Queen Mediocretia of Suburbia

Return to Sexytown

When you are fifty, you no longer live in Sexytown, but you have only driven ten miles away and you could walk back if you wanted to. When you are sixty, though, you are twenty miles outside of Sexytown. There's no getting back. 

But then you put on a sexy wig and there you are, instantly back in Sexytown, and it's jarring.

This new long wig has transported me back, and the effect of seeing sexy hair combined with my zoom filter has affected my personality. I look at my "young" lush wavy hair and "young" filtered face and I act too young.

Just a little too flirty. Just touching my hair a bit much. (I twirled a curl the other day.)

I've found myself complimenting my male coworkers, but just one daily compliment per male coworker. Nothing really inappropriate, nothing I could be ashamed of even if I were ten years younger.

But I'm not ten years younger.

I might have to put this wig up in a matronly bun otherwise I'll do something indiscreet and I will be caught trespassing in Sexytown. I wish there was some locale where I could live happily between Sexytown and the ice floes. 

(Also, the new wig that's doing this to me is now officially re-named Sexytown.)

TWIL: Pie Crust

The Hook: refrigerated pie crust scraps left over from baby quiches. 

This week I learned ... that pie crust scraps in an air fryer make quite a presentable pie crust snack.

Mom Agrees with John Oliver About the DaVinci Code [Spoilers]

Because of this Writer's strike I've been looking for things I like that I might have missed. I found that John Oliver has released a lot of content on the web that I haven't seen yet. or content I've forgotten.

Including this vicious takedown of The DaVinci Code.

His complaint was that the initial puzzle that drives the plot of the book -- revealed at the end -- was too simple. It reminded me how Mom was equally disappointed at the obvious end of the DaVinci code.

It's nice to have Mom's annotations in the margins of Trollope and Dickens and ... Brown, I guess.

Rewriting the Novel: Maps and Moons and Directions

I thought that when I made my map I might catch two or three errors in distance or geography. 

Hah! NINE. Nine mistakes when people head east from Oklahoma and wind up in Texas, or veer from north to south without explanation. 

I also printed calendars for every month from September 1930 to April 1931, to check if all the "three days later it was Saturday" references were correct. There were two months I had to back up, re-chart, and revise because I was a day (or a week) off.

About the only thing I got right were the phases of the moon. The moon was a sliver on the prescribed sliver day, dark on new moon days, full when it was supposed to be. I have no idea how I managed that when I had the "three days later" narrative so wrong.

That's all tidy now. Only 12 revisions left!

Weekly Paint Progress: 5/11

This week the cloud collage went from this:

... to this.

That took two hours. Bizarre.

Coach Envy

Because Big Dot shared her connections to the Coronation, I had to add my own.

See that narrow-hipped, small-thighed slip of a 32-year-old standing, looking at the gold state coach? There I am, center frame.

P.S. This is the only photo Gary took of the Gold State Coach. When we took our spontaneous trip to the Mews, I was far more interested in the Australian State coach with its Waterford Crystal lamps. 

The Truncated Reign of Beachy Hitler

Beachy Hitler is Out. 

Bye bye, Beachy Hitler. I loved you, then you turned on me. Even bangs couldn't save you. You were meant for a four month tenure, but you are being bounced out of office after four weeks. You are now in the basement. The bunker, as it were.

Your replacement? The less fascist Samarra in brown. (I tried again and got one less hairy.)

 

Hard to get used to, per usual.

Face Shaming

Earlier this week I was in a small six-person meeting. I looked exactly like this.

Someone on the call was making chit-chat and remarked, "We can tell what Ellen did yesterday: she got some sun."

"No ... Why do you think I got sun?" I was genuinely perplexed. 

"Because of your face. You got a sunburn."

I explained that no, I had no sunburn, that was just my face. And then I blamed the cholesterol medicine, not because I believed it, but because I hoped it might embarrass him, and it did, and I was glad. 

And then I balanced things out by poking my face to prove my skin became white. This amused them. So I was gracious and didn't let them know that for God's sake don't comment on an older woman's face. 

