The Progeny
I Took John Kerry's Advice
That is, I searched my gut. I searched my gut and found it to be larger. Ok, that's it. No more almond M&M's! I've been walking halls up at the hospital, and I've been climbing the flights of stairs up to the fourth floor. But that's just not enough to counteract long periods of inactivity, whether it's trapped in a car on the way up and back, or hangin' in the hospital room. So, I've said "goodbye" to the defunct treadmill. At least, it went out to the addition. In came a sliding-board-thingy with detachable wing accessory, height bar, nifty pulleys, and the promise to make me look like Christie Brinkley. I'm wondering if the plastic surgery is included.
We are just on the cutting edge of technology, here. So much so, that when I was down at the church vacuuming, my son had to ride his bike down to let me know who had called me on the cell phone. I heard it playing Mozart, but by the time I fished it out of my pocket and turned off the sweeper, those magic words had appeared, "1 call missed." And when I called home to see if they had called me, it was busy. Busy from Loren calling them to tell me to call him at the hospital. (feel free to take an aspirin)
Of course, if I had remembered the info from the 1/2 inch thick manual (which I actually DID read), I could have retrieved the number to call back. But alas, no. And randomly punching buttons did not bring the number to the screen. I'm gonna check that manual tonight before I go to bed. It should put me right to sleep.
I thought for a moment that this might be THE CALL. Perhaps they had found a heart for Loren. But it was good news of another nature. The judge in charge of our social security claim for disability has finally ruled. Sort of. After more than a year of careful meditation and deep contemplation, it would seem "da Judge" might possibly declare Loren officially disabled. Perhaps it was being put on the transplant list that turned the tide. Maybe the judge decided that if he needed a new heart to live, he wasn't a slacker after all.
Well, these matters are too weighty for me. I must needs do a little more gut searching. Or is that gut stretching?
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We are just on the cutting edge of technology, here. So much so, that when I was down at the church vacuuming, my son had to ride his bike down to let me know who had called me on the cell phone. I heard it playing Mozart, but by the time I fished it out of my pocket and turned off the sweeper, those magic words had appeared, "1 call missed." And when I called home to see if they had called me, it was busy. Busy from Loren calling them to tell me to call him at the hospital. (feel free to take an aspirin)
Of course, if I had remembered the info from the 1/2 inch thick manual (which I actually DID read), I could have retrieved the number to call back. But alas, no. And randomly punching buttons did not bring the number to the screen. I'm gonna check that manual tonight before I go to bed. It should put me right to sleep.
I thought for a moment that this might be THE CALL. Perhaps they had found a heart for Loren. But it was good news of another nature. The judge in charge of our social security claim for disability has finally ruled. Sort of. After more than a year of careful meditation and deep contemplation, it would seem "da Judge" might possibly declare Loren officially disabled. Perhaps it was being put on the transplant list that turned the tide. Maybe the judge decided that if he needed a new heart to live, he wasn't a slacker after all.
Well, these matters are too weighty for me. I must needs do a little more gut searching. Or is that gut stretching?
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posted by Ma Hoyt | 5:25 PM
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