I just got a phone call from my doctor’s office–from his wife, who is his office manager and is an R. N. She wanted to remind us of Mama’s appointment on Monday for blood studies at 8:30 AM. I asked whether my tests were in and if they were normal . . . she said she’d check.
*rustle of papers* *small talk*
So I yelled in her ear, “Thank you, God! Thank you, Jesus! Thank you, Paulette!” (That’s her name) I sounded just like Aunt Esther on “Sanford and Son.”
She laughed, because she’s an evangelical Baptist like all the other women in my family. I thanked her again . . . apparently the doctor had put a Post-It on the folder and nothing was flagged. This is a direct result of prayer and my novena to St. Jude (thank you blessed St. Jude!), but most especially of all my friends on the ‘net praying and sending positive energies and their versions of Good Thinks!
I told Paulette I am going out to sing Karaoke tonight, even if I have to go alone. Hubby does NOT sing or dance, so this may mean I *do* head out alone. *tuning up* Either “Danke Schoen” or “It’s De-Lovely” in E-flat.
Mama, on the other hand, couldn’t be happy for me. She had a mini-meltdown because this means SHE is still on the hook for more tests and stuff, as he didn’t like the way her blood work looked from the last week of last year. (Even though she feels better and all other signs look good to ME–she does have the bleeding ulcer under control, I think.)
So I told them we’d see them Monday. And turned around to find Mama at the sink, leaning over, moaning, “Oh, no, I don’t wanna go.” Well, I know that. She’s afraid her *evil disease* has come back in her stomach. I said, “NO, this is a sign that it hasn’t! You had an ulcer before and you have one again. You were doing so well until last night when you pigged out on the leftover black-eyed peas and the stuffed peppers!” (She did, too.) Why did I let her eat more than one spoonful of those peas, even for good luck? Because you can’t control a little old lady who’s sneaky and determined to snitch food, that’s why. . . .
So, it’s kind of mixed news . . .she requests that I still ask for prayers and thoughts sent her way, and for “maintenance” for me. Oh, well, that’s always a good idea.
Yowza! Write a new song about “Got another chance! One more chance! And this time, I’m gonna do it right!”
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Oh . . . and when I got on the computer to tell y’all this (you were the first to know, after hubby and Dennis H., not counting all the neighbors who heard me dancing and shouting the Aunt Esther “Glory, praise be!” thing all over the kitchen), I found an e-mail acceptance from an online market for my old “Splatterfairies” short story. I’ll tell y’all more about this online market in my next post (I need to find all the info). Things are looking up!
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Of course now all I have to worry about is that on Monday, while they’re taking my mother’s blood, they tell me that they read the wrong file and they were wrong . . . but THAT’S NOT GONNA HAPPEN. Sometimes having a brain that starts out by running all the worst-case scenarios is not so great. (It works well for a software test/software quality engineer, which is why I stayed in those jobs for a total of eleven years, but it doesn’t work well for regular life, as it turns you into a NEUROTIC WORRIER who looks like Louis Nye playing the Nervous Man. If you don’t know who Louis Nye is, you should go find out. *grin*)
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So, interesting results in Iowa. I think the young crew aims to shake up the old Washington crowd and their Politics as Usual. This can only be a Good Thing.
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GALLERY OF ORTS
I’ve been meaning to say for a while that I believe the first rap song that got really popular was Shirley Ellis’ “The Name Game,” around 1961. You’ll probably remember that one if you’re my age or older. “Shirley shirley bo birley, banana fana fo firley, me my mo mirley, Shirley!” What fun we had in the olden days as the buggies clop-clopped down the cobblestone roads and Tesla was inventing alternating current and radio! Just don’t try that song with “Chuck.” You wisenheimers!
Oh, and then the next rap song was by the Monkees. It was on “Headquarters,” the Micky Dolenz track, “Goin’ Down.” I still love that “song.” Get your head outta the gutter–it isn’t about THAT, but about a guy who throws himself in the river over a broken romance and then changes his mind and starts floating down the river. He survives!
This world is a virtual reality game. I told you it was a Great Experiment. Phil Dick has ’em beat, as he was writing about the other dimensions and how this is all an illusion way back in the fifties. In fact, the ancient philosophers (Plato with his shadows on the cave wall schtick) had it even before that. But now SCIENCE admits it.
Speaking of science, The Antikythera Mechanism and the (Temporary) Death of Science from the Arkansas/Oklahoma Astronomical Society* confirms that SO much was lost when they burned the library at Alexandria. I have often moaned about that, and was going to write a novel centering around it many years ago, but never got off my butt to do the proper research. As the tagline says, “They got the library at Alexandria–they aren’t getting mine.”
* Shut up, oh yes they DO have science in Arkansas and Oklahoma–it’s just not in the mainstream of society there, either.
Did I tell you that I bought myself the Hello Kitty toaster? Yeah. Santa brought it! I had it hidden until this morning, though, because we really didn’t have any big gift-opening deal (everyone else was so cranky and/or kind of sick or had some other excuse) and I couldn’t pull my “Santa Stopped Here!” trick. I just brought it out today and set it on the countertop.
“What is that? A toy?”
“It’s not a toy! It’s a real toaster!”
*embracing Hello Kitty bagel*
SOME people think Hello Kitty is infantile. I love this site: Hello Kitty Hell, by a man stuck in the Love Hello Kitty cycle because of his wife, a fan.
If I ever start a band, we’re gonna call it “Perfectly Cromulent.”
Singing like the bluebird in the horse chestnut tree,
Yr. Humble Servant