Tuesday, January 15, 2019

Snitchbit, Jiffy Boob and Murphy's Law of Meteorology

Friday was one of those days.

The week started off well enough. I got a free Fitbit, part of my insurance provider's wellness offerings. The first thing it told me is that I'm seriously sleep-deprived. It's worse than I thought. I'm getting three or four hours a night. That's what Trump is said to be getting, and look at the mental mess he is.

Collin dubbed it Snitchbit, because had my doctor checked it, she would have known what I'm not doing. (She didn't, but I still got a lecture.)

He and I both had doctor appointments on Friday. I also had to go to Jiffy Boob, aka the mammography department, for my annual torture. (Actually, it's not so bad as we get older. The girls start to droop anyway and don't get squeezed as much by a monstrosity I'm convinced was designed by the Marquis de Sade.)

I was so sure I could navigate my walker into the small Jiffy Boob dressing rooms--I got stuck in there. The technician had to help me get out. For a while there, I thought the Jaws of Life might be needed.

Once I was freed from the dressing room, it didn't take long to get things done. Our appointments with our primary care doctor were scheduled for afternoon, so we headed over to Boston Market for lunch. Major snowfall was expected, so we had requested to be on the wait list for earlier appointments. Just as we were about to eat, the call came. Could we get back over to the medical building right away? It seemed the weather forecast had prompted some patients to reschedule their appointments, and we could be seen right away.

We were in the doctor's office when the snow started. Things went downhill fast from there. What's normally a half-hour drive home took two hours. We avoided the interstates, expecting everyone to be looking for the most direct routes, but as it turned out, the side roads were just as popular. Visibility was poor. Conditions were so bad, at least one of the interstates was closed. There were stories on the evening news of commuters stuck on the road far longer than we had been. Some ended up sleeping in their cars or in booths at a local restaurant. Motels and tow trucks did a booming business that night.

Photos: KMOV

At least we had our dinner ready to eat--with a bit of warming. The lunch we didn't get to eat at Boston Market was still delicious, hours later. If only we'd had time to stop at the grocery store....

Friday, January 4, 2019


Happy 2019! I'm getting off to a great start. I've already missed posting once this week (if I'm going to maintain any kind of schedule).

Here we are at the end of another year. It's been ten years since I've published anything new. Okay, it's been ten years since I've written anything new. I used to write first drafts in longhand. Arthritis put an end to that. Typing, even on my phone, is not always a breeze--what the heck is that spasm (or whatever it is) in my right hand all about? I learned to dictate--now I have intermittent speech issues. I guess even a very minor stroke can cause all kinds of trouble. 

So, am I ever going to publish another book? Time will tell. The ideas are in there. Getting them out is the problem. 

In March, Collin will turn 40. As if I didn't feel old enough already! But I look at him and I can't even imagine my life without him. He's my baby--though when I tell him he'll still be my baby when he's 80, his response is, "When I'm 80, you'll be dead."

He's never going to be a diplomat.

He's my baby, my son, my best friend. Good thing he's good at all the things I suck at, like managing the money, determining the right insurance to buy, etc. He can figure out what I'm trying to say even when I'm getting the words mixed up. It makes life around our house so much easier. 

I'm going to be another year older in August. Didn't need to be reminded of that! I have over 30 years to go to get my mug on one of those Smuckers jars on the Today show. Wow...that seems like such a long time.

Maybe I'm not so old, after all!