Thursday, 31 July 2008
PS. I'm TAKING the picture, and somehow it is less about 'a day at the beach' and more and more about the woman on the far right.
Wednesday, 30 July 2008
Tuesday, 29 July 2008
A preacher was telling his congregation that anything they could think of, old or new, was discussed somewhere in the Bible and that the entirety of the human experience could be found there. After the service, he was approached by a woman who said, "Preacher, I don't believe the Bible mentions PMS." The preacher replied that he was sure it must be there somewhere and that he would look for it.
The following week after the service, the preacher called the woman aside and showed her a passage which read,... "And Mary rode Joseph's ass all the way to Bethlehem".
Monday, 28 July 2008
Ginger ale, coke, lemon and lime
Don’t have a watch, can't tell you the time
Iced Coffee with milk, no sugar for me.
Don’t care for sweeteners, prefer caffeine-free
used to drink Yoohoo, but can't seem to hold it
Once owned a Ford Falcon, but somebody stole it
My father is cool, he trims up the hedges
Mom's kind of smooth, but rough 'round the edges
Once found a seashell, put it to my ear
all I heard was a-guzzlin' beer
guzzling beer, not what I expected
had me a Mexican, but soon he defected
Looked for him everywhere,thought he was nappin'
But he'd hit the pavement, hirotchees were slappin'
Somebody told me he's back in Borrero
fryin' up churros in a fancy sombrero
next time i move, gonna keep it professional
hire a crew, and avoid the confessional
Dined on raw fish with a Guido, beguiled
'Till he told me he'd die before having my child
Excuse me, I told him, I think you're mistaken
I'd rather have triplets by sexy Clay Aiken
Been burned before,but I'm still kind of shocky
Swallowed my pride and swore off the Saki
Low and behold, a dude who says "Schmat-zah"
unorthodox fella, who can't stomach mat-zo
Head full of curls nice Hebrew diction
believes in his heart aliens are nonfiction.
He ain’t into me, prefers to be single
Made sure my milk and his meat didn't mingle
Stopped into Quick-chek to get me a bite
met up with Manny who put up a fight
mountain of misery, terrible liar
asked for a bike and he gave me a tire
Flattened but patched my heart isn't aching
I think it's a sign the thing was worth breaking
The back roads to Red Bank are bumpy and narrow
hard on the bones but good for the marrow
I looked at the clouds, shook out the lining
can't see the forest for all of my pining.
Ironic that shells echo the sea
the old man batters 'em mercilessly
Mets beat the Yankees,what can I say?
Wanted for nothing, nothing got in my way
Got up to stretch, fell through the bleacher
and into the arms of a snake oil preacher.
Tinctures and ointments and warming love salve
can't erase hurt and the memories I have
Heard it before, how time is medicinal
But for healing the heart the price is additional
Beat for beat and measure for measure
grapes of gall and fermenting displeasure
tasted enough to know this can't be real
while mashing my heart in the search engine wheel
In taking that road to that carn-evil ground
for one lonely toad on the hairy-go-round,
something was lost in the folly and fun
as I'm counting the cost for all that I've done
I reach for forgiveness and snatched from the ride
am taken to places where nothing can hide
in the light of the One who is no longer mad
better than anything, more fun than sad
eternally loved, as it was from the start
the past is forgiven, all's well with my heart
as for my heroes, and the asses I've pained
Nothing is lost and everything gained
Sunday, 27 July 2008
Saturday, 26 July 2008
This was my pastor in San Diego, Mike MacIntosh, of Horizon Christain Fellowship, which is an offshoot of Calvary Chapel in Costa Mesa. While there are Calvary Chapel churches all over the country, and I think outside the states as well, this was the place of my first non Catholic experience with Jesus Christ.
1The church is non denominational/inter-denominational/ regular old 'come as you are' establishment. You won't see any statues or stain glass or anything you might associate with church, not that those things in themselves are bad. I think they first actually started meeting at someone's house in San Diego. Then it grew too large and they got permission to meet at a theater on El Cahon Blvd. They outgrew that and rented a school. While every church has a statement of faith and attracts people who may associate themselves with that particular faith, this church is not about membership. You can't join this church and they don't pass out envelopes or ask for money, not that that's a bad thing either. People who attend regularly support the church but they don't ever pressure people to give. It's not about money.
