January Blah Blah Blah

So, snow already

The sky is gray, but not low enough. The air is cold enough, but the smell of snow isn't there. There's a forecast for a cameo appearance of snow today. You would think Godzilla was on the march and heading right for Pleasantville. Sheesh.

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Old fart things

Remember I promised I was going to get caught up on medical tests and procedures? I am well on the path. I have had my boobs mashed not just once but twice - the second time, so hard that tears came to my eyes. All is well with the boobage. I have to go back in six months to make sure. Yeah, I know it's normally a year, but I'm not all excited about it. It's six months. I'll deal with it then.

The other thing is the dreaded colonoscopy. I don't dread this as much as it's very freaking inconvenient. For one thing, I have had to hire T to take me and bring me back. This does not make me happy. I don't particularly get on with T and in the past, she has been beyond snarky with me. Luckily, all she has to do is drive me to the doctor's office, wait for me, then bring me back home again. No conversation required.

The preparations for this are also inconvenient and probably unpleasant. I had to drink that phosphorus soda one time before and I think it was worse than the surgery that followed.

I have to go tomorrow for an EKG. It seemed whenever I went to a doc in the box, the first thing they did after snatching my insurance card was to hook me up to an EKG machine. They always seemed so disappointed when the readout came back strong and steady, with the waves where they were supposed to be.

I will also have to miss a day off work, which doesn't surprise me or make me happy.

To cheer me up, the doctor said, "Hey, if everything turns out okay, you might not have to have another one of these for ten years." Fingers crossed.

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Men In Kilts, Part II

A guy at Unnamed Co. came to work in a kilt today, I'm guessing a Stewart tartan. He moved past quickly and while I always pleases me to see a man in a kilt (even an ugly man in a kilt), it seemed...odd. Of course, I'd noticed this guy before, because he's the only person I see in the lunchroom, reading. Er, other than myself, of course. I went past once to check out what he was reading - archy and mehitabel! It made me so happy that when I went for a walk around the parking lot, I quoted, "dance, mehitabel, dance!"

I wasn't the only one who noticed. I mean, who wouldn't? One of the guys in my group said, "What do you suppose that was all about?"

I shrugged. "Celebrating his Scottish heritage?"

There's an African-American woman at work who comes in, dressed in the most bizarre ensembles I've ever seen. Once she looked like an extra from the wedding scene in "Coming to America". Once she looked like an extra from "Gandhi". I've learned to keep my distance from her. She has her cube completely papered with pictures of gurus, flying crosses, doves holding vines between their beaks, and lots of badly-designed posters talking about acceptance and Higher Powers.

This is work. There is no place for self-expression here. The only thing I have in my cubicle is a printout of anger management kitteh.

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Food = Comfort and Joy

While I've recently started cooking real meals for myself again, this evening I want to slide back into my old comforts. I want scrambled eggs and toast. Or just toast. Or toast the way my aunt Joan used to make it, which has been known to gross people out.

Just make a couple of slices of regular toast. Put butter on them. Put jelly on them. Put them in a plate that isn't completely flat. Now add slightly warmed milk. Or cream. Eat with a spoon. Worry about your cholesterol tomorrow.

Or cheese toast with a mug of Cadbury drinking chocolate.

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Money, Again

I have $60 to get me through the week. This includes gas for my car ($35), groceries for the week, and library fines out the wazoo.

I am tired. I need toast.

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Champagne Toast

For an embarrassingly long time, I could never figure out what champagne toast was. I'd see New Year's Eve packages announced, proudly proclaimed that champagne toast would be featured.

So in the middle of the party, somebody hands around toast? But it'll be cold. Cold toast is just...bird food. And what do you do with the champagne? Dip the bread in the champagne? This seemed like a terrible was of both foodstuffs to me.

That's okay. For most of my childhood, I thought shoe trees were artificial feet.