Sunday, December 16, 2012

Sunday Stealing: The Deleted Meme 

Who is your favorite artist (Any field.):  
Sir Paul McCartney. And if that answer surprises you, you don't come here often.

Describe yourself:  
A pudgy middle-aged woman. Short, light brown hair. Dimples. Green eyes.

How do you feel today:  
A little bruised but really, none the worse for wear.

Describe the area where you currently live. 
 Chicago is the best, most livable city I've ever experienced. Great architecture, theater and, of course, The Cubs. You should come here!

If you could go anywhere, where would you go?
In less than two weeks I'll be in Key West with dear friends. That's where my mind drifts these days.

Your favorite form of transportation:

Your best friend is:
The man I originally refer to on this blog as, "My Best Friend." He's a wise man and a good dad.

You and your best friends are:
I don't understand this. We are "best friends."

What's the weather like:
Too warm and rainy. As someone once sang, "I'm dreaming of a White Christmas ..."

Favorite time of day:

If your life was a TV show, what would it be called:

What is life to you:
"Tell me what is life without your love? Tell me who am I without you by my side?" If Bud is reading this, he's smiling.

Your relationship:
Again, I don't quite understand the question.

Your fear:
Being in a plane crash

What is the best advice you have to give:
Increase your fiber intake

Thought for the Day:
Increase your fiber intake

How would you categorize your soul's present condition:
I'm good with God

Me fall down, go boom ... again

Almost a year ago I took a nasty spill that hurt both my pride and my knee. Last evening the same thing happened. The rain left the neighboring blacktop driveway so slick that I lost my footing and down I went. HARD! I landed on my hip and elbow. And even though I didn't hit my cranium on anything, I could hear the impact disturbingly loud inside my head.

There's a middle eastern couple who lives in that building. I see them all the time. They very kindly came to my rescue. However, they speak almost no English. I extended my arm, asking them to take the full canvas grocery bag that hung there so I could get up slowly, unfettered. He completely misunderstood and yanked me up by my arm rather roughly. She kept trying to wipe my pant leg clean. It's funny now. Last night it hurt. Still, they were trying to be kind and helpful and I appreciated it.

Hours and hours went by and I still had a headache. I was a little nauseous, too. Was it a concussion? Even watching Sir Paul on SNL didn't distract me!

I called my oldest friend -- she who has worked in doctors' offices for decades and has had every malady imaginable* herself -- and asked her what she thought I should do. We agreed I should give it till morning and then, if it's no better, go to the ER.

Then I got dressed and went to the ER anyway. It's up the street, after all, and I have insurance. Why not be safe? After two hours and a CT scan, I got a clean bill of health and was home. I woke up this morning and the headache is still there, but it's slight and I know it's nothing serious.

Being in the ER was humbling. I heard a baby crying so loudly and consistently I thought it was a doll. In the next cubicle (I was in #3) were two siblings and their elderly dad. He was dehydrated from fever and (I think) vomiting. The daughter was arguing rather petulantly with the doctor about how her father was being treated, while the son just wished his sister would let the doctor do her job. As I was being discharged I heard a man moaning and groaning rhythmically. I was very grateful to just have an owie. I slept wonderfully last night.

I wonder how much this episode will cost me ... $500 perhaps? Oh well, my head is worth it.

*I'm not kidding. She's battling MRSA now!

A little in love

I'm watching The Shop Around the Corner (1940) with Margaret Sullivan and … sigh … James Stewart. I grew up believing he was stammering old man, a fixture on Johnny Carson's couch. But then I discovered his films of the late 1930s and 1940s and was enchanted. An authentic, sensitive, quintessentially American man. His persona took on darker hues as he grew older and made riskier movies (the Hitchcock films and Anatomy of a Murder). He was good then, too. But for me, this represents The Golden Age of Jimmy Stewart.