Doctors are just the same as lawyers; the only difference is that lawyers merely rob you, whereas doctors rob you and kill you, too. ~Anton Chekhov

Thank God the Starbucks across the street was open this morning. Last Sunday, when I also worked, they did not open till 1. Needless to say, I was fairly useless until then. Of course, this is assuming I am not generally fairly useless.

I switched work days with a co-worker who is a – might I say, rabid?- Steelers fan.
I, on the other hand, while I would be happy to see them win because they seem like a nice bunch of guys and that Hines Ward is a cutie, mostly just want the victory so the city doesn’t get pummeled by rioters. Perhaps I have lived in a city for too long but my brain went directly to: "If there are riots outside my house, where do I hide the kids to keep them safest?" Am I weird? No, wait, don’t answer that. And may I just mention that Pittsburgh public schools have a two-hour delay tomorrow morning. No, not for snow. For the Super Bowl, silly!

At any rate, this morning, in the Starbucks, with one eye open, I spotted these adorable pink (I know! Pink! Who woulda thunk it of me?) tea cups. The matching saucers had little raised hearts on them, into which the sunken heart pattern on the bottom of the cup fit. Gosh, they were adorable. I want one. Because I need another coffee cup like I need a...a cup of three-dollar coffee.

I went grocery shopping yesterday because we were out of essentials like Aquaphor for Terzo’s crusty eczema ears (now there’s a good name for a band), and clicky pencils for my husband, and almond chocolate bars for me, and batteries for the digital camera because I sacrificed the ones I hide – er, stash - for Primo’s electric guitar...oh, and laundry detergent. Which might have been the only true essential on the whole dang list. I wore my beige cargo pants, a moss green sweater, and running shoes. I was the ONLY person in the entire grocery complex NOT wearing black and gold. I learned my lesson, today I wore a black t-shirt to work, with gold hoop earrings. It was the best I could do. I own not one piece of yellow clothing as I look disgusting in yellow. Like death, at best.
Honestly, yesterday, it was like Christmas at the store…but bigger. Bigger than Christmas. I swear. If the Steelers don’t win, I fear mass lemming-like suicides.

Which brings me to important things, like what I am reading – Girl in Landscape by Jonathan Lethem. Very funky sci fi. I finished Hazel Hucker’s A Dangerous Happiness which was indeed a Rosamunde Pilcher read-alike – very comforting and English and cozy. Not long enough but otherwise just fine. But the Lethem – it took an amazing amount of willpower to put the book down and go to sleep at midnight. I wanted to finish it, even if it meant staying up till 3 or so. Badger, I totally owe you big-time for the Lethem recommendation. He’s BRILLIANT. I badgered (haha!) Gina into buying Motherless Brooklyn the other day, too. You know what they say – nobody’s more zealous than a convert. Forget Jonathan Safran Foer – Jonathan Lethem is where it’s at!

There’s something you need to know, my sweet Internet ones – I have another blog. Which location shall remain undisclosed. Because I set it up so we can post pictures and stuff for the grandparents who are wintering in Florida. I have a completely different user name for that blog, which of course I keep forgetting to log out of before logging into this identity. But I have to tell you, sweet ones, I still love you. Even if I feel like I am CHEATING on you. It’s not you, it’s me. Blah blah blah. Oh the guilt, the guilt.
I used to think I barely had enough to say in one blog – and now I have two. I feel so…self-absorbed. But I still love you BEST!

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I spent two effing hours and seven minutes in the waiting room of Children’s ortho department with the baby and Seggie on Thursday, and then three whole entire minutes with the very special, very important orthopedic specialist, to be told that Terzo’s hips are JUST FINE, he does not have any signs or symptoms or risk factors for hip dysplasia, you silly woman, why are you wasting my time? So sorry, very important and knowledgeable doctor, but when my pediatrician seems concerned that my baby’s hips are not abducting to the proper degree and suggests x-rays and then the tech screws up the films so the ped wants me to see this very “wonderful and nice” specialist, I tend to listen. Not being a doctor and all. And wanting my sweet child to be A-OK and healthy and able to walk and all. And since I waited for TWO HOURS AND SEVEN MINUTES, my "appointment" being at ten a.m. and you finally seeing us at twelve-oh-seven p.m., I am, yes, a wee bit grumpy. And no, really, no need to even express a little bit of “So sorry we are running very, very, VERY late today.” Don’t mention it. Really – don’t. Oh, you weren’t going to anyway? And when your waiting-room Nazi – er, nurse – snaps that my almost-three-year-old child cannot eat his little baggie of cereal because the waiting room is nice and new and they want to keep it that way, I will happily listen and let him starve, but when after almost two hours, the poor child – who has been a freaking GEM the entire time, looking at books and playing with his doll and even helping me amuse the baby – asks for some food, I am going to give it to him, nice new waiting room be damned, and I DARE you to say something to me. Go on, I DARE YOU. I DOUBLE DOG DARE you. Bring it on, lady!

And if, after all this bullshit, I feel like hell and my head is throbbing and my nose is snotting and breakfast was at seven a.m. and I have had no caffeine and I wouldn’t have been allowed to drink any coffee in your pristine new waiting room anyway, and all I want to do is go home and lie on my bed and DIE from the sinus headache and fever and chills – I won’t be in the least little bit surprised.
But MY sweet doctor gave me an appointment that very afternoon, saw me within ten minutes of said appointment, and wrote me a prescription for some whopping big antibiotic horse pills that are going to kick the ASS of this thing that’s had me in its grip for almost a month now. So, not all doctors are evil. Some doctors are sweet and kind and good and see you within a reasonable window of time from your appointment. And are freaking apologetic about even making you wait while they write up your prescription for wonder drugs.

GOD!




(p.s. Some of my best friends are doctors. Really. And no doctors were harmed in the writing of this post.)