Tuesday, July 9, 2013

Freedom and Clown Cones

 I couldn't find a picture of a rainbow sherbet clown cone, but you can get the gist of it from this one. Doesn't it make you want to reach right through your monitor to grab it and start licking?

I'm being sprung from this joint tomorrow. Dr. Kent, charming soul that he is, told me to consider it parole that can be revoked at any time versus unconditional release, presidential pardon, or anything else of that nature. He said that I will have the medical equivalent of an ankle monitor and that he will KNOW if I'm slipping up and doing things that I shouldn't be doing. I didn't ask how he will KNOW because he won't, and he and I both know it,  but it's best if I play along. He'd be having a conniption fit if he knew that I was awake right now, but I slept from 7:30 until  3:06. There's  limit to how much even a post surgical patient can sleep. I've been pretending to be asleep each time a nurse walks in to check on me. My Aunt Joanne, who's an MD, is here with me tonight. She's asleep, which is good even though she doesn't have to work tomorrow (today technically), because she has two children who will expect food and someone to mediate their arguments in just a few short hours.

Speaking of food, it's been good. I had a grilled cheese on wheat for lunch with watermelon and 7-Up.  For dinner I had a very tasty hamburger cooked exactly the way I like my hamburgers  cooked, which is not exactly burnt, but cooked to the point that any e coli considering hanging around long enough to enter my system has been killed deader than Hitler. (Don't believe those conspiracies about Hitler escaping to South America and that the body they found wasn't really his but was that of a double. Many Nazis did make it south of the border to Mexico, Latin America, and beyond, which is  probably why one of the Mexican American families whose children I tutored last semester had the surname of Amptmann and all had sparkly blue eyes, but insisted they were every bit as Mexican as Montezuma. Hitler shot himself, and Eva Braun, the lady love that he eventually married, ate a cyanide capsule. Their bodies were incinerated. Period. Any stories to the contrary are the work of the same conspiracy theorists who came up with The Birther Movement and who claim that JFK is living his old age out in a convalescent hospital in San Angelo, Texas.)

Around 4:30, a nurse will come in and will notice that I'm stirring. She'll offer me drugs, which I'll accept, and I'll be out until Dr. Kent wakes me up at some ungodly hour to pronounce me well enough to be released but with his conditions, consisting mainly of moving no part of my body other than my eyeballs unless given permission by whatever adult is supervising me. I'm probably not supposed to brush away a fly or scratch an itch without permission. Whatever. As long as I'm out of here, I'll make it work. I want to get better at least as much as he wants me to get better.

Cousin Peter, who is not my cousin but is my pseudoaunt Jillian's cousin, is delivering a load of Baskin and Robbins' rainbow sherbet clown cones (made by his ex-wife; it was an amicable parting) to my house tomorrow. It's childish of me, but the sherbet actually tastes better when it's dressed up like a clown. which my father tells me is technically impossible and is ridiculous for someone of my supposed intellect to believe,  but I've noticed him sneaking my clown cones and eating them on numerous occasions.

I'm adding one of my favorite songs. It's a Simon and Garfunkel one in which the vocals were pretty much always done just by Garfunkel. I never understood why Simon didn't add harmony, as I think it would have made the song prettier. Regardless, it's a gorgeous song even if I don't really know what exactly it's supposed to mean. My parents have committed their share of screw-ups, as most parents surely do and I probably will myself if someday given the opportunity, but one thing they did well is to impart a love of really good music to my brother and to me. We're well versed in the classics, as in Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, Chopin et al, and in  both classic and more folk-style rock. I appreciate that they did this for us.


  1. Ooh... I love that song, too.

    I'm catching up on a lot of writing today. I recommend you check out my travel blog, where I posted a nice rant about the bar that dissed Bill on his birthday! I was in the right frame of mind to write that last night.

    I wish you were getting out of the hospital today, but it's probably best to do what the doctor says. In the meantime, I will write lots of stuff for your perusal!

    Your comments about clown sherbets are hilarious. Rose Nylund of The Golden Girls is also a fan of clown sundaes... ;-)

  2. I'm glad you get to go home soon! And even though your doctor can't really monitor your ankle, please do be careful with it.

  3. Donna, my doctor was actually humane this morning (he treated me at least as well as our vet treats my dog), and I WILL be conservative in my recovery because I've learned from past experience that one recuperates much more quickly if one doesn't push things too far.

    Knotty, I'm getting out of here! I'll check out the travel blog. Rose is my favorite Golden Girls character. I read that originally Betty White was to play the slut and Rue McClanahan was to be the ditz, but the two of them convinced the producers to switch their characters. (Betty White had already done the loose woman character thing with Sue Ann nivens on the Mary Tyler Moore show, which may have been her motivation for wanting something different.) I think it was a brilliant change from the original plan.

  4. Yes... and Rue McClanahan had also played an innocent-- I think it was on Maude or Mama's Family or something... I'd have to look it up!

    Glad you're going home. I'll be sure to write a lot so you'll have things to read.