TWIL: Ghosts and the Brain

The Hook: Some Facebook link to some article on Cracked. I wish I learned from superior sources. I need to work on that.

Well, here. I found the same information on Wired. That's a step up.

A woman was having brain surgery, and during one tug on a neuron in left her temporoparietal junction, she became convinced there was someone else in the room. Some speculate that this is why  people "see" ghosts. Because their temporoparietal junctions are itchy.

I am skeptical, because if I were that doctor who made the first woman see a "ghost," I would perform that experiment on the next brain I opened. And then on every brain, just to be sure.

The Coronation

I was awakened at a ridiculous hour (4 am) by my subconscious. My alarm was set for the BBC commencement at 5 am, but my subconscious said, "You're going to miss the processional."

I am first grateful I am not a real Queen, because my first thought on seeing Charles and Camilla was "Robes are horribly unflattering." I thought they might be wearing all the robes at once so they could keep dropping them like a quick-change magic act.

I was charmed by Qing Charles III's little spread-fingered-wiggly wave. He has dropped QEII's efficient wrist-pivot-wave. God save the King from carpal tunnel syndrome

I loved the colors: outside the blue livery and red coats and yellow-gold ... well, gold ... were a nice touch of color on a grey day. Then in the cathedral they employed the teal-blue red-orange gold color scheme I had planned for my wedding when I was a girl.

For some reason it bothered me every time I saw this on the closed captioning. 

I think it bothered me because I am jealous. How nice to be in England where they have been around long enough that the representatives don't have to fall all over themselves wearing American clothes and driving American cars and singing songs by American composers. 

I did think it was a little tacky of Charles to have vegan oil for the Anointing after shucking off a fur-trimmed robe, but he was already mixing gem colors on his crown, so. 

I then was moved to make quiche for breakfast. Lorriane, not that monstrous BEAN quiche that is the official food of the day.

God Save the King, anyway.

 

 

Opera Wear

Of course, two of my four opera getups no longer fit. (To my delight though my black chiffon pants and the liners still fit just fine.)

To replace the two kimonos that don't fit, I am taking a big risk and I have purchased two colors  of this unusual item:

Not the ripped jeans, but the chiffon high-low number. What will it do? Cover my thighs? Or make a little proscenium arch to accentuate my thighs? 

We shall soon find out.

Weekly Paint Progress: 5/4

Okay, this week we start all the clouds, from a webpage about clouds. I retrofit the clouds to where they were when I scribbled them on the page.

Here's the collage of originals:

... Geez, you can tell from the cumulonimbus that I do not get clouds.  But it balanced out to grey on one side, blue on the other, so that'll be easy.

Inching Out

Gary's still a little hesitant for me to leave the house. I'm not going out into mosh pits, but he still needs to adjust.

For example, I went to the Bread Company last weekend and picked up an order INSIDE. I wore a mask, of course. Open door, walk ten steps, pick up bag. (Show absolutely no identification, which surprised me.) Walk back out. Gary was fine with it. I was fine with it.

But then a few days later I discovered Amazon has this new return policy where you walk in to a Kohls or a UPS store and just hand them the torn open plastic bag with the ill-fitting item wadded up inside and there, show an email, return done, later, bye. I told Gary is was heading to Kohls to try it and he said, quote, WHOA LETS NOT GO CRAZY HERE YOU WALKED IN TO A BREAD COMPANY THAT'S ONE THING BUT A DEPARTMENT STORE?

We compromised and I went to the UPS store, because he was fine with that.

Why? I think he's just being classist. On the scale of things here in St. Louis, the hierarchy of class has the opera at the top, then the Bread Company in the middle with its whole grains. As for the other two, I didn't get the distinction that ranked the UPS  a notch above the department store. But now that I think about it, the UPS store is semi-attached to the second most pricey grocery, Dierbergs. Classy by proximity. 

So I guess no visits to sports bars in my future, but I can handle that. 

A Surprising Thought

When we were setting up the will, an unsettling thing happened.

