Attic Salt

Tiger Lilly patch in the backyard.

Tiger Lilly patch in the backyard.

argle-bargle   – copious but meaningless talk or writing

attic salt  – refined, incisive wit

I was considering making new categories for each of the above, but I’m afraid one would be over loaded and the other one would be empty.

Hello.  Lilly Lady here again asking a question you may never have been asked before.  Ever had a camera shoved up your nose?  I have.  So I’m putting that experience on my bucket list and crossing it off promptly before the ink dries in anticipation of never having it done again.  They called it a throat scope, which is a very misleading description.

The doctors (not sure exactly who is responsible) moved my consultation appointment to this morning so that I could talk to the specialist before I leave for Ontario.  My G.P. thought they might do a lymph node biopsy procedure in-office today, but the specialist is opting for a much simpler needle biopsy instead until he is sure what this is.  The fact that he doesn’t want to say for sure what this is seems very reassuring to me.

Next on the agenda is a return trip to the Kaye Clinic on Thursday for the needle biopsy, results in 10 to 14 days.  Then we’re off to Ontario on Saturday.  Back to the specialists office on August 11th for the follow-up.

This would be a good spot for me to insert some refined incisive wit.  Hope you can live with disappointment because I am a tad witless at the moment.  Just happy to be living in this city with such easy access to incredible medical care.  A half hour drive away from one of the two top specialists in the WORLD in their field of expertise.  Amazing.

Of course, I’m worth it, right?  They made me feel like I am.

image

In lieu of wit, here’s an argle-bargle photo.  Am I secretly a farm girl at heart?  Those farm roots manifest themselves in strange ways here in the big city.  These are two animals that hang around by the tiger lilies in the back yard.  I put them out in the spring and let them fend for themselves until the snow flies.  They reward my attentive care by looking insanely cute.

Just Another Scintilating Sunday

Asiatic Lily Bouquet, forced to listen to Satelite Radio and blooming madly anyway.

Asiatic Lily Bouquet, forced to listen to Satellite Radio and blooming madly anyway.

This morning as I was overloading my blender with mad cancer fighting ingredients (I say mad because if they’re fighting they ought to be mad) I wondered if it isn’t about time for me to make my peace with the satellite radio.  Normally I don’t appreciate it’s noise, and there are some days when I hate it.  Those are the days when I want everyone in the world to just shut up.  So if you are dropping over for coffee on one of those days, God help you.  But no worries, today I’m feeling pleasant and chatty.  And I am blogging this without wearing any make up. I feel like what I have to say is more important than how my face looks.  Although if you were actually here drinking coffee with me you might beg to differ.  Anyway, I know there are people out there who blog naked, so this is hardly big news, but it’s as close to blogging naked as I’m likely to get.

Okay, back to the sat radio.  W has it on all the time.  When I come home he is smart enough to turn it down.  If he doesn’t and I get to it first, it gets turned right off.  He also tries to find channels with the highest percentage chance of me being able to tolerate them.  I do try to be tolerant.  Especially of people who dearly love background noise.  And this morning I was thinking that because there’s a lot of channels, there should be at least one or two that not only won’t make my head ache but that I might also actually enjoy. Yeah, well, it’s Sunday, the weather is nice, I’m in a good mood.  Pigs could fly.  Let’s try some music from the 1940′s.  I’m not kidding.  They had weird music back then and I don’t mind listening to that.  I picked up the remote, pressed select, and tried to remember what combination of zeros and fours would get me there.

Suddenly there was a deep growling voice doing hip hop rap.  I don’t care if there isn’t any such thing, that’s clearly what it was.  He sounded like a mad muppet monster, only less intelligent.  So not exactly what I was expecting.  Eventually I found Count Bassie, a definite improvement.  I love jazz, swing, big band and piano blues.  Although in small doses rather than large.  Maybe I was born in the wrong era.  The radio is still playing but I’m in a different room and can’t really hear it.  But, hey, it’s still turned on.

Speaking of “hey”, I had a delightful conversation with a little boy at work yesterday.  He was about three, with ears that he hasn’t quite grown into.  He walked right up beside me in our lab.

Him:  HEY!

Me: Hey.

Him:  Hey!  What are you doing?

Me:  I’m cleaning a pair of glasses.

Him:  Hey!  What’s that white thing?

Me:  It’s an ultrasonic cleaner, sort of like a bath for glasses.

Him:  Hey!  That’s funny!  Haha!

Mom from the doorway:  Hey!  What are you doing?  Get out of there!

So hey, he had to leave.

Aren’t those Asiatic Lilies beautiful?  A gift from K and C last weekend.  I can’t believe how they’ve lasted.  My tiger lilies in the back yard are just starting to bloom too.  I’m surrounded by lilies and Woody Herman and Duke Ellington and the voice that says “…no destination…just 40′s and beyond!”