Anyway, I was so into going to this church. Everyone was young, well, not everyone, but it was PERFECT. My sister Laura was living in Coronado Island at the time ( which is why I moved out there), and then, my other sister's husband was stationed there for a year, so we all wound up in that church. It was amazing. Pastor Mike founded 1800 HIT HOME which is a phone number for runaways. He's also started up all kinds of other churches and outreaches in other countries. It's just so incredible and refreshing and real. I got baptized in the mission bay with about a thousand other people and my future ex, whatever, forget that part. I should have just stayed friends with him too. Anyway... I have not seen Pastor Mike since 1990. I used to work on an open heart unit in LaJolla and remember feeling privileged to be assigned to care for his mother who was about 80 something, undergoing open heart surgery. I'm rambling here. So enjoy.
Thursday, 24 July 2008
An estrogen-like compound widely used in plastic products is thought to be causing serious reproductive disorders, according to a statement by several dozen scientists, including four from federal health agencies.
The compound, bisphenol A (BPA), is one of the most-produced chemicals in the world, and almost everyone has traces of it -- or more -- in their bodies.
After reviewing about 700 studies, the scientists concluded that people are exposed to levels of BPA in excess of those that have harmed lab animals. Among the most vulnerable are infants and fetuses, who are still developing.
BPA is used to make hard plastic that’s used in numerous products including:
* Polycarbonate plastic baby bottles
* Large water-cooler containers and sports bottles
* Microwave-oven dishes
* Canned-food liners
* Some dental sealants for children
The statement appeared alongside five accompanying scientific reviews and a new study by the National Institutes of Health that found newborn animals exposed to BPA suffered from uterine damage. The damage could indicate that the chemical causes reproductive disorders in women ranging from fibroids to endometriosis to cancer.
While studies have yet to be conducted to directly examine BPA’s influence on humans, past animal studies have found low doses of the chemical to be associated with early-stage prostate and *** cancers and decreased sperm count.
No governmental agency worldwide has restricted the use of BPA, but a U.S. expert panel is meeting to discuss whether the chemical should be declared a human reproductive toxin, which could lead to regulatory action.
The chemical industry maintains that BPA is safe, and has called the scientists’ statement “alarmist and biased.”
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Wednesday, 23 July 2008
The screaming and profanity awakened me out of a deep comfortable sleep. Oh no...not again... That party out back started around the 10:30 mark. 1/2 hour after the curfew. What do they care? I knew this was coming. Before retiring to the inner sanctum of celibacy, I shut all my windows, closed all the inner doors, and buried my body under several blankets to hunker down for the big fall out. Soon I was drifting.
I glanced at the blue light of my clock. 12:30. 2 hours to drink themselves into an aggressive and inconsiderate state. that's about right. I sat up in the dark, staring dismally through sheer curtains. The light sensor which was mounted on the large storage building behind the parking lot was illuminating about 10 cars, and there had to be 30 loud mouthed guys, late teens carrying on in the back lot. Booming voices echoing through the compound. F F F F F. Ugh. I hate this garbage and I'm gonna tell them to shut the f up. No. I'm gonna take the high road. No Fs, ands or butts. Wait...maybe I'll just call the cops. No. I'll warn them first. then I'll call the cops. I don't care if they think I'm a miserable old woman. Sonsabitches! I'm feeling like Jerry Stiller with a machine gun. Creeping myself out.
I tried to stand and bear weight on both feet, and immediately was reminded of an injury I had sustained this past Saturday at my friend's son's graduation party. Her nine year old decided to try to tackle me. He landed on my ankle. I screamed in pain but told him was OK, but for added guilt, added that I was 50 years old and that he had no business rough housing with old ladies. I started it, he said, and ran off. For some reason the swelling was delayed a couple of days after the incident. Prolly from being on my feet all day at work. This was the second night that it ballooned up with searing pain, almost unbearable, and though I had been elevating and icing it, and taking Advil at bedtime, it still freaking ached, especially with any movement. As if the muscles were being pulled from the bone. It was bad. Maybe time to get some Xrays.
So... here I was sitting there feeling like crap when it occurred to me that these complete asses where stealing my sleep. Menacing. How dare they? I'm a rent paying tenant. A working professional. I've gotta get up at 6:30 and take care of people for 10 hours. I was nasty. Fit to be pied. The F-bombs were almost constant, as one guy tried to out power the others with his "effing" this and that... How dare they? I hopped to the window and opened it.
