Hippie Dippy

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," where we like to think of religion as a smorgasbord! Take a plate, move on down the line, and there's sure to be a faith practice that fits you perfectly. Druid or Dervish, Mithras or Methodist, you're welcome here!

For about two years I've been having trouble with my left hip. As in, it hurts so much it makes me limp. I'm not overweight, so I can't blame extra pounds.

I figured the problem was bursitis and waited for it to go away on its own. It hasn't.

Over the holidays I got so many X-rays that I glowed brighter than the drunken gleam in your Uncle Zeb's eye. Last week, on the second day of this new year, I took the X-rays to the doctor.

The minute he put them up on that little light-up thingy, I said, "Oh man, I am so screwed."

The doctor didn't disagree. But he made getting a new hip joint sound like a pleasant walk through a sunny glade, and he promised me that he was sending me to a surgeon who is "more artist than physician."

Sometime this year, Picasso is going to do a Cubist boogie in my hip joint, leaving some titanium and teflon behind. In the meantime, as I'm a contract employee desperately seeking full-time work, I've got to hide this limp as best I can. No one is going to hire a limpy middle-aged female with substandard computer skills, even if she is thin and smart and nice and a people person who can type 70 words per minute and find the split infinitives and dangling participle phrases.

Tomorrow I return to long-term substitute teaching, and twice a week I have to go to physical therapy to prepare my legs for the surgery. So if you log onto "The Gods Are Bored" and find nothing but the same post as the day before, please be patient! Someone will be with you shortly.

Don't give up on me. I promise this site will continue to be dedicated to the bored gods, and not to my problems. Everybody has problems. But everybody doesn't have Sacred Thunderbirds or Loki or Chonganda in their lives. So my mission hasn't changed. If you need one god, two gods, red gods, or blue gods, check here first! Our low rates can't be beat, and our gods and goddesses are top-notch.

Please, please! Don't send donations! I can just hear you rustling for the checkbook. How sweet!

If you want to do something for me and the bored gods, just recommend me to new readers. If my polling numbers are correct, Mike Huckabee and Barak Obama don't need to be looking over their shoulders at Candidate Johnson. But please, help me make them sweat by increasing my fan base. It never hurts to please a bored god.

FROM ANNE
THE MERLIN OF BERKELEY SPRINGS