What a gorgeous day it was to climb up Stone Mountain for an afternoon picnic.  Unfortunately, I tripped on a rock and busted my leg on the way back to the parking area.  Ouch.  My boyfriend carries a first-aid kit in his van, and he made a compress to stop the bleeding.  We stopped at my clinic on the way back to Marietta, where we live, to see Dr. Ellis.  He gave me a pain pill and treated my bruise.  Then he added, as if he had just thought of it, that maybe I should consult with a personal injury attorney in Atlanta.  I wondered why.  He said, you could probably sue the park.  They’re supposed to be in control of those falling rocks.  You tripped over a big one, didn’t you, and fell against it.  Well?  I didn’t know what to say.  I felt like it was just an accident, you know, things just happen and you have to take the good with the bad and all that.  Dr. Ellis said it was entirely up to me—but that’s what he would do.  My boyfriend agreed with him.  He said we should definitely sue them for as much as we can get.  I think he just said that because he’s not making too much money at his auto shop.  He’s trying to put together a rock band—he attended the University down in Athens for two years before he dropped out and was really into the B-52s and R.E.M.  So now he wants to sound like Mike Stipe or like Fred Schneider.  Fine, so long as he doesn’t sound like Zell Miller.  Oh, these Georgia peach dudes, what will we do with them!