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November 10 Typical Saturday Morning Typical Saturday morning except that I'm here, at my blog, adding an entry. Dingo is in the living room doing something sordid with one of the pillows. Bandit is sitting on the end of the ottoman. He is the only dog I know who actually sits his posterior on an ottoman with his feet dangling below. Denis is at work because they had a problem at the refinery. My Mom is still in bed.
I have only a few solid plans for the day. Work out at the gym, eat lunch at Whole Foods, return items to Target, paint, spend some time getting ready to teach a class tomorrow morning at church, and read. I might pick up three plants to put in my backyard pots, which are currently housing three very dead tenants.
I stopped writing for a few minutes to go to the bathroom. On my way in, I rescued the pillow from any further assault attempts by Dingo. When I came back through the living room, another pillow lay on the floor, obviously another victim. He does have a favorite, but any pillow will do in a pinch.
I was dumped by my doctor last week. I have a non-life threatening, yet annoying, malady that he has tried to cure with every trick in the Merck Manual book. No luck. He told me to research and try some homeopathic remedies. I like his honesty, but it's pretty disconcerting when you finally realize that doctors don't really know that much more than we do these days, especially since the internet. When I was a kid, I thought doctors could fix anything. When I was a kid, I also thought stuffed animals had real feelings. Sometimes I still have a hard time believing otherwise - about the stuffed animals, not the doctors.
I drove by myself to Texas last month and stayed in a cottage bed and breakfast. It was a rather late coming-of-age story for me. Back in my twenties, when I lived in St. Petersburg, Florida, I couldn't drive over the Howard Franklin bridge to Tampa. I couldn't get on the interstate. When I first moved to Texas, I couldn't go to work if it was raining outside and the mere mention of a "flash flood warning" blipped across the t.v. Those were the days when I didn't know I had obsessive-compulsive disorder/anxiety/etc and so I wasn't medicated or in therapy. I simply reacted with fear to every single thing that was out of the ordinary. I still grapple with the fear, but now I am proactive. It's a work in progress. I'll keep you posted.
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