Isn't that a creative title? I had a lovely little lyrical piece written for you about pathways to summer and although I saved it twice, some glitch happened and all I have is my rough draft, my shitty rough draft as Anne Lamott calls them, so, yeah. I figured I'd better jump in here and say howdy y'all, though, cause according to my stats I had "zero" page views today.
Zero? Seriously? Is that even possible. Where the heck are all the Europeans looking for "imgres" of who knows what??
The week has not lent itself to writing. I have what is being diagnosed as "chronic sinusitis" (as opposible to acute or recurring, which at least gets antibiotics). So this week I had a dr's visit, a CT scan, and a scope up my nose only to be told, "yeah, use nasal sprays". (But first, I popped the NEW crown off while flossing that morning and had to wedge in an emergency dentist visit in between the scope and ct scan.)
I spent about ten minutes talking to my doc around lunchtime today when she felt so bad telling me I DIDN't have a sinus infection and she doesn't know what's wrong with me 'cept my sinuses are crowded that she practically offered up any antibiotic I wanted to have on hand. At that point, I was feeling kinda okay and told he I'd wait to see how I feel.
So, yes, of course, by the time I got home on tonight, my throat hurts so much I can barely swallow and I was seriously afraid I was going to crash the car as I could not keep my eyes open. So going on Day 7 of the mysterious sore throat and dry cough, I am getting up at 5 tomorrow to return to the Cape and start a week's vacation with sister #2 and The Bride. I am purloining some leftover amoxicillin of Mr. Pom (I know that is not the drug of choice for strep, which I'm convince I have now) but it'll keep me from getting worse (?maybe?) until I get there and call the ENT to phone in a prescription to good ol' we-are-everywhere CVS.
The menfolk can't make this trip as it is too soon after the time they took off for the wedding. They work for Draconian companies or, I suspect, maybe just want to stay home? I heard some guy talk about The Groom coming by here after work each night, then heard some more talk of grilling steaks and Yankee games. This, of course, cracks me up because Mr. Pom, you know he makes out like he's the life of the party, but the man was an only child and he really has no problem being alone. His preferred state of existence is dog on floor, beer in hand, game on TV. You can stay in the room if you don't talk. So good to know that the newest member of the family is compatible.
The week was not all 7:30 nights in the office and doctor visits. I did have a lovely fancy pizza with the Art Peeps where I think we all talked simultaneously for 3 hours, yet everyone understood everyone else. And the owner of the restaurant topped off the meal with free tiramisu shooters and we had to talk for another hour so our BAC would be at legal levels. We make great art, but we make even better conversation!
100 degrees outside, about 85 in the bedroom with the air supposedly on. Dogs panting, laptop generating too much heat. Talk to you from the Cape where I can show you pictures of my garden with my camera's heretofore unknown super macro lens. (Oh, the camera knew it had it; I didn't) I can also offer up some more great books I've been reading. I will take you to the beach, to the bay where Bella Sera where be fixated on The Light! The Light! and go all crazy on me. I may even share some illustrated pages from a new project if I get up the nerve.
Hopefully, I will not spend the week next to a vaporizer with Vicks on my chest (which I never did a day in my life as my mother did not believe in that crap though Mr Pom did but I won't let him use that smelly stuff in the house.)