Tuesday's tidbits

And here we are, past the halfway mark in August.  It is still too "dang" hot to do much outside.   Maybe that is not true for young whippersnappers; but for this older - I want to say older dude - it just doesn't sound right to me.... for this older - oldest - whatever - "for me," it is just too hot to spend hours outside digging in the garden or mowing yards  or painting a fence or you know.  Our weatherman is projecting some rain later this week.  I'll believe it when I see it.

Reading a certain column in the newspaper - a person asked about punctuation after a sentence.  Not the period, but how many spaces follow the sentence.  Her explanation:  if you learned to type in a typing class on a real typewriter, you were taught to put 2 spaces after the sentence, which you might notice, I just did.  It seems that newspapers have always put just one space. . . and the people on the internet adopted that process.  So, as you read my diddies, you will always note the 2 spaces in my work.  I feel uncomfortable putting only one.  Now, friends, that is stupid.  Why should spaces make a person feel uncomfy?  It could be because I expect the ghost of my old high school typing teacher to fly through the window at any moment.  And, frankly, I can tell you from experience, you don't want to cross that 7'9" woman.  {maybe she was a bit shorter, who's asking?}

Disaster today:  Anne or Annie - my daughter's beautiful, noisy basset hound just threw up her cookies right outside my office door.  I turned and saw her standing over the pile with a forlorn look.  Bassets have a natural forlorn look without much training.  I hopped up shooing her out of the hallway.  Guess what I did next.  Guess.

Wrong.  I looked for my wife to help me clean up the gooey mess.  No luck.  The spouse was in the front yard watering the flower bed.  I had no choice but to "dive" in and SLOP it up.  The pile sucked up an enormous number of paper towels.  I hate picking up a gooey paper towel.  Shivers, it gives me.  Of course, I used the very last paper towel from the kitchen.  Wandering into the garage, I sought more.  I couldn't find them for nothing.  Toilet paper, I found.  

I stood by the front door watching until the watering had been completed.  An explanation was made.  She, the wife/spouse walked into the garage and picked up 2 rolls with no effort.  I guess I'm going blind.

What makes a dog throw up like that?  She is as perky and vocal as ever.  If'n I had done that, I'd be in bed moanin' & groanin'.

For those why are paying attention, I have ONLY 27 more days of radiation treatment.  It really is a wonder why I'm not all A-Glow.

I thought, when I began the treatments, that the waiting room would be filled with the exact same people daily.  You walk in and see the same faces at the same time of the day.  That has not been the case.  I cannot think of one person that I have seen more than once at my appointed time.  Only the technical staff - nurses - doctors and receptionists remain the same...and the receptionist do change frequently.  I have absolutely NO IDEA what this is costing.  I could ask.  Nope.  We'll just wait and see.  Maybe Medicare pays for it all.  Who knows?

In closing, I should mention that our new Sleep Number King Size bed 360 whatever is nice.  The head lifts up and the knees can be lifted.  I sleep with the head slightly elevated.  They say this helps with snoring.  Of course, I never snore.  Never have.  Never will.  The bed takes up a large portion of the bed room.  I believe it looks nice with its Walmart special cover and sheets.  I worry about falling off this bed - it is a long ways to the floor.  gonna stop.  

later love, 

m3