As loud as I could, I shouted out from my darkened perch, " I AM GONNA CALL THE COPS IF YOU DON"T ALL SHUT... UP!!!!" Ooh, that felt good. I could hear the pent up frustration and anger in my voice. The noise stopped as everyone looked toward my upstairs bedroom window. I slammed the window to punctuate my threat. Wham. That felt good too. I've always loved the release of slamming doors. It's just beautiful thing that I've got more doors in this house than any place I've ever lived. The bathroom has 2, the kitchen has 2, then Dining room, 4. And then there's the Den and storage area, and 2 other closets. The other 4 closets have louvers, which are nowhere as satisfying and actually more of a nuisance to close. 12 doors. I could just slam everyone of them tonight. This was a window and I had to go alittle easier. But was was effective. There. Let em know that I'm serious. I hobbled out to the kitchen, and ate one of my comforting peanut butter cookies and some very cold milk. Then back to bed. Things quieted down some and I was able to drift into a semiconscious state.
1:30. It all starts up again. This time I am more livid than ever. Apparently a drunken brawl has drawn the crown back outside. I am up again, and just so pissed that these kids are ruining my beauty sleep. Feeling really ugly I dragged my badly beaten body to the window and calmly tell them, not that they hear, that they have left me no choice but to call the police. I advise them to get in their cars and leave the property or face charges of disturbing the peace, disorderly conduct, underaged drinking...I wait in joyful hope as a few cars leave the premises. And turn back to my haven of comfort. What the heck kind of father would allow his kids to have this kind of midweek party? I was completely not feeling the love. Oh sure, in the past, before this bacame a routine event, I would say, "ah, the kids need a place to party...let em alone." Bah. Where is that father? I still haven't met the man who allows these hoodlums freerange of the compound.
Ahah... Dad was at work. Of course. He has no idea. Well someone has to shut it down. I should have called at 12:30. By 2AM it was happening again. More screaming and profanity. Threats. One chick begging her drunk BF to get in the car. He won't go. 4 guys are screming at him to get in the car. SHUT UP. The whole thing escalates into a huge drama. The police are summonsed. They show up and drive onto the owners landscaped property, creating a huge muddy rut which I can make out in the darkness. great. The owner prides himself on his Home and Garden Award winning property.
That stupid resistant kid quickly gets into his friends car and they try to take off. The cops intervene and then send them off. Evidently there were more kids hiding out on the property, as the motherless children must have kicked everyone out of the house. It took about an hour or so before they finally left, but not before the thunder and lightning rolled in with the heavy rains... The single father of the kids came home and was looking around the property, probably for more lagers and broken glass. All said...like this unnecessary and lengthy post, it was finally over, as was my beauty rest. Before I knew it, the sun was up. I was exhausted, dragged through the day, bedraggled and disgusted.
Going to bed.
Tuesday, 22 July 2008
Monday, 21 July 2008
Sunday, 20 July 2008
Friday, 18 July 2008
Thursday, 17 July 2008
The starting lineup, back when I was young, I think I missed the gun,
but just as well
took off for other places.
I longed for mountains magesty and all those things I hoped to see,
while others stayed and loved familiar faces.
Some married and they bore their young, or college-bound for work and fun or tragedy, and sometimes God just loses me.
The question of my failure to connect with just one sailor, what the heck, but strangely so, quite often still amuses me.
I ponder of a hope that it's still possible, within your scope, I'm grateful for eleventh-hour breakthroughs.
Still don't get what you're telling me, I bungled at the spelling bee, you say the thing I'll get is what I'll choose?
The mind it travels to and fro, the world it feeds the input though, and we must press the whey out from the curds.
And so I speak in vagaries, of things to come which I can't see but speak into reality, if only by my words.
The power of your words can mezmerize and heal the hurts,
your eyes are beautiful they've looked into my soul.
The wonder of your gaze touches places I would rather not be writing of,
and afterall this is a poem and way too much to share in whole.
Wednesday, 16 July 2008
Tuesday, 15 July 2008
Monday, 14 July 2008
Close up on John's penatrating eyes.
"I've read your blog and frankly, I'm hurt."- John McCain
Even if you can't vote for the man, at least support him.
Advocates for Temperance in Free Speech. Because if you can't say something nice, then shut your pie hole.
Sunday, 13 July 2008
Craving answers to a questions I have had for months now, I decided to pull into the driveway of an abandoned farmhouse located on the side of the road, about a quarter of a mile down from current home, (also an old farmhouse). The sign out front reads 'Ardena Farms'.
