I'm in the last 24 hours of my January Mountain House Trip... and I am feeling immensely better than I did over the weekend and am welcoming this lazy day off with open arms!
I slept a little later than I meant to and rolled out of bed (off of couch, I should say) and pulled on my jeans, aka my "outside the house" clothes and headed into civilization for a visit to the pain doctor. I didn't have time to put on makeup so I just tossed the essentials into my purse (which is really an insulated lunch bag with my name embroidered on it but since I never take a lunch anywhere, I have repurposed it as a purse, which highly offends Austin, who hypocritically thinks that pajama pants are acceptable for anything and everything, so who is he to judge, right?) anyways... I tossed the essentials into my purse to apply at stoplights, forgetting that stoplights are few and far between, even when you go all the way into Gainesville, so I ended up applying my makeup in the doctors parking lot.
Should I have been offended when the doctor asked how I was doing and I answered with, "I think I've had the flu" and he replied, "you don't look well." Should I be grateful for the validation or offended at the judgment on my parking lot makeup skills?
Anyways... it was an uneventful visit... apparently my pee passed the drug screening test last month because they didn't require me to take that $400 worth of lab work this time. (Seriously, FOUR HUNDRED DOLLARS. You can buy a drug screen test at the drug store for $30. For four hundred dollars they should have been able to tell me what medications my 4x great grandmother, Tabitha Pennington was taking in Kentucky two hundred years ago!) They are pleased with the dosage I'm using of the pain meds and we are going to try dialing back the nerve block meds that we used for the past two years to delay the start of pain meds. But not until I'm feeling (and looking, apparently) better because they don't want me to confuse need for a particular medication with symptoms of the Whine Cellar Flu. They ordered a blood screen of my vitamin D levels, since I'm having a check up with my General Practitioner tomorrow morning with all those fasting blood tests anyways (there goes another month's salary).
I don't have to go back to this doctor until March 19th at 3:15pm. I'm mentioning that time because I always forget the appointment time and end up calling on the morning of my appointment and finding out that I'm supposed to be there in ten minutes. Now we all know. Of course, since that's a Tuesday afternoon which does NOT fit in with my usual practice of scheduling appointments on my way TO the mountain house or FROM the mountains house and the last thing I want to do is head home at 4pm on a random Tuesday and then work the next day. So I'll end up changing the appointment and forgetting the time again, I'm sure.
ANYWAYS... I left the doctors office and since I was still feeling TONS better than I have over the past week (or more), I stopped off to get gas (so I don't have to on my way home tomorrow) and ran into the dollar store to get a birthday card to go with Jamie's present which has been rattling around in my trunk for the past three weeks. I stopped off at McDonalds to get breakfast and a to do a little snooping (more on that later) and they parked me for an egg mcmuffin (seriously? probably the most often ordered breakfast item on the menu and you park me like I ordered some random off menu item?) and then I went to drop off Jamie's birthday present, three weeks past her birthday.
I called ahead and told Angie I was stopping by but I was NOT coming in... and NOT hugging anyone just in case this Mountain-Strepto-Monia is still contagious. So my sweet girls came out to the back deck to meet and greet me....
I should mention that ironically, my dad used to call me and Jim, "Fred and Ralph" (I was Fred) and I used to call Sarabeth "Max" so... apparently we all must have old man names for nicknames.
I bought Jamie a set of magnetic paper dolls for her birthday (three weeks ago) which I think are called something other than paper dolls since there's no paper involved. My Aunt Ginger makes these amazing paper dolls to give out at the food pantry at her church. They are incredibly elaborate with adorable outfits and she spends a lot of time and money making them. I was a paper doll fanatic and my Jamie gurl is such a fashionista that I knew she would love this set. She did. She even said, "I love fashion!" (Although, she may have just parroted me saying, "I knew you love fashion" now that I think about it, but, either way, it's a true statement that our little Bob DOES love fashion.)
