Oh, my.

I did my half hour work on the website and Zoom call, yay. And thanked via Twitter and Instagram the stock photographers whose free photos I used. Accomplishments.

Hungry. Time for an early lunch.

Only one of Dylan's close friends is in the in-person cohort, and they don't have any classes together, or the same lunch/recess period, which is disappointing. I mean, he's not seeing any *less* of his friends than he was last week when they were all remote, but I was hoping he would at least have someone to eat with and talk to during the day.

I know this one well, from early elementary school days where getting a different teacher assignment than your besties was the source of many tears. As they get older they can finesses their schedules themselves unless there's a frickin' worldwide Pandemic and suddenly you're back to being dependent on school schedules for socializing.

This is supposed to be my week for working in the office, but I only went in for a little over an hour today.

Bailey the dog had 10 teeth extracted yesterday and poor dear was very dopey still this morning. She is 10 and she has not been under anesthesia since she was fixed. She has not eaten all her morning food which is where her meds are so that’s an issue. I can’t leave it out unless I pen up one of the dogs since Miley will eat EVERYTHING.

In news that may be of interest to at least one Buffista, I saw an article about the town that was the origin of Tater Tots is now big on marijuana ... two industries that, somehow, seem to go together.

Poor Bailey!! Will she lap it up if you mix a bunch of gravy in it or something?

Toddson, that reminds me of the wonderfully-named food delivery service north of us called "Munchie Dude" ("Need food? Call on the Dude!"). Several of their ads are just this side of "If you're gonna get baked, stay the hell off the road and let us bring you snacks."

So it looks as if the PA-C working with my doctor is taking over my routine care, which makes sense - she's the clinic director and it's been a bit of a year. I'm only here for another 15 months, there's no point in getting salty about it, but I'll miss the Elephant Trampler and her cheerfully messed up bedside manner. This is the doctor who reacted to the crepitus in my knees with howls of horror, said "I'm not sure what's going on, but it's not an infection, so here's your flu shot: let your systems fight it out" during an exam (for what turned out to be pelvic floor issues, and she was awesome about "You need all the physical therapy! Don't use ours, they're crap, go over here and I'll call ahead for you" once I'd seen a specialist), and whose reaction to an in-office procedure was "You're not bleeding. Why aren't you bleeding? I've already got a note in your file that you're an alien . . . ."

Getting stoned and having someone deliver tater tots to me would be just dandy. Alas, that isn't on the agenda today.

You're not bleeding. Why aren't you bleeding? I've already got a note in your file that you're an alien . . . ."

Ha, that reminds me that I had full intentions of telling my PCP that the tech gasped when she did my carotid ultrasound yesterday to mess with him, but alas they were too fast sending results so I missed the chance. FTR, arteries are clean as a whistle despite my crap cholesterol.

Soon after marijuana was legalized, I saw a picture of the outside of one distribution centers ... with a Girl Scout cookie selling table right outside. I imagine the girls broke all sales records, although I understand it was prohibited in later years.

Now I want tater tots. I don't even have the excuse of being stoned. I just want them.

I thought that was a permanent state ... but I admit I might be wrong.

In happier news, and yet it flies.