Apparently, the previous occupants ran a farm market out of the garage, which is also falling into disrepair. I usually drive by and admire the cute scalloped green and white striped awnings which shade the dilapidated front porch, and smile internally at the white lace curtains left hanging in the windows. Someone, a woman no doubt, wanted to maintain a sense of 'lived in', if only by accident.
Again, I was just driving by, when, as if drawn by the breeze, I made the snap decision to turn into the asphalt driveway, now overgrown with weeds. Had to see. I pulled around to the back, and surveyed the property. A lush cornfield is growing tall against the backyard, about 50 feet back. The yard is open, and free of clutter and trees. The driveway forms a loop at the end with some kind of gnarly old tree or bush in the center. I'm going to check out this house, I was thinking, as the excitement began to grow. Be careful, was my second thought.
I stepped cautiously onto the bumpy ground, not wanting to surprise any snakes or other varmint hiding out in the overgrown grass. I stepped up onto the creaky covered back porch and marveled at the original water pump. I couldn't help but give that old pump a good pumping. Rats. Wasn't able to draw any water but probably could have, had I kept at it. My attention quickly turned to the house.
I took a few steps to the nearest window, and brushing away the cobwebs, peered down onto the top of an old wooden kitchen table. The kitchen! The dusty antique table and chair were parked just under the window, and I believe there was a screwdriver on it. The cabinets were whitish, and may have been original though probably replaced in the 50s. Someone had updated the kitchen floor with tile and replaced the window under the sink.
There was that old fake brick, behind the stove, which was also ready to be kicked to the curb. Boy, I was dreaming of ripping that kitchen out, imagining what I would do to bring new life into these walls. There were a few indications of activity, such as the Mr. Coffee machine on the counter, the screwdriver on the table, but clearly these things had not been touched in quite some time. In fact, it was as if time stood still in that old house.
I walked around to the side and front of the house, looking into each window, thinking "That wallpaper has to go and...hmm...stairs...!! There was a pair of scissors on the steps. I was kinda wondering if the place was haunted, but wasn't discerning anything strange. Just a sad feeling for what was once something special to the area. What was once a thriving little homestead, a roadside farm market is now a deteriorating facade. A headstone. A sad state of affairs. An abandoned house. A landmark. A legacy. Just waitin' for somebody to DO sompin' nice.
Wednesday, 9 July 2008
though i can't see the end from beginning
God, there's nothing that You cannot see~
when I can't speak, for fear, and in weakness
Speak Your calm and Your strength over me.
you are Truth, but tonight, I forgot, you are Light~
let my thoughts lead the way to a darker place.
overwhelmed, lacking prayer, I set sail, without care~
thought I'd manage alone, since I know Your Grace.
but when storm clouds appeared,it was then that I feared~
and called " Lord, can't you see that I'm sinking!?"
and that's just how I pray in the midst of the day~
come what may, I just say what I'm thinking.
My guess is that Jesus was dreaming
when he slept quietly in the boat~
No one was needing a thing, at the time,
all was fine, course aligned, still afloat.
No need for Divine conversation,
so why don't You just take a nap?
I'll be snoozing right here, if you need Me, don't fear~
by all means, Jesus, we have the map.
We all know how storms blow in quickly
and that Weatherman knew, for He must~
if He wanted, the Lord could have warned them before,
more important they learn how to trust.
Though I can't see the end from beginning
God, there's nothing that you cannot see~
when I can't speak, for fear and in weakness
Speak Your calm and Your strength over me.
Thursday, 3 July 2008
These are some of the members of the Virginia Beach chapter of Young Life- Capernum, a club regularly frequented by my 16 year old nephew, Dan.
Hmmm...A poetry reading by Cletus Cowpie.
Oh Look! There's Dan. (1:42) He's the cute, albeit pasty (by now he's got his tan on), but confident looking dude in the Brooklyn tank. The one with the hot babe. Sure, Dan's a lady's man, but he's learned to keep his cool around the women. "Back off, girls. There's enough of me to go around". He would puke if he read that. I'll have to remove that comment later.
