Sarah and I watched the last episode of season four of the new Doctor Who tonight. Well, not the last episode, since there will be a Christmas special, but that’s ages away. Then, next season, there will likely be only four specials. If the Doctor pulls another decade-long disappearing act (or worse, has another run in with Eric Roberts), I just don’t know if I could take it.
All I know is that I’m getting Cybermen for Christmas! YES!
If you know me, you know that I love sweaty outdoor fairs, where mini donuts and cold beer flow like water. I went to Rock the Garden with Sarah, but that is not what this post is about — no, this post is about me conning Paul into going to Grand Old Day with me to see Doomtree.
It’s 11:59 on Radio Free America; this is Uncle Sam, with music, and the truth until dawn. Right now I’ve got a few words for some of our brothers and sisters in the occupied zone: “the chair is against the wall, the chair is against the wall”, “john has a long mustache, john has a long mustache”. It’s twelve o’clock, American, another day closer to victory. And for all of you out there, on, or behind the line, this is your song.
I got an email from Southwest Airlines confirming my flight from Denver to Las Vegas and back. Since I don’t remember booking that flight, I changed it to get me from Minneapolis to Denver to check out the zombie wall that I had installed there. Okay, instead I looked up the phone number for the person whose email I had received, called them, and asked if I had gotten their email by mistake. Yes, I had. I then asked if they had recently gotten a new retaining wall. Sarah peed the bed laughing, especially since his answer was yes.
It’s been a while since my last post about my long-ago vacation with Sarah. It seems like it has been a whole month since I was happy and frolicking on the mean streets of SF. Let’s examine our memories and take a trip back to those halcyon days of yore, when men were men, and women were also men, and — wait — no — uh…
We awoke on the Saturday of our vacation possessed of a ravenous hunger, to be satisfied only by a delightful hole in the wall taco joint not a block’s walk from our hotel.
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Thanks to the miracles of modern chemistry, my knee has gotten almost completely better: there is no constant, stabbing pain — just soreness when I use it and a general weakness when I try to use it while carrying things. I’m throwing out my ibuprofen in favor of naproxen and acetaminophen. Hooray!
At the advice of my mother, I called the nurse line. At the advice of the nurse line, I had Sarah take me to urgent care, where the ibuprofen wore off just in time for the doctor to torture me. I was flat on my back on the exam table with a white cloth draped over my special purpose.
“Does this hurt?” she asked while picking my leg up at the ankle.
“Yes! That hurts!”
This went on for some time.
“How about this?” she asked while folding my leg behind my head.
“Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?”
“It’s just tendonitis. You’re fine,” she said.
I sat up and shook on the table.
I’m finally home with naproxen and acetaminophen. For those people who worry about such things, I asked both the doctor and the pharmacist about their interactions and amounts. For those of you who would take joy in it, I’m still in a largish amount of pain.
I no longer feel like someone is prying my knee apart with a Buick.
My knee is getting worse. Soon I will need a cane, then crutches, then a scamp, then Sarah will catheterize me and strap me into a wheelchair.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=01UIB2X-WK0
I woke up this morning with the same sort of knee pain from two years ago. Then, I woke up in the middle of the night with the pain at a level of eight or nine on a one to ten scale. This morning I woke up with it at a two or three, but since arriving at work it has escalated to a glorious five or six.
I left the dental office with another scheduled appointment in three months, another new toothbrush, more dental floss, and a second, specialized, supplementary toothbrush.
“You have a very strong tongue,” I was told. Whoa. “It’s pushing your toothbrush so that you aren’t brushing well enough on the insides of your lower teeth. I’m only telling you this to save you from future dental surgery.”
Good to know. Wait — future dental surgery?
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