I am feeling happy at this moment and I'm not sure why.
The silly conversation with E2D2 this am? That I've made it to Friday? That I miss my sister and my father and my mother and my grandparents and all sorts of patients that have died but that I think death will unite me with them all and I'm usually in no hurry.... eventually.
I am having fun with my Wordpress blog. I wrote the "about me" section this am and as usual it got rather silly. I have a ladder still on the front of my house and a skeleton on the ladder with Christmas lights and yesterday I got "flocked". A flock of plastic flamingos visited from the local high school class of 2015. For $25.00 they will go away. For $35.00 they will go where I direct. They are going to my Unitarian minister's lawn next. Heh, heh.
Meanwhile, they moved. They started climbing the ladder up to the skeleton bride. My neighbor across the street was the one who started it. She said that the ladder made her think that my daughter had eloped, but that usually people took the ladder down. So then I thought of the skeleton, and Jet-Poop had been murdered by etouffee because of the Halloween poem title desecration and well, you know how it is.....
The neighbor and I talked yesterday and we are thinking about the skeleton and Thanksgiving and then Christmas. I am going to keep my eyes out for a cornucopia.
Meanwhile, my clinic is not going to die. I have to go see neuromuscular experts and can't work yet, that is, I'm not allowed to see patients. But I still own a business and we've hired a physician assistant. We are making progress, in spite of futile resistance from my local hospital, in getting all our ducks in order to have her start sometime in November. Hoorah! My muscles are still weird, but I can work around them, so to speak. Let's run that duck up a flagpole and see who ducks. Or who gets goosed.
One of my maternal grandfather's songs:
"My mammy told me
if I was goody
that she would buy me
a rubber dolly.
My auntie told her
I kissed a soldier
Now she won't buy me
a rubber dolly.
Three six nine
The goose drank wine
The monkey chewed tobacco
on the street car line
Monkey got choked
And they all went to heaven
In a little row boat
I keep wondering what age the singer of the poem is. Old enough to kiss a soldier and young enough to want a rubber dolly. Though the soldier might have lied about his age to enlist. And what is a rubber dolly anyhow?
I will eat Jet-Poop's skeleton when this is all over. I don't like to waste food and I worry, as do all lizards, about osteoporosis.