I probably shouldn't be workout buddies with my ex-boyfriend, but so what. If you'll recall, from your Big Book of June Events, Ned was complaining of neck pain, and with my medical degree and minor in psychology, I determined he had all sorts of repressed feelings that were manifesting in physical sensations,
a thing I informed him of right before the call came that he had a broken neck. Okay, DR. JUNE.
His (actual) doctor told him that he shouldn't go to the gym, or ride his bike as if he's trying to win some race, and as a result Ned is depressed and feels fat. "Can you take walks?" I asked. So now, of course, being Ned, he walks at 10:00, he walks at 3:00, then comes over right after work to walk with Edsel and me, and what he does not know is without discussing it, our walks just got 2,000 times longer.
As soon as he pulls up now, Edsel gets twitterpated, because not only is it UNKKLE NED! O EDSUL GOD!, it also WALK TIMES! O EDSUL GOD!!
Yesterday we saw a downed tree--a whole tree!!--in the park. "Want to walk down there and look at it?" asked Ned. Edsel and I clutched our pearls. "Down that steep hill?"
Ned led Eds and me down that hill, Eds' dainty paws approaching cautiously down. Just as we were near the tree, Ned said, "Watch out for black snakes," and that's when the dog and I had to be revived.
In the meantime, I went back to the headache study place yesterday so they could check me out. Check it out now, funk soul brother. I weigh TWO POUNDS MORE, and why, god? Oh Edsul god. But my blood pressure is 14 over 12.
Here are some things that irk me about being in this study.
- "Oh, will you tell me what you're doing for the study? I'll do it too and NO MORE MIGRAINES!" First of all, I'm in one of three groups, so I have no idea if I'm in the real group or not. Second, I'm in the middle of what's clearly a multimillion-dollar study, and giving away their secrets seems ...unseemly. "Thank you," said the nurse yesterday when I told her I said no to people who were asking for details and recipes and so on. So my instinct was correct on that.
- People think it's a traditional migraine diet. "Can you have chocolate?" "Oh, wait, you're not supposed to have wine, right?" It's not the regular stuff we already associate with being triggers. It's new. That's why it's a study.
When I got to the migraine place yesterday on campus, I was ushered to a room where I sat right underneath a 2015 Liver Transplant Reunion calendar. The nurse bustled in, took my lack of blood pressure, asked me a few questions, but all I could think of was how bad I want a 2015 Liver Transplant Reunion calendar. I imagine in 2017 they will have covered the 2016 reunion, right? And they'll make another calendar, right?
I'm just saying, family. Christmas is right around the corner.
Finally, I admitted to the beleaguered nurse assigned to me for six months how enamored I was of the Liver Reunion calendar. "You know, I've never noticed that before," she said.
I told her about the grandmother I'm turning into having a Holocaust calendar every year. She clearly donated to some organization, and as a reward, they'd send her this cheery Holocaust calendar, a thing that kept arriving even after her death. She would have enjoyed getting a posthumous calendar. The uselessness of it would have tickled her.
And if you knew the grandmother I'm turning into, knowing that her cheery personality had an annual Holocaust calendar is even better. Also, if you knew her, it was highly likely she did not like you.
After my visit, I passed Chris and Lilly's store on the way home, and once again they were not there, leading me to now believe they do not really OWN a store and just made that up so I wouldn't feel sorry for them. I sent this image to Lilly, saying, "I just shoplifted all this from your store."
I got a mum, obvs, and some bird seed, as I have put the bird feeder on the other side of the window from the cat condo, in a flash of brilliance. Steely Dan likes to sit there with Iris and chitter at birds.
However, the other day I was trying to leave but I could not find SD. I looked in all his regular spots, till finally in desperation I headed to my closet and there he was, on the top shelf, sleeping on one of my purses. HOW DID HE GET UP THERE?
When I got home later I moved the purses and put a little blanket there.
Anyway, I also got a stick of duck jerky for Edsel which was gone so fast I couldn't even photograph him eating it, and finally some lavender rosemary lip balm which is to die for.
The woman at the checkout counter was ringing up someone else, and when he left he said, "I love you."
"I love you too," she said as he left.
"Wow, friendly place," I said, handing her my stuff.
She laughed. "That was my nephew."
I signed for my things and as I headed for the door, I called, "I love you!"
I didn't tell her I knew Chris and Lilly. I spared them that.
I have to go to work now, because gotta keep myself in duck jerky, but yesterday we were kibbitzing around on Facebook and got on the topic of your families and me. Do you tell your family and/or friends about this blog, and if so, are they sick to death of hearing about some woman they've never met?
Do tell. I find myself wanting to quote you guys sometimes and it's just easier to say, "A friend of mine..." "A friend of mine says you can't even get hookers and blow for $40,000 a year." That sort of thing.
See you at the 2016 Liver Reunion.