Sort of like this post, no real purpose, just some meandering coffee talk, keeping my typing fingers limber.  Well, I’m going to go get some more coffee, how about you? Really?  But I’ve got French Vanilla cream!  Hey, where are you going?  Come back!

Rainy Day Read

the husand's secret

What?  Husbands aren’t supposed to have secrets, are they?  I read the book in the middle, according to my Kindle, but I quite like the cover with the butterfly in a jar.  I also love balloons, especially red ones.  So given the choice,  the middle cover is the one I would be least likely to purchase.  In case you were all wondering about that, now you can sleep tonight.

I’ve read “What Alice Forgot” by Liane Moriarty, and have “Big Little Lies” downloaded and ready to go, and now I’m looking at “The Hypnotist’s Love Story”, thinking that one could be next.  So it’s obvious I like this author and her stories a lot.  Sometimes my Goodreads star rankings are based on how quickly I finished a book, two days or less making four and five stars much more likely than if I had to slog through something or couldn’t force myself to care how it might end.

Well, so far, this is a rather stupid book review, but trust me, there are stupider ones out there.  I gave this book four stars.  It is a good readable story, well written, with interesting characters and plot, and a fantastic epilogue.  Every book should have an epilogue exactly like this one for us readers who don’t like endings which leave us wondering why all the questions haven’t been answered in a satisfactory manner.  Especially when the answers we come up with on our own are seriously lame.

Imagine that your husband wrote you a letter, to be opened after his death. Imagine, too, that the letter contains his deepest, darkest secret—something with the potential to destroy not just the life you built together, but the lives of others as well. Imagine, then, that you stumble across that letter while your husband is still very much alive. . . .(from Goodreads)

I was a little surprised at some of the negative reviews I read, which contained words like predictable, shallow and dull.   A one-star person said she didn’t have the patients to read more than 25 pages.  She also misspelled bullshit.  So let’s not take that one too seriously.  There are many five-star reviews too and I’m more inclined to agree with those.

I read this book in less than a day and a half.  I liked it.  And I know how to spell big words like bullshit and patience.  I hope that’s a good enough recommendation for you to give this author a go.

This Different Me

sue fitzmaurice marjorie pay hinckley

Last night I slept for eleven hours.  It’s amazing what a good long sleep does for your outlook on life in general.

It’s been a while since I’ve felt like myself.  For one thing, I don’t want to write every day, even on days when there’s nothing of any consequence to write about.  Oh, hell, who am I kidding, that’s always been the norm here.  Now that I have something mildly interesting to talk about, I don’t feel like talking about it at all.  Apparently these days I prefer to sit down and stare off in to space with an empty head.  I suspect W is completely exasperated with me, because no matter how hard he tries I can always find a reason to be negative and bitchy.  I’m not so fond of this different me.  No doubt he isn’t either.

When I’m at work and some annoying person starts complaining about a random inconsequential minor stupid bit of nonsense (they’re all like that lately) I really would like to tell them to just please shut the F up.  I don’t care.  I’m sick.

My CT scan was done on the seventh of July, and now I have an appointment booked for August 11th at the University Hospital with an excellent doctor.

Surgical Oncology
Professor of Surgery
Divisional Director and Zone Section Head
Otolaryngology – Head and Neck Surgery

Does that not all sound excellent?  I’m sure I’m in excellent hands.  I should be feeling totally excellent.  Except that the ‘oncology’ word scares the living shit out of me.  He is also a plastic surgeon, so if half of my head has to be removed I’m sure he can build me something interesting to take its place.

The holiday that we’ve booked for two weeks with family in Ontario can go ahead as planned, leaving on the 26th of July and flying back on August 9th.  I have hours in the day when I completely forget about all of this.  What’s the point in worrying and imagining and dwelling on it, really.  I thought when I got to Day 16 of Jazzy and her happiness project and my life took this funny turn that I would have to put a hold on all her blather about happiness.  At least this different me realizes what a huge mistake that would have been.  I’ve had a couple of dark days but look, here I am.  I survived them.  I think life likes to hand you bad things you think you won’t be able to handle just to show you how strong you can be and that you can.

So until the middle of August, life is good.  We’ll have a fun holiday, a time to remember.  And perhaps after the middle of August life will still be good. Maybe it will just keep on getting better and better.  One way or another, life does go on.

See how weird this different me insists on being?  Seriously, stop it.  Okay.  I’m done.  Me too.

There’s not much more I can say on this topic anyway, since I didn’t ask any questions in the interests of ignorance being bliss.

Okay!  Has this bloggers block been broken?  Different me hopes it has.