Dan's really coming of age. Getting buff for 'sophomore year'. A lover and a critic. Hurling insults with the greatest of ease one minute, and schmoozing up the next. I try to take it all with a grain of salt...in the wound. All kidding aside, I tend to give much consideration to his opinions, as Dan is weak on tact. Holds back nothing, and can be pretty funny and at once hurtful. Like my Dad. Only my Dad would never insult a person directly to their face. He has tact and will tell someone else what he thinks about you, thank you very much.
Up until last year, Dan would hug me and tell me that I was his main girl. Oh sure, his other Aunties got the same treatment, but I always thought he really liked me best. I guess we all thought that. Maybe it was out of pity on my situation, but for years I would have to remind him of the limits of our relationship. " No I can't marry you Dan, I am your Auntie and that's as far as it's ever gonna go. Ever."
Dan is 16 now and well aware of the boundaries, at least with regards to intermarriage. We were on the phone a couple of months ago and he was asking me about my love life.
" So how are things going with the love life?"
I told him that I am working on it,
" working on it, Dan, trying to improve the envelope".
I touched on various elements of my current health and beauty program.
He suddenly asked, " Why are you telling me all of this?"
I sensed the discomfort in his tone. "Because, Dan, you asked. I'm just telling you, I do these things in hopes that someday, somehow, I will attract and marry a good man."
" WELL I AM NOT THAT MAN."
I almost dropped the phone.
" Of course you're not, Dan. WHY would you think I'm trying to impress you?"
" Because why would you tell me you are doing all these things?"
" I am saying these things because, as you recall, you are the one who told me, the day I was driving you to the doctor, that he better not ask me out. Remember, Dan, you said I was 'unattractive, fat looking, and undatable'...Do those words strike a familiar chord?"
" I said no such thing."
" Yeah ya did. You know you did."
" When I said those things, Aunt Gina, I was looking out the window at another girl."
" OH RIGHT. Of course."
" I was just playing with you."
" Well it felt like you were being serious."
" No!!! I was only kidding, Aunt Gina."
" Ohhhhhh. So now I'm not unattractive, fat looking, and undatable?"
" No, you're fine."
"Phew. Thanks for clearing that up. Here all this time, I thought you were serious."
"Yeah, you're fine the way you are, Aunt Gina."
" So you're sorry you said that stuff to me? You take it back?"
" Yeah, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."
"Thanks, Dan. I feel so much better."
" Good." ( i could tell he was just glad to get out of that one. But he was serious when he said it. There was no other girl he was speaking to. Not that it matters. He's just a 16 year old. What does he know about what's datable?)
"OK. Now put your mom back on."
Sorry Cletus. The poem is precious, Cletus. Keep em coming.
These are the exact same faces I saw last year, doing whacko things like surfing and sky diving! Some of the activities at these camps are just insane. Last year, I watched in horror as they carried a paralyzed dude, yes, a 'quad' into the ocean so he could surf! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING? I saw the video footage. With a little help his pals, he was hanging ten. Well not really but they got him on the board, pulled him out there and surf he did! Not standing up and of course. but he was having FUN! FUN! FUN! 'til his Daddy took his T-bird away. His friends stayed with him as he rode the waves. He probably dreamed of doing that for years! Now THAT's what I'm talking about! He was seen on several YOU TUBES doing all kinds of wild and exciting things. It was probably the best year of his life or one of them. All kinds of friends and fun. He was who he was and he was having fun.
Wednesday, 2 July 2008
Tuesday, 1 July 2008
I am trying to pay off my Sears Card. Thought I could do it online, but can't find the exact page, so I decided I'd call over there and pay it over the phone.
I get the number online, call the customer service dept, and am directed by a female computerized voice to a waiting area which is playing smooth jazz. 'The Look of Love...is in...your eyes...a look...that time...can't erase'. Elevator/Lounge music. It sort of makes me feel...carsick. Queasy. I don't know why.
That's OK. I can wait. Finally, a person picks up. A Sears Customer Representative. I didn't get his name, but explained the purpose of my call. Just want to pay the bill.
" You want to pay off your balance?"
"Right. I need to know my exact balance."
He was busy, apparently, because after about 2 minutes of him saying " just one second........one minute.....just a few seconds.....one second", he asks me:
"OK, so what was it you needed?"
"I need to pay my bill." It hurts to talk much.
"There's a 14 dollar charge if you do it over the phone. Do it online and it's free."
"OK, but I am having a problem with finding the payment page...is there someone you could direct me to?"
" Hold on a minute....just a few seconds....just a minute....one second please....
The music comes back on.
