Good news and a good day

Too content and sleepy to post last night, but it was a good day.

The sweetest words you ever hear from a doctor: “See you in a year.” That’s what my cardiologist said to me yesterday. I had been apprehensive about the visit because my cell phone had alerted me to some heartbeat irregularities, and I ended up wearing a monitor for twenty-four hours. But the doctor said I was doing great, and better yet, he explained everything in detail, answering a few questions that had puzzled me. We ended up talking quite a bit about cell phone technology and how much smarter the next generation is. 

I'm on a roll with doctors' appointments. This morning my family medicine guy told me he'd see me in six months, and he's been seeing me every three months forever. His waiting room had an alarming number of people wearing masks. Made Jordan nervous, and she kept saying, "Don't touch anything." I came home and washed my hands thoroughly.

Doctor’s appointment yesterday was followed by lunch at Press Café with good friend Mary. I like the food there, but it is always so noisy that conversation is impossible for me and my hearing aids. Yesterday we were early enough it wasn’t that noisy—we could mostly hear each other. But we were seated by the door. Despite the high side of a booth between us and the door, we froze every time someone came in or out. I had the deconstructed tuna salad—a lovely plate with tuna salad, cantaloupe and pineapple, and sliced tomatoes and cheese, the latter with a really good salad dressing. Mary’s hamburger looked delicious but was huge.

It was an eating day, because Jean and I went to Clay Pigeon for supper, with our minds and taste buds firmly set on bone marrow. I am delighted to find that one of my friends likes it as much as I do. No, I wouldn’t want it once a week, but it’s a terrific occasional treat. For Christmas, DIL Lisa gave me a marrow spoon—yes, I found it on Amazon and sent her the link. Last night was the first time I used it, and it really is efficient, much better than the regular spoon the restaurant gives you. Our waiter, however, did not look impressed when I showed it to him.

My marrow spoon

When I got home from supper, Jordan came out to the cottage, and we talked a good, long while. One of the lovely benefits of living within yards of one of my children. But the evening got away from me, and I didn’t blog and didn’t post my weekly comments about readings lists to a small online writing group. Next chore on my desk, and then I’ll update my web page. Someday soon, I promise myself, I’m going to sort tax information!