There's a conversation when the lawyer makes you think of all kinds of scenarios beyond Surviving Spouse Gets All the Money. What if you die together? Who should do x, who should get y? It was all very involved, and the lawyer asked me about some scenario where Gary was dead and I was not and I immediately thought, well, I'd want my next husband to Get All the Money.

Yes! I know! What next husband? EXACTLY. But evidently my subconscious thinks there will be a job opening for a replacement husband. 

I mentioned this plan to Gary and he was not in favor, but then remembered he'd be dead. So now he's cool with it. Surprising, though.

My Mechanics

I remember there was a show called "How It's Made," where they'd show the construction of a basic item like tissues or razor blades. It would fascinate me for the first two minutes and then I would get bored. 

I do not get bored during the videos on the MyMechanics you tube channel. A man with enviable cuticles takes apart rusty devices and gives them a makeover. It's like How It's Made, only it's How It's Unmade and Then Restored to its Former Beauty.

I encourage you to scroll past anything shiny (in which he makes a wrench out of a nut for example) and instead scan for rust. Here's a good one, where a rusty vise turns into a shiny red vise.

TWIL: Arch Blackout

The hook: this week the local news tells me that for a few weeks in the spring, the park seevice turns off the lights that illuminate the Gateway Arch. 

(I almost wrote "the new lights that illuminate the Gateway Arch," because they were installed "recently" in  2002 or something.)

Oddly, they have to turn off the lights because the Arch freaks out the migratory birds.

Sadly, the article doesn't specify what the birds don't like. They've seen metal, they've seen lights. I suppose it's because the light points up, not down?

-------

On further research, they've seen lights, but they don't like them. We're all supposed to lower the lights for the birds.

Beachy Hitler Bangs

I took Beachy Hitler and cut some bangs in it. I thought I'd document that in a post, because it felt very very strange to cut bangs in a wig. Frankly, the only bangs I've ever cut were for my Barbies, and it was usually after I amputated their feet so they could stand naturally. However, I was a little proud of the very subtle non-Barbie bangs, so I thought I woukd make a blog post on that topic.

That post became a post on how I cannot take a good photo now that I am six months into my sixties.

I was so horrified by that photo I thought, oh, maybe it's time to start playing with the iPhone camera lighting features. I have had great luck with the Zoom prettification filter.

See how nice the bangs look when fluffed and filtered?

But the first iPhoto filter I used was the one for contour lighting. 

Jesus. This was also the last one I tried, because it scared me. However, my shiny chin made me think of an ad I had seen last weekend. So now this post is about that ad:

This is an ad for "COSRX" which must be a skin serum, because it exhorted me to "Get that Glazed-Donut-Glow -- "

What? I am expected to glow like a donut? 

" --- with Snail Mucin."

For the first few minutes I had not full absorbed the concept of Donut Skin and I read that last part as "Small Mucin." I though it was a scientific term. "Small Mucin, not like large Mucin like what they make Mucinex from."

But. No. "SNAIL Mucin." 1) SNAIL 2) Mucin, I suppose because Snail Mucus would be too much after they made me choke down Glazed Donuts. Now with more snail!

I mean, I feel bad about my appearance, but not so bad that looking like a glazed donut would be preferable, snail mucus or not.

Money

I haven't fretted about money for years. It's just something that happens to a lot of pre-retirees: you have all those cost-of-living raises to your credit just at the same time things get paid off. I'm sure that after I retire things will get tight again.

Somehow, in a strange confluence over these last few months, I was hit with thousands of dollars of unexpected bills, primarily in lawyer retainers. (I'm not suing anyone. I just need to continue with probate at the same time I needed to draw up all the end-of-life documents that they would have called "a will" in my generation.) On top of that I transferred some cash to a different account in anticipation of a big bill, and then the state tax debt hit before the federal refund, and I paid the Mastercard bill without checking the bank balance first, and suffice it to say: I was scrabbling for money for the first time in years. 

After transferring from the TeddyJ account, and shifting money from savings, I was still $100 shy, so I set a reminder to do some more machinations the next morning before the bank opened and then I'd be covered. Whew.

