Continued peaceful and protective thoughts towards all in harm's way, in Israel. D's mom is there on vacation, but I'm not sure where.
Popeye's is totally a holiday tradition in New Orleans.
Thanks, Dana! So just another tradition to embrace.
omnis, Nilly has been around the last few days in Natter. With some news! Hang on, let me nilly you up some Nilly. Nilly "Natter 71: Someone is wrong on the Internet" Nov 15, 2012 5:28:08 am PST
Blessings and love on you, bonny.
Thanks Smonster! I can't keep up with both threads. And the mother-hen in me worries.
Thanks you all, again. And if anybody here wants me to speak with their friends/relatives/friends' relatives in Israel who aren't used to this situation, I'd be happy to talk to them.
Any word from Nilly?
Also, if Nilly still lives where I think she lives, then she's out of the rockets' range from Gaza.
I mean, a tradition in my family at least, where it's used either for "This child is difficult to feed, so we're bringing Popeye's" or "This holiday dinner is smaller in scale than usual, so we'll just pick up some food from Popeye's instead of cooking."
Stay safe, Shir. Sometimes I think the translators of Revelation got it wrong, and that the actual sign of the end times will be no battles in the Middle East.
It seems like a fair number of people here order Popeye's fried turkey. It's probably a better approach than burning your house down.
A good friend was just called in. I officially hate this war.
Oh no! I hope for their safety.
Guys, a synagogue saved me on Shabbat's night.
That's marvelous. I'm fervently hoping for your continued safety, along with your family and friends, including your friend who was just called in.
ION, can I just say how mentally healthy (and physically healthy, BY THE WAY [this parenthetical will make much more sense in a minute]) I am?
My dad was contacted by Medicare, who wanted to send a doctor out for a home visit, to go over his medical history and current situation and treatments, etc. They did not say the purpose of the visit, and the doctor himself said that they didn't tell him the purpose of the visit -- they only told him what information he needed to gather, but not why. (I'm assuming he wasn't lying.)
The doctor visit was today, so I went to my dad's for it, because he's not extremely adept in healthcare jargon -- like most people -- and I didn't want him to agree to anything that might be to his detriment, just because he didn't understand it, or felt pressured. (As it turns out, all the doctor did was take his medical history, which, because it's my dad, took a LONG time.)
So anyway. The doctor was getting all of his heart disease/diabetes/hypertension history, and asked if there was family history of heart disease. Dad chuckled, and said, yes, both parents and all his siblings. The doctor asked "What about your kids?" And Dad looked at me, and then said "No, they're fine." (I had introduced myself as Dad's daughter, so the doctor knew that.)
The doctor looked at me, and said "You're his daughter? You shouldn't be in here; you should be out running. A LOT. And you should weigh about 116 pounds."
O_O
I looked at him with no expression and said, "Well, that's not likely to happen, so I'm glad my health happens to be good." And he said, "You're not diabetic?"
O_O
I said, flatly, "No." And -- I swear I am not making this shit up, why do the fat people always get picked on? -- he said, "Yet."
O_O
So, rather than punching him in the face or sitting on him with my giant nondiabetic ass, I gave him my very best Fuck You, You Fucking Fuck smile and said, "You should probably stick to my dad's medical issues."
Here's where the mentally healthy part comes in: rather than hating on myself in my head, and vowing to starve/throw up/cut parts off so that I can meet this stranger's arbitrary standard, I thought, "I am so glad my ACTUAL doctors aren't assholes like this fucking guy." And that, Reader, was the extent of my thought process about that. (Other than "I am SO posting about this when I get home!")
Also, I went to the OB/GYN today, and my blood pressure was ridiculously perfect, and I weigh about 10 pounds less than I thought I would (which is not an indicator of health or disease, but just an interesting data point in light of the ridiculously arbitrary and totally unachievable weight that Doctor I Am An Asshole threw out at me). So fuck you, Doctor I Am An Asshole, you are lucky I didn't sit on you.
Wow, what an unbelievably giant fucking fuck.
So, rather than punching him in the face
I give you so much credit for not punching him; he was practically begging for it; and you should so file a complaint with medicare.