In case you were wondering what my Reasons to Love Monday are today, here's a picture of the lake. Because it's been at least 48 hours since I posted a picture of the lake. And it IS still there, in case you were wondering. And I AM still here for another twenty four hours or so, give or take. I miss my Trouble kitty like crazy but having the other fur-babies here all weekend helped. We (and by "we" I mean my parents) fixed up a little Poop Pen for the dogs in between the front porch and the bank in front of the house so that we didn't have to walk the dogs on leashes (and again, by "we" I mean my parents) every time they had to do their business (and by "they" I mean the dogs, not my parents) and I realize as I'm typing this that I've already told you about the new Poop Pen, which is really sad, considering that's sort of been the highlight of my weekend.
That. And a lovely conversation I had last night with a lovely fella. (Although he would highly object to being described as "lovely" since he is quite the rugged, manly man of a guy.) This in no way changes my "Significant Other Embargo" because frankly, I can't think of a single reason to not be single at this stage of my life. My kids don't need me to supply a male role model any more (not that I ever managed to provide that in the scope of a long term relationship, ever) I don't need someone to supplement my income. (thank you, daddy!) I'm terribly, TERRIBLY unsociable and I honestly don't care if I never ever, ever again shave my legs. I just don't. But after a weekend of quarantining myself... which came after a disappointment in not seeing someone I dearly love and desperately needed some bonding time with over the holidays... on a weekend where my youngest birdie, once again flew the coop (more on that later) in a season of life where I feel less alone but more lonely, if that makes sense... while still adjusting to the limitations in my life that make it hard for me to get out there and be with the three dimensional people, it was nice to have a lovely conversation like that. That is all. It made me feel a little less like a hermit.
Here's the thing about the youngest birdie. He wanted to stay up here between this visit and whenever the next one is (which he apparently thought was next weekend, as in, four days from today, three days after I leave, um. no!) and reconnect with his people (you know, like Fat Pat and Fluffy and Married Friend and the only one of his friends that I ever really approved of, Logan) and try to gain gainful employment so that he can stay up here with his people all the time and be independent and not sleep on an air mattress in his grandparents' computer room. I wholeheartedly endorse the prospect of him being gainfully employed. I'm semi-supportive of the idea of him being self-supporting. I am less than convinced that the job interview that he supposedly had on Saturday actually happened and I am furthermore less than convinced that any of his friends are in the position to take him in as a homeless, unemployed creature for any length of time, including the time between this visit and whenever the next one is (which, based on my work schedule, won't be for several weeks yet to come). I am delighted that he put roots down here. THIS was exactly what I wanted for him, a small town where he could find his place in the world. I love that he loves it here. I am not interested in raising adult children nor am I financially able to do so.
But here's the thing: supposedly he is supposed to call in to the McDonalds tomorrow to find out if he has a job and if he does he will supposedly require a haircut and a tie for his uniform. "A tie?" said I? "A tie." Said he. So when I was driving back from the doctor this morning feeling better than I had in days, I called young son and said, "hey... let's go ahead and get your hair cut and buy you a tie so that if you get hired, you're ready to go" and... if, thought I, you don't get hired, you will look more employable. "No." said he, "I just want to go back to sleep". Which, thought I, was out of context for someone who was super excited about potential employment which would lead to potential permanent residency where he wants to be. And then... as I drove through McDonalds for my egg-mcmuffin (for which I was PARKED) I noticed that every single employee was wearing a polo shirt. Minus tie. Which made me think that unless my kid is in contention for Chairman of the Board of McDonalds, he might just not be telling the truth about this whole McDonalds thing. Just a hunch.
The Falcons lost. A President I do not care for has been sworn in for another four, possibly/probably destructive years. My Uncle Carl is in the hospital. The precious baby of a precious girl that I have known since she was a baby is having heart surgery tomorrow. I'm a tiny bit feverish and I believe I wore myself out with my errands this morning. I'm going to return to the state of vegetative hibernation that I've enjoyed for the past three and a half days. Despite all of this, I found a few Reasons to Love Monday and I hope you will too.
Love and hugs.