My subconscious woke me up at 3 a.m and said, "You have evidently forgotten you have an overdraft account, dumbass." Amazing, given how much I leaned on that account when I was just ten years younger.

Like I say, I'm sure that familiarity with the overdraft account will return someday, but for now it was nice to have forgotten about it.

Weekly Paint Progress: 4/27

This week the magenta sky went from this:

... to this.

And this is the original I was aiming for. 

Not too bad. Next week it's just going to be a panel of cloud studies.

 

Congee Update

Well, even though my previous attempt was a failure, the latest batch of congee is better.

But wow ... is it bland. I'm sure if I liked hot sauce that would help. It makes sense for a dish that improves digestion. I added some soy sauce and that improved it. I still have a vat of the base in the freezer. Time for some more experimentation.

The Void

Once there was a time that you would contact someone, and they would respond. I have spent this year calling into the void. And this is not just stuff like where I was warned to expect silence, like my brother's probate or the Blue Cross Blue Shield class action suit. 

• I requested Dave's medical records through email and a phone call. No response. 
• I purchased a back door, a new bathroom ceiling, and a handrail four months ago. I knew there'd be a wait. But when I asked for more work to be added on, I had to struggle to even ask for a quote and now two weeks later, no quote. 
• The organization I want to donate my body too has also kept mum. 

So I see why the hospital doesn't want to set themselves up: they think I am looking for trouble. But I want to give the construction people money in exchange for parts and labor, and I want to give the body donation people my brain and spine for free, damnit.

No doubt they'll all get back to me all at once when I've forgotten them.

Sneaking in Some Illicit Housework

The closest I come to cheating on Gary is when I do chores behind his back. I remember when I repaired the toilet I hid the replacement flapper under the mattress. 

This month I've been sneaking about repairing a water spot in the ceiling. He's gone, I get out the ladder, I use the Killz, I time it so he's gone long long enough that he can't smell the Killz, it's a  whole assignation. Not some trashy one-night stand like the toilet repair. 

Then I wait a week until he's out of the house again, then I paint over the Killz, and try to get the paint color on the 35 year old ceiling to match, and that is frustrating, and I wonder if it's worth it. 

That's done now, so this weekend is the last tryst with the water spot repair. Some acoustic texture cracked in the process and I have to get that patched up, and the that's the last time I sneak around doing chores, I swear. 

TWIL: Wallis

The hook: You know how Facebook will trap you with s loss-leader preview picture? Two thirds of an intriguing photo that does not appear in the linked article? (Bastards?)

Recently Facebook showed me half of a grim photo of Willis Simpson and just the edge of the claim that she had androgen something.

I Googled "androgen Wallis Simpson" because I didn't want to scroll through clickbait, and found out that about ten years ago there was a book that speculated that she had androgen insentivity syndrome. People with that syndrome appear as female but do not have a uterus and can't have children. (A pretty sweet setup if you ask me, but most people are not me.)

It's an interesting idea. I thought at first of the outrage there would have been at the idea a potential queen who couldn't provide an heir, much less a spare, late thirties or not.  I mean, why even quibble that she was an American, or a divorcee? I don't think they could have known, at the time, that she had this genetic trait, and ex-husbands wouldn't have known either. 

You know, it's all speculation, but wouldn't it be amazing if there was still some Wallis DNA out there? And then it could be proved definitively that she had the chromosome anomaly and that Queen Elizabeth was destined to be queen anyway? 

Rewriting the Novel: The Map

I am at the point that I need to work out left and right, east and west. 

If I want our heroine to exit the cafe and start squinting because the sun is in her eyes, does she turn her head left or right?  (To be honest, the barren way I write she just squints into the sun, but you get the idea.)

For those details I'm going through the printout with the map below and charting her every move. 

It's already pointed out that I have the train traveling the wrong way on page one. 

Paxlovid Plan

The CDC encourages me to have a Paxlovid plan.  Here is my initial plan. It is a bad plan.

If I leave the house, I will wear a mask and stay outdoors as much as possible, wash my hands, won't touch my face. 

When I return I won't wait for symptoms, I will take a test every day for five days after. 

If I get any extra lines and it is a weekday, I will first send Gary to a hotel with tests, and then I will start driving for the hospital where my GP and neurologist are and see who can take me first. 

Alternatively, I will go to the CVS website and fill out the form that qualifies me for the Paxlovid they are doling out there. (Deny everything but immunocompromised, and claim a symptom.) I truly hope I don't have to do this.

=====

Well, after all that I asked the neurologist what I should do, and his office said, "Get in touch with your GP." Well, it wasn't that cold: they gave me another number to call if I had trouble getting a prescription, and a number to call if I had any more questions, so I'm sure that will be helpful. 

And I'm glad I have somewhat of a plan. At least I won't be flailing around, terrified. I'll be on my phone while my remaining time on earth ticks away, terrified.

Well, actually I'm sure I'll be fine.

Weekly Paint Progress: 4/20

This week the magenta sky went from this:

... to this:

I am losing sight of what I like about the original. I liked the flatness, and the luminous pink, and I'm not capturing either. 

Coming Excitement

This spring was going to be the Spring Awakening, in which I left the house for special events.

I blew my first special event, a crawfish boil at Friend 2's  house, because I got the date wrong, so that was a bad start.

All the other Special Events are in May - June,  opera season. There are four operas. The usual combo of two classics and two ... non-classics. 

Last opera season I attended I purchased ensembles. A kimono themed appropriately for every opera. A tiara when suitable. This year I am wearing the one pair of black pants that fit over my giant butt and any top I can pull over my bosom. I might have been persuaded to purchase larger thematic tops, but I don't see any themes. I might need to do more research.

(It is possible that is themes emerge that they could be woven into wig tableaus. I have several wigs that are too over-the-top for work (like country-western singer levels of over-the-top) and I can see a visit to Michaels for items that can ornament the big wigs.)

First we have the only Scott Joplin opera  (lots of assonance there, good band name: Scott Joplin Opera). It is called  Treemonisha. There are many, many poor choices I could make for wig tableaus here. Wasps maybe? There is no good path here, unless maybe some leaves.

Next we have a classic, Tosca. Vials of blood?A pope doll in little teeny chains? Maybe just the colors of the Italian flag.

Then, Susannah, a tale from the apocrypha.  (Also, name the band Apocryphal Scott Joplin Tosca Opera.) I could put little bats in my hair, that's all I can think of. 

Finally, Cosi fan Tutte, which is Mozart. (Is Cosi with a long O or a short O? ) There appears to be no theme here, however, Wikipedia says, "A comedic adaptation, Covid fan tutte, (also using other music by Mozart) depicting life during the first several months of the COVID-19 pandemic was produced by the Finnish National Opera in 2020." 

I feel very safe in the opera mezzanine, no virus in front of me, and I'm hoping the opera-lovers  below me have more vaccine in them than say a rock-concert audience. 

Adventure Dog

Remember my brother's dog Tickles? The one who carelessly ran off the day after Dave died? He is still with a foster family. The other dog, the pit bull mix, was adopted. Tickles, not so much. They're still trying to place her.

This is quite an effective portrait of Tickles below. I like everything about the photo. The text gives some subtle clues about what to expect with escape artist Tickles.

"Tickles! She is still searching for her forever home! Meanwhile, she's been having lots of adventures with her foster people! She loves adventures!!"

My guess is the foster fence is less than nine feet tall and Tickles goes off on an self-guided adventure every few days. 

Latest Neuro Visit

Last week's visit to the neurologist provided some notable neurology news. 

• We are not putting our faith in Evusheld: it is gone. Paxlovid is the new great hope. Supposedly when you catch Covid (and you will) if you take pains to get on Paxlovid as soon as you can, then there's only a 10 percent chance you'll go in the hospital. As long as your baseline health is better than David Crosby's you should be fine.  
• The CDC still has not said if MS patients get to use up the scrap expired booster shots. 
• I should not be too concerned about dying from bile duct cancer like my brother, because they look at my liver numbers every six months. Of course, they looked at David's liver numbers for the last three years because he had ascending cholangitis. Well, and to be honest, he probably had cancer then and didn't tell me.
• There are other bladder treatments that fall in the spectrum between "expensive and useless" and bladder botox, so I now have the name of a bladder specialist. 
• Finally, according to the memory test I take every five years, my memory has improved by a few points. This will be news for my coworkers, who have just this week had to remind me of things that happened six months ago. 

New Name For Bob

Remember Bob? Bob was the first new, full-price wig I ever got.

I tried to debut Bob last year and people couldn't handle it. I had to switch to the Chimera. The Chimera gave way to the Senior, and then the Senior had its trimester in the sun. Now it is time for the Return Of Bob.

I got Bob out of the closet and did the requisite futzing. This is how Bob looked post-futz.

(Zoom prettification filter set to 75%.)

Looked totally different. Strange and asymmetrical. I had to publicly rename Bob. Bob now goes by "Beachy Hitler."

When I got out that old photo I saw what I had done wrong: I had tucked behind the wrong ear. I have re-tucked, re-futzed, and Beachy Hitler looks much better now. More symmetrical. (Less Hitlerly.) 

I'm still calling it Beachy Hitler, though. 

TWIL: Brown Anthrax

The hook: D.A. Bragg, the district attorney prosecuting President Trump, has recently received envelopes containing white powder. "White Powder! Anthrax!" I thought, because I remember the 2001 Anthrax attacks.

But here's the thing I learned: A number of the anthrax envelopes in the famous 2001 attack didn't contain white powder, but brown powder. It was a form of Anthrax that caused skin problems, not death. This lesser Anthrax was sent to the media instead of the politicians.  

Back in 2001 when people freaked out over spilled Cremora, they should have warned us we needed to worry about brown powder too. 

I then told myself that "D.A. Bragg probably got baby powder," because my only other white powder references were hoaxes, like the baby powder sent to Donald Trump Jr. a few years back. 

But of course, I forgot about ricin. Ricin seems far easier to make than anthrax, and it also comes in the terrifying white powder form. President Obama got an envelope of Ricin ten years ago. 

It's all moot, because the white powder sent to D.A. Bragg is harmless. Then again, that's what I would have said about the ricin. Stay vigilant! Don't trust powdery envelopes regardless of color.

Latex Paint Progress

Twenty-five years ago Gary and I painted our great room wall a then-trendy shade of green. we had two ladders, and I painted the right half, he painted the left. 

He got just a bit of paint on the ceiling on the left side. Just in one spot. I know, because I stared at that spot for decades.

This past weekend I moved everything out of one of the bookcases and got up there to fix that paint.

I got up there and couldn't find the spot. I hadn't seen the spot for a long time, but that was because my eyes had worsened. And then, behind that bookcase I realized I had fixed that spot years ago when the nails began popping out in the hallway. I just spackled some popcorn texture on top of it.

I am going to be a senile old woman climbing ladders every weekend to fix long-resolved problems. Perhaps I am a senile old woman climbing ladders already.

Weekly Paint Progress: 4/13

This week the magenta sky went from this:

... to this.

Kind of interesting.

Last Gasp of the Demographics

I remember when I had the tiVo. It would give you suggestions based on every show you said you liked, whereas Netflix makes suggestions based on only one specific show. "Because you watched one episode of The Unxplained here are fifty shows centering on fairies."

I also remember that one time I got sick of the tiVo suggestions and gave every show a thumbs down. "I cannot please you!" it cried. "Here, here is some porn." And then all the suggestions were straight up porn.

It seems MasterClass purchased the suggestion software engine from tiVo. haven't used MasterClass since Dave died. I just got this email. It really came from MasterClass, look right above her forehead.

"Completed the Great Sex course of study." I can imagine putting that in a Tinder profile. 

TWIL: Holy Money

The hook: I read something about a Mormon Church financial scandal, and I wondered if the LDS church had the most money, or if it was Scientology, or maybe -- as I assumed -- the Roman Catholics, or perhaps the Muslims had all the cash, or wouldn't it be ironic if it was the Buddhists?

None of the above! The Greek Orthodox Church has alllllll the money by far. 