I use the time wisely, and within a minute, have located that same theme song for waiting on 'You Tube'.
" OK," he's back on, " I am now going to connect you to the billing department. Thank you for your patience."
"No problem, Sir. Have a nice day."
Alone in the elevator again. The look of love. What the heck kind of look is that? I sat there in front of the mirror ( there's one directly behind this monitor),trying to get that look of love in my eyes. Insincere. Silly. Weirdo. I tried thinking of someone I have felt that way about and looked into my own eyes. Come on. Concentrate on that person and then quick look at yourself. No use. It must be a subjective thing. Wishful thinking for some. Maybe just gas. Besides, I think it's more important that the guy have the look of love. But what IS that expression? I let this bother me for about a minute, while I waited. Change subject. So glad to be paying off this credit card. With or without the look, the TV is mine. I'm getting that Guitar Hero thing next month. No more buying anything on credit. It was taking so long, that I slipped back in time and googled "The Look of Love". I did.
Per wikipedia, the music was written by Burt Bacharach, and indeed, it was originally intended to be an instrumental. But later Hal David added the lyrics, and the song was published in 1967. According to Bacharach, the melody was inspired by watching Ursula Andress in an early cut of the film. Ah ha...someone who actually possesses the thing which inspires a melody to form within the mind of the great Burt Bacharach. Imagine that.
" Sears Credit Dept. This is Mary Jane Thompkins. It's a beautiful day at Sears, How can I help you?
"Yes. Ms. Thompkins. Please. I am trying to pay my bill. Having trouble locating the exact payments site online. "
She asks for my card number. I go to reach for the bill and my broken glasses which were teetering on the edge of my nose fell to the floor, right near my foot. It hurts to reach for things when you have a sore throat. Bad.
" Just a minute. I dropped my glasses and I can't see these numbers...."
"OK, but I can only hang on for 2 minutes."
"Hold on a second." I place the phone by a speaker which is now playing this very song from You Tube. Figured the relaxing melody would put her at ease while I reached for my glasses. Buy some time. Where are they? Down in the tangle of computer wires at my feet. I picked up my glasses, put them back on ( the one ear handle snapped off recently but I refuse to part with them), and picked up the phone. Holding them in place, I am trying to make out the tiny numbers. What a loser. No wonder I'm floundering. I own at least 10 pair of these things.
" OK, here is the number.....hello? Hello?"
How rude. I bet Ursula Andress doesn't have people hanging up on her. What is she...72 now?
But here is a real look of love.
My old pal, Bailey. Thanks Elena for sending this pic. Bailey inspired her own song.
i am quite sure that I have never had strep throat before.
i would never have forgotten this kind of pain.
almost as bad as the ileus of 2001.
this is day 4. picked up something right after the gym on friday night.
felt it while pushing a cart around shoprite.
came on swiftly and intensified into something severe.
had to weather the worst of it without antibiotic this weekend.
tried the usual home remedies.
nothing seemed to be helping.
ice pops were soothing.
got an MD appt. Monday afternoon.
mom offered to drive. brought some ice.
my doctor said it looked like an infection. put me on Avelox.
never heard of it. some new kind of broad spectrum antibiotic. targets upper respiratory germs. quickly.
I got up again to get some pain med and something cold from the freezer. The other night, I had a 20 lb bag of ice in there which was making taking up too much space snd wasn't allowing for complete closure of the door with everything else I put in there. I pulled everything out last night, and threw out the ice. All of it. I should have saved half of it. Could have made slushies. I saved all of the boxes of fudgicles and icepops, hoping everything would freeze back up.
Ironic. i don't need ice for months and when i finally could USE some ice, I've dumped it down the drain.
just checked. the fudgicles are coming along. good.
sometimes when it hurts, I start to feel panicky.
where is my chloraseptic?
why isn't this advil helping?
can't i just spit my saliva out instead of swallowing?
whatever happened to jello pudding pops?
I made some of my own in a bowl without the sticks.
Scraped at the frozen pudding. it was pretty good.
how long does this Avelox take?
the doctor seemed more interested in the details of my work than my sort throat.
i should have asked for a narcotic pain killer.
the pharmacist said. that will be 135 bucks. for 10 pills.
I settled for 5. he said it takes 5-10 days of pills. I'll probably get the other 5. don't want to take any chances.
Ah...these semi=soft italian ices are sooo good. I am so glad this pain is going to go away soon.
will try to get back to sleep.