After searching for good BBQ and the Trail of Tears, I decided to head west and take a break from life in Atlanta. Out there, all the Christians were in a tizzy for J.C.,  so  I decided to lay my head at my ma’s house in the LBC. I wanted to pretend I could earn my keep and thought chopping fire wood would be a good first choice. Yet even though I did lots while wandering about in Georgia, chopping wood wasn’t in my bag. This became evident when I laid a full size axe into my right pointer finger. Now it’s eight stitches later, and I can’t put my hand in my pocket.

Mike didn’t think the wound would prevent me from playing the sax, so he made me play Orange Guru Suit until I bled (four bars in). He laughed, I cried, we hugged, and he put me on the disabled list. I think I will return to the medicine man I met while waddling in the Chattahoochee. He can help me heal, plus I really like his accent. As always, I’ll check in soon to update ya’ll of my adventure.

Signed,
Jesse Bluelake.

click pictures to enlarge [CAUTION: gore increases with size]