1. The past week or so my legs, and sometimes arms, have had a tingling sensation, kind of like the feeling you get when you’re foot is asleep. On the hypochondriac – denial contiuum, my pendulum swings toward the big D. I get this from my mother who, when she had broken her little toe, wrapped it up herself and put an ice pack on it, declaring that the doctor wasn’t going to be able to do anything different in this situation so why should she traipse back and forth to the office. (Those of you who run to the emergency room for a tickle in the back of your throat will surely not understand.) Needless to say I’m not going to a doctor. Nor am I going on Web MD, which will inform me either A. I have a week to live, or B. It’s all in my head. So for expert advice, I’ll reach out to all of you. If I shouldn’t be concerned, let me know. If I have a week to live, don’t bother.
2. Speaking of which, I have killed my wooly thyme. Seriously, I bought these plants because they were supposed to be hardy to zone five, surviving, even thriving, on more than six hours of direct sunlight a day. It should look like this.
Instead mine look like tiny brown potato chips. I don’t know what happened. Suddenly it kicked the bucket. Should I have watered more? Less? Added amended soil? Used fertilizer? Moved it out of the sun despite the claims? I think I’ll replace it with a cactus. They’re supposed to be indestructible, yes?
3. Just so you don’t think I’m completely negligent, I did go to the optometrist this week for a check up. (Okay, I went because my contacts prescription had lapsed and I needed a refill. So I guess you can put a check mark in the negligent column after all.)
Last time I went the doctor did the “puff” test. Have you ever had that done? No? Stand in a wind storm in the Saharan desert, and then open your eyes really, really wide. I’m happy to say that technology has come to optometry and they no long need to do this form of torture. My doctor quite literally waved a wand in front of my eyes, and done.
But you can’t get away from the dilation. You squirt in some drops, and then when your pupils are the size of saucers, the doctor blasts a bright light into your eye to get a picture of your retina. Looks something like this:
Of course, as RK can attest, it took about 10 tries to get this picture. I blinked every time. Every time. After this, the doctor was quite through with me and my blinky eyes. He sent me on my merry way to stumble the 4 blocks home.
4. There are only 2 reasons Reggie, my dog, would refuse a treat. 1. He’s not feeling well because he ate something bad. 2. He’s already eating something better. (Better is, of course, a subjective term.) On our walk last night, I asked him to sit and was prepared to give him a cookie. He looked away from me. I offered the treat again and he looked at the ground. Gobs of drool were coming from his closed mouth. (See, number 2 above.) He was savoring a yummy rib-eye bone he’d found. (If you are wondering what a rib-eye bone was doing randomly on the sidewalk, obviously you’ve never been to Brooklyn.) Back inside, Reggie was stuck between a rock and a hard place – he couldn’t swallow the bone (too big) and he couldn’t break it with his teeth (too thick). What’s a dog to do?
He wasn’t going down without a fight, but I was worried that if he tried to swallow the bone, it would get lodged in his throat. After some tense negotiations, I heated up some bits of hot dog. He dropped the bone and raced to gobble up the hot dog. Note to self: hot dog trumps rib-eye bone.
5. I was cleaning out my closet and came across my old film camera. It’s a nice one – a Canon Rebel SLR. I haven’t used it in years since I went digital. Felt myself get a little wistful, not because I’m such a great photographer (but do check out my fave images, most taken with this camera), but because of what the camera represents. I’d bought it at a time when I had more disposable income, finances weren’t as tight. It was a big purchase, then as now, but a rare occasion when I was able to get such a big ticket item on pretty much a whim. If I wanted to buy the same camera now, I’d have to stash away a bit of cash every week or put it on my list for Santa. I’m not attaching my self worth to a camera, but sometimes one is faced with the embodiment of one’s life choices, know what I mean? But if I’ve learned anything in the past couple of years, it’s that you gotta live in the Now. So I’ve decided to sell the camera. If you’re interested, shoot me an email.