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Home from the hospital

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I.

I slept in while Jim went to the store and had a dream that someone was ringing my doorbell.

I got up and was looking for my pants when I heard the door open, which was a little freaky, (there was a time when about a dozen people had keys to my apartment, but most of them have moved far away now) Then I heard Terr call out yoohoo.

She came in with Jennifer and Melissa and everybody was about 10 years younger (Including my apartment, which had the old blue couch I miss so much)

They had brought me a baggie of goodies. They looked like gummiebear consistancy, but were actually a version of the candy fruit slices - all lemon. They were round, and about the size of bagels.

Terr, I hope you remember where you got them! I need to go dream shopping there.


II.

I keep seeing commercials with people grilling as tomorrow is the 4th of July. Now I have an overwhelming faunch for hotdogs, but Jim has already gone to work.

My first thought was - Aha! I can have them tomorrow!

Then I remembered - I can't have solid food tomorrow in preparation for surgery on Wednesday. (sad face)

catsmeat potter-pirbright [userpic]

As I woke, I was dreaming that The Queen and Gracie Allen were comparing their closets full of hats

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catsmeat potter-pirbright [userpic]

How crazy are things?

Today, I got a call from Horizon Insurance, making sure I was aware of Gov. Bloviating Crouton's stand on insurance changes.

They then told me they would connect me to the office of my representative in Trenton, and suggested what message to leave to express my displeasure with the living blivet, and the number in case it was busy.

I don't even have Horizon as my carrier.

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On the personal front, things continue to be crazy. I am sick of doctors.
But, it looks like I finally have a date for surgery.

Hopefully, I will be back more often if they manage to actually fix anything this time.

catsmeat potter-pirbright [userpic]



My Country Too - new Oysterband song

catsmeat potter-pirbright [userpic]

a favorite quote for Earth Day


"An infinite universe will always have the capacity to surprise. The Earth moves, and stones fall from the heavens. Tonight, perseids clatter to earth like hailstones. They embed themselves in arctic ice caps, they sprinkle the forests of the Amazon with a fine cometary dust. Meteors clatter at my feet and I dance in the road.

'Up, noble soul' cried Eckhart. "Put on your jumping shoes which are intellect and love."

I put on my jumping shoes and go leaping between the hedgerows. "

- Chet Raymo

catsmeat potter-pirbright [userpic]

All I did in my last post was *suggest* I might write a little, and I ended up with food poisoning 4 hours later. So, I am going to keep my mouth shut and just post


When we were coming down the highway from the new doctor last week, we were behind a flatbed truck with two objects on it. One of them had a long white streamer of some kind flapping behind it.

I said to Jim - look, that truck has a tile comet (that is, when you come out of the bathroom trailing a long tail of toilet paper, usually from your shoe, but occasionally tucked into your underwear or pantyhose)

As we got close enough to pass the truck, I could see that the objects were two port-a-potties.....

coincidence?

catsmeat potter-pirbright [userpic]

Every time I promise myself that I will post here more often - I am always happier and more creative when I do - something derails me.

I was sure the simplicity of poetry month would focus me, but as I settled in Jim had to have emergency eye surgery to (hopefully) prevent his retina from detaching.

I had to enlist the help of my excellent friends to drive us to our doctors and hospitals, since I am still having symptoms from radiation (like dizziness) that keep me from driving. Also I've never driven the new car and this didn't seem like the time to try.

My excellent friends not only drove us to appointments, they showed up repeatedly with frozen custard, Chinese food, date nut cookies, and other unexpected treats, including their most excellent company.

I have an appointment tomorrow with a surgeon I may switch to, and after I hear her opinion, I have to decide how to proceed.

And I am going to make an effort to write. If nothing else, I have notes for two stories from when I first came on here that I'm considering dusting off. But I'm not going to make myself any promises, because it's just tempting fate.

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William Allingham
(1824-1889)

The Fairies

UP the airy mountain,
Down the rushy glen,
We daren't go a-hunting
For fear of little men;
Wee folk, good folk,
Trooping all together;
Green jacket, red cap,
And a white owl's feather!

Down along the rocky shore
Some make their home,
They live on crispy pancakes
Of yellow tide-foam;
Some in the reeds
Of the black mountain lake,
With frogs for their watch-dogs,
All night awake.

High on the hill-top
The old King sits;
He is now so old and gray
He's nigh lost his wits.
With a bridge of white mist
Columbkill he crosses,
On his stately journeys
From Slieveleague to Rosses;
Or going up with music
On cold starry nights,
To sup with the Queen
Of the gay Northern Lights.

They stole little Bridget
For seven years long;
When she came down again
Her friends were all gone.
They took her lightly back,
Between the night and morrow,
They thought that she was fast asleep,
But she was dead with sorrow.
They have kept her ever since
Deep within the lake,
On a bed of flag-leaves,
Watching till she wake.

By the craggy hill-side,
Through the mosses bare,
They have planted thorn-trees
For pleasure here and there.
Is any man so daring
As dig them up in spite,
He shall find their sharpest thorns
In his bed at night.

Up the airy mountain,
Down the rushy glen,
We daren't go a-hunting
For fear of little men;
Wee folk, good folk,
Trooping all together;
Green jacket, red cap,
And a white owl's feather!

catsmeat potter-pirbright [userpic]

for poetry month:

"A great poet, a really great poet, is the most unpoetical of all creatures. But inferior poets are absolutely fascinating. The worse their rhymes are, the more picturesque they look. The mere fact of having published a book of second-rate sonnets makes a man quite irresistible. He lives the poetry that he cannot write. The others write the poetry that they dare not realize."

The Picture of Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde

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