I went for my mammogram today - it was pretty much as you might expect. Squeeze, squeeze, turn, squeeze, squeeze, done. I was thinking that we should have our pictures taken for our licenses (just the face) done at the same time. The expression on the picture might just stop the cop from handing out a ticket.
Thinking that I would get everything done in a single day, I made an appointment for a bone density test directly after the mammogram. Since the bone density imaging machine is not only in the same hallway but in the very next room and I assumed I could just go directly there but no... they wanted me to dress, register again at the front desk, go through a new door and wind up 3 feet from where I had the mammogram. Right.
I threw my bra in my bag, threw my big sweater on and made three lefts, signed a paper and was back where I started. It seemed silly to stop at the lady's room to put my bra back on, might as well be comfortable, so I had the bone test sans bra.
Then I headed out to my gp/internist for my flu shot and having totally forgotten the uncomfortable bra by now I slung my bag on the seat next to me and headed out. Knowing the hazards of plastic bottles, I prided myself in bringing my own britta water in my own safe plastic bottle and had a sip or two during the ride. When I got to my doctors office, I realized I might have to remove the long sleeved shirt under my sweater to get the flu shot as the sleeves were snug. So when they put me in the room to await my shot, I took off my shirt and pulled my bra out of my bag... it was soaking wet. Drenched, drowned and dripping.
Like any good doctor she tapped on the door before letting herself in. And there I stood, clutching a dripping bra in one hand and my shirt to my chest with the other.
"Water bottle opened," was all I could croak out.
To her credit, she just smiled and said "these things happen." Gave me the flu shot and left the room. I put on my shirt and sweater just in time for her return with a bag for the wet bra...
I'm opting for room temperature! Who says mammograms aren't fun!
Friday,I went to St. Michael's Church for Good Friday Service. The Neo-Gothic Episcopal Church has a stunning stained glass window by Louis Comfort Tiffany of the Archangel Michael.
The window is magnificent and if you are going to believe in angels, St. Michael is a good place to start. He's an archangel in Jewish, Christian and Islamic tradition. The guy gets around. He's also no wuss, looks great in armor, and carries a serious spear. He wreaks havoc with evil and in his spare time (like he would have any in today's world) is the patron Saint of Chivalry. Maybe that explains its scarcity.
Although I'm not a regular church goer, I always go (if at all possible) on Good Friday. I sit in the small side chapel among the Tiffany glass and 19th century memorial windows and reflect on the years past and the one coming up.
I think about my Great Aunt Fanny and Great Aunt Tish that went to mass every morning. About my maternal Grandmother, who used to talk to God when she rolled pastry dough, reminding him of neighbor who was having problems, or family member who needed a bit of grace to see them through.
My father's mother, Nannie, who walked up the hill to church every day during final exams to pray for her grandson, Drew's passing grades. I remember my mother's last words to me were "I'm ready to go see God now."
They were better at formal religion than I am but some part of me has the gene that draws me there for a quiet hour of reflection and remembering. And gratitude that someone had enought faith in angels to make a magnificent window like this one.
These three lovely ladies were in our yard early one morning. We like seeing them in the yard - they eat ticks. Ticks left by the deer that come into our yard that we also like seeing. It works out pretty good for everyone.
One morning there was lots of loud gobbling sounds. Scanning the landscape we saw this proud fellow strutting around making quite a show.
It wasn't long before the competition showed up...
Super models don't do this much strutting coming down the runway showing off the spring collection.
But the boys were into it.
As a matter of fact, they forgot to pay attention to the girls who got bored and wandered off.
I am sure there is a deep moral to this story. You can probably come up with a few on your own.
As for me, I just like the idea of these guys strutting around in my backyard. There is something to being reminded that the wildlife was here before us and they will still be strutting around when we have moved on. I'm grateful these guys are willing to share.
For more information about wild turkeys in CT click here. And here.
If I like a product, it’s guaranteed to be taken off the shelves.If you have a favorite product – don’t show it to me.If I like it – within weeks you won’t be able to find it.It will be gone with the rest of the things I have obliterated from the marketplace.
The first I noticed this special affliction was years ago with lipstick colors.If you’re a woman you know how hard it is to find a color you like.Once we find that color, we might try some others for variety but we never stray far.There is always the favorite close at hand, in our purse, our pocket or bathroom counter.The one you buy two of, that goes with pink and coral, doesn’t make your skin look yellow, and has the right about of creaminess and doesn’t come off on your teeth.Mine was Revlon number 742.It was the perfect lipstick.
I was down to the metal rim of my third tube of the marvelous stuff and standing in my local drugstore looking for another, never suspecting Revlon was about to betray me.There were all the tubes arranged by number in the little slots with the matching plastic color swatch, I reached my hand out and to my dismay there was no number 742—not even and empty slot.Revlon color number 741 was nestled against number 743 as innocently as if 742 had never existed.My favorite had been… the dreaded word…discontinued.
Why my color, I thought?Why not that offensive bright pink that no one in their right mind would ware?Or the dark red that was almost black that not even Goths could think of as a good color?How had my perfect color offended the lipstick gods and gotten itself removed from the shelves?
I was soon to realize that fault didn’t lie with poor Revlon #742 but with me!
Then it was perfume.Aliage, a wonderful fragrance that I wore every day, got a remix and smelled like cat pee on my wrist.Nylon stockings that wore like iron were replaced with ones that ran if you looked at them.
I can do it with television shows, too.Studio 60 and Journeyman – both excellent shows, in my opinion—lasted only a single season.
And food!Ruby Red Grapefruit from Crystal Light—a delightful flavor—gone from the shelves.Bubble gum flavored Fruit Punch is still there.And Boston Market Chicken Pot Pies have disappeared from the frozen food section.The one frozen food item I could count on to please when even the idea of cooking was beyond me.
And those little chocolate cakes that Weight Watchers makes…vanished! They still make the insipid carrot cake, the un-lemony lemon, and too-sweet artificial flavor caramel.Chocolate, I ask you, how could they discontinue chocolate?Gone from Stop & Shop, Price Chopper and the Big Y.
Oh yes, I looked.But alas…My personal preferences have again guaranteed the demise of a perfectly good product!
Twinings Black Current tea is already off most supermarket shelves but I can still order it on line.The TV series Bones is due back in April but I only discovered it last fall, so you have to give me some time.
I’m eating ruby red grapefruits.Real ones.Could this mean a bad year for Florida grapefruit growers?
So my advice to you is stock up on Burt’s Bees Raisin lip gloss, Starbuck’s decaf Verona, and Olympus compact digital cameras.I think they are great.And you know what that means!