The amount isn’t as impressive if you convert it to Euros, but still, that's close to a trillion dollars. Ten times more than the second runner-up, the Mormons. The table splits the Catholics out by country, but even with all the countries consolidated it's nowhere near the 974 BILLION dollars their Greek cousins have. I saw a photo once of a friend's Greek Orthodox wedding, and it was stunning, but still I was surprised. I suppose it's all the Greek shipping money. 

The third entry, Venkateshvara Temple, is odd in that it's pointing to one specific Hindu temple. It's evidently a pilgrimage destination and everyone leaves money there. They do feed the poor, but you'd think they could feed everyone in India for that many rupees.

 

ChatGPT

I've heard about ChatGPT, the Artificial intelligence bot that ate up the internet until September 2021. You can ask it questions and it will respond in kind. Ask intimate questions and get intimate responses. Ask medical questions, get medical responses.

I have steered clear of ChatGPT, because it's an unknown, and I keep my iPad far away from unknowns. Your website's security certificate is unknown? Goodbye. 

I was excited to sign up for a seminar on it at work, which was almost shut down when TeddyJ had the same reaction. "TeddyJ has not sufficiently investigated this technology." Can't even run a YouTube video showing it. 

Of course, I had to ask it about the blood test results. Very inconclusive. "Low levels of creatinine and protein in your blood can indicate a decrease in kidney function or kidney damage. However, the absence of protein in your urine suggests that your kidneys are not leaking protein, which is a positive sign."

After a few more questions it blamed the statin I've been taking to lower my cholesterol. That seems like a clear parallel to me. 

Everything was always bookended with "But of course, alway consult with a physician," which is not the type of thing you would expect from Skynet.

Weight

I was expecting to hear something about my weight at my physical, given that I think I've gained 15 pounds since the last time I weighed myself.

"You've gained 130 pounds since last October!" said the doctor.

"That can't be right." I said.

"Your weight last October was 120." 

My weight in grade school was 120. My weight when Gary and I were separated was 120. Not possible.

Possibilities:

• I said it wrong if asked last October. I routinely give my weight starting with a 1 when I mean to start with a 2. People always correct me. 
• I weighed 210 and someone transposed the numbers. I can see being 210, up 20 from my miraculous pre-covid 190. 220 is more likely. 

At any rate, the numbers got straightened out, I got credit for my 30 pound weight gain, and we went on to discuss the merits of cassava bread. 

In hours I got the results of my blood tests, and my sodium is high and my protein is low, but my kidneys are fine (no protein in my urine, even, if you were looking)..  I went on to play my favorite game of self-diagnosis. I landed on a brain lesion that is affecting my ability to absorb nutrients so I am over-eating to compensate for the lack of protein. 

It will be none of those things. I'd say it's my recently poor diet, but I've been jamming protein in my maw with every meal and snack. The only thing it might be is my liver, and I don't get liver tests until next week. 

Lume Deodorant

Gary screams whenever MSNBC plays this commercial.

And they play it hourly, if not more.

Yesterday morning he came out of the bathroom holding our shared speed stick deodorant. He had a demented look in his eye. 

"What did I do?" I sighed, because I quite often do things wrong with our shared sanitary items.

He held the deodorant in my face, as I expected, and shouted "ARMPITS BUTT CRACK UNDERBOOBS THIGH FOLDS KNEE PITS EAR CREVICES."

I did not expect that. Poor thing has that chant in his head every time he uses the deodorant now. 

Rewriting the Novel: Line Edit Update

Remember the line edits from a month ago? I had done 714 edits, I needed to do 1,092 more?

Done! Well, 10% of them were skipped and relegated to revision status, e.g. " What damn color is her damn dress? Did I pick blue stripes or brown plaid? P-I"

P-I stands for Post-its. The next phase is all about post-its. Every one of the 25 revisions has a post-it color assigned to it. There's a post-it for every character, and there's a rainbow for the main character's development arc. 

You know I'm all about the process. 

 

Weekly Paint Progress: 4/6

All right. Enough trying for representations.  

Next up I'm trying this.

I got this far.