Many have argued that the level increased pay for specialists is out of line and is harming our health care system.

I will say that, as much as I *love* my primary-care doctor and do trust my life with him, I'm okay with him being paid less than the neurosurgeon who sliced open my back and removed things from my spine and put me back together in such a manner that I still worked properly.

But your specialist would probably have done just as good a job if he or she were paid only a lot more than your GP instead of shitloads more than your GP. (Can you tell I'm too lazy this morning to look up statistics?)

She is in a place where she feels she has lived a good life. She has outlived everyone she knew growing up. Her last childhood friend died last summer. She vastly outlived in number of years all her family. I'm afraid she is ready and none of us want that to be true, but it isn't our decision either.

Laura, this can be so hard for the ones who will be left behind.

I desperately wanted Niki to survive this last difficulty, but had to be okay with her going if that was what she chose. In the end, I'm glad she recovered, but the closeness of the thing gave me the opportunity to 'finish' what I needed to tell her and to do what I needed to do.

I wrote her a poem. She is BIG into homespun poetry...every birthday card I get from her includes some jaunty rhyme. I included all the things I love about our life together. She LOVED it...especially that it wasn't sad...and took it with her to California.

Now, I know that when the time comes, my heart will be a bit lighter because I won't have any regret. It also makes our conversations now lighter, because I've given up on my need being greater than hers.

In any case, I'm glad your mom is home and hope that she feels motivated to do what needs doing.

(Niki is sadly NOT motivated, so it's just a matter of time until the next crisis...but that has to be okay.)

{{{{{Laura}}}}} I don't really have much to say, other than I wish I lived within striking distance so I could either do something useful to help, or at least just to be there.

her first response was that I can't work with cats if I'm pregnant.

And that so is not true anyway. You would want to avoid cleaning up the litter boxes, but it's way more likely to become infected with toxoplasmosis by exposure to improperly handled meat (and by extension any cutting boards, counters, utensils, hands, etc that may be contaminated) or gardening, than through a contaminated litter box. And yet, the hysterical warnings never include forcing everyone who might possibly come in contact with a pregnant woman to become vegetarians.

Yeah. People still think cats 'take a baby's breath.'

sigh.

Cats just need better PR representation.

Cats just need better PR representation.

Cats need to stop taking babies' breath, is what I'm thinking.

Speaking of, Ryan is using more Chinese with his grandparents around. For green vegetables, he doesn't use the English, but the much simpler Chinese cai (pronounced "tsai"). I've been trying to get him to say milk for a little while, but to no avail; he has, however, taken to the Chinese term niunai. In Ryanspeak it comes out as "Neener".

His bedtime toy is a frog. Strictly, it's a square of fluffy fabric, with a frog head and two arms in the middle. More strictly, it's two such frogs, so we can wash them. Anyway, I've always called them his froggy friend, because I have no imagination. Ryan knows better, and his dubbed his frog(s) Bubby. Who am I to argue?

This morning he awoke and, apparently being in no hurry to get up, instead amused himself by singing to Bubby. It amused the rest of us too.

Oh, Laura, that's so difficult.

Ryan continues to set new world records in adorableness on a daily basis.

I'm home, back in the Cackalack. Very tired, still sick, not looking forward to work tomorrow. And it might snow! WTF. It won't stick, though. It was a tough week - it always is, but this year was particularly wearing for a number of reasons. Being around B, being sick, trying to make recycling happen, and missing out on a networking opportunity. But it was still chock full of awesome, and honestly I missed my best friend, my dog, and my bartender. That's about it. That job I was waiting on is officially not going to happen, which is fine. Time to move on.

Ryan's cuteness level is lethal.

Sucks about the job, smonster. I hope being around B wasn't too sucky?

I am sitting outdoors on my last day on vacation (I fly home tomorrow), and amusingly, someone's band is rehearsing a couple houses away, outdoors very loudly, playing like...Green Day. In Mexico. This is cracking me up for some reason.

I hope being around B wasn't too sucky?

Ups and downs. Mostly the sucky parts were because I continue to find him super awesome, and he is "his own little monkey" as a mutual friend put it. I think he compartmentalizes like crazy. I don't know, I've got a lot of processing to do.