Follow-Up Call

I received a call yesterday, asking how the patient was doing following a medical visit the preceding day.  "Thank you for calling," I said, "Maybe's doing just fine."

Time Warp

"Enjoy the rest of your weekend," said the receptionist, as I was leaving the office. I started to reply with  the usual response of thank you, but then caught myself---it was 4:30 on Friday afternoon. I'm pretty sure the weekend hadn't started yet. "Oh well," she countered, "It is Friday."

I'm not superstitious, I'm not, I'm not.

  I was sound asleep or as sound asleep as I get anymore. As is usual now, I was dreaming,one of those dreams where I'm trying to solve some problem, or find some explanation, or put strewn pieces of something back together. I was awakened  from the dream by a thud, and then the sound of someone crying out. It was such a familiar occurrence, up until almost exactly one year ago.
  I got up and looked in each empty room. Nothing was out of order. Maybe was lying on the stand in the living room, looking out at the night scene lighted by the outside porch lamps.  The clock said 1:52.

The Fatness Factor

  According to the records now on file at the health provider's office, I am not merely overweight but obese. BMI, Body Mass Index, finding is calculated on the ratio between height and weight. And it doesn't help that my height is entered as 54 inches when my actual height is 64 inches.  Height measured at 5 ft. 4 in. cannot be translated as 54 in. Do the math!  Medical records can be so wrong.  So often. In so many ways.

Word of the Day

Bosky

That's Entertainment

   It was a 3-hour show and I only caught the last hour of CMA Fest. It was my own fault because though the TV is on almost all the time, I pretty much ignore it and am usually in another room. But tonight, while I was doing some work at the computer in the kitchen, I was drawn in by the sound of really good music. So I watched the last hour of the show. I don't listen to country music anymore, so was unfamiliar with most of the performers. The show was concert style, with little banter among the co-hosts, just sheer musical performances, with many first-class guitarists doing their thing.Such a relief not to hear the delivery of phony dialog, nor any overdone awards. Songs were sung with no semi-naked girls writhing on the floor, no elaborate designer costumes focusing on who  reveals the most body parts.
    The majority of the performers, at least in the part I saw, were male, and most of the songs dealt with love for their woman, or women, as the case may be though at least one reveled in his newfound freedom: "I ain't got to see my future ex-mother-in-law anymore."  Another  invited his bartender to serve him straight liquor and "Lay my six foot four ass on the floor."  The only female singer I heard cautioned the need  to "Hide the Wine,"  with the audience accompanying her to the chant of "Lock it up! Lock it up."  ( Maybe a hidden political message in there somewhere.)  All in all, the most entertaining TV hour of the year.

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