#SLS ~ Just Don’t

Thanks to Jim Adams, for hosting Song Lyric Sunday. In Casa Cuckoo news… I saw my Primary Care Doctor on Thursday. My bloodwork was all good except one of the cancer screening tests. He made sure to tell me before he ordered the tests, and before he gave me the results that a lot of times the tests come back elevated but it turns out to be nothing. The one that came back elevated was for pancreatic cancer. He ordered a CT scan just to double check. I’m waiting for a call with the appointment date and time.

I guess the pancreas does more than just control blood sugar levels (which mine are fine BTW), it also produces “juices” that combine with bile to break down food. I guess if my food isn’t getting broken down properly it could be part of my weight loss thing. His scale was broken so I don’t know my current weight.

I asked about the fingers thing and he said it’s Raynaud’s Syndrome. I’d read about that and wasn’t surprised it was his dx. He wrote a prescription for amlopidine to take when the weather is cold. See? I have a reason for being a Weather Princess… my body won’t tolerate too cold or too hot.

I was supposed to have my monthly Pump Fill Monday 14th at 9am and the office called to reschedule it to 11am. Okay, whatever… Then they called Friday to re-reschedule it to Tuesday 15th at 2pm. Ugh! I hate afternoon appointments. Apparently there’s a problem with the pharmacy and the fentanyl. I can’t get my Pump filled if there are no meds to fill it with. The DEA and their rules make it much harder for legitimate pain patients. Most fentanyl deaths are caused by illegal street drugs, but let’s just make ALL opiates harder to get cuz that will fix it, right?! Maybe if more time, energy and money was spent on the Mental Health issue that is addiction and society quit stigmatizing it as a character flaw we might actually stop the demand and supply wouldn’t be a problem. But that’s a Soap Box for another day.

Ben is still occasionally sleeping at school and staying awake half the night at home. Daughter’s schedule is still all over the place and the Casa is still Cuckoo. I’m so out of it, I shouldn’t be allowed in public on my own. Friday at the grocery store, I’d loaded the stuff into my car, taken the cart over to the cart return place and went to get into my car. All good, right? Nope! It wasn’t until I was sitting in the wrong car, that I realized I was IN the wrong car! Wha?!? Why was it even unlocked? How did I not notice it wasn’t my Prius? I said “I’m in the wrong car” to noone (thank you captain obvious) noticed it was cleaner than my car, and the seat was too low (seats are higher in a Prius) and exited, and got into my car. Yes, this IS my life… Anyway… let’s get on with the music…

The prompt words this week are – Can’t, Don’t, Shouldn’t, Won’t

I immediately had at least four songs come to mind. One of them is still earworming me… it’s not even a favorite. UGH!

I narrowed it down to two. One is a song that always seemed to come on the radio whenever Younger and I were in the car together. It actually played recently when I was running errands and I texted her and asked if she could guess… she did. It was good for a laugh.

I decided to go with my other finalist though, just because I love this artist and everything he gave us before he was taken from us… way too early!

The song is You Don’t Mess Around With Jim by Jim Croce, from the 1972 album of the same title. It was Croces’s third album released, but the first one to achieve commercial popularity. It reached #8 in 1972 and #1 in 1974 after he died.

He was killed in a plane crash on September 20, 1973 near Natchitoches, Louisiana. He was thirty years old. His fifth and final record I Got A Name was released December 1, 1973 and his music continued to chart through the 70s.

Written by Jim Croce

Uptown got its hustlers
The bowery got its bums
42nd Street got Big Jim Walker
He’s a pool-shootin’ son of a gun
Yeah, he big and dumb as a man can come
But he stronger than a country hoss
And when the bad folks all get together at night
You know they all call big Jim “Boss”, just because
And they say

You don’t tug on Superman’s cape
You don’t spit into the wind
You don’t pull the mask off that old Lone Ranger
And you don’t mess around with Jim”

Well outta south Alabama come a country boy
He said, “I’m lookin’ for a man named Jim
I am a pool-shootin’ boy, my name’s Willie McCoy
But down at home they call me Slim
Yeah I’m lookin’ for the king of 42nd Street
He drivin’ a drop top Cadillac
Last week he took all my money, and it may sound funny
But I come to get my money back”
And everybody say, “Jack don’t you know

You don’t tug on Superman’s cape
You don’t spit into the wind
You don’t pull the mask off that old Lone Ranger
And you don’t mess around with Jim”

Well, a hush fell over the pool room
Jimmy come boppin’ in off the street
And when the cuttin’ was done
The only part that wasn’t bloody
Was the soles of the big man’s feet, ooh
And he was cut in about a hundred places
And he was shot in a couple more
And you better believe
They sung a different kind of story
When big Jim hit the floor now, they say

You don’t tug on Superman’s cape
You don’t spit into the wind
You don’t pull the mask off that old Lone Ranger
And you don’t mess around with Slim

Yeah, big Jim got his hat
Find out where it’s at
And it’s not hustlin’ people strange to you
Even if you do got a two-piece custom-made pool cue

Yeah you don’t tug on Superman’s cape
You don’t spit into the wind
You don’t pull the mask off that old Lone Ranger
And you don’t mess around with Slim

Are you a Jim Croce fan? What song would you use for this prompt? Have you ever gotten into the wrong car? Thanks for stopping by and I’ll see ya around WP…next Sunday if not sooner.

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Hugs!

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