Well, hmm.

I think what I shouted was along the lines of "Fuck! Goddammit, you cocksucking son of a bitching piece of shit! You went tits-up THIS WEEK? Piss on you, you piece of camel shit! Chingada tu madre! Pendejo! Merde! FUCK FUCK FUCK!"

Last night I went into the ER for what turned out to be a false alarm but which at the time I wasn't sure wasn't my first heart attack (I bet they don't make a charm for My First Heart Attack, like they do for First Kiss etc.). With cardiac things they practically have to get an IV from the big veins in the elbow. Turns out the veins in my elbow? Not so big. They had to get their super-expert phlebotemist in to do the tap. Hubby doesn't like me to swear, so I managed to express the word "fuck" over three seconds, with a couple of breaths between "fuh" and "ck". But I didn't kick anyone this time.

So nothing, apparently, just a case of feeling weird etc. As she's taking my vitals before releasing me, the nurse starts up the blood pressure cuff and says, "So, on a scale of one to ten, how's your pain?" I manage to laugh instead of swear and said, "You've got a blood pressure cuff on me and you're asking about pain? With the IV, too?" "OK," she said, "aside from what we've done to you, how is the pain?"

It disturbs me a little - very little - that of all the many things I memorized as a teenager, Carlin's 7 Words You Can't Say on Television is one of the few things that remains in instant read-access in my memory. When I am 89, I will have forgotten the names of all my lovers, but I will remember those words. And I will use them. Daily. Because I'll be 89.

Yikes, Connie, I'm so glad it was nothing! My dad's been to the ER for a maybe- heart attack and it was indigestion.

Then he went another time and it WAS a baby heart attack.

So go. Always. Be safe. You are precious to us.

Erin, email received and backflung, bebe.

So go. Always. Be safe. You are precious to us.

Yes! Always go. I am a person who is most likely alive because I got convinced to go to the ER for a "probably nothing".

For anyone who wants to see them - [link]

Shelburne Museum pictures.

Some of note - this quilt [link] which isn't a good picture, but it's in a case with very little room to maneuver. You can't tell by this picture but almost every little leaf is a different fabric. And according to the info the donor's grandmother made this quilt sometime after she was 75 years old.

This boat - which was used for duck hunting - reminded me of a Wraith Dart. [link]

I thought of Steph when I saw this - [link] (and this [link] display of type faces. There are several printing presses on display and they print on notecards that are available to purchase.

You are precious to us.

Bless you all.

I felt weird earlier, and I was near the hospital at the time, and I sat in the car for ten minutes going "ER's right there, go in, get it checked" fighting with "Want Hubby! Hubby's at home, with no car to come meet me! Hubby will freak if I call him!" countered with "stupid to go home then come back."

But the "I want my Hubby!" mental shriek was stronger than anything. For all that I often think that life would be less stressful if I hadn't married him, when the shit hits the fan, I want my Hubby. And I have terrified authority figures who tried to keep me from his side when he was in trouble. I haven't stayed with the man for 25 years because I had nothing better to do.

This boat - which was used for duck hunting - reminded me of a Wraith Dart.

God bless the nerds.

So glad you went, Connie. Also glad you are ok.

Holy cow, why didn't I know that Casino Royale sucked? I mean, I know now. But that doesn't unboggle my brain. Were they trying to train a computer to write a script? There was at least one interesting chase, but omgwtf. I'm kind of glad the Netflix DVD failed in the middle. We have at least two scenes' worth of time that we'll not never get back.

Connie, I'm glad you're ok.

Holy cow, why didn't I know that Casino Royale sucked?

Really? I loved it.