Gutting it Out: Ulcers, Kefir, and Bad Decisions

A Week Off

With a bit of luck, we’ll be out of here before Thanksgiving

Hi gang,

So, it turns out I’m not 20 anymore and certainly not superhuman.

Shocker, I know.

Apparently, I’ve hooked a stomach ulcer, or so The Google tells me—a real sum bitch of a situation—the kind that makes you question your dietary and lifestyle decisions.

So, I’m hitting the pause button for a week to recover because, clearly, you can’t plow through life on caffeine and rage alone.

Seed, Source, and writing this pamphlet—my favorite by a nose—must take a backseat while I limp through this beet season before my differential splits and I tip over.

Now I’m out here in the beet line, scarfing down salad and chugging mint tea with some kind of seaweed slime concoction that would make old iron gut Hougard lose his cookies. All in hopes I make it to the doctor on Tuesday to get this ulcer confirmed along with the proper repair instructions.

Evidently, this is forty.

Exciting times, right?

Well, not as exciting as when the Frosted Mini-Wheat fiber bomb burst in my belly the other night. That post-beet shift bowl of cereal puffed me up like the SpongeBob Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade float and ensured sleep wasn’t in the cards.

Damn shame, too, with all the new folks joining us, including one brave soul who threw genuine American dollars into the hat. Big love to you—you’re giving me hope that possibly, one day, I could make a living out of this madness.

But first, I’ve got to survive this beet harvest without my paunch exploding, creating a scene in the piler line that I highly doubt any of these drivers are prepared to stomach.

But hey, maybe not all is lost.

Perhaps there’s a silver lining in all these gas bubbles. This could be the warning sign I need to take better care of myself before I put myself six feet under for the final dirt nap. That’d be a pity—I still feel like I’ve got a lot left to say. Don’t envy you people, lol.

So yeah, everything, everywhere, all at once.

Best of luck—it’s a jungle out there, and we’re all just running on fumes and hacking through it with a dull machete. I’m about to force down a shot of kefir 🤢 to repopulate the ol' gut bacteria—cheers to health, or whatever.

The days of Twix bars and Rice Krispie Treats are in the rearview.

Time to grow up (a bit).

Now that you all know far more about my digestive system than you signed up for, I’ll be back next week for a deep dive into two of the hardest working sumbitches the world has ever known, the Kuznia Boys.

Okie, bye for now—love you, see you!