks was to try to fart. TRY. TO. FART! After spending the last 45 years trying not to, this was the moment I’d been waiting for. Some guy asked me to fart on purpose! No making noises, shoe scuffing, or any of the other oddball coverage techniques people employ to try to mask their butt-sounds. No sir. Just let it rip with abandon.

Not only that, every nurse who cared for me was hellbent on knowing whether or not I was enjoying a ride on the poot-poot express. Never do you expect to hear “Having you been passing gas?” with such curiosity, enthusiasm, and concern.


The procedure was a success. I’m not in pain, I don’t have cancer and other than being generally tired, I’m perfectly fine. Put one in the win column for me.

My recovery period is six weeks or so. That means I have to limit physical activity, not benchpress a Volkswagon, yadda yadda yadda. Between you and me, you know what really concerns me. Yep – that I can’t ride my bike in what has been some excellent late spring weather. I’ve still got 4 weeks to go until I’ll be able to fly. Assuming they don’t identify any other strange fruits in my body.

Surely the only way is up from here!

Two weeks later – as nutty as ever:

Seeing Something New on a Well-worn Path

Seeing Something New on a Well-worn Path

Everything blends in with the background when you’re zipping along, head down, focused only on the task at hand – survival. There is no bigger picture, only now. Chaos can swirl around you, burning everything to the ground but your eyes remain ignorant, fixed only on immediate gratification.

I’ve crossed this bridge for twenty years, never once stopping until this very day. After pulling over and finally stopping, I climbed up on the wall to look out. I stood there surveying what spilled out before me.

After a long time of repeating the same actions, this was the first time that I ever saw something. I witnessed the curve of the shoreline embracing the body of it’s partner, and the ripples that danced away. I saw the clouds and the sky.

I saw distance.

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