If it’s Friday, it must mean leftovers . . .

Major computer problems continue, as does the insomnia. Vertigo is a bit better. All in all, more of the same. I haven’t done one of these in a while:

If it’s Friday, it must mean leftovers . . .


“For we all of us, grave or light, get our thoughts entangled in metaphors, and act fatally on the strength of them.” ~ George Eliot, from Middlemarch

Friday afternoon, drizzle, 48 degrees.

Another week without much production on my part. I’ve spent over a week trying to coordinate the delivery of my next Aimovig shot, and the entire process has been unnecessarily tedious and difficult, talking with different reps each day, being told different things each day, being told delivery was scheduled only to find that it has not been scheduled.

As I’m getting this medication free, I probably should not complain, but what bothers me the most is that I have been unable to introduce this medicine into my system uninterrupted; it’s one of those things that needs consistency to work best, so because of the hiccup in delivery, I’m starting over.

Things like this tend to consume my attention, which means that everything else falls by the wayside, which, most especially, means posting (or not posting, as it were) with any regularity. Add to this the stress resulting from the omnipresent impeachment hearings, and my daily allotment of brain cells burns up far too quickly.

I know. I could not pay attention to the politics, and I could ignore the incompetence of the people giving me incorrect information, but you and I both know that I won’t.

Oh well . . . . . . Have some leftovers . . . . . . . . .

Today is the birthday of British writer George Eliot, pen name for Mary Ann Evans (November 22, 1819–December 22, 1880). You can read about her here.


Need this:

Yep.

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This explains Japan’s love affair with all things Kit Kat related:

It never fails to happen . . .

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Too true, that . . .

Took me a second . . .

Do I detect a bit of sarcasm?

The memes are vicious today:

And finally:

If it’s Friday, it must mean leftovers . . .

Geez, people. It’s her money……….

Friday afternoon, sunny, 53 degrees.

A motley collection today . . .


Comment not necessary:

Um, crystal clear, yeh?

The more you know . . .

imageimageimageimageimageimageimageimage

I threw up in my mouth a little when I saw the clip showing Trump doing this:

If it’s Friday, it must mean leftovers . . .

Clarion-Ledger, Jackson, Mississippi, July 10, 1935

Friday afternoon, cloudy and mild, 77 degrees.

So I sat at this computer for hours yesterday and produced absolutely nothing, not a single word. It’s not that I have writer’s block as I can think of at least four different things that I want to write about; it’s more that I can’t get my mind to focus enough to get started. I decided today that I’d just start and let it takes me wherever it takes me.

On Wednesday I had an appointment with my pain management group to find out the results of Monday’s MRI. So it turns out that I have a couple of bulging discs at the top of my spine, and they’re bulging towards my spine. Now I get to see a neurosurgeon for follow up. I told the NP that I’m not going to have another back surgery, not ever again. At least it kind of explains how doing these least little physical activity causes me to hurt like crazy by nightfall.

Too bad, though, as I had to dismiss the entire house staff for failing to keep my shoes polished and buffed satisfactorily. No wait. Sorry. That’s my Downton Abbey life rearing its head again. Damn. I guess that means that the laundry and housecleaning situation isn’t going to miraculously resolve itself. Corey and I had hoped to work on the whole bedroom situation once the weather cools more.

Hmm . . . things that make you go hmm . . .

Have some leftovers. More later. Peace.


Beautimous:

I miss having an intelligent, patriotic president who isn’t driven by pettiness and believes in the Constitution . . .

The more things change, the more they stay exactly the same . . .

Dr. Daniel Z. Gibson, President of Washington College, in the The Star-Democrat, Easton, Maryland, March 19, 1954

Sometimes there’s just too much to choose from:

Lisa was always my favorite:

Wordless Wednesdays . . .

Just try to resist the baby goat cuteness . . . I’m going to have to learn how to make goat pajamas if any are born in the winter . . .

Wordless Wednesdays . . .

Truly, I have no words.

If it’s Friday, it must mean leftovers . . .

Stop the romaine lettuce proliferation in our society. NOW!

“My head is bloody, but unbowed.” ~ William Ernest Henly, from “Invictus

Friday afternoon, cloudy and cooler, more storms, 77 degrees.

Well the appointment yesterday went much better than the first. They’re checking into my request for Aimovig, and if for some reason it doesn’t get approved, I’m going to try Botox again. I had really hoped that I’d outgrow my migraines, you know, like you outgrow acne, but not so much. The heat and humidity always does me in, and the other day I just felt like crawling into a cave somewhere and never coming back out.

Anyway, this is day three of this particular episode, and I still have that lingering tightness around my skull. I’m hoping that’s how it stays and that the intense pain doesn’t decide to rear its ugly head again.

Here’s a weird collection for you—born on August 23:

  • Keith Moon, drummer for The Who (1946-1978)
  • Barbara Eden, American actress, I Dream of Jeannie (1931)
  • Park Chan Wook, South Korean film director, Oldboy (1963)
  • Henry Lee Lucas, serial killer (1936-2001), who was born in Blacksburg, VA (didn’t know this tidbit)
  • River Phoenix, American actor, Stand by Me (1970-1993)
  • William Ernest Henly, British Poet, “Invictus” (1849-1903)

Enjoy. More later. Peace.


You have to appreciate advertising with a sense of humor:

Is it weird that I’d buy this?

The Western Kansan, Leoti, Kansas, December 14, 1893

Speaking of bathing . . . What do you mean you want soap?

I just don’t know what to say . . .

The San Francisco Examiner, California, August 10, 1913

Man, I love Patton Oswalt:

This is just insane:

Yep, I went there:

A forward-thinking little girl:

Vancouver Daily World, British Columbia, June 27, 1921

And finally, there’s this: