Whew . . .

I just got out of the CVCU last Friday, late.  I was there for observation and testing after not doing well with a chemical stress test.  I found out that I was being released when I came back from the rest room.  J told me I should get dressed and that he thought I had been there long enough.  Everyone laughed at my "Huh" face and we got outa there but in due hospital time. 

The most fun was taking off the oxygen monitor from my right forefinger.  If you ever have to wear one, put it on your non-dominant hand as it has about ten inches of wiring and a plug that dangle from it when it is disconnected from the large machines.

I had many, many little connector-patches stuck on to my chest, shoulders and abdomen.  Everybody who needed to use a set of sticky connectors seemed to require a different kind and left the other ones stuck on just in case they could be useful.  There is a stubborn rectangle of adhesive near my waist that is slowly yielding to shower gel, body lotion and just plain oil.  Whatever was used to adhere that one could probably have been used by NASA to stick heat proof tiles on the space shuttles.

The cats seemed glad to see me and I was more than happy to see their furry faces.

Recommended ...

Rarely do I cry over a blog post.  

I follow Beyond the Sidewalks which is written by a woman who has a wonderful "voice," lovely animals, and who posts nearly every day.  There once was a brief, and understandable, hiatus which was due to an accident in the family.  

She has a farm with goats.  Several of the females, all of which have cute names. came to kid at nearly the same day.  One of them had a difficult time which neither the mom nor the twins survived.  Thus the tears.  Poor little things.

Depends on the Viewpoint . . .

We rose at six this morning, BigEd and I.  He had a 9:15 appointment for a checkup and I went along.  We wanted to be there early so as to sign in first thing.  We signed in at 8 something and they called us in at 9:15.  I really can't figure out if it was worth it to get up so early, or not.

When the doc came in, he took one look at my face and almost shouted, "What happened?"

This was the first time I had used concealer and makeup over the remainder of the shiner and cheek.  I thought I had done a fair job.  Guess I will just stick to wearing sunglasses.

After I explained what had happened, he apologized for making me embarrassed.  It doesn't bother me at all, I told him.  I can't see it.  It is other people who are bothered. 

Whereshego? Whereshego?

We are going to a barbeque at Zeta's and M's.  Mothers' Day is on Sat and Sun, this week.  Something like having a birthday last a week of celebrations.  

Yesterday, Snax and Miu were investigating an empty box that was tiped onto its side.  She sniffed, rubbed and moseyed away.  He came flying around the box to pounce on her and she was gone. Foolish cat decided she could be lurking anywhere and took off to the hallway only to encounter her.  He skidded to a stop, edged around her and hightailed it for his room.  It was indeed comical but it told me something sad.  

He will never be a hunter . . . 

No One Important . . .

No one of any importance blogs on Sunday.  Just go look.  Today is Sunday.  Here I am.

What does that tell you?

Nice, clean sandbox . . .

I never go to the grocery store or anywhere else on  the weekend if I can avoid it.  I prefer the less crowded center of the week. But today BigEd announced, on his way out the door to work, that someone would have to get some cat sand soon .

This was his way of announcing that we were totally out of the stuff.  Dire situations require desperate remedies.  Some remedies are easier than expected.  There were about three shoppers (I exaggerate but not by much) plus errant employees wandering the aisles while trying to looking busy.

Four huge bags of kitty litter later, Snax and Miu are secure.  You would think one of them would teach itself to use the bathroom like our first cat did.  I know you can get kits to help teach them but Miu is 14 and a half  years old.  (J corrected me when I called her a 12 year old.)

She is quite capable of falling in.  In my time, I have fished toys, hairbrushes, clippers and towels from the toilet bowl, usually after a panicked shout of "Mom!"   

I draw the line at going in for a geriatric cat. 

You are getting sleepy . . .

J can sit in a chair and fall sound asleep.  I can't do that because, for me, falling asleep requires a horizontal personal orientation.  That is the true definition of a nap.  Ask the cats.  Neither of them will fall asleep sitting upright.

Miu has been asleep on top of the cats' condo and had her head slowly slide until it is hanging straight down off the edge.  I can't do that either.  

I require a bed and a pillow.  I am so untalented . . .

If only . . .

There is a guilty secret that is becoming tiresome.  I started watching Splash out of curiosity.  A couple of episodes in, the DVR began recording them and I began not watching.  Today, I decided to catch up and realized that if I had not recorded them so that it was easy to fast forward, Splash would have fallen by the wayside.

The two rotund commedians are long gone.  And how many times can Kareem bend in the middle as he dives with his spaghetti legs?  I am close to saying forget it.  But it is also close to the finish.  They refer to it as the finale but that is a term that is too grandiose for such a splash.

I will finish watching, I suppose, but with my finger ever-near to the fast forward. 

Sometimes, I wish I could do the same thing with life . . .

Too bad for them . . .

My sunglasses almost cover the eye-rainbow which is trying to spread down my cheek.  It is already up toward the temple a bit.  I didn't know they spread as they healed.  Or perhaps it is just deeper bruising coming to the surface.  My family would probably prefer that I wear the dark glasses all the time, at home. 

Ah, well.  There are some accommodations I just won't make . . .