I used to be a picky eater. I still have control issues along those lines. Recently, when the fam thought Arby’s sounded good for supper, I decided to just go with the flow and try a sandwich I’ve had my eye on. I usually will be really specific about what I want on a sandwich (“hold the pickles, add mayo,” etc.), but I decided this time, what the heck, just get the Loaded Italian sandwich, and get it the way it comes.
I really liked it, even with banana peppers on it (which I’ve always assumed I didn’t like).
Happy Valentine’s Day! At least, I hope it is a happy one. I hope that you have someone to love, and someone who loves you. That doesn’t necessarily mean romance, by the way. Just that you care about each other–relatives, friends, lovers, it doesn’t matter, and it’s none of my business. But I wish something good for you.
I didn’t really mean to stop writing. But I haven’t posted anything here since July. I actually wrote quite a bit since then, but nothing that struck me as worth publishing. There are 25 posts sitting in draft mode. In November, I wrote a skeleton of a post that said, “This is probably my last post.” I remember what was happening then. I had just discovered that my aunt had died–a year earlier. And a favorite cousin had also died–two years earlier.
You have once more taken me on a journey of cognitive dissonance. When I went to the pharmacy to pick up my daughter’s new anti-seizure medication, they told me they couldn’t release it yet because you were requiring “prior authorization from the doctor.” Here’s the thing: A medical professional evaluated my daughter’s symptoms, considered all his options, and decided this medicine was the best way to address them. That’s about as close to prior authorization as any reasonable person would require.
If you’ve been around a science or medical laboratory, you have almost certainly dealt with a graduated cylinder, one of those ubiquitous devices marked off for measuring liquids. It is no coincidence that we use the word “graduation” to mark a passage from high school, from college, from graduate work. Graduation isn’t an ending; it’s simply a mark in the larger cylinder of life, though a significant one.
No getting around it, aging causes some issues. As my bones have gotten creakier and I’ve gotten heavier, I’ve found a particularly painful part of the day to be showering. When I step onto that hard, flat surface, my feet hurt.
I put up with it for weeks until a few days ago when I passed a display at Walmart labeled “99 cent sandals.” They were the kind I used to get to go to the beach, the kind you don’t care if you lose them in the sand or the surf. I picked out a black pair rather than the gaudy ones–after all, no one else would ever see them, but why take chances?
Problem solved. Honestly, I don’t care for the feeling of that thing that goes between your toes, but for 5 to 10 minutes it feels a lot better than the cold, hard bottom of the shower.
There is probably some issue you face that has been nagging you for awhile. In fact, you’ve gotten used to it, and just accept it as part of life. Most of our problems aren’t that simple–but some of them are. Is there a 99-cent solution you are overlooking?
After a couple of days, I noticed that the level of the creamer I kept in the community fridge in the hospital’s PICU (pediatric intensive care unit) had gone way down, much lower than my own usage would suggest.
My daughter’s health was, of course, of much greater concern, but it still registered in my consciousness. Later in the day, the level was noticeably lower, despite me having had no further cups of coffee.