I was at the doctor this morning, because I'm 86 and my outings mostly consist of going to the doctor.
They wanted to recheck my anemia now that they have removed my innards, and also they wanted to see if my cholesterol improved this month, which, hah! I've done so much to change it.
But I SWEAR, this month I will eat better. Swear!
Anyway, they called me in to the lab along with some poor woman named Wendy who looked really nervous. She was jiggling her leg while we waited, and kept sighing, and I figured she must be one of those people who hate needles. So I did the thing I do to set people at ease. I talked incessantly.
"Do you see Waldo?" I asked her, pointing at the poster near us. "Why did they put so much crap in the picture? No way we're gonna see him with all these boats and pirates and cannons and stuff. And why did they put the picture so far from our bench?"
The nurse put the strap around poor Wendy's arm as Wendy smiled at me weakly.
"Why do we even want to find Waldo, anyway? What's so great about him? Who told him horizontal stripes were a good idea? And get some new frames."
"Do you have any allergies, June?" the other nurse asked me, as she typed at the computer. Why do they ask me this every single time I go there? Shouldn't this be in there already? It makes me tense.
"I'll tell you what I'm allergic to," I said to Wendy, who looked pale. "You know cleaning agents, like Pine-Sol and Mop-n-Glo and that stuff? Don't get it near me. Makes my throat close up. I'm just like my grandmother. She couldn't get near that bizness."
At this point they were draining my blood as well.
"I am just like my grandmother," I repeated shrilly. "I can't be like my fun grandfather, no. Had to be like my difficult grandmother."
They handed us our charts and we headed for the checkout desk.
"I think you have a wonderful personality," said Wendy, who finally had color in her cheeks again.
That was nice of her to say. You know I must have been annoying as shite. I was just trying to get her mind off her artery and her artery off her mind.
As I was leaving, I passed a field and I am delighted to tell you I saw two geese and a BUNCH OF BABIES!
Not human babies, which would probably have lead me to phone the authorities and not just come home and blog, but BABY GEESES! Little yellow fuzzy baby ones! Oh! It was exciting! I think this afternoon I'll take both dogs to the bog garden to see more. This is akin to someone saying, "I think this afternoon I'll learn Mandarin and split a rare diamond while plunging over Niagara Falls" because taking BOTH dogs to the park where there are going to be baby fowlses is the crazy talk.
But listen to this. I had to go back to the specialty pet store to get Francis his Dick Van Patten duck food. Today I told the clerk, "I think eight will be enough cans" and I would like to take credit for that hilarious line but really I stole it from my friend Marty Martin. However, the clerk is seven years old and had no idea why that was funny.
Sigh.
Anyway, I bought two Sensation collars, which are supposed to be super extra good (even SENSATIONal) at making your dog not pull. I got purple ones. So my dogs will match. Because currently? When I walk them? Tallulah has a pink collar and burgundy leash and Edsel has a blue collar and blue-and-red leash and pink halter and we are a mess out there. We might as well be Waldo, with our fashion sense.
Edsel and his spindlee legs proud. Catch toy. Not wear senzashun collar.
While I was making these crucial purchases and making Dick Van Patten even richer, putting Joanie and Mary and Tommy through college with stupid canned duck for cats, listen to this. LISTEN TO THIS.
A man walked in? With a six-week-old white German shepherd puppy.
You can imagine my sophisticated and demure response.
OH, that puppy was sweet. He just got him yesterday and hasn't named him yet. I suggested Adolph, Hans, Frans or Arnold. The man, who seemed to want to get away from me even more than Wendy had, said, "Well, you never know, ma'am." I told him all about Edsel being a white German shepherd mix, and he said, "This isn't a mix."
Okay, snob. Geez. Anyway, that puppy was precious, and with that and the baby geese I am batting 110 today or whatever is a good number for batting.
I guess that is all the news I have to tell you. I'll let you know if I bug any other strangers today.
