This is the month of medical stuff. I thought I was done with this in April, then in May, but none of the tests came back “fine.” None of them came back screaming “you are dying,” but all of them came back with issues of one kind of another, most of which will require additional testing. I hate tests. I suppose everyone does.
I’m being very calm and cool about it because I really don’t yet know anything. We are rerunning all the tests again to see if we get different results.
My back is worse because spinal arthritis does not improve with age. My kidneys don’t seem to be functioning quite right. They are a little worse with each test. But now there are other things. Maybe they mean something. They could also mean nothing. Until I know more, I am tucking the worry into a back corner of my brain.
There’s plenty of time to make myself and everyone around me crazy when and if I get results that call for it. I am hoping it’s nothing.
The problem is that I’m at “an age” when ones health doesn’t get better. What I can hope for is that it doesn’t get a lot worse.
How did you spend the money from your very first job?
My mother confiscated it. She said I needed to learn to contribute to the family. The next summer when it was time for me to work, I refused. I said if I couldn’t keep the money, I wasn’t going to shag my butt into Manhattan to do some trivial, stupid job for the lowest possible pay and then not even get some money out of the deal.
We simply weren’t that poor. The amount of money I contributed wouldn’t pay for one meal for the family once a month. Mom broke down because I was right and she knew it.
I didn’t object to working. I always had a part time job through college and as soon as I was legally allowed to work during the last two summers of High School. I didn’t turn 15 until the spring of my junior year — so that was the first summer I was legal to work, even with parental permission. Once I turned 16 — the spring of my senior year — all bets were off. I never stopped working (except for nine months following Owen’s birth) until I retired. Nor did I never stop contributing to my family and others.
Would You Rather Look Like A Potato, Or Feel Like A Potato? (Note. I have no idea why they used the word “potato”, but just went with it. Answer any way you like, this question is purely for fun).
I am reminded of something I read a long time ago on an entirely different subject, but it seems somehow relevant. It said “In times like these, you eventually begin to feel like a potato being slowly pared.”
I don’t think I look like a potato, but I often feel like that potato being slowly grated.
What were the best pair of shoes you have owned?
This would depend on the year of your asking. My young feet were joyful in sandals I had made to order in Greenwich Village. They weren’t even expensive. Everything didn’t always cost the earth and the moon. The sandals were incredibly comfortable and lasted for years.
After that, I discovered high heels. Yes, I know they aren’t good for your feet or posture, but they made my legs look longer and I looked at least an inch taller. I had a pair of tall green leather ones with stacked wooden heels and I loved them — until I couldn’t wear them anymore.
After that, there were all those made-to-order sandals in Israel. There were many makers of sandals and again, not expensive and oh so comfortable.
Early in the years of Uggs, they were the MOST comfortable things my feet ever knew. Now that they’ve gotten wildly expensive and “dressy,” (you can’t REALLY make uggs dressy), they aren’t nearly as comfortable.
Mostly these days, I wear socks in the house, my OLD Uggs in the winter, and Clark’s sandals in the summer
I thing for sheer comfort, the socks win.
Besides war and diplomacy, what would be the best way for countries to settle disputes?
Set up a big coliseum in major cities. Line up all the politicians and make them duke it out. Anyone past 65 can appoint a young politician to take his or her place — but no ringers. If you can send others to war, you can fight.
In these often depressing times, how do you find the bright spots?
Bright birds, flowering orchids, or something adorable the Duke is doing are the bulwarks against despair. Also, ice cream. I’m not sure why, but a scoop of